Chapter 59 #2
"I've died twice. I think I've earned the right to ask difficult fucking questions."
"You have."
I hesitated before speaking again. "I remembered something."
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. It felt as though the voice had been waiting for me to say those words.
For how long has she been dormant inside me?
"I remembered the forest," I started, closing my eyes, trying to recall everything. "I remember being happy."
The words caught in my throat.
"I wasn't afraid."
The memories felt distant, like watching someone else's life through fogged glass.
"I didn't question him," I continued, my voice trembling.
"Why would I? I was only ten years old. Children don't expect the people they love to hurt them."
The voice remained quiet, allowing me to continue.
"I remember asking if we'd be home before dinner because I didn't want to make everyone worry. He laughed and told me we'd be back long before sunset."
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat.
"I believed every word he said."
I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hold together the pieces of memories that had finally returned.
For the first time ever, my voice cracked.
"Then everything changes. I remember him looking at me differently. His smile disappeared, and before I could even ask what was wrong..." I instinctively pressed a hand against my stomach. "...I felt the knife."
"Katie..."
Tears finally found my eyes.
"It hurt so much," I whispered. "I remember asking him why. I didn't understand what I'd done wrong."
"You did nothing wrong," the voice answered gently.
"Then fucking why?" I exclaim, my composure finally breaking.
"Why would anyone look at a little girl and decide she deserved to die? I keep replaying it in my head, trying to find something I could have done differently, but I can't."
"That is precisely why it was never your fault."
I stood in silence, letting those words settle inside me.
"Is it because of my blood? Because someone told him I would one day take the throne from him?"
"Yes."
"But I never wanted a throne."
"I know."
"I never wanted a kingdom."
"I know."
"I would've traded all of it if it meant keeping the family that raised me."
The voice softened.
"And they would have made that same choice for you."
Tears blurred my vision. "I miss them."
"I know."
"I couldn't save them."
"You were never meant to."
I shook my head. "That doesn't make losing them hurt any less."
"No," the voice admitted. "It never will. But grief is not proof that you failed them. It is proof that they mattered."
I remained silent for a long time before asking the question that had lingered in my heart ever since the battle.
"When Titus looked at me," I began cautiously, "it felt like he wasn't looking at me."
The voice was quiet for a moment.
"He wasn't."
My heart skipped.
"He was looking at his lost mate." The name echoed through the darkness.
"He remembered you long before you remembered yourself."
My thoughts immediately returned to the throne room, to the tenderness in Titus's eyes after he had torn apart the King and carried me as though I was something precious.
"Who are you?" I finally asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "How do you know all of this?"
The voice chuckled softly.
"That," it replied, "is a memory you have yet to reclaim."
I lowered my gaze, allowing the silence to settle around us. It no longer felt oppressive like it had when I first arrived.
Instead, it reminded me of a calm lake before dawn; still, endless, and waiting. I wonder if this place reflected my own mind.
If it did, then maybe I was carrying far more darkness than I had ever admitted.
Holy shit, I need therapy.
"There are still pieces missing," I confess after a while.
I pause, tasting the unfamiliar syllables. "Catalina."
I expected the name to feel foreign. Instead, it settled in my chest with an aching familiarity.
"It was always yours," the voice replied. "Katie was the name given to help you survive. Catalina was the name you were born with. Neither one is false."
I frowned. "I don't understand."
"You believe that becoming Catalina means losing Katie."
"Doesn't it?"
The figure shook its head gently.
"The child who laughed with her human parents, who scraped her knees learning to ride a bicycle, who stayed awake studying until sunrise, and who cried herself to sleep after losing the people she loved, that was you. Those memories do not disappear simply because older ones have returned."
"You were always there?" She nods her head. She's been watching me behind my own eyes and instead of being sketchy about it, I've never felt more warmth in my life.
I closed my eyes, sighing.
"I was afraid I'd have to choose."
"You never had to." A small, bittersweet smile found its way onto my lips.
"My dad always said I'd overthink everything."
"And was he wrong?" I laughed quietly, the sound surprisingly genuine.
"No."
My laugh faded almost as quickly as it came.
"I miss them so much."
