As your life’s candle sputters and dies, whose face will rise to greet you? Happy is the one who can sleep in the comfort of the smile he sees then. This is perhaps the greatest flaw in the concept of it all. No, Ithunn, I do not wish for eternity. Even for a single moment, it’s enough, if it’s with her.

-A Corpsman attempts history, Final Remarks.

As the elevator grinded its way to the flight deck, Evelyn longed to be on a rooftop again.

The ones on Vercingetorix had been alright, but it was one of the poorest city-ships, with the lowest buildings. Boudicca, the one off the coast of England, had way better roofs. Easy to climb up, and tall enough to isolate you from anyone else. She hadn’t been there in ages. She didn’t want to think about going there again.

So ,the upper deck would have to do for now.

It was an interesting mission they had been given. The new recruits were training, and Second brigade was operating the refinery, leaving Will, Evelyn, Deanna and Tariq to be tossed around by Vanham. Kitsch and Brannaghan had volunteered to help with the training, thankfully.

“Ever done this before?” Tariq asked Will, shouting over the sound of the elevator.

“Never.” Will replied.

The huge elevator stopped, and the four of them walked off. It was damp, overcast and cold. Evelyn could faintly feel the ocean roiling under her feet. She hoped the cold didn’t accompany them on the mission.

“So we’re going in blind?” Tariq asked.

“Indubitably.”

What could go wrong?

…

“If I may, Sir”, Will said, ”I am afraid I do not fully comprehend how a soldier of the greatest force known to man could end up in the Corps.”

Evelyn watched the shoreline appear as their helicopter approached it, waves crashing against the sea wall. “Yeah, aren’t you lot supposed to be the best of the best?”

“We are.” Tariq said. “I got court-martialed. ‘Treason’, apparently. They can’t execute me, so here I am.”

“Right.” Evelyn said. “And when did you take your last dose?”

“A week ago.”

“Three weeks, then.”

Will looked confused. “Three weeks until what?”

“Abstinences. You’ll die.” Evelyn said.

Tariq looked at her with a haughty smile. “Sweetie, I won’t die. You honestly believe the Triumverate propaganda?”

Evelyn cocked her head. “The what?”

“The Triumverate? The central asian coalition fighting to eliminate our way of life?”

“Oh yeah. That’s who you’re fighting now? To be honest, I’ve never seen the reason why you guys fight so much. Seems there’s been a war every year since I was a kid.”

“Yeah. They’re necessary to maintain your way of life.” He said, as if he couldn’t believe he had to explain it.

Will leaned in. “Hold on. Evelyn, you said he would die?”

“Yeah,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Why’d ya think they need to refresh their doses?”

“Because their immortality wears off. Correct, Tariq?”

Tariq looked uneasy. “Yeah. Doesn’t mean we die.”

“And have you ever met an immortal who lost that immortality?”

Tariq reacted viscerally for a split second, as if having taken a bullet. He quickly righted himself. “No, I haven’t. Have you?”

Boy, have I ever…

The copilot turned to them. “One minute until landing.”

Will immediately began lacing his boots. Evelyn looked at Deanna, who seemed absorbed within herself. Was she still hung up on Magnus?

“Hey, Dee,” she said,”You alright?”

Deanna looked up, met her gaze. “Yup, just… just tired.”

“Same. Dinner’s gonna be good, though.”

She nodded at that. They were practically sitting on top of one another in the cramped helicopter, yet she still felt distant.

After a short while, the doors opened, and wet air rushed in. The rope ladder unfurled, falling some fifty meters down.

Wait a minute…“Tariq?” she said.

“Yes?”

“I think you’re full of shite. You’re not immortal.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care what you think.”

“Yes you do. Now prove it.”

“And how would I go about doing that?”

“Jump.” She said, expecting him to hesitate.

“Alright,” he said, leaping from the helicopter door.

She paused for a moment. Will craned his neck to get a look.

“How is he doing?” Deanna asked.

Will was awestruck. “Our new friend does not seem to be lying.”

…

Tariq wiped some mud from his face. Believe me now? He thought. As the short-lives clambered down the ladder one by one, Tariq was reminded of how much he pitied them.

It didn’t take long before he forgot.

They had been dropped off in a forest clearing, tall trees surrounding them on all sides. Perfect place for an ambush.

A gust of cold, wet air hit him, and he wished he could be back in the desert.

