Jeb was still alive. That was the important thing.
The Witch had wanted immortality any way she could get it, up to and including sentencing the OZ to a long, slow death as first the plants, then the people starved.
She could live - no, that wasn't right, she could
without people - the heavens frozen forever in a moment of perfect twilight while time swung on, but it would not, could never match the feeling of teaching his son to carve.
He hadn't been there to see Jeb grow up, but his son had managed it all the same, grown up strong enough to fight an endless, hopeless battle for what he knew to be true.
That was real immortality.
He hadn't been there to watch Jeb grow up, like the Queen hadn't seen DG grow up, and there was no going back to the way it was.
Oddly enough, he found, it was Azkadellia who understood the best.
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