Chapter 67 Romie
ROMIE WAS USED TO HER life fracturing into befores and afters, but nothing could have prepared her for the pain of being splintered from Atheia—from the keys, especially.
These bonds that had united them and tethered them to Atheia snapped, and Romie felt like screaming, the loss so poignant she thought she would never be whole again without them.
But when she opened her eyes, Aspen and Tol and Orfeyi were all here. Alive, in their own bodies.
And so was she.
The four of them held on to one another, embracing as if they couldn’t quite believe that they were here, that this was real, that against all odds they were alive.
But as Romie watched Aspen nestle her head against Tol’s arm, saw the love in the draconic’s eyes as he whispered something in the witch’s ear; as Orfeyi squeezed Romie’s hand with a wide, triumphant smile, all she could think was that there was something missing.
The echo of the song they’d all followed, this link to Atheia they had all shared that had made such inexplicable kinship bloom between them, was gone. There was an emptiness inside Romie that felt like grief, even though they were standing right here with her.
Maybe it wasn’t emptiness. Maybe there was simply more room to be herself now that she wasn’t sharing her body with someone else’s essence. This was all her.
Because Atheia was gone.
And as Romie looked at Emory, her friend smiling at her through tears, Romie felt a wild rush of relief and hope.
If her fate was severed from Atheia’s, it meant she wouldn’t have to sacrifice herself.
Wouldn’t have to throw herself into the void.
She would get to live, and fight every day for Emory’s forgiveness.
They could move past this, she was sure of it.
She understood now that they couldn’t go back to those two girls they’d been before, because they had changed too much.
Had gone through so much together. And perhaps that made their friendship stronger.
The future could only make it stronger still.
Because they would get to live.
But then reality tore down her hope and her smile as she made sense of the tears in Emory’s eyes, of the resignation on her face.
Romie might get to live. But Emory wouldn’t—because she had taken Atheia’s essence inside her.
I love you, Emory mouthed, her eyes full of apology.
Romie wanted to tear Atheia’s essence out of her friend with her bare hands and take it into herself again.
She couldn’t let Emory sacrifice herself in her stead.
She wanted to rage against whatever cruel destiny it was that they should each choose to sacrifice herself for the other.
That this should be the moment where they finally understood each other’s motivations and all the hardships they’d gone through.
That for a brief moment, Romie had let herself hope that they could save the worlds together and go home and be friends again, laugh as they once did, forgive each other and accept all the parts of their selves they felt ashamed of.
That they could grow from this experience, their friendship becoming stronger than ever, because they finally, fully understood each other. Fully accepted each other.
But it was too late.
It was too late.