Will, upon hitting the ground, looked at Tariq with awe. “I am sorry I doubted you, sir. I meant no offence.”

Tariq always cherished these moments. The feeling- no, knowledge - of superiority was a high that never lessened. “Don’t worry, boy, I’m used to it.”

The mopey, brown-haired girl hit the ground next. She seemed unimpressed, as always. Strange. She had to have been some kind of poor before she reached the Corps, so why didn’t she care?

He got a nice view of Deanna as she came down in a tumble of red hair. She had been hard to get through to, last night, but that rarely stopped Tariq for long. He’d get there eventually.

“Thought you were full of shit, soldier boy.” She said defiantly “Guess not.”

“No, I took care of that before we got on the helicopter.”

“Are you five years old, mate?” the brown-haired one said.

“Yeah, five times older than you.” He replied. Some people just hate us real humans, huh?

She snorted at that. “And how can you be so sure I aint like you?” She rubbed at something on her left hand.

He raised an eyebrow. “I can smell it, feel it. I Saw it in Captain Melvin immediately. We’re the only ones on the ship.” Though Will isn’t too far off…

The brown haired one just smirked. “No idea how you can smell anything with your head so far up your arse, mate. They teach you that cunt school?”

Will went over to her. “There is no need for this, Evelyn. We need to complete this mission.”

“Right, right”, she muttered. “Just can’t stand that bugger thinking himself superior to normal people.”

“Thinking? I am superior.”

Will looked at him pleadingly. “Tariq, please. The mission.”

Deanna looked around. “Did they drop us any gear?”

The brown haired girl - Evelyn? - rummaged through the supply crate that had fallen nearby. “Yeah. No canes or tanks, though. Just a backpack.”

She threw it at Tariq, who caught it deftly. Did she think to humiliate him with such easy challenges? He took it. It was light as feather to him, but it looked heavy for her.

Deanna looked at Will. “So, do you know where we go? What we’re gonna do without any gear?”

He scratched his chin, thinking. “Melvin told me there was a map in the backpack. As to the nature of our mission… I think we are to retrieve something or other.”

“Find what?” Tariq asked.

“I have my suspicions, but we shall discover that in turn.”

He talks like an immortal, alright. Tariq opened the pack, and found a sheet of paper with a crude, hand drawn map on it. He dug deep in his memory for lessons on non-electronic navigation, all the way back to the academy at West Point. “Anyone have a compass?” he asked.

“In the backpack, you spoon,” the brown-haired one said.

“Did I ask you, Elizabeth?”

“It’s Evelyn. And yes, you did.”

Annoyed, he dug through the pack and found the compass. The map was of a forest, with a black circle in its clearing. A larger, red circle ringed the whole map. Some trees were drawn past the ring. Three red X’s were marked, two being close to a drawing of a small town. The final one was very close to the outer ring, near a drawing of a house. What appeared to be a road ran from outside of the forest, through, past the house, and towards somewhere marked with a large “E”. Extraction?

He muttered to himself. “If the map is correct, we should be heading…” he turned around, “18 degrees north.” He set off on his own.

They followed, as always, and he led them through the wet underbrush. After a while, they came upon what could have been a dirt road, back in the day. He could only tell due to the difference in height between the trees, and the rusted out remains of a truck. It was a more level patch of forest, stretching forward through the undergrowth.

The ground was orange with fallen leaves. A few fell around them as they walked. Apart from the plants, there were no other signs of life. Strange.

A while later, the forest suddenly stopped, giving way to grass as if waiting in line for something that would never happen. Suffering became audible in the air, an alcoholic stench coming alongside it. The smell made Tariq long for the days before his Ascendance, back when he could still feel the effects of alcohol. It was the only thing he missed from those days.

They walked in a column, Tariq in the lead.

“Stop,” Will said, from the back.

Tariq leaned against the final tree on the road. “What?”

“We have been walking for a little while now. We should rest.”

They were tired? Why couldn’t everyone be on his level? He shrugged. “Alright, I guess.”

Will kicked down the waist-tall grass to give them somewhere to sit, Deanna and Evelyn joining him.

Deanna looked towards the town. “So, we’re just gonna waltz in there without any gear?”

Will nodded. “Tariq, can I have the map, please?”

