A younger version of myself is laughing at me right now. It is calling me a hypocrite. And it's enjoying itself while making a mockery of me. I used to laugh at the idea of having 'last words'. What would one say, in a few seconds, that would change the entire narrative they had spent years building? How do you expect forgiveness in your last moments? How do you find the courage to express love in mere seconds when you have spent your whole life denying or hiding it?
I used to mock the idea of making amends and confessing to life's deepest secrets moments before it ended; until it happened to me.
I knew death wasn't an option, not anymore. I knew it from the moment I fainted. But before I had lost consciousness, I felt what I had never preached. I prayed. I prayed to stay awake, to see his eyes for a few seconds longer. I prayed to find the strength to mutter a few more words so that he would know I wouldn't be leaving him anytime soon.
I wasn't dying but slipping away from him, which felt equivalent to death.
Is this how life is going to be now? I asked myself when I fell unconscious. The pain from the arrow would leave, but his absence bothered me more. I couldn't feel his presence in the room when I began to gain consciousness, and it scared me to imagine that he, maybe, wasn't around. It scared me to know what had happened to that woman and what had happened to him.
I knew I would wake up soon; I felt how each of my muscles came back to life. It began with a tickle in my foot as Reah's fingers brushed against me. She had been visiting often. She could feel the pain; it felt like she was accessing it. She tried her best to heal it faster so I would wake up. She would whisper chants I didn't understand sometimes, but whenever she uttered those unfamiliar words, my senses would return to me.
But it wasn't until he entered the room that I felt myself return to the present. He moved slowly across the room, and I could feel him near me while my eyes hadn't opened yet. He didn't waste another minute to sit beside me, where Reah would often sit when she visited.
I couldn't understand why he was breathing erratically, but I wanted to calm him down. Tell him I was here, even if I hadn't woken up yet. That I could feel and hear him.
"I don't know," he whispered, and it was then that I noticed something in his voice. If I could see him, I knew I would see the most distressed eyes I had ever seen. "I don't know how this happened, Aethera," his hands found mine, and I could feel the back of my palm tingle as he placed a small kiss on it. His lips stayed on my hands, providing warmth to the frozen surface that my skin had turned into. "I don't understand how we went from strangers to this."
"I used to notice you, you know? I saw you on the first day. You...you were sitting near your window, and I just...I couldn't stop looking. I couldn't stop looking for months and years," I couldn't stop looking too, Art, I wanted to say but failed to find the energy even to move my lips, "Every time a book fell from your hands in the library because you were too focused to pick out another from the shelf, every time you muttered atrocities at yourself when your hair would fall over your eyes, every time you rolled your eyes at what someone said in class and every time you bolted from the corner of a room to find solace in the gardens, I saw you."
"I...didn't ever imagine how it would feel to talk to you, what I would say when I finally heard your voice. I didn't have a shitty morning that day. In fact, I had psyched myself to approach you, to bump into you nonchalantly in the library and say, if nothing, a hello," he chuckled, drawing circles on the back of my hand. "When you finally sat in front of me, I...I was struck. And I had no words. I don't think I will ever have words that will be enough for you, Aethera," his fingers brushed against my cheeks, and I felt the heaviness in my eyes disappear.
My breath hitched in my throat as I felt a burn in my stomach. But it wasn't the kind of burn that would make me panic. Instead, the flame travelled all around my body and awoke me. Most maniacally, his touch had begun to de-freeze what had paralysed me. His mere touch was enough for me to find the strength to open my eyes and wake up from the never-ending slumber.
The first thing my eyes witnessed was his smile and a lone tear in his eyes as he held my hands against his cheeks. He knew what he had done, and so did I. He and I both knew I had heard his words, and his words and touch had brought me back.
"I don't understand how you and I feel what we feel. But I know I cannot breathe when I cannot feel you beside me. In our past life, I couldn't avert my eyes from you, but in this life, I cannot exist if I cannot see you, Aethera," I finally found the strength in me to move my hands, and when I did, my fingers brushed against the bottom of his eyes. It was still tough to muster words, but when I wiped the lone tear, Art's smile beamed.
"I-i..." I tried, my voice hoarse as I barely whispered.
"You need to rest; it's okay. Just a few more hours and you will be fine – "
"I-I..." I ignored his words and continued to try to speak. "Art, I l-love...Robert Crais," I smiled as he chuckled at my words. He knew what I meant.
"I know," he nodded, kissing my hands, "I saw right through your lies."
While I managed to keep smiling, Art spent the next few minutes by my bed until I moved to allow him to lay beside me. He talked about Kia, who I was bewildered to know that he knew. He held my hand as he told me about his great-grandfather and his father, he kissed my forehead as he explained what his father wanted, and throughout it all, I placed my hand on his chest, trying, without words, to calm his beating heart which was enraged every time he mentioned his father or Kia. I could see it in his eyes, the hurt that he felt when he told me Reah had killed Kia.
