Only then wil we be free to move on.
Only then wil we get our true happily ever after.
Otherwise, I’ve no doubt another glaring obstacle wil just find a way to present itself, and on it wil go, for evermore.
I take a deep breath, but find I don’t real y need it. It’s like I can feel that purple glow radiating inside me once again. I’ve never felt more sure of myself.
“There is something else I’d rather have.” My eyes meet Lotus’s, the two of us holding the look for what feels like a very long time. “I want to fulfil my destiny. I want to complete my journey,” I say, my voice solid, steady, more certain than ever. “I want to complete the task I was born to do.”
I can hear Damen beside me, his sudden intake of breath, and I know without looking that it’s partly due to my words, and partly due to the fact that the ingredients have now disappeared.
But I don’t look. For the moment anyway, my gaze stays on Lotus. Seeing her standing before me, granting me a curt nod along with a slowly curving smile when she says, “As you wish.”
twenty-seven
Long after Lotus has left we remain quiet. Damen lost in thoughts of outrage and blame, while I prepare for the moment when I’l have to explain.
The silence broken when he looks at me and says, “Ever, how could you?” Four simple words that cut to the bone, but then, they were meant to. He shakes his head, squints, tries to make sense of it. “How could you do that?” he adds. “How could you just throw it al away? Seriously. You’re going to have to explain it to me because it just doesn’t make any sense. Al this time, you’ve been blaming yourself for our inability to be together. Al this time you’ve been blaming yourself for Roman’s tricking you. Even after I explained, even after I told you that by making me drink you actual y ended up saving my life and sparing my soul from getting trapped in the Shadowland, you were stil convinced you were at fault, to the point where your sole focus was reserved for obtaining the antidote. So desperate to get your hands on it you were wil ing to delve into things that put you at great risk. And now, now that you final y succeed in getting the one thing you’ve been searching for al of this time—you choose to throw it al away so you can go on some crazy old lady’s journey to look for some tree that, I’m sorry to say, does not exist!” He looks at me, hands flexing by his sides, gaze fil ed with al the words he held back. “And so, what I need from you now, what I need from you more than anything, is to answer the why. Why would you do that? What could you possibly have been thinking?”
I stare at my feet, al owing his words to flow through me, to loop around in my brain, to repeat over and over again, but even though I heard the question, even though I know he waits for an answer, I’m stil stuck on the phrase: Some tree.
He cal ed it some tree.
He questioned its very existence.
And I’m amazed he can’t see it. Amazed he can’t understand that it’s the tree, not the antidote that offers real and lasting salvation.
That it’s the only way to reverse our physical immortality.
The tree is our one and only chance to change everything.
But then, maybe he does understand.
Maybe he understands al too wel .
And maybe that’s why he’s so dead set against it.
“You’re right.” I lift my gaze to find his. “This whole time I have felt responsible. I have been beating myself up with the guilt. I have been so consumed with remorse that I dabbled in magick I had no business dabbling in. I even tried to make deals with people I should’ve stayed away from. I was so fil ed with self-loathing and blame, I was so desperate to reverse what I’d done, that I was wil ing to take whatever risk necessary in order to make it up to you—to make it up to us. I was wil ing to do whatever was needed to ensure that we could be together in the way that we want, until my whole world revolved around getting my hands on the antidote—at the expense of everything else. But now I know just how wrong and misguided that was. Now I know that instead of focusing solely on getting the antidote, I should’ve been focused on sparing our souls.”
He swal ows, squirms, hears the truth of my words, I can see it in the flash in his eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. His resolve hardening until he’s more unwil ing than ever to see my side, which only convinces me to continue.
“Damen, please hear me out. I know that on the surface at least, my decision probably looks pretty crazy, but it goes so much deeper than that. It’s like—I final y get it. I final y real y and truly get it. If it weren’t Roman insisting on keeping us apart, it would’ve been something else. The reason we can’t be together is because the universe won’t al ow it. Our karma won’t al ow it. Or at least not until we do what it takes to right this huge glaring wrong that you’ve made. Not until we change the course of our lives—the course of our souls—by returning them to the way they were always meant to be. You said so yourself, way back before we even started this journey, you freely admitted that what we are isn’t natural or right. That we aren’t living the lives that nature intended—that we’ve wrongly chosen physical immortality over the immortality of the soul. Those are your words, Damen, not mine. You also freely admitted that it’s cost us both dearly, that it’s the reason we keep facing al of these insurmountable obstacles, the reason why we’re thwarted at every turn in a way we can’t seem to overcome. You said it’s why Jude keeps showing up and getting in the way of our happiness. That without his even realizing it, he’s playing out his own destiny of trying to keep us from reliving the mistakes of our past.” I look at him, determined to make him see it, determined to break through to him, my voice gaining in pitch until it’s practical y squeaking. “Don’t you see what a huge opportunity this is? It’s a very real chance for us to truly be together forever in the way we were intended. It’s a chance for me to final y seize the destiny I was born for. The same destiny I’ve been cal ed on for several lives now, and I’m final y ready and wil ing to embrace it. I just hope you’l find a way to embrace it along with me.”
