Chapter 11 #3
“I think you've already sacrificed enough.” His voice grows quiet.
“Ellie, you never asked for any of this. The Veinblood Masters sent you away so you would remain untouched by it. My summoning pulled you back into a conflict that isn’t yours to fight.
You've already done more than anyone had the right to ask of you.”
I study his face. His features are blank, but I know him well enough now to see the conflict beneath it.
“You're trying to convince me to stay here without you.” The realization hurts. “After everything we’ve been through together, you’re trying to talk me out of coming back with you.”
“That’s not—” He stops, and looks away. “I want you safe.”
“You want me safe, or you want me gone?”
“Mel’shira, no.” His voice is sharp. “I want you with me, but not if it’s going to kill you.
” He takes a breath, and his voice is softer when he next speaks.
“I'm telling you that you have options. Real options.
A life here that doesn't involve avoiding Authority soldiers or wondering if today will be the day a battle goes wrong.”
“What if I don't want that anymore?”
The question hangs between us. He looks away.
“Then that is your decision to make,” he says finally. “But it should be yours alone. Not something you feel obligated to do because of what we've been through together.”
“And you think this is the life I want?”
“You grew up here. You understand how things work. You have friends, a job, a world that makes sense to you.”
I look around my apartment. Really look at it. The mismatched furniture I've accumulated over the years. The stack of bills on the counter. The generic prints on the walls, chosen more for affordability than personal meaning. Evidence of a life lived without passion, without purpose.
“Do you want to know what I was doing before your summoning reached me?
I was Christmas shopping. Walking home through slush and car exhaust fumes with bags full of gifts for people I see maybe three times a month.
I was thinking about whether I could really afford to take some time off work, wondering if I should text back the guy from three mediocre dates just because being alone felt worse than being bored.
“I remember thinking that this was as good as my life was going to get. That maybe settling for fine was actually wisdom instead of cowardice. That was my life, Sacha. A job that paid the bills but meant nothing. An apartment I could barely afford. Friends I saw every few months for lunch because we ran out of things to talk about if we saw each other more often. A routine that never changed and never challenged me.” I move closer to him.
“Do you know what I felt when I woke up in that desert and saw your tower?”
“Terror, I'd imagine.”
“Fear, yes. And confusion. But underneath all of that?” I search for the right words. “I saw possibility. Like maybe there was a reason I was there. That maybe my ordinary life wasn't the only option I had.”
He studies my face, searching for … I don’t know what. “That could have been adrenaline and dehydration talking. The novelty of adventure. It's different when the reality sets in. When people you care about start dying.”
“People I care about are already dying. The Veinwardens, the fighters who have become part of something larger than myself.” My voice grows stronger. “They're facing the Authority without us. How is hiding here supposed to make me feel safe?”
“It's not hiding if you're simply reclaiming your life.”
“This isn't my life anymore! And I don’t think it ever really was.” The words ring with certainty I didn't expect. “It was just what I accepted because I didn’t know there was anything else. Because I didn’t know I was capable of more.
It was my life before I understood the difference between surviving and actually living.
Before I met you. I want to fight beside you.
I want to help end the Authority's control.
I want to use the power that was put in me to free the people they've oppressed.” I take another step closer.
“I want to be somewhere I'm needed instead of where I'm comfortable.”
“The war might last years. Decades. There's no guarantee we'll survive it.”
“There's no guarantee I'll survive crossing the street tomorrow. At least in Meridian, my life means something.”
He's quiet for a long moment, conflict playing across his features. When he speaks again, his voice is rough with emotion he's trying to contain.
“I can't promise you'll be safe.”
“I can't promise you'll be safe either. That's what makes us a good team.”
The ghost of a smile touches his lips. “You're certain about this?”
I think of the bracelet on my wrist, of the magic flowing through me, of Nyassa's tears when she recognized Sacha, and of the sacrifices already made to keep me alive. My thoughts go to Mira, and Varam, and the Veinwardens still fighting battles while we’re here.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”
The distance between us disappears as he crosses the room. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing along my cheekbones. “Then tomorrow we go home.”
Home. Not to his world. Home to our world. The place where we make sense together.
I lean into his touch, closing my eyes. “Tomorrow.”
But first, I have things to take care of. Loose ends to tie up. A life to set aside in a way that won't leave people searching for answers I can't give them.
I make a list of things I need to do, and work through it one step at a time, while Sacha watches. Each task feels like closing a door I'll never open again. Resignation letter. Letters to friends that explain nothing while saying goodbye to everything.
“Will they believe your explanations?” he asks as I seal the last letter.
“For a while. Long enough for it not to matter when they stop.” I set the letters aside. “My friends will be hurt that I didn't say goodbye in person, but I think eventually they'll believe I finally got tired of settling for less than I wanted.”
“They wouldn't be wrong.”
I consider that. In a way, he's right. I am leaving behind a life of settling, of accepting whatever came along because it was easier than fighting for something better. The difference is, I'm not running away from responsibility. I'm running toward it.
The apartment grows quiet as evening deepens. We eat dinner from takeout containers, the last meal I'll ever have in this kitchen.
“What will you miss most?” Sacha asks, studying the city lights beyond the window.
I follow his gaze, considering the question. “Hot showers, and coffee. Definitely coffee.”
“Is that all?”
I think harder, trying to identify what leaving this world actually costs me. “The safety, maybe. The luxury of not mattering to anyone's survival except my own.”
“That's not a small thing to give up.”
“No,” I agree. “But it's not worth keeping either.”
Later, when we’re lying in bed, Sacha turns to me.
“Any regrets?” His voice is soft in the darkness.
I consider lying for half a second, but while Sacha may have withheld parts of the truth sometimes, he’s never outright lied to me. He deserves the same in return.
“A few. But not about choosing you.” The words slip out before I can stop them. “Not about choosing us.”
He goes still beside me. “Ellie—”
“I know you didn’t ask me to choose you over a safe life, but that’s what I’m doing.” I turn in his arms. “I’m choosing us. This. And everything that comes with it.”
He doesn’t answer for the longest time, then just when I think he’s fallen asleep, his lips find my ear, and he whispers words that almost break me.
“I’ve never been anyone’s choice before.”