Tariq fished it out of his chest pocket, regretting having looked down at their ugly pink uniforms. Tariq wondered if he was the first Elysian to wear one. It was a great shame, either way. Don’t blame yourself, dude. Blame Icarian for putting you here. And taking Brick.

Will took the map, pointed at the two X’s in the town. “These are at the northern part of edge, so we should walk around the outskirts and head directly there.” He pointed at the large red ring. “Does anyone have an inkling as to the meaning of this circle?”

Deanna shook her head.

“Mission boundary, maybe?” Evelyn said.

Will considered it. “Yes… yes, it could be. Andrius told me a few rumours about it.”

“That they immobilize you if you cross it?” Tariq asked.

“Indeed. I do not understand why they would do that, however. Would it not draw a gargoyle to you?”

“It would,” Evelyn said, “You really can’t see why?”

Deanna leaned in. “Remember that bald guy who tried to climb the ship fence a few days back?”

Will nodded.

“Magnus and I found him under a gargoyle.”

Silence ensued.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Will looked puzzled. “Well, that… I…” He hung his head.

Tariq pointed to the last X on the map, near the boundary. “So that could be one of our old colleagues, then?”

“Maybe.” Deanna said.

Evelyn looked at Will. “Any clue what we’re gonna do, then?”

He shrugged. Tariq stood back up, and grabbed the map from Will. “We’ll find out when we get there.”

…

Evelyn nearly slipped on the slick grass where the trees were afraid to grow. Luckily, Tariq didn’t see it. She didn’t want to give him any reasons to feel superior.

Not that he was anyway, him proving himself immortal had only lessened her view of him. But at least he hadn’t lied. Well, about the immortal part. Could he be sincere about the cure?

That vision from a few days ago rang into her mind.

Alone.

She hadn’t seen any more of that dream, vision, hallucination, whatever it was. And no one had been of any help, either. That was fine, however. She was used to going mad on her lonesome.

A harrowing scream rang out from the town, startling everyone. She had nearly forgotten about the gargoyles there. Had she gotten used to it already?

Will trudged up to her as they trailed behind Deanna and Tariq, who led them through the plain surrounding the village. They kept a few meters distance, and Will whispered. “I have been thinking about our escape, and have discovered a few complications.”

A few? “Anything other than the 40-meter fence, the armed guards that could immobilize you in an instant, and the whole of the atlantic ocean?”

“Indeed. We must also bring Deanna and Tariq.”

She hadn’t thought of that. A part of her didn’t see that as too important, so she said nothing.

He looked at her.“Right?”

“Uhh, yeah. Will make it harder, though.”

He nodded. “Though I admit I am not sure how.”

She thought it over. “We could knab a helicopter.”

“Are you able to fly one?”

“I got my pilot’s license way back. For planes though, not helicopters.”

He smiled. “Really? You are full of surprises.”

She shrugged. “Tariq’s probably flown one before.”

He scratched his chin. “Perhaps, yes. But immortal or not, I am loath to trust him.”

“Oh, me too, mate.”

“Other methods, then…” He looked at the surrounding trees. “Wait. Evelyn, what is there to stop us from simply running off into the countryside?”

“Didn’t you just mention that immobilising boundary?”

“Yes, though it could just be a rumour.”

“That’s a lot of hope to put into a could, mate.”

“Yes, it is. Hope is, however, our only real beacon in this darkness.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved it off.

Tariq turned around. He brushed a lock of hair from his face, showing his wristband. It was larger than the others she had seen. Strange…

“What’re you two whispering about?” he asked.

“Nothing mate, just wondering about your wristband.”

He looked down at it, puzzled. “What about it?”

Will looked confused.

Evelyn quickly spoke again. “It’s just different from ours, is all.”

“Really? I guess it is.”

Deanna stopped. “Well, it makes sense. If his skin can’t be pierced, how can they get that needle into him?”

Needle? Evelyn hadn’t felt a needle. She felt a flicker within her. That certainly changes things.

Will looked pensive. “I thought Ithunn would grant more grace to immortals, that they would somehow be barred from service here, or at least immobilization. But to think that they already have measures such as this in place…”

You would think that, yeah. Had it never occurred to him how Ithunn really treated those who opposed him, even immortals?

“Anyway,” Tariq began walking again, “If we’re done talking about my hands, let’s do what we’re told, alright?”

“Indeed, I apologise.” Will said, hastily catching up to Tariq. Evelyn fell in with Deanna as she trailed them.

