The Rise and Fall of Quentin Coldwater

It Begins With The End

It's almost ironic the moment Quentin finds balance with the world turning upside down.He thought, for a moment, it would come when Fillory first claimed them. The air knocked out of their lungs - "I'm surprised you're here," the librarian had droned out while giving Margo a lazy once over - and they climbed scrambling for stable ground and air. How much time has passed, he wonders, perched high on the ramparts looking out over the rolling hills watching the Forest ofTime through the hazy morning fog. How many times has he sat here,weighing the options and feeling mortality creeping up like ice along his spine. Eliot's hollow eyes find him, a ghost of a smile on his lips before Fillory takes hold dashing the light and bowing his head.Quentin feels that cold fester at the pit of his stomach, something hot twisting his chest.

'You could save him.'

The voice is haunting, ethereal at the back of his mind (he tells himself he isn't crazy but at this point what is real?) and Quentin recognizes it immediately with a stiffening of his spine. I know, he doesn't say, cold sweat on his skin and thoughts down in the gardens with Eliot. 'You know what you have to do,' that whisper hisses out like the rattling of a thousand beating moth wings. 'It could be so-'

"Quentin."

Suddenly the whispering is gone, chased away from the corners of his mind and he sees Alice donned in flowing blue silks coming towards him. "I found something in the library, it could really help us!" She is full of sunlight and hope, Quentin can't help but think as a smile touches his lips. Later perhaps, she'll forgive him for the thoughts beginning to swirl at the back of his mind. Maybe they all will forgive him. "Show me," he asks hoarsely, clearing his throat and ducking his head to run from the things left unsaid. He thinks of Eliot as he follows in Alice's wake, eyes caught on the swirling shifting train of her dress. Quentin remembers warm breath,lost eyes, and the taste of tobacco. This is for them, he tells himself as Alice presses a book into his hands.

"The woman, Jane or whoever she was, she said something about a time spell so what if we could access all the knowledge from before? That would be thirty-six lives worth of power you could have access to!" Alice is excited, she's flushed with it and Quentin lets out a tensed breath before hugging the book to his chest. He knows how this will all play out, Alice will attempt it and die. Or Eliot will try and die in the fight to come. "Let me think about it, alright?" Her expression falls and Quentin no longer feels guilt for being the cause of her unhappiness. She storms off, telling him what an idiot he is being and that she'll simply find Penny to attempt the spell. He watches her leave, listening as the echo of her steps fades and the silence of the library swallows him whole.

Sorry Alice, Quentin never says as he draws fire from the hearth with a flick of his fingers. The books are like kindling and soon are blaze before he breathes out a spell he's spent the past few days perfecting. Quentin knows the whisper is calling for him again as he falls to the dry underbrush, legs giving out beneath him with searing pain. Good, it'll let him focus as he thumbs open the tome and focuses on the words without thinking. Smoke rises in the distance and for once he begins to feel warmer as his hands move faster. Latin mixes with languages half-fumbled as an alarming sense of deja vu begins to threaten to overwhelm him. Heat crawls up his spine, flames licking across his skin and sweat runs down his temple. Too late, it was far too late, and in a rush of white hot fire suddenly the world narrows in a haze of white. All at once, Quentin sees it, the endings where he never leaves New York, the times he ends up happy with Alice, the countless times he finds himself turning back to Eliot time and time again -

Fillory is withering. Magic is ebbing away like an open wound refusing to close and Eliot's hand is flushed red from striking his cheek. Quentin wants to save him, he's desperate to save him. Something in his veins is crying out, telling him that they don't have much time left. Something is coming, it screams with warning bells in his head as he wipes the blood from his mouth. Something is coming. Fillory is withering and takes to flame too easily but Eliot is already torn apart and the pages of his story are crumpled in his hands. He meets The Beast's eyes over the growing flames and holdsEliot's crown tighter in his hands.

Next time. Next time I'll save him -

Someone with a poor sense of humor is narrating their lives, Quentin thinks recounting the ways he's lived out this moment (the one where he has to make a choice and The Beast reacts purely as if by chance) with magic sparking and exploding around him. No, he wasn't remarkable or keenly adept at any special skill save for one and the pocket watch in his jacket is a reminder as he glances sidelong atEliot. There's an answering smirk, something wild in those dark eyes and out of all the timelines it happens again (he feels himself falling harder) as gloved fingers drag him closer. He meets those eyes watching them mirror with matching inhuman light as Fillory winds it's way into their very souls. The world is coming apart but they rise together to meet the rushing onslaught, hands casting in tandem. The Beast howls when they rise in ferocity, the lone survivors, stronger together than alone. They ignite something in reaching for more power, more to burn this blight from the pages, and in those final moments Quentin finds his happy ending as the world explodes in a dizzying array of color and light before swallowing it all up.

Next time, something cries out, next time -

Julia makes it into Brakebills and he is the one that falls into Marina's grasp.She distorts his very nature, offering him something a part of him is starved for until his arms are a mess of stars and broken dreams. Power brings out something in him, a hunger, a desire for more and he recoils from the world in a way that leaves even his father concerned. But then Julia is left in a loop, trapped in her mind and he walks at Marina's side into the school feeling something wake up. By chance he meets the gaze of a boy lounging outside a cottage. Something tugs at his chest, a feeling he can't quite place that he chases away with fingers rubbing at his sternum. Marina is beckoning him to keep walking and Quentin hesitates, struck soundly by that feeling of nostalgia. When they leave through the gap in the wards, prize in hand, Marina touches his cheek and smiles with pleasure as she clutches her prize. Quentin looks back into the dense woods and his brows knit. All the way back to the warehouse he can't shake a thought:

This wasn't how things were supposed to go-

Quentin stands alone in the end. He knows the steps, the path that needs to be re-traced. Magic surges like wildfire in his veins, white hot and destroying everything he's touched. Bodies litter the floor, husks of what they were before and fiery hands find The Beast's throat as a slow smirk touches his lips. Crimson light cracks and licks a path along his skin, turning his gaze feral and wild. As his grip tightens he thinks of a boy he loves and a girl he didn't deserve. But mostly he thinks about how frighteningly easy it is to have made it this far with countless lives and countless deaths echoing hauntingly at the back of his mind. The fire roars hotter, moths falling in a mockery of snow.

"You did it," The Beast chokes with strangled laughter, suffocating in the rising heat that threatens to consumes them without mercy. Quentin tilts his head, curious for a moment as to what The Beast means while fingers tighten. Blood hisses and evaporates against his skin before the body falls in a pile of embers and ashes. Moths shrivel up until there is nothing but the ebb and flow of wildfire burning away everything.

"Quentin-?" Once more a voice brings him back and he thinks a familiar thought; How much time has passed? Eliot is looking at him and there is apprehension, fear. It clicks into place with clarity what those last words meant.

Quentin had become The Beast and it all ended with fire.

"I could save you, Eliot."