23. The Truth
CHAPTER 23
The Truth
V ale's brownstone caught me off guard. I'd expected something sleek and modern, cold as his hospital office. Instead, warmth radiated from every corner – ancient artifacts sharing space with medical texts, worn leather chairs that invited contemplation, walls lined with books in languages I shouldn't recognize but somehow did.
“Please, sit.” Vale gestured to the chairs with unexpected grace. His usual sharp edges seemed softer here, worn smooth like river stones. “Alex will be joining us shortly.”
“Why are we here, Vale?” I asked, unable to keep the wariness from my voice. After years of hospital politics and veiled threats, this sudden invitation to his home felt like another move in our endless game. “What's this about?”
He paused, considering his words with unusual care. “It's time for truth. All of it. But we should wait for Alex.”
“More cryptic answers?” My hands wanted to shake, but for once they stayed steady. “I've had enough of those lately.”
“I know.” Something in his expression made me look closer – a vulnerability I'd never seen before. “That's why I called you here. No more half-truths or careful dances. Just...” He gestured at the artifacts surrounding us. “Just reality, in all its complicated glory.”
As if summoned by his words, a knock echoed through the house. Vale disappeared to answer it, leaving me alone with artifacts that pulled at memories I wasn't sure I wanted to face. A bronze bowl caught my eye – something about its patina, the precise angle of its rim, made my hands remember preparing medicines I'd never learned.
“Vale,” I called after him, my voice sounding strange in the artifact-filled space. “Whatever game this is...”
“No games,” he replied without turning. “Not anymore. We're well past that now.”
“I remember everything now. And it's time you did too.” Vale said.
Alex moved closer to my chair, protective without crowding. “Vale?—”
“I wasn't always your enemy.” Vale's words fell into the incense-laden air like stones into still water. “In Greece, I was your friend. Your protector. All of you – the whole circle.” His smile held ancient grief. “You were my finest student, Elias. The one who understood that healing could be both science and sacred art.”
He moved to a locked cabinet that seemed to hum with subtle energy. The key he produced looked too old for any modern lock, its bronze surface etched with symbols that made my eyes want to slide away.
“But watching you die, lifetime after lifetime...” His hands shook slightly as he removed an ornate box. “I thought I could save you. Break the cycle. Give you chances to find each other without this pressing down on you.”
The box itself looked ordinary enough – wood darkened with age, simple designs carved along its edges. But something about it made the air feel thick, heavy with possibility and warning both.
“Instead,” Vale's laugh held no humor, “I created a worse one. Bound us all together in ways even the gods hadn't intended. ”
“The curse,” Alex said quietly. “The one that makes us remember.”
“Not a curse.” Vale's correction was gentle but firm. “A blessing, or meant to be. A way to ensure you'd always find each other, always have another chance at the happiness you deserved.” He set the box on his desk with infinite care. “But power has its own ideas about how it should be used. Its own way of twisting even the purest intentions.”
My hands moved without conscious thought, reaching for the box. Something about it called to the healer in me – not the modern surgeon, but something older. Something that remembered preparing medicines by moonlight, binding wounds with blessed herbs, speaking prayers over failing hearts.
“Careful,” Vale warned, but didn't stop me. “Some memories come with prices we're not ready to pay.”
The box opened with a sound like distant thunder. Inside, a vial of dark liquid caught what little light penetrated the study's heavy curtains. Beside it, something that looked like a scroll, its surface covered in writing that hurt my eyes to look at directly.
The moment Vale touched them, reality shifted.
Smoke and blood filled the air, turning Greek sunlight strange and terrible. My hands remembered everything.
We knelt in blood-soaked sand, surrounded by the dying. ,Alexandros lay still beneath my hands as I tried desperately to save him. Around us, other bodies cried out for healing I couldn't give fast enough.
Valerius knelt beside me, his priest's robes stained crimson. But his eyes... his eyes held something wild, desperate, more terrible than the battlefield chaos around us.
“I can save them,” he whispered, words echoing across centuries. “I can save all of them.”
The scroll in his hands glowed with sickly light, its surface crawling with symbols that shouldn't exist. Power radiated from it in waves that made my healer's senses scream in warning .
“This isn't right,” I heard myself say, though the voice felt both mine and not mine. “This isn't how healing should work.”
“They're dying!” Valerius's voice cracked with desperation. “All of them, everyone we love. I can stop it. I can give them – give you – another chance.”
“Some powers aren't meant for mortal hands.” The words came from memory and present both, carried understanding I shouldn't have.
But Valerius wasn't listening. The scroll's light grew stronger, terrible and beautiful, as he began to read words that hurt my ears. Power built around us like a storm about to break.
“Stop!” I tried to reach for him, but my hands were busy trying to keep Alexandros's blood inside his body. “You don't know what you're doing!”