They walked in silence for a while. Shouldn’t you say something to her, mate? Maybe. Something about this place put her in a weird funk. The area felt familiar, somehow. The meadow ringing the town didn’t look very different from the other ones she’d been to in the past week, but something was different here. Not the dour, oppressive atmosphere brought on by the town full of suffering victims, not the draining feeling she always got in places like this, but something else. Memory.

“So what’s this I hear about escaping?” Deanna asked slyly.

“You heard?”

She smiled slyly. “Maybe.”

No point in hiding it, then. “We don’t have any real plans yet, but we’re thinkin’ about it.”

“Well,” Deanna said coldly, “Maybe you should’ve thought of something before Magnus got taken.”

It stung. She pushed it down, but didn’t know how to respond.

“Stop.” Tariq said, holding a closed fist over his shoulder. “The mark should be down that street.” He pointed towards a street to their left. Near where the street met the meadow was a gargoyle covering a body. He began walking slowly towards it. “Follow me, and stay quiet.”

“And think positively.” Will added, earning him a weird look from Tariq.

She followed them, and tried to think about good things in her life. It was difficult. She felt more numb just walking into the town.

Invariably, the thoughts strayed into sadness, and she stopped. If negative emotion excites and positive ones calm them down, what would none do?

As they inched closer to the gargoyle, the victim became clearer. Tariq stopped five meters from the body. It lay on its side on the asphalt, twitching, legs covered by the gargoyle, groaning in pain as the creature convulsed around its legs. The victim looked straight at Tariq, who shied away from its gaze. Other victims screamed in the distance.

“The hell are we supposed to do with that?” Evelyn hissed.

Will circled around the victim. He looked at it’s back, then slumped together.

“What?” she said.

“He has a full tank. It has not solidified yet.”

“We’re grabbing old tanks?” Deanna asked.

“Indeed.” Will said, moving closer. The gargoyle stirred as he did, though it still worked on the victim’s legs. His pink uniform bore the same unicorn insignia they did, but she didn’t recognize him. The jumpsuit was barely even stained. How long has he been here? A day?

Will knelt down over the victim’s shoulder, deeply concentrated. He moved a shaky hand to one of the shoulder straps. Evelyn held her breath.

He found a clasp connecting the strap to the tank, and slowly undid it, muting the friction of metal on metal as much as he could. The strap disconnected from the tank, and Will caught it before it could clang to the ground.

His hands moved to the other strap. He fumbled at the clasp, and it disconnected suddenly. Will cringed at the loud sound, and Evelyn could see fear form in his eyes..

The gargoyle stirred, vibrating in Will’s direction. The head coalesced from its viscous body, and Will quickly grabbed for the tank.

Raising it up, his grip slipped and fell to the ground. The gargoyle moved even faster, only seconds away from Will.

He grabbed both straps, properly this time, and heaved it off the body.

The cane connected to the tank dragged loudly as he rushed away from the gargoyle, it’s head forming to snap at his leg.

As he left, it vibrated like a jackhammer before settling down on its victim.

Will jogged over, resting the tank on the ground. He bent down, hands on his knees. “Fuck.” he said, to Evelyn’s surprise. Hearing him swear felt wrong.

“Good job,” Tariq said, pulling out his map. “The second one should be further down the street.”

“One moment.” Will said. “I need to recuperate.”

Tariq shook his head and muttered under his breath. “Mortals.” He began walking.

“That was well done,” Deanna said.

“Thank you.” Will looked back at the victim, who looked oddly relieved. “He must have thought we were coming to syphon him.” He turned to the victim, looked it in the eyes. “I am sorry, brother. I do not recognize you, but I try to find out who you are, send word out to your family.”

The victim -no, the person - opened his mouth, just barely. His face straining, he wheezed. A whispering sound, pained and intelligible. The gargoyle gyrated harder, making the man howl loudly in pain.

Will nodded, reconnecting the straps to the tank in silence. He shouldered it and grabbed the cane. They followed after Tariq.

There were fewer victims in the streets than usual, making the small town oddly calm. Some sounds of pain still echoed among the tight alleys and low buildings, but it was a welcome change from the past few missions. Green moss and lichen clad the buildings, and a few daring bees searched, in vain, for flowers.

Tariq had found the next victim, laying face down. Its legs rested on the road while the rest of its body lay on the raised curb. The gargoyle covered its entire head.

