Sasha.

---Second entry---

So I keep doing it, I guess. I did feel better last week after this session, after all, so I suppose the old man—you, Edgar, if you’re reading—knows what he’s saying. Again. As always.

So… let me tell you about my first and only date. Do you even know what dates are? Did they have that talk with you? Stars, I cannot imagine what all this must be like for you. And I’m not making it any easier, am I?

So. I had this… crush, I guess, for years. On Stanis, my brother’s best friend. He’s four years older now, and for you, he’ll be definitely too old. Fuck, it’s so weird to think I’ll be just frozen in time, for, like, two decades. Reminds me of that guy in stasis—actually, that’s what the lecture was about, wasn’t it? Or was that another day? I don’t really remember.

Doesn’t matter. So, here’s what happened.

My phone lay on the table, and I'd been checking it more often than usual, waiting for a reply from Stanis. I sent him “wanna meet for coffee?” a while ago—or maybe just an hour, but it surely felt like forever to muster the courage to send it—and now I felt glued to my phone. The professor was droning on about Chaos eruptions and their effects on health—important stuff, I knew, but back then, I actually cared more about a boy. Can you imagine?

My eyes flicked down again, and there it was. Stanis: Sure, Friday? Suddenly, everything else faded away.

My heart skipped a beat. A smile spread across my face, a warmth and excitement that had nothing to do with, admittedly, the severe topic of the lecture. Yes, coffee with Stanis! Finally. A date. Well, kind of. Maybe. My mind jumped to what I should wear, how casual-but-not-too-casual I should look. I needed mascara. Could I afford a new one? Would Alex let me borrow it? Would he think I was overtrying? Or not trying enough?

It’s so strange how vividly I remember this inner monologue, even though it’s been months. I can’t really feel any of it anymore, and you won’t at all, but it did happen. I really did feel like this. I did.

Apparently, I wasn’t very subtle about it because—

“Miss Irving!” Professor Denar’s voice snapped through my daydream. I jumped, almost dropping my phone.

“Uh, yes?” I stammered, blinking as my brain did an emergency reboot from romance mode to academia mode. My cheeks flushed as I realized everyone was staring at me. Including Alex, who gave me an amused look that said, Really, Sash?

“So?” Professor Denar asked, unimpressed. His eyebrows seemed to be elevated higher than should be possible.

Oh no. What was the question? Beside me, Alex leaned over, her voice barely a whisper. “Type C,” she hissed.

Ah, that. I knew that. I was actually a good student; I cleared my throat, “Yes, right. Type C causes cognitive deficiencies for any executive functions, up to a complete loss that can cause stasis-like symptoms. The longest recorded stasis lasted forty-two years. The person—Brandon Stoff, I think?—woke up looking exactly the same, with no idea how much time had passed, and he even wrote a book about the experience.” My voice grew steadier as I spoke, recalling the details. I’ve read his book, after all. It was heartbreaking, actually. Even more heartbreaking now, isn’t it? Maybe you should read it too. Although he didn’t forget everything, he just lost the time. For you, it was both, wasn’t it? Or do you remember anything? I hope you don’t really remember Chaos. But that’s impossible, isn’t it?

Anyway, I did answer back then. Professor Denar’s eyebrow seemed to lower just a fraction. He gave a curt nod. “Correct. Although I would prefer if students paid attention.” The tension in the room eased slightly, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. He moved on, and I shot Alex a grateful look.

She grinned, mouthing, You’re welcome.

I guess now I remember moments that retrospectively feel like hints at a future I never could’ve even imagined. I try to focus on the normal, the mundane, but my mind keeps going back to subtle signs I ignored. Like that day—or sometime around the same day, during lunch.

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Lunch was loud and messy—just like it always was when our group grabbed a table. Thomas was in the middle of an animated rant about the recent lecture, waving his fork around like a conductor’s baton.

“I’m just saying,” Thomas started, “there are way more eruptions happening now than last year. And the ACC can’t even send mages to do the lectures anymore! They were supposed to send someone today, remember? But no, we’re stuck with old boring Denar.” He paused, dramatically shaking his head. “And they still haven’t announced the new Savior. Thirty-five years since Alaric returned—that’s way too long. Statistically, it’s like the 99th percentile.”

