14. This Is My Choice
Chapter fourteen
This Is My Choice
For the first time, I can truly feel Oberon’s absence.
He always leaves behind a lingering sense of loneliness, but this time is different.
The cabin usually feels a little lighter when he is gone, as if he took all the tension with him wherever he went.
But now, the weight of his words still hangs in the air, pressing down on me, making my body feel heavy, immovable even.
I stand in the middle of the empty cabin, my head spinning out of control, paralyzed by my own thoughts for what feels like an eternity. The cool, metallic object, his parting gift, remains clenched tightly in my hand.
Summoning all my will, I force myself to move toward the door.
I have to step outside to test the barrier that no longer holds me.
I can’t feel it anymore, the magic that once clung to the walls, the ever-constant pull that reminded me I was a prisoner, has dissipated.
But deep in my gut, doubt gnaws at me. Could it possibly be this easy?
Walk out the door, I tell myself. Just walk out the door.
It should be so simple. But my body won’t move and doesn’t dare believe freedom is possible.
Hope has been such a foreign thing, so long gone.
The only hope I have allowed myself in all this time is to wake up each morning still breathing. Even that, sometimes, has felt like too much. There were moments when I let my mind wander, wondering how much easier it would be if I didn’t wake up at all.
With trembling legs, I force myself to take one step.
Then another.
Slowly, I close the gap between myself and the door, the only thing separating me from freedom.
My hand shakes uncontrollably as I reach for the handle, my throat tightening and raw, and each breath feels impossible. The world seems to hold its breath with me.
As I pull the door open, the mid-afternoon breeze slams into my face, filling my senses. I try to breathe, but my entire body remains frozen. The stillness catches in my chest, threatening to stop my heart altogether.
I want to take that final step, to leave the cabin behind and never look back. But fear keeps me rooted in place, hovering just beyond the threshold. The fear that if I try, I will feel the barrier again. The fear that freedom is always still just out of reach.
Seconds? Minutes? I don’t know how long I stand there, staring out the door, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the breeze on my skin.
I remain paralyzed, before I finally coax my foot from where it was heavily planted and dare to take a step to the other side. Relief floods through every nerve in my body as I take the first step, standing just outside the cabin door.
Emotions sweep over me in waves, almost too much to bear.
My legs wobble, begging to give out beneath the weight of the burdens I have carried for so long.
Stumbling through the grass, I make my way to the center of the clearing.
There, I throw my head back and stretch my arms wide, soaking up every bit of the sun’s rays that it so generously grants me.
I breathe deeply, letting the breeze carry away some of the pressure I have been holding inside. I take another deep breath as I allow my body to absorb the warmth, letting it seep into every crevice of my being.
My knees give out, and I let myself drop, running my fingers through the earth, feeling the blades of grass slip between them. I breathe in the rich scent of the dirt beneath my fingertips, grounding myself in the serenity of the moment.
Lowering myself further, I roll onto my back and stare up at the sky. The clouds drift lazily by, forming shapes that melt and reform. Thoughts rip through my mind, fears, questions, memories, but I push them all aside.
I won’t let them take up space in this moment. I know they will return. I know decisions still have to be made.
But not yet.
For hours, I lay there, the solid ground beneath me, the endless sky above. The breeze teases loose strands of my hair, playing with them, and for a moment, I let myself believe I can stay here forever.
Eventually, the thoughts I have been avoiding begin to creep back in, threatening to tear down the fragile walls I have built around this peace.
Reluctantly, I move to stand, wishing I could freeze this moment in time, that nothing before or after would matter.
As I stand, something slips from my pocket, a small object glinting in the grass. A coin? Maybe. A token? The thing Oberon gave me.
I bend to pick it up, turning it over in my hand with careful curiosity.
It is small and delicate, a bronze metal disk with a single hole near the top where it might once have hung from a chain now long gone.
The engraving on its surface is familiar, similar to the markings etched on the box that once held the necklace, similar to the symbols worn on Oberon’s skin.
I don’t know what they mean.
“For luck,” he said.