My chest tightened at the thought of them. I remember my father's terrible jokes that somehow always made me laugh anyway. I remembered my mother humming softly while cooking dinner, never realizing I would stand in the doorway just to listen.
They weren't extraordinary people. They hadn't possessed supernatural abilities or royal blood.
They had simply loved me, more than what I've asked for and deserve.
And somehow, that made losing them hurt even more.
"I never even got to say goodbye."
The voice remained patient, giving me time to gather my wits.
"Do you know what your father said the day he found you?"
I slowly looked up.
"What?"
"He looked down at a frightened little girl covered in blood and dirt, no older than ten, and he told your mother, 'She must be terrified.'"
My breath caught. "He never asked who you were when he was sent to assassinate you."
The voice smiled softly.
Tears welled in my eyes again. A frightened child wrapped in an oversized blanket. A woman kneeling in front of me with a warm bowl of soup while a man tends to my wounds.
That same man was pretending not to notice when I refused to let go of his sleeve because I was too scared to be alone.
I covered my mouth as tears slipped down my cheeks. For so many years, I had believed I owed them everything because they raised me as if I'm their own.
Now I realize they had never expected anything in return. They had simply loved me for who I am.
I wiped my tears away, though new ones quickly replaced them.
"I wish I could tell them thank you."
"You already did."
I blinked. "When?"
"In every laugh you shared with them. In every birthday. In every hug. In every time you called them Mom and Dad." The voice's tone became softer still.
"They never needed grand words, Katie. To them, watching you grow into the woman you became was thanks enough."
My head lowered once more. "I hope they knew that I loved them."
"They never doubted it."
Silence settled between us but this time it wasn't painful, it was comforting.
After several quiet moments, another thought surfaced.
"You were taken from him." My head titled in confusion. Right, she can see my thoughts.
"I barely knew him."
Titus.
"So you believe."
I stare.
"I don't remember him."
"You will." The answer only frustrated me further. I'm about to go all out on her if she doesn't stop.
"Can you stop speaking in riddles for one minute?" A soft laugh escaped the figure.
"I could." I crossed my arms.
"But you won't."
"No."
"You're an ass."
"So I've been told." I couldn't help but smile. It felt strange to laugh in a place like this, to smile after everything that had happened.
Yet somehow, the figure always managed to pull me back from the edge.
But my smile slowly disappeared as another question surfaced.
"How many people did we lose?"
For the first time since we began speaking, the figure hesitated. I immediately noticed. "That bad, huh?"
"Wars are cruel." I inhaled a buried pain from within. I have always known war, led them even.
I know.
"Lennox?" I ask quietly.
"He lives." I released a breath I hadn't realized I've been holding. That old man is taking years of my life by making me worry about his sorry ass.
But after picturing his hammer swinging around mindlessly while he laughs wickedly, calms my nerves even for a little bit.
"Kris? Van? Sen?"
"They are safe."
I wanted to ask about someone once more but I hesitated. But the figure predicted it anyway.
"Titus lives." I nod slowly, relief washing over me despite myself.
"I don't know why hearing that makes me feel..."
I try to reach for the right word.
"...lighter."
The figure simply smiled. "Your heart remembers what your mind has forgotten."
I look into the endless darkness surrounding us. "So what happens now?"
"Now," the figure replied, "you wake up."
"But I'm not ready."
"No one ever is."
"I still have questions."
"And you'll find your answers."
"How?"
The figure extended a hand toward me.
"By living."
I reach for the figure's hand, but before my fingertips could meet, I stopped myself.
"Wait."
The figure lowered its hand without a trace of disappointment, as though it had expected my hesitation.
"I still don't understand."
"You don't have to."
"No." I shook my head, frustration creeping into my voice. "I've spent my entire life chasing answers. Every time I finally get close to one, someone tells me to wait."
I let out a humorless laugh. "It's getting fucking old."
The figure regarded me quietly.
"You said Titus remembered me before I remembered myself. You said he carried my grief, that he never forgot me."
I swallowed. "Why?"
"You already know the answer."
Fucking- calm down now.
"If I knew it, I wouldn't be asking."
The figure's eyes softened.
"Your heart knows. Your mind simply hasn't caught up yet."
I exhale sharply. "You really enjoy talking in circles."
"I enjoy allowing people to find truths they are ready to carry."