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It's not knowing that's the worst.
For years, they relied on ignorance and uncertainties to shelter them, shield them. They hid behind half-truths more easily explained by lies.
Schrodinger's cat — or demon, to be precise.
If a magical creature is locked away in a box, does it really exist?
Better never to find out.
But Eames was found out. Locked away, alive and dead at once and not at all.
And everything that was once known about him — his name, his face, his life — has faded into uncertainties, half-truths. Ignorance.
"He's still out there," Ariadne says stubbornly. "And when he's free, he'll come back."
But it's so hard to believe, after years and decades and centuries have crawled by. After time has quietly eroded their belief until lies feel more palatable than the truths they've always known.
There are whispers about a creature who makes impossible dreams a reality. A creature who changes his face every day but is locked away all the same.
Ariadne stands firm. "When he's free, he'll come back to us."
She leaves the first clue in secret, recklessly dropping it where any human could find it.
Arthur finds out, then leaves the second clue, tucking it more carefully out of sight.
They leave another. Then a fourth.
A secret trail to guide Eames back to them. Back home.
Then, humans yank away the veil of ignorance that has hidden them for so long, exposing their secrets and stealing their shelter.
They're all in hiding now, locked away in boxes of their own creation, waiting out the storm.
If a magical creature hides in a box you can't see, do you still believe it's real?
"How will he find us now?" Ariadne whispers.
"He will," Arthur says.
He leaves another clue that evening.
They don't believe it at first, when they hear his voice drifting across the air.
It feels like a lie, and they're trying to listen only to truths.
But the figure is unmistakable, as he walks closer.
"I told you," Ariadne says, voice wavering. "He came back to us. He came back home."