Tariq watched the three of them expectantly. “Well? We don’t have all day.”

“Mate, you do it. You’re the eager one.”

“Oh I can’t,” he hefted the strap of the backpack, “my back’s occupied.”

Deanna gave him a patronizing look. “I thought you immortal army guys weren’t supposed to be scared?”

He leaned back, furrowing his brow, before smiling back. “Oh I’m brave, I just uhh… want you to get the experience, as they say.”

Evelyn turned to Deanna. “I think he’s scared.”

“Mhm.”

He shrugged, feigning confidence. “Alright, I’ll do it if you don’t believe me. I swear, I had a smaller burden of proof in my court martial…” He bent down and looked at the victim. “Evelyn, you’re the only other syphoner here. Can you lift our little torturer away from his head? It’s a bit close to the straps.”

She nodded begrudingly, right as the gargoyle tightened and convulsed. A muffled scream could be heard from within it.

The tank made a popping sound as she ripped the cane free from the tube. After a nod from Tariq, she extended the syphon, inserting it deftly between the victim’s neck and the gargoyle. It rippled like disturbed water, but stayed put.

She raised the cane, lifting the otherworldly creature of the victim’s head. It left no residue but hair matted with blood and sweat.

Tariq immediately got to work on the straps as the gargoyle flowed slowly back towards the head, vibrating like an unstable washing machine.

Metal scratched on metal as Tariq quickly undid the strap, dropping it to the ground with a clang. The gargoyle reacted violently to the sound, surging towards Evelyn with surprising speed.

Oh no.

She stumbled backwards, and slipped on wet moss.

“NO!” Will screamed, running to drag her away, as Tariq sprinted off.

Evelyn clambered to her feet as Will’s big hands grabbed her shoulders and dragged her away, but not before the creature reached her leg and the world turned to darkness.

She floated once more in the vast abyss, breathing in panic.

A sound came from behind her, a wide hum. A tone, raising and lowering in an unusual rhythm.

She turned and stared again at that vaguely humanoid creature. Alone, it sat at the edge of a universe. Humming a tune, its hair flowing like a nebula.

Her voice felt unusual in her throat, and she made a grunting sound.

The creature didn’t turn to her. Its hair rotated over its scalp, and facial features appeared where the roots had been. And it spoke.

“Alone?”

The voice seemed to echo throughout everything.

“What…”

“What…” It said back, laboriously. Then, as if suddenly realising something, it spoke again. “Hu… man?”

She looked at its eyes, drawing her in like twin black holes. Somehow, in the immutable void of its eyes, she could see her own reflection. Her mind raced. What was this? She had seen this too often for it to be a dream.

“Y-yes,” her voice quivered, “I’m a human.”

She cocked her head, looking at the creature, trying to understand anything. As she did, its features tilted to match hers. What is this? From her perspective, it seemed to be her size, yet an impression of a truly cosmic scale dominated her mind.

“Here again,” it said slowly, sounding out the letters. “No… t alone.”

Was that happiness on its face?

“What are you?”

It concentrated, like a child learning to read.

“Your… speak. Strange, is.”

“I talk strangely?”

“Not. Your talk… difficult?”

“You mean our langua-”

“Language. I speak once, it. Disappear. Forget.”

What? She thought. This is an entirely new level of insanity, even for you, Evi.

In that case, why not play along? “So, you spoke my language once?”

“Yes. Different, it was.”The creature turned its features to the side, looking at where void met universe. “Slow. More fuller. He does anymore, not speak. To me. Become alone, again. I.”

“You’re… lonely?” she asked timidly.

It turned back to her, a tear like the arm of a galaxy running from its pitch-black eye. “Yes. But you.” It smiled. “Find, again. Will talk more. More better.”

She felt a sharp sting on her cheek as the world returned. Cobblestones jabbed annoyingly at her back.

Tariq pulled away his hand, receiving an incredulous look from Will.

“There. Woke her up for ya.” The immortal stood up, walking away.

Will scurried over. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Same as last time.”

Deanna leaned in from the side. “Last time? This happened before?”

“Yes,” Will said, extending a hand to Evelyn, “She came in contact with a gargoyle on our first mission.”

She stood, looking up at the overcast sky. It was still day, but sunset was not far off. Took about three hours, I’d guess. It had only felt like moments.

“She got bit?!” Deanna asked.