The coin appears worn with time, weathered, and discolored, an old relic that matches the rest of the items from the rustic cabin. I hold it up to the sun, studying it closely, searching for a clue, any hint of its purpose, or why Oberon gave it to me.
But there is nothing.
After a heartbeat, I slip it back into my pocket.
With one last glance at the sky, I turn toward the forest and start walking.
I am not entirely sure where I am going, but I hope I can at least navigate the path Oberon showed me. It seems like as good a place to start as any.
The growing distance between me and the cabin feels like a small reprieve, a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, finally released.
I don’t know what I am going to do with the tangled mess of thoughts swirling in my mind but putting space between me and that place feels right.
The path is barely visible, worn down by time and neglect, but familiar enough for me to follow. It winds its way toward the mountain’s edge, and I let my feet carry me forward while my mind drifts.
The thoughts come in waves, refusing to be silenced. He lied.
Their voices echo in my head. Both Oberon and Ash claim they were tricked into what happened. But lies or not, trickery or not, they still participated.
False pretenses don’t erase the truth of their actions.
And yet, Oberon’s words ring louder than my own thoughts.
I need you. I wasn’t ready to let you go. . . . I didn’t know how much you would mean to me.
The memory of his voice tightens something deep in my chest, an ache I have tried so hard to deny. Something I’m not sure I want to understand.
And then there was the kiss, a gentle kiss on the top of my head. Small, but impossible to ignore. I haven’t even tried to unpack what it means.
His touch still lingers on my skin, the ghost of his hands running softly down my arm, cupping my face with a tenderness I can’t put into words. The memory makes my breath catch.
Before I can fall too far into those thoughts, Ash’s voice cuts through, forcing his way into my mind to pull me back to reality. His words from weeks ago still echo, "How long have you been gracing this cabin with your presence?"
I haven’t kept track. Time blurred into one long, endless stretch. Months? The truth gnaws at me.
I have been captive for so long that it hasn’t even mattered. Maybe, after a hundred years, some part of me began to accept that existence. The thought boils my blood not at Ash, but at myself.
Condition one, I decide, if I choose to stay: I want to know how long I’ve been here.
I pause, glancing around. The towering trees loom above me, their dense canopy casting deep shadows as the sun begins its slow descent. The air has cooled, and the forest feels different, quieter, almost watchful.
Where am I?
I have been walking without paying attention, lost in my thoughts, and now nothing looks familiar. I turn slowly, scanning the dense woods, searching for some sign that I am still on the path Oberon showed me, time making it hard to recall.
A chill creeps up my spine. Fear, panic, and anxiety all press in at once.
The thought hits me with bitter amusement, a cruel sort of irony. Wouldn’t it be something? After everything, after all the years, after finally stepping beyond that cursed door, I get lost in the woods.
The very freedom I fought for would be exactly what ends me.
I’d be gone due to wandering endlessly until I perish here, forgotten by the world. The woods would claim me, after EVERYTHING.
I throw my head back, a sharp, hollow laugh tearing from my throat. My palms slam against my stomach as the laugh grows louder, echoing through the trees. A broken sound, one that would tell anyone who hears it that I have finally lost my mind.
And maybe I have.
I have to laugh. I need to laugh. Because if I don’t, I will break. And breaking isn’t an option.
The laughter turns darker. I scream a guttural sound, loud enough to shake the stillness around me.
I scream until my throat feels raw, until my lungs burn, until the forest itself seems to hold its breath.
I release everything, every pent-up, fucked-up emotion from the last hundred years: The grief.
The rage. The confusion. For the first time, I have the freedom and the strength to let it all out.
This was what I needed: a purge, a release, a reset.
I scream until there is nothing left but ragged breaths and trembling limbs.
For a long moment, I just stand frozen in time, breathing deeply, letting the air fill the hollow spaces inside me. For the first time in what feels like forever, a small flicker of peace fights for space amid the chaos.
And this time, I let it in.
My breath slows as I push forward, my footsteps lighter now than when I entered the woods. I feel as though I have left something behind among the trees, a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying.
The trees part, revealing an open sky tinged with the fading light of dusk. The clearing welcomes me with its quiet serenity, and I allow myself to embrace it.