When he comes to a halt, Calliope's breath catches, for a dreadful moment completely expecting him to let go of her and tell her to stay away. But once again he defies her expectations. And as inconceivable (and probably unwise) as it is, looking up into his now so still and serious face, she can actually believe that he isn't scared. If anything, she thinks perhaps others ought to be scared of him, though not her, because he's holding her hand more tightly now.

Still, it feels a little bit like disappointing him to admit, "I am not asleep. He was already successful once, and killed me. I'm only a ghost now, that is why I have these spooky blank eyes. But he will never feel that he has won until all traces of me are truly gone." When she'd explained this to Roxy, it was to help her friend understand the gravity of their situation, to instruct her to prepare for further battles, and perhaps a little to justify her own foolishness. Now, it doesn't feel like there is any such burden of responsibility on her. A somewhat new feeling, given how she's always been the one with access to all the information, having to figure out how to responsibly dole out hints to her friends without risking the stability of causality, nudging them in the right direction through all their troubles. It's new, and oddly comforting.