Chapter 52 Existence is Unfair
Existence is Unfair
Desdemona
T
he Welding Village looks the same.
The only difference is the absence of keepers.
None are present as I make my way along the barren dirt path—the part of the land that never recovered after the Neptharian War.
I pass the Saul, the old cobblestone building where Damien and I used to trade, still covered in vines.
Then there’s the school, still missing glass in the windows.
When I make it toward the first row of dwellings, I extend my arm, stopping Lucian. “Just… stay back.”
He nods.
Damien’s dwelling hasn’t changed. Why would it? From the woods just beyond his house, I watch and wait for him. I’ve decided I’ll just watch him. There’s no point in trying to talk to him. Not yet. The best I can do is see him.
In the distance, he walks toward his house, holding a girl’s hand. She has brown hair, brown eyes, and certainly nowhere near the amount of baggage I have. But it’s okay. I’m glad he has someone.
I recognize her from class. She always answered questions and had insights in survival. She might even hunt. They probably get along well. I don’t know if Damien and I would now.
It’s good he found someone.
Perhaps giving back his memories would just be… cruel. Because I won’t be giving him back me. All I’d be doing is showing him something he lost, just like what’s been done to me, again and again.
Damien and her stop. Then they kiss. It’s tender and sweet and everything I could never offer him.
They hold each other for a while, staring into one another’s eyes.
It’s nothing like what I would do. It’s nothing like what Lucian and I had.
It’s soft and gentle. Maybe I never knew Damien that well. Maybe he never knew me.
And maybe that’s the point. He’s better off without me. Most likely, everyone is. Fate has decreed that I will be terrible. With the Weapon now… bringing back their memories would only cause pain.
They’re better off.
I clutch the Memorium tight in my hand as I turn. Leaving Lucian behind, I walk through the village, pebbles crunching beneath my feet as I approach my old dwelling. I spent years here: lying in bed, Mom braiding my hair, hunting for food, holding my first dagger.
Then the dreams. They changed everything; they changed nothing. They were only stolen memories.
Two girls play out front, indisputable proof that the world moved on.
The oldest can’t be more than ten, and she tries to climb the structure—something I was already too old to do by the time I moved here.
They’re smiling, the kind that only exists on the faces of children who haven’t yet recognized the sorrows of their world.
I step toward the dwelling. I almost expect my mom to be inside. When I knock on the door, the younger girl gives me a look.
Kneeling down, I whisper, “Are your parents here?” I try to smile, so I don’t scare the child.
But not even my teeth can hide my red eyes.
The little girl moves backward, tripping and falling to the floor.
“Daddy!” she shouts, her eyes wide with terror.
A man steps into the doorway, holding out an arm to usher his girls inside. “We don’t want any trouble,” he says, his voice gravelly and low—afraid.
“I’m not—” I sigh, shaking my head as I watch the girls run behind their father. “No trouble, sir.”
“Your kind make a lot of trouble.” He looks me over.
I shake my head, raising my hands to show I’m harmless. “I’m only looking for Isa Althenia.”
The girls stand tucked behind his legs. The man nods. “Sorry. Isa was never found after the monster attack.”
That can’t possibly be true.
“You mean… from last year?”
“That’s the one.” The man looks behind me, gaze roaming through the village. “Is that all you need?”
I nod.
“Then you’re all right with me closin’ this door?” he asks.
I swallow and sputter, “Yeah—”
The door swings shut.
I stand before a house that is no longer my home. A family that isn’t mine lives behind these walls.
It’s strange how quickly you get used to things. I spent my whole life without a moon, and after less than a year with one, I’m left wondering where it went when it’s gone.
I’ve spent my whole life with my mom, and after less than a year without her, I’m left wondering if I even need her.
It feels wrong, like I’m forsaking her by not needing her. Maybe Mial never sent her back, or maybe she didn’t return to the Welding Village. There would be no reason for her to stay. She couldn’t have been worried about finding me.
I don’t exist.
Because of her, I never had a home to go back to.
Suddenly, I want her to know what she’s done. All the ways she’s left me. I want her to remember our last conversation. I want her to know that I know. That I remember what she stole.
She can’t get away with breaking me. If I had remembered how to use my magic, I would have learned. I wouldn’t be what I am now. The blood on my hands is as much hers as it is mine. And she needs to know that.
I reach for the Memorium, driven by spite. But that’s perfectly fine with me. I clutch the stone in my hand and close my eyes.
I recognize the magic of the Memorium instantly. I’ve been using it my entire life, all those times Mom thrust this necklace into my hands and told me to “Feel.”
Time after time, I took my own memories because she asked me to, and I trusted her.
I want her to feel that.
I hold this stupid stone.
And I feel.