The familiar melody wasn't quite as clean and crisp as it was in recordings. Caspar High was a sports school, not a place where band kids were respected (or well funded), and the skill of the instrumentalists reflected that. Still, they gave it their best, and more than one parent grew misty-eyed as his or her not-so-little baby slowly ascended the stage.

Not me, though. Not that I'm a parent, but I did have two people graduating here.

Sam is the only person I know who can make a graduation gown look gorgeous. On everyone else, it was little more than a bed sheet; on her, it was a point of pride, a queen's robe. Tucker…. Well, I actually made Danni admit (after so much prodding that she half-seriously accused me of having a rather disturbing man-crush on my best friend) that he looked 'decently handsome' in his robe. I probably shouldn't count that as a success in my longstanding plans to match them, but if nothing else, it'll be great blackmail material.

Due to their extended absences back in October and November, neither of my friends was eligible for salutatorian or valedictorian. But, as Tucker had repeatedly pointed out whenever I got bummed about pretty much spoiling their educations, at least they had some pretty high-ranking jobs waiting for them after high school. He would be the Lord Minister of Technology (a title which was now, much to our delight, official), and Sam was her parents' liaison with Kantara. She was in charge of negotiating trade contracts—the first since the Golden Age—between our two dimensions.

The music stopped. The last student—no, I corrected myself, the last graduate—settled into her seat.

Mr. Lancer glanced up, caught my eye. He smiled, inclined his head ever so slightly in greeting. I grinned back. Maybe when the ceremony was over, I could run back home, grab my GED, and bring it back to show off. It wasn't quite as prestigious as an actual diploma and not something I'd had in mind all those years ago when I stepped into the portal, but funnily enough, it's pretty hard trying to juggle a high school education with princely duties and putting down the occasional rebellion. As Danni and Jazz frequently pointed out, it was a miracle I'd gotten anything resembling a degree, especially not before Sam and Tucker officially got theirs.

The salutatorian began her speech. It was the usual kind of thing you find at graduations, friendship and togetherness and community and all that jazz. If you've heard one of those speeches, you've heard them all. There were a couple decent jokes, but for the most part, I felt justified in letting my attention wander. I'd gotten good at letting my attention wander during speeches and still getting the gist of them. It's one of the… perks… (okay, not exactly) of being a prince: you get to sit through a lot of speeches.

The Mansons sat to my right. Pamela's eyes filled with tears; she had to keep raising her pink handkerchief in order to see. I risked patting her on the arm. A few months ago, she would have sniffed, jerked away. Now, though, she responded with a watery smile.

The Foleys sat on my other side. They leaned forward, grinning and proud. If their eyes were a bit watery too, I wasn't going to say anything.

The speech ended. Another speech began.

Tucker fidgeted, uncomfortable in his gown, or maybe he just missed his PDA. He'd been loudly and repeatedly forbidden from bringing it to the ceremony. His mother had even threatened to sic the thralls on him. Tucker had backed off then, but only after giving the thralls a wary look as though judging how many of them he could take. In the end, though, he'd huffed a sigh and admitted that maybe, just maybe, he could survive without his beloved Pendra for an hour and a half—but if he ended up in the hospital with withdrawal symptoms, he knew who to blame.

Sam leaned back, bored. I couldn't see her face, but I could predict the expression well enough: eyes slightly glazed, facial muscles relaxed, mouth a bit open. She'd been to her own fair share of boring meetings. When Father learned of that, he'd smirked at me and commented that 'your choice' would make a wonderful princess one day—she already had the basics down.

You'd think that the king of the freaking Underworld would be less of an embarrassing parent….

Not that I'm complaining. These past few months with Pariah and Danni and Ammut, months where Clockwork is nearby and I don't have to worry about ghost attacks or world domination attempts and where Jazz and Sam and Tucker are just a portal or phone call away, have been amazing. Every day reminds me of just why the ancient ghosts chose to band together under one king, and I get to stand right there at his side as he does it again. Protest rates have plummeted these past few weeks, and Clockwork is convinced that soon—quite soon, he implied—we won't have to worry about riots and rebellions for a long, long time.

Of course, my half-life hasn't been perfect. There have been rebellions, and riots, and mind-numbingly boring legalese lectures. I've been called a traitor, accursed of all sorts of unsavory things. People have spat in my face. But I'm used to it. It's impossible to make everybody happy, and no matter what you do, how many people you save, there will always be a few diehards who refuse to see anything good in you. Fortunately, I'd already learned that lesson here in Amity Park. Listening to pundits who think I'm the scum of the universe still hurts, but years of exposure here in the human world have given me a fairly thick skin.

Strangers hate me? Too bad, so sad, but I'm hardly going to cry over it. Only people I love have that kind of power over me. Them, or people with whom I have an absurdly complicated relationship.

Lancer called out the first name. Laura Aaronson, a petite girl with the smallest nose I've ever seen and big brown eyes that practically glowed with excitement, bounced up to the stage. Her family cheered and whooped and hollered as Principal Ishyama handed over her diploma. Laura ducked her reddening head, retreated to her seat with a big dopey grin.

My smile didn't quite meet my eyes. I'd always imagined that I'd be down there with the other teenagers, that Jack and Maddie would be the ones sitting up here between the Foleys and the Mansons (or, more likely, with the Foleys between them and the Mansons. Jeremy and Pamela have never exactly gotten along with Jack and Maddie). But here I was sitting between my friends' parents, a half-ghost hero with a GED and a fancy royal title. And Jack and Maddie, who didn't even know that I'd gotten a degree, who hadn't spoken with me in months, were in prison.