Will shook his head. “No, no. She fell into a gargoyle that day. Luckily, she did not get bit.” He looked at Evelyn, and scratched his head. “Come to think of it, how have you avoided being bitten twice now?”

She shrugged. “Beats me. The first gargoyle wasn’t very agitated, and this one probably didn’t get his teeth out in time.”

“That seems plausible,” Will said. “If you are good to go, we should meet up with Tariq, find the next victim.”

“You went back for the tank?”

“Yeah,” Deanna said, turning around to show the tank on her back, “You can have the next one.”

She giggled. “Sure you trust me to do that, eh?”

As they walked out of the town, some part of her did want to take that next tank. Meet up with whatever it was that rattled around her brain, to see if she could figure out what the hell those visions were about. Did it say it had talked with someone before?

Tariq led them away from the town, and into the forest. The road was still visible, but hard to follow, all covered in leaves and grass. The forest around it imposed upon her like the fence on the ship, but opened up after a while into a larger meadow, on the right of the road.

Wildflowers and grass waved in the imperceptible wind. A second road sprouted from the main one, visible only due to the remnants of gravel.

She looked down the offshoot of the road. On top of a hill, fifty meters out, was a red-brick farmhouse, ringed by fields of grass, tended to only by passing cattle and goats. Nearby the house was a low forested area, with a tall conifer jutting up from within. It can’t be…

She was halfway down the offshoot before she heard Will calling for her, shouting something about the boundary. She didn’t care.

Nearing closer, she saw a doghouse by the door to the red brick building. The building was weathered, but still stood despite the years. The doghouse had crumbled, but a lone plank lay by what used to be its entry. Burned into the wood was a single name.

Marigold.

Wilted, lost in time, she stared numbly at the sign. Wind rushed through trees, sending yellowed leaves gently to the ground. A time-worn numbness swept over her.

She looked to her right, at what used to be their orchard. The trees where she had learned to climb, learned to read, decided to be the best version of herself. It was a museum of memories, one she dared not go into.

She looked at her old house.

What was at one point her entire world was now a shelter only for leaves, memories, and refuse. The facade was weathered, the windows nearly opaque with grime. Red bricks still stood out against the vines and moss, as if even they were reverent of this place.

Everything inside was as they had left it, two centuries ago. Plates on the kitchen table, drawers opened in a hurry, right after they were forced to evacuate. She could smell the bacon, Marigold’s fur after a damp morning. Hear the slow music playing as her parents would dance gently in the living room, late into the night. See Baldrian looking proud as he got ready for his first day of school. See Europe engulfed in chaos on the TV, her father rushing them all to evacuate in time. Two hundred years ago.

She walked up the creaky stairs and entered her room. Faded pink curtains flapped in a gust from the open window. Rotted sheets and clothes were strewn about. An old bird’s nest on the remains of her bed, eggs cracked open.

She looked into the drawers. All that remained were the clothes she had left behind in the evacuation. The ones she had wanted so badly to disappear. Swimming trunks, a suit. Clothes she had sworn to never wear again, but had still kept. After all, what if she was wrong? What if it was just a temporary feeling, a mental illness, just as they all said?

Well, now she was here. After more time than she could ever have wished for. She tore the clothing to shreds.

A gust of wind blew in, and the window clattered in its sill. In a haze of memory, she walked out onto the roof.

Her wristband beeped incessantly, but she barely heard it over the overpowering, all consuming,

Peace.

She thought back to that night on the rooftop. When she had finally gotten her name. That profound, fulfilling, wonderful feeling of being seen. Seen by her father as the person she had always been, not the one she had been forced to be up until that point.

She missed him terribly too. And mom. Baldrian. Marigold.

She pushed that weight aside before it would crush her, before that terrible knot in her stomach became too intricate to unravel. Pushed it away to make room for the safe, comfortable nothing.

Looking over the fields, not much had changed. The grass was taller, wilder. The sun had begun to set. But this was a different place now. Changed as much by the presence of time as the absence of it. A different home, for a different person, even for one who hadn’t changed in many, many decades. But that was for the best. What impetus is there to change when one will never end? When you will never have the opportunity to see them again, the faces of the ones you so desperately wish to spend another moment with, in an ending you know you will never have?

That was peace, in a way. A permanent ceasefire between the heart and the brain. Not physiologically. Emotionally. One she could learn to live with.