I bite down on my lip, prepared for whatever harsh words he might say, but he just shakes his head and turns away. So overcome with anger he can’t even face me. The words ground out between clenched teeth when he says, “The reason we can’t be together is because you just disposed of the antidote.” He swal ows hard, his hands curling and uncurling at his sides. “Ever, I don’t get it—don’t you want to be with me?”
And when he final y turns, when his gaze final y meets mine, what I find there makes my heart break.
“How can you even think that?” I ask, my voice along with my face completely stunned. “After al that I’ve gone through in the hopes that I could be with you?” I shut my eyes, take a moment to steady my breath, to col ect myself along with my words. “Didn’t you hear anything I just said? Of course I want to be with you! I want to be with you more than you’l ever probably realize! But not like this. Not because of the antidote. There’s another way. A better way, I’m sure of it now. Damen, we final y have the chance to reverse this huge, glaring wrong—we final y have the chance to live the lives we were meant to live—and once we do, we’l have no need for things like elixirs and antidotes. Don’t you realize what this means? Don’t you realize how epic this is?”
“Epic?” He practical y spits out the word. “Seriously, Ever, do you hear yourself? What could be more epic than the love that we share? Isn’t that what brings us back together, time and time again?”
I sigh, exhausted by his argument, exhausted by his unknown depths of complete and total stubbornness. Stil , I’m determined to make him understand before it’s too late, before it’s time to leave and he refuses to join me.
“That’s only part of the reason,” I say. “The other part is because each time I come back, each time I reincarnate, I’m getting yet another chance to realize my destiny. To right the wrong you inadvertently committed al those years ago. And righting that wrong is the only way you and I wil ever truly be free
to live and love as we want.”
He sighs and gazes off into the distance, remaining quiet for so long I’m just about to break the silence when he says, “There’s something else you need to know.”
I look at him.
“The tree is a myth. It’s the stuff of mystical legends. It doesn’t real y exist. The legends al claim it bears one piece of fruit every one thousand years. One piece of fruit that offers immortality to whoever gets to it first.” He smirks. “Tel me, Ever, does that sound even remotely real to you?”
I refuse to react to the faint trace of mocking in his tone when I say, “A year ago, a place like Summerland wouldn’t have seemed remotely possible. Neither would psychics, ghosts, chakras, auras, magick, time travel, reincarnation, near-death experiences, mediums, instant manifestation, the power of crystals, or magical elixirs that provide immortality.” I lift my shoulders. “So who’s to say this tree doesn’t exist too? And imagine that it does, Damen. Do you have any idea what this journey could mean?” My eyes pore over him, wil ing him to at least meet me halfway. “If it’s successful, it could clear your karmic debts. It could al ow you to make amends for your past. Begin anew. Wipe the slate clean and al that. Maybe you never forced anyone to drink, wel , anyone except me…” I pause, press my lips into a thin, grim line, then shaking my head, I add, “Maybe you were far too young and naive and inexperienced to ful y understand the far-reaching consequences of what you’d done, the danger you put us al in, heck, the existence of the Shadowland alone, which I know you didn’t even know about until you were sent there, but stil , anyway, my point is, while you might not have wil ingly set out to doom a whole host of souls to that horrible abyss—in the end, that’s exactly where this leads. And if nothing else, this is your one chance to fix it. Your one chance to present a choice to those you’ve either changed, or who were changed because of the elixir you made. It’s an opportunity that may never come again.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” he says, voice barely a whisper. “Never meant to hurt anyone.” I catch the unmistakable flash of pain and self-recrimination in his eyes before he looks away. “I never anticipated that you would blame me like this—or that you’d view spending an eternity together as a curse. Or ‘ doomed to a horrible abyss’ as I believe you put it.”
“I was talking about the Shadowland, Damen, not our future together.”
“But we’re not in the Shadowland. Our future is now. Right now. We stil have the recipe for the antidote—it’s not too late. Al we have to do is head out of here, back to the earth plane, and gather the ingredients. But you’d rather run off on some crazy wild-goose chase in the hopes of reversing this terrible curse that I’ve put upon you.”
“Damen—I didn’t mean—”
He holds up a hand, his face as broken as his voice when he says, “It’s fine. Real y. Believe me, Ever, you haven’t said anything I haven’t thought of myself a mil ion times before. It’s just hearing it from your lips … wel , it was harder than I ever expected. So, if it’s okay with you, I think I’l head back to the earth plane—I need some time to think. And, while I’m at it, I’l gather those ingredients for the antidote. After al , if you’re going to be stuck with me for the rest of eternity, at least the antidote wil al ow for certain … enjoyments that wil make your life infinitely more bearable.”
twenty-eight
I watch him leave, my thoughts racing through a maze of conflicted feelings. Part of me wanting to crash through the fading corner of that shimmering veil before it’s too late—so I can return to the earth plane right alongside him.