He tried to hide it, but it had affected him.
He told me how important it was now to find the Athanatoi who had betrayed us, who had been helping his father for years now. In the end, he held me in his arms as he told me everything would soon be all right; we had the odds in our favour, and his father would soon give up.
We both knew what would happen if he didn't.
"I see you're awake," I heard Rubyn by the door. He smiled at us as he and Amir entered the room. Art straightened but did not leave my hands as Rubyn sat beside us. "How are you feeling, Aethera?"
I nodded and smiled, which seemed like the best gesture I could muster.
"Your body needs more time," Amir said, gesturing for Art to let go of my hand so that he could test it. Amir and Reah had been doing this for hours now. She would chant, and he would hold my hand, not to feel my pulse, but to feel my mind. Amir could feel the soul, the distress and joy in it. He could feel how much pain my body was in without me telling him.
"W-why," was all I could say as Amir let go of my hand. I couldn't understand why it was taking longer for me to heal. I didn't know much, but I knew it shouldn't have to take this long.
"Whoever attacked you would have killed you in seconds if you hadn't been reborn," Rubyn said. "It was a test."
"He attacked her to test her? But why? He knows what we both are; he knows that. He has our blood samples," Art said.
"Your blood samples?" Amir asked, turning to face us with a look of surprise in his eyes.
"He...must have got it by now," Art muttered as I remembered what he mentioned. Of course, they knew. They had our blood samples since we turned. "When we were unconscious, the doctor tested us. He told my father something was wrong with our blood, so we ran away."
"I see..." Rubyn muttered while Amir sighed. "It makes sense now," he said.
"This was a test, indeed," Amir continued as Rubyn drowned in thought. The man literally seemed to disappear in his thoughts from time to time. I guess it came with his age. "By the time your father would have got that blood sample, every trace of you...the new you would have disappeared. It would have been residual blood, with nothing special. Which obviously would be very different from the results the doctor would have told him."
"So, he sent someone with Kia to attack Aethera to know whether we had changed?"
"That's what he intended to do, but the traitor has left with too much knowledge," Rubyn whispered. "Whoever this Athanatoi is, they must have seen you, and they would have known by the sight of your blood that you aren't anything short of rare."
"What's...the plan, then?" I muttered, barely able to get the sentence through. "Don't tell me we're going to let someone...a-attack me, and they will happily go back and report to Daddy dearest," I snapped, anger taking over me. I wasn't blaming Art for any of this; his life had been uprooted as much as mine, if not more. But his father had to be separated. He did this. To me, to us.
I wanted to take revenge, and the feeling of that overpowered my senses. I didn't care about the pain in my chest or throat anymore as I sat straighter in the bed, holding my waist from one side as Art helped me.
"I don't have much time, Rubyn," I whispered, avoiding the pain. "I need to know what it is that I am capable of so that I can personally find who betrayed us," I didn't understand where the emotions came from, but I guess this is what Art experienced a few days ago. I felt responsible, not because I was the one who had been attacked, but because whoever this person was, they had threatened all of us by initiating the attack. It irked me that they dared to walk into the property and attack me. Everyone's frustration became my own, and it fuelled me.
"Art, you and I will be on a plane to London tomorrow night," Amir said. "Clarissa and Rubyn will follow us in a few hours. Before stepping near Art's father, we need to meet some friends. They will help you, but let me warn you, Aethera, powers like yours aren't awakened in a day or two. It takes time, patience, and, most importantly, hope. You have to believe that you're capable of it."
"Oh, you have no idea what you will be capable of soon, child," Rubyn chuckled, walking away from all of us. He turned to face me before he walked out of the door. "Take the day, read as much as possible and familiarise yourself with what awaits. Heal and rest; you won't be getting much rest for a few days," he smiled and soon went to the library.
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The anger reminded me of a time I usually didn't go into. It was funny how, these days, I could barely remember my past life, except in snippets and fast forwards that sprung out of nowhere. If I focused, it was all a blur, a side effect of the change. But if I didn't concentrate and let myself be at the mercy of my mind, visions appeared out of nowhere.
As soon as everybody left, Art held me again. With the door closed, the room fell silent as we rested in each other's arms. I tuned everything out except his breathing and heartbeat. I didn't want to hear anything else. With every minuscule sound, he calmed me. He calmed the anger that had washed over me. I wanted to shout moments ago. I wanted to leave the door and return to where I had been shot with what I know now to be a poisonous arrow. I want to pierce this person with the same arrow. I wanted to rip them apart.