“I know exactly what I'm doing.” Valerius's smile held madness born of too much knowledge. “I'm saving you. All of you. Giving you chances to find each other again and again until you get it right.”
The memory crystallized, more vivid than any before. Through Elias's eyes, I watched Valerius pull a sacred scroll from his robes, its pages stained with blood and time. The text seemed to move on its own, symbols crawling across ancient parchment in ways that made my healer's senses scream in warning.
Alexandros lay wounded before us, his blood soaking into sand already dark with death. Around us, our friends – our family – scattered like broken dolls, all dying from a battle we couldn't win. The air tasted of copper and desperation, thick with smoke that turned Greek sunlight strange and terrible.
“There's a spell,” Valerius said, his voice catching on tears or smoke or both. “A way to give them another chance. All of them.” His hands shook as he opened the book to a page that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. “A way to ensure the souls we love are never truly lost.”
Ancient words began falling from his lips, each syllable cutting through battlefield chaos like knives. Power gathered around us, heavy as storm clouds, hungry as open graves. My hands – Elias's hands – never stopped working, trying to keep Alexandros's blood inside his body even as Valerius's spell reached for something that should have remained untouched.
“It came with a price,” Vale's present voice overlaid with Valerius's past, pulling me halfway back to his study. “One would remember, searching lifetimes to find their love. One would forget, protected from the pain of remembering. The others would live new lives, unknowing.”
His voice broke on the last word, centuries of regret bleeding through. “I thought I was saving you all. Giving you chances to find happiness in other lives. Instead...”
The memory shifted, fractal-like, showing me glimpses of lives I'd lived and forgotten. Renaissance Italy, where I painted masterpieces but never met Alexandros's eyes across crowded rooms. Paris in the 1920s, where our paths crossed too late, after he'd married another. London during the Blitz, where bombs fell before we could speak the truth we both felt.
Life after life, death after death, always finding each other just slightly wrong. Always reaching for connection that slipped through our fingers like smoke.
“The spell twisted,” Vale continued, his words pulling me fully back to his study. “Power like that – it has its own ideas about how it should be used. Its own way of ensuring the price is paid in full.”
My hands remembered everything now – not just the lives I'd lived, but the ones I'd missed. The almost-meetings, the near-misses, the moments when fate or circumstance or simple human fear had kept us apart.
“So you remember everything?” I asked, my voice rough with borrowed grief. “Every life, every death, every time we failed to get it right?”
“Every moment.” Vale's smile held edges sharp enough to cut. “That was my price, you see. To watch, to remember, to try to guide without interfering directly. To carry the weight of knowing while everyone else got to forget. ”
“What about Marcus?” Alex asked, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around mine. “Does he remember too?”
Vale's laugh was something between a chuckle and a knife's edge. “Marcus? He's not like the rest of us. He's... older. More complicated.” A distant look came into his eyes, something between reverence and caution. “Marcus doesn't just remember. He's been the architect of more cycles than any of us could comprehend.”
“What does that mean?” I pressed, the surgeon in me demanding precision.
“Some of us remember,” Vale explained, “some of us guide. Marcus? He observes. He calculates. Sometimes I think he's been playing a game so long that even he's forgotten the original rules.” He leaned forward, his intensity burning through the room. “Marcus has seen civilizations rise and fall. He's watched us repeat our patterns, our mistakes, our moments of desperate love. He doesn't just remember – he understands the fundamental rhythms of our existence in a way none of us can.”
Alex's hand found mine, warm and solid in this moment that felt both ancient and new. “But something's changed,” he said quietly. “The pattern is shifting.”
“Because of Will.” Vale moved to a cabinet I hadn't noticed before, its wood so dark it seemed to swallow light. “His soul... it remembers things from before the spell. Before the temples. Before civilization itself.”
He removed something that made the air feel thick with possibility – a small vial filled with liquid too dark to be natural. “My blood,” he explained, holding it up to catch lamplight. “Part of the original spell. The key to breaking it.”
The vial seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat, ancient power calling to the healer in me – not the modern surgeon, but something older. Something that remembered preparing medicines by moonlight and binding wounds with blessed herbs.
“With this,” Vale continued, his hands steady as he offered it to us, “you can end the cycle. Choose to remember or forget, live one life or many. I've carried this burden long enough. Watched you suffer long enough.”
“Why now?” I asked, though part of me already knew the answer.
“Because Will's memories are surfacing too fast, too violently.” Vale set the vial on his desk with infinite care. “He's remembering power that should have died when the first temples fell. Knowledge that could unravel more than just my spell.”
Alex's grip on my hand tightened slightly. “The night in my office,” he said quietly. “When he attacked me. He was remembering, wasn't he?”