I had no idea what “percentile” meant, but I also wasn’t sure Thomas did either. I frowned, picking at my food. “But if something was wrong, wouldn’t the ACC say something? I mean, Edgar wouldn’t hide it, right? He’s… Edgar. Probably the next Savior is already training or something.”

It’s funny, right? Thomas was completely right. I don’t know if you can get the irony. But I do. And Edgar, if you’re reading, you’ll appreciate this part.

Thomas shrugged, a skeptical look crossing his face. “Maybe. But when was the last time anyone actually saw Edgar? Like, actually saw him? Not on some pre-recorded TV appearance? I’m telling you, he could be—”

“He could be what?” I interrupted, rolling my eyes. “Dead? Please. For a strong mage, a hundred and thirty is nothing. The longest recorded mage lifespan was two hundred and forty-seven, and Edgar is easily ten times stronger than that guy ever was.”

Well, at least I was right about that one, wasn’t I?

Thomas raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. But what if—just hear me out—what if there’s more to it? Like, what if there’s some kind of secret Chaos cult, and they’re sabotaging the Savior selection process? Maybe they’re the reason we haven’t heard anything. Maybe they’re killing all suitable mages and trying to bring about the end of the world, and the ACC is just covering it up!” His eyes widened. Now it was getting really ridiculous.

Sonya chimed in, ignoring Thomas’s musings: “Ah, Sasha, this is why you want to study magic so badly! You want to live forever, don’t you?”

“Living forever sounds nice,” I smiled. I really thought so, didn’t I? You probably laugh at this point, don’t you? Can you even laugh, after… everything? Please do. I can’t imagine how hard and weird and painful it must be for you now, but please learn how to laugh again, if you’ve forgotten how.

Back then, I tried to explain what magic was to me: “But actually, I don’t know, you know… it’s just… magic is… everything,” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “It’s like unlocking what life is actually about. Or adding a dimension that was always supposed to be there. Does that make any sense?” But I saw that they didn’t seem to share my sentiments much.

Do you? What’s magic to you?

Alex grinned, bringing the topic back to Thomas’s theories. “Beware, Sasha. Next, we’ll be hearing that all mages are secretly invited to Chaos cults.”

“Well, if it comes with free coffee and cool robes, count me in,” I retorted.

We all laughed.

Please don’t be mad. We didn’t really mean it back then, you know? When things are so far from you, and yet so scary, you do make fun of them. Sometimes I think now, maybe I deserve it because I was joking about Chaos? I knew I shouldn’t. But no, that’s ridiculous, Sasha, stop it. I don’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve it. None of us ever did.

That night, back in our dorm, I was practically bouncing with excitement. Because of the date, remember? It was important.

Alex was sitting cross-legged on her bed, listening with a patient smile as I rambled about Stanis, the coffee date, and what I could possibly wear.

“You know,” Alex said, her eyes twinkling, “I think this will be great. Stanis is a good guy. And you deserve something nice, Sash.”

I felt a warmth spread through me, and I smiled. “You think so?”

Alex nodded. “Absolutely. And don’t worry about mascara, you can use mine. We’ll make those grey eyes pop.”

Spoiler alert (do you even know what that means? Oh my). The date never happened.

Later that day, as I got ready for bed, I found myself standing in front of the small altar we had set up in the corner of the room. Alaric, Edgar, and Alexander sigils were there, surrounded by the ever-blooming cacti. I touched the edge of Edgar’s sigil, feeling the cool metal beneath my fingers.

“Thanks, Saviors,” I whispered, a smile on my face. I was happy, excited, and hopeful. It was probably the last time I actually was happy, I realize now. This is why I want you to know it, even if I won’t save the memory of my feelings for Stanis for you. Just know that I was truly happy, once.

But then, almost without thinking, I added, looking at Edgar’s portrait, “You’re alive, aren’t you?” My eyes lingered on the image, a pang of worry gnawing at me. I shook my head, brushing the thought away. Stupid Thomas and his ideas. Of course, Edgar was alive. With him out there, nothing bad could happen. Nothing at all.

Some part of me still believes it, you know? The biggest part. At least, nothing bad will happen to the world with him around. And I… I, ultimately, don’t matter. Not like he does.