My sigh was hidden under thunderous applause as John Brekke accepted his diploma.

And yet….

Perhaps it was stupid to hold on to hope. No, scratch the perhaps. It was stupid to do that. But I couldn't help but hope that the Lethe's enchanted water had washed the crazy from their minds, had forced the scales from their eyes so they could see. I hadn't thought of them as my true-parents for years, but we had still been together my entire life, and I knew that poor Jazz still yearned for a reconciliation. And Pariah had thought they had hope, right? So had Clockwork. He'd never said so, but he discussed Jack and Maddie's possible redemption with Jazz enough that he didn't have to explicitly say anything.

"Tucker Foley."

Maurice, Lola, and I jumped to our feet. "Go Tucker, go Tucker! Whoo whoo whoooooo!" Pamela and Jeremy rolled their eyes, but they were applauding too. They'd gotten to know Tucker a lot better these past few months, just as Tucker's parents had learned more about Sam.

Tucker wasn't as embarrassed as Laura Aaronson, but I could still make out a faint flush in his cheeks. I caught his eye, smirked. He should just be glad that I didn't bring along a bunch of thralls to cheer with us and that Danni, who was sitting invisible in the rafters (I'm still not sure why. It wasn't like she couldn't have sat down with the rest of us. Maybe she just liked the view?), had enough sense to remain silent. Amity Park hadn't had any ghost attacks for a while—our fight with the imposter was the last major incident, with a few minor events that were wrapped up in mere minutes—but the people remembered. Hearing cheers from the ceiling after such a long peace was a good way to start a panicky mob.

The graduation ceremony inched on. A year ago, I'd have fretted about all the time it was eating up, all the things I could be doing. Now, though, I was just grateful that I didn't have to go back to self-serving noblemen licking my boots for another couple of hours. Misery is relative just like time and space.

Finally it was Sam's turn to go forward. The Mansons and I stood, clapping until our palms ached. The Foleys whistled and cheered. Sam fought back a grin, trying to look like we were the most uncool things ever. She wasn't fooling anybody. Well, okay, maybe everyone else in the room, but not anybody who knew her.

And a year ago, she would have fooled somebody who knew her. Four somebodies, in fact: Lola and Maurice and Pamela and Jeremy. But now that her parents (and Tucker's parents too, I guess, but mostly her parents) actually know her, have seen her secrets, have been forced to look at her through new eyes, they are closer than they have ever been. Old wounds have healed, old scars have faded. It's a healing process, just like Clockwork adjusting to the new way his powers work and Pariah recovering from Djall's madness and the Ghost Zone itself becoming Kantara again.

My mind went still.

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. Names, diplomas, yada yada yada. I was too busy looking inside to pay attention.

"I now present to you the Class of Twenty-Ten!"

The band burst into song, a cacophony of brass and drums and, soaring above them all, a single flute's triumphant refrain. The audience yelled and cheered, voices breaking, stinging palms pounding together in a final applause. The graduates flipped their tassels; then, not taking their hands off their caps, flung the headgear into the air. They streamed out the door, into the atrium where they would meet with their parents and loved ones for pictures and laughter and celebration. The audience rose to its feet, surged out of the gym.

In the confusion, it was easy for an experienced sneak to turn invisible and intangible. I had time before anyone noticed my absence, before anyone figured out where I'd gone.

It didn't take long for me to schedule a meeting with Jack and Maddie Fenton, the two most famous prisoners in Amity Park. The secretary at the prison seemed a bit surprised that I'd want to schedule a meeting, but apparently Jazz had been by a few times without telling me and they'd met without incident (I would bet my toes that Jazz has been coming as their shrink instead of their daughter, psychoanalyzing them time and time again. I also bet that the only reason she hasn't told me about their visits yet is that she wants to cure them completely before letting me know what she's been up to), so she was willing to pencil me in. I left the jail fifteen minutes after arriving, content.

Did I hope that this meeting (five days from now, three in the afternoon, in a private room because the prisoners had been on good behavior these past few months and weren't deemed escape risks) would go well? Of course. How could I not? But did I need it to?

No.

If Jack and Maddie Fenton never came around, it was their own loss. I would be sad, yes, and Jazz and I would grieve together, but we had a new family now. It's a strange family, filled with ghosts and humans and a girl who is neither and both, but it's ours.

And right now, I'm going to spend time with that family. I'm going to attend Sam's huge graduation bash and tease her about how her parents have gone so ridiculously overboard. Tomorrow I'll do the same for Tucker. Then I'll visit Jazz and, when that's done, go back to the Keep, where Danni and Pariah and Ammut will be waiting for me.

Even if Jack and Maddie never come around, I'll still be complete. I still have a family. And I never have to worry about stumbling over their names.

Complete! finitum est. id narravi.

But why complete it here instead of adding another chapter of resolution? Simple: my muse still isn't doing so well. I don't want to risk her dying completely before the potential next chapters, and there wasn't much else that I could have written about without becoming redundant. So this is the end. Maybe, when I actually have time on my hands, I'll come back here for a one-shot or something, but for now... For now, this is the end.

It'll be a while before I put anything else in any fandom or universe up. No time, not a lot of inspiration. But I'll be back eventually. Until then, remember that you guys are great! Thanks for all the encouragement and support and patience.

Fare thee well,

-Corona