Architecti
Angels are meant to be divine.
We aren’t. Not really.
In the end, I knew she was going to destroy everything I made. But I couldn’t stop building. I didn’t want to stop.
Such an unbearable truth I must hold for eternity. I was the keeper of possibility, the weaver of infinite fates and yet the one future I never allowed myself to see clearly was my own.
The one where my sister was never going to love me back no matter how hard I cared. No matter how much I built and shaped and carved, she wouldn’t love me the way I wanted.
Oh, she loved me, but the only way she could: with vision and force. Fury and fire. Most of all, she loved me with violent destruction instead of the way I craved: with tender possibility.
I suppose, ultimately, I loved her with betrayal.
Such a sweet pain to exist knowing I did that.
I tore us apart and all because I couldn’t let go. I couldn’t let her live her life for who she was.
Perhaps, if I’m honest, I tried to control her. To make her into what I deemed fit. Yes, I think that is the heart of this. It was always about control.
Of the narrative. The truth. And the lies we wove. And last, of fate and futures and all the free will in the realms.
Though if you recall, I did confess… Maybe you weren’t listening.
I told you I didn’t leave this entirely to fate. I told you I intended to rewrite this story, and even though it didn’t have the ending I wanted, it did have the right one.
I was the architect of this mess. Spun a story of my innocence and martyrdom when in reality, I am a hypocrite believing in free will while bending possibility to fit my own ends.
I thought an ocean separated us: Interitus wanted to tear down the system and rebuild it by force.
But my crime wasn’t so different. I controlled the system from within, all while quietly calling it fate.
Ironic that we spent eternity denying others free will all in the name of believing in it.
Perhaps if I’d just let go, things would be different.
But I was lonely, born with a missing piece that no void ever filled. Not even Gellara, not really. Oh, I loved her, deeply too. But a piece of my soul was missing.
I started this story with a lie. But I’m ending it with a truth.
My last truth, of sorts. Perhaps if I whisper it, you can carry it to the dark with you.
All I ever wanted was a sister, a sibling, a friend.
I found love at first.
Then I found loss.
And last, I found betrayal.
But ultimately, I also found my twin flame, my everlasting, my missing piece. I’m not lonely anymore.
And that, my friend, will always be divine.