But in Art's arms, those thoughts became less of a priority. He held me against his chest, his fingers playing with my hair as a small, persistent smile played on his lips.
He made me smile.
And that's when I remembered all the moments I had never thought I would witness something like this.
I remembered a scared little child sleeping in a dorm room that was all too big for barely four other girls. I remembered how she tossed and turned, half asleep and scared of the rattling windows. The storms scared her, and she whimpered while the other girls slept peacefully around her.
She then turns into a fourteen-year-old, shifting into an independent room for the first time in a place that would have once been a storage attic. The small windows banging loudly in the rain don't scare her anymore; she's used to it. What scares her now is the idea of being forgotten, left alone in the room, and never checked on.
She is then eighteen, meeting her new roommate for the first time. They briefly chat, a maximum of a few words a day. But when she sleeps, another person is tossing and turning just a few feet away from her, and she sleeps peacefully, knowing someone is around.
The painstaking memories are all scattered, but a common thought binds them all.
I would reassure myself and give myself a pep-talk through each phase. In the dorms, I told myself it would be better soon, that I could soundlessly cry without the fear of being pulled apart by the girls around me. My books will not be torn apart one day because I would have a space I would call mine. In the lonely room in the attic, I reassured myself that this was what I wanted; this was the space I needed, so why did I still cry myself to sleep? And when I moved into the Academy, I reassured myself that life was only improving despite everything. Sure, the process was slow and painful for me, but I had a little positivity within me every night that I felt I would be left alone.
I reassured myself through all those nights that life would slowly but surely get better, and soon I would be on my own, which would also be for the better.
Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine this.
I knew nothing, but I knew that I would leave Washington the day I graduated from the Academy; I wanted to travel outside the state first and then eventually leave the country. Where would I go? None of that mattered to me; I just wanted to find my own space.
And now, I want nothing more than this. And this is something I didn't even know I needed.
I want to remain in his arms, never wake up or fear another moment. I never knew this feeling; no one held me this close. But in his arms was a kind of warmth I would never feel again; I knew that. I didn't need to reassure myself anymore; he was my reassurance. His smile and warmth told me it would all be all right, and that is when all the pain disappeared.
"You don't smile enough," he whispered, brushing the hair away from my face.
"I didn't have many reasons to," I chuckle, burying myself in his chest.
"I know life isn't looking very smile-worthy right now," Art muttered, "but we'll get through it."
"I know," I replied.
It was simple, right? We had to go to London, meet their friends, and soon, I would know of my powers. Meanwhile, others were tracking our traitor. We would quickly find out who they were, and then we would stop Art's father.
But then, why did it seem more complex than it sounded?
"Art," I said, "if your father knows what we are capable of, and he must know how many of us exist with our capabilities, why is he doing this?" I asked.
"What do you mean?" He was confused by my question.
"Why is he doing this in plain sight? Why is he not scared? He has just one of us helping him, right? Hundreds of us could go to war against this one traitor, and then he would have no one. So, why is he not terrified?" I questioned. "Why would he send Kia and this person to attack us in the middle of a secured facility where he knew we would corner them..."
"I asked Clarissa the same questions before I came to see you after Kia was...killed," Art was whispering carefully now, close enough to make sure no one else heard us beyond the room. "I don't think they understand that, or they're hiding something. She made it seem so...easy. And I get it, it is. But with everything they told us about our change, Aethera, do you think this is it? It can't be. Varun and Karolina were reborn when we had to fight our own; it's the sorest battle any of us fought. Surely, a human threatening our existence cannot be the reason!"
"So, what do we do?" I asked. "How can we look into this independently without them knowing anything?"
"I think I might be able to help once we're in London. I have...old friends, but I also want to contact my great-grandfather. Maybe he can help us better than the others; he knows what's going on; he's hiding...because he's ashamed of what my father is doing."
"How do we find him if they told us he could be anywhere," I pointed out.
"I don't know that yet, but there must be some way...I don't know, but I feel I can find him. I need to know how," Art said, and I could feel his eyes becoming distant. "I don't know the extent of my powers, Aethera, but I can find him; I just know I can."
"We will find him, and when we do, I am sure he will have answers. He cannot be sitting silently on the sidelines all this while, and when he knows about you, even if he didn't want to before, he will definitely help now," I smiled as he returned to me, holding me as tightly as before. "For now, I need to rest," I yawned, sleep taking over me even though my body had never felt this rested.
I closed my eyes, smiling at the sound of his heartbeat, wondering how I ended up here. But I didn't reassure myself this time, even though what would happen soon was a graver challenge than anything else I had faced.
I just looked back at all the times I had compelled myself to feel better, all the nights I had spent with a hurt in my chest that I had never understood. And standing away from it all now, I understood how the pain felt, but I didn't feel it anymore.
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