“Fragments.” Vale's correction was gentle but firm. “Pieces of truth his soul shouldn't be able to access. But each time he sees you together, each time the pattern tries to reassert itself...” He gestured at the artifacts surrounding us. “It gets harder to contain. Harder to protect him from knowledge that could destroy him – destroy everything.”
The vial caught lamplight like captured stars, its contents moving in ways that defied physics. My hands itched to touch it, to understand its mysteries with healer's senses that remembered preparing medicines in ancient temples.
“What's the catch?” I asked, medical training making me look for complications, for hidden costs.
Vale's smile held no humor, only ancient understanding. “The catch is choice. Real choice, for the first time since I cast the spell. You could choose to remember everything – every life, every love, every moment of finding and losing each other. Or...”
“Or we could choose to forget,” Alex finished softly. “Live one normal life, free from all of this”
“But Will would still remember,” I said, pieces clicking into terrible place. “Still have access to knowledge that could destroy him.”
“Yes.” Vale's single word carried centuries of regret. “His soul is beyond my power to contain now. The choice I'm offering... it's not just about your love story anymore. It's about what happens when ancient power breaks free in a world that's forgotten how to handle it.”
“What really happened in 1893?” Alex's question cut through the study's hushed atmosphere. “You erased those memories, but you never told us why.”
Vale's hands trembled slightly as he poured another drink. “Some things were better forgotten,” he said quietly. “Even by me.”
“Not anymore.” Alex moved closer, power crackling beneath his careful control. “If Will's remembering everything, we need to know what happened. What was so terrible you had to erase an entire year?”
The study seemed to hold its breath as Vale considered, artifacts watching with ancient understanding.
“William started remembering too fast,” he said, staring into his glass. “Not gradually like this time - all at once. The memories hit him like a flood, and he couldn't... he couldn't handle the weight of them.”
“What do you mean?” Alex asked, though his expression suggested he already knew.
“Imagine remembering every death, every loss, every moment of grief - all at once.” Vale's voice roughened. “He broke. Started reaching for power he wasn't ready for, trying to stop anyone else from dying. Trying to make everyone remember so he wouldn't have to carry the burden alone.”
The room felt colder as understanding dawned. I watched Alex sink into a chair, the implications hitting him hard.
“How bad did it get?” he asked softly.
“Bad enough that reality started to crack.” Vale closed his eyes, remembering horrors from a timeline that no longer existed. “His power was too raw, too desperate. People around him started remembering lives they hadn't lived yet. Started dying from memories their minds couldn't contain.”
“It spread,” he continued, voice heavy with ancient regret. “Like ripples in a pond. The more people who remembered, the more the fabric of reality strained. William couldn't stop it - didn't want to stop it. Said if everyone remembered, no one would have to die alone anymore.”
“So you erased it,” Alex said. “Erased everything.”
“I had no choice.” Vale's words fell like stones. “The damage was spreading. More people dying from forced remembering. Reality itself starting to fragment under the strain.” He met our eyes steadily. “So I reached for the darkest magic I knew. Bound time itself to make that year never happen.”
The implications settled like lead in my chest. An entire timeline erased. Lives rewritten. Memories sealed away so completely that even Will - who remembered everything - couldn't access them.
“William fought me,” Vale continued, his voice rough. “Tried to stop me from erasing what had happened. Said he'd rather reality break than lose his family again.” His hands shook as he reached for his drink. “I had to... I had to bind him first. Make him forget not just that timeline, but the very power he'd touched when everything started unraveling.”
“And now he's remembering.” Alex's words carried terrible understanding. “Not just regular memories, but the power he accessed when reality cracked. The knowledge that broke through when time itself started breaking apart.”
Vale nodded slowly. “That's why his remembering is so dangerous now. He's not just accessing past lives - he's remembering power that should never have existed in our world. Power that almost destroyed everything once before.”
The study watched with ancient eyes as we absorbed the implications. Artifacts hummed with sympathetic energy, recognizing the weight of what Vale described. This wasn't just about our love story anymore. This was about what happened when grief and love twisted into something that could break reality itself.
“So when you say his soul is beyond your power to contain...” Alex's voice trailed off as understanding hit.
“Yes.” Vale's single word carried centuries of regret. “His soul is beyond my power to contain now. The choice I'm offering... it's not just about your love story anymore. It's about what happens when ancient power breaks free in a world that's forgotten how to handle it.”
The study watched us with ancient eyes as we absorbed the implications. Everything I thought I knew about myself, about Alex, about the strange connection between us – it all shifted sideways, revealing patterns I hadn't known to look for.
“When do we have to decide?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Soon. The pattern is accelerating. Will's memories are surfacing faster than I can contain them. And the power...” Vale gestured at the vial, at the artifacts surrounding us. “It wants to be used. To finish what it started all those lives ago.”
Alex's thumb traced patterns on my palm, grounding me in this particular present. “Together,” he said quietly. “Whatever we choose, we choose together.”
Vale nodded slowly, his usual sharp edges softened by candlelight and memory. “Together,” he agreed. “The way it always should have been.”
The study door burst open before either could respond, wood cracking against wall with supernatural force. Will stood in the doorway, but not the Will I'd seen at hospital board meetings. Power radiated from him in waves that felt ancient and wrong.
“Finally,” he said, smile sharp. “The truth comes out.” His gaze fixed on the vial in Vale's hands with predatory intensity. “Though you've misunderstood one crucial detail.”
The air grew heavy with potential violence, making it hard to breathe. Alex moved closer to me, protective instincts from a thousand lifetimes taking over. But Will's next words froze us all in place.
“I wasn't just another soul in your circle, Valerius. I was there before. Are you forgetting that I was the one who taught you that spell.” Will said .
Vale's face went pale, ancient understanding dawning in his eyes. But Will wasn't finished. He moved into the room with terrible grace, each step radiating power that felt wrong in ways I couldn't quite explain.
“I've remembered everything for months,” he continued, his gaze never leaving the vial. “And that wall you put in my head didn't really work, brother.” The last word carried mockery sharp as broken glass. “Watching you all stumble toward understanding, watching my dear brother search lifetime after lifetime...”
His laugh held darkness older than the artifacts surrounding us. “Vale's curse was elegant, I'll give him that. But it was built on principles I created, magic I perfected long before your little circle formed.”
Alex tried to step between Will and the vial, but his brother's next words stopped him cold. “I'm the reason the pattern existed in the first place. I'm the one who made your souls bind to each other, lifetime after lifetime.”
My hands began to shake as understanding crashed through me. All those lives, all those memories of finding and losing each other – they weren't just Vale's desperate attempt to save us. They were part of something older. Something darker.
“You wanted immortality,” Vale breathed, his hands tightening on the vial as comprehension dawned. “Even then. You used us... used our love as fuel for your ritual.”
Will's smile widened, showing too many teeth. “Love is power, old friend. And your circle's love was particularly potent. Still is.” His eyes fixed on the vial with hungry intensity. “Vale's curse simply built on what I'd already created. But now...” He raised his hand, power gathering around him like storm clouds. “Now it's time to claim what's always been mine.”
“All these lives,” Alex said quietly, heartbreak clear in his voice. “All these searches, all these almost-meetings. You orchestrated all of it?”
“Not all,” Will admitted, power crackling around his raised hand. “Vale's intervention was... unexpected. Adding his own layer to my original working. Making you remember while Eli forgot – that was a nice touch.” His laugh held no warmth. “But the foundation? The way your souls reach for each other across lifetimes? That was all me.”
“You were my teacher,” Vale whispered, ancient grief clear in his voice. “In the temple. You taught me the healing arts, showed me how to bridge science and sacred power.”
“I taught you what you were ready to learn.” Will's correction held centuries of condescension. “But the real magic, the true power... that I kept for myself. Watching you fumble toward understanding, generation after generation, never quite grasping what was really happening.”
“Why do this to us?” Alex asked.
“Because love like yours comes along once in eons,” Will replied, his voice almost gentle. “The kind of love that transcends death, that refuses to be forgotten. Do you have any idea how rare that is? How much power it generates?”
He moved closer, each step radiating authority that felt wrong in our modern setting. “Your souls were perfect – so perfectly matched, so desperately in love. The ideal fuel for a working that would grant true immortality.”
Understanding hit like physical pain. “The pattern,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “The way we keep finding each other, keep almost getting it right but never quite managing...”
“Generates more power with each iteration. Each near-miss, each tragic ending, each moment of almost-perfect love – it all feeds the working. Keeps me young. Keeps me strong. Keeps me remembering while the rest of humanity fumbles through their brief little lives.”
“And Vale's spell?” Alex asked, though I could tell from his expression that he already knew the answer.
“Added an interesting twist.” Will gestured at the vial, still glowing in Vale's grip. “Making you remember while Eli forgot – it created a wonderful imbalance. More fuel for the fire, more power for the working.” His laugh echoed with ancient darkness. “Though I don't think that was quite what you intended, was it, old friend?”
Vale's expression held centuries of regret. “I thought I was saving them. Giving them chances to find happiness...”
“You were playing with forces you didn't understand,” Will cut him off. “Building on foundations you couldn't see. But now...” Power gathered around him like a cloak. “Now it's time to claim what's always been mine.”
“Will, please,” Alex said softly, and for a moment I saw the boy he must have been in this life – looking up to his older sibling, trusting him completely.
“Oh, Alex,” he said, almost fondly. “Always so willing to believe the best of everyone. But I'm not really your brother. Not in any way that matters.” Power crackled around his raised hands. “I'm something much, much older. Something that was ancient when the first temples rose.”