But the other part, the bigger part, is determined to get on with the journey.
A journey that is long overdue.
Encouraged by the memory of something Riley said when I’d made a futile attempt to go back in time, only to return to my most current life. It was just before the accident that claimed me again, when she leaned across her seat, looked at me, and said: Did you ever stop and think that maybe you were supposed to survive? That maybe, it wasn’t just Damen who saved you?
And though I had no idea what it meant at the time—now I do.
This is what I came back for.
This journey is my one, and perhaps only chance to seize my destiny.
Which means I can’t al ow Damen’s fears to dissuade me from what I’m meant to do.
Though I do understand his decision—his refusal to search for the tree. He blames himself for giving me the elixir, for altering the course of my life—the journey of my soul—and now I insist on finding the tree so I can reverse those effects, return us to the way we were always meant to be.
Trouble is, if there’s no tree, there’s no reversal.
Just Damen, me, and his deepest regrets—for the rest of eternity.
But I know something he doesn’t. There is a tree. I know it in the deepest part of me.
And as soon as I find it, Damen wil be freed of his burdensome guilt and self-blame. Guilt that’s not even warranted since everything he’s done, every choice that he’s made, was with the best of intentions. He may have acted out of fear, but the motivation behind it was love.
But since I can’t exactly tel him that—I’l have to show him instead.
And so, newly dedicated to what I know in my heart I must do, I steal a moment to manifest a few things I might need before I get too far along and possibly end up in a place where magick no longer works. Manifesting stuff like a flashlight, a sleeping bag, water and food, a light jacket, sturdier shoes, a backpack—then once I have that secured, I busy myself by making a mental list of al that I’ve learned about the tree so far. Things I’ve learned from Damen, Lotus, and the few things I’ve picked up from movies and books and working in Jude’s store, repeating this list to myself as I head down the trail.
It’s mystical—true.
Some claim it’s merely a myth—that remains to be seen.
It’s said to bear only one piece of fruit every thousand or so years—if so, then I fervently hope this is the time of the harvest and that I’m the first to arrive (otherwise, I’m in for an awful y long wait).
I stop, close my eyes, and tune into the wisdom of Summerland. Trusting it to guide me in just the right direction as my feet start moving again, seemingly of their own accord, and when I gaze down at the ground, I’m glad I had the foresight to manifest the hiking boots when I start leaving big clumps of grass in my wake. Clumps that soon turn to thick clouds of dust when the grass suddenly gives way to loose dirt, forcing me to rely on the thick treads of my soles to keep my gait steady when the terrain changes again, becoming rougher, littered with sharp rocks and boulders, and so loaded with hairpin curves and switchbacks I’m forced to go slower, and then slower stil .
But no matter how treacherous the path may become, I wil not cry uncle, I wil not give up, and I wil not even think about returning to where I came from. Even when it ultimately grows so narrow and steep it fal s off into two bottomless chasms that yawn on either side, I’m committed to the journey. There wil be no turning back.
I strive to keep my breath even, steady, as I do my best not to look down. Just because I can’t die doesn’t mean I’m looking for danger. Given the choice, I prefer to play it safe for as long as I can.
The trail soars higher, and then higher stil , and when it begins to snow, I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with the altitude. But it’s not like it matters. It’s not like knowing the reason wil keep my feet from slipping precariously close to the craggy abyss that gapes wide far below. It’s not like it’l stop my skin from chil ing and turning frigid and blue.
Knowing the light jacket I stashed in my bag is hardly equipped to handle a drop in temperature so extreme, I close my eyes and picture a new one—something big and down-fil ed, something that’l leave me looking like a big shapeless blob but wil hopeful y get the job done. But when nothing happens, when no coat appears, I know I’ve reached the part of the journey where magick and manifesting no
longer work. I’l have to rely on myself, and the few things I had the foresight to manifest before I got to this point.
I slip into the jacket, pul ing the sleeves down past my wrists until they cover my numb, frozen fingertips, keeping my eyes on the trail and my mind on my destiny, committed to making do with what I have, while reminding myself of al the chal enges I’ve already survived
—obstacles that wouldn’t have seemed possible just one year ago.
But despite al my focus, despite the continuous loop of pep talks and tree facts I repeat in my head, I eventual y get to the point where I’m just too cold and exhausted to continue. So I start searching for a place to set up camp, though it’s not long before I determine there isn’t one. This freezing cold landscape doesn’t offer much in the way of rest.
I toss my bag on the icy cold ground and position myself right on top of it, pressing my nose to my knees and wrapping my arms tightly around me in a futile attempt to both warm and steady myself. And though I try to sleep, I can’t. Though I try to meditate, my mind won’t slow down. So instead, I spend the time convincing myself that I made the right choice. That despite my completely miserable state, al is fine and good and exactly as it should be—but it fal s way short of soothing me.
I’m too cold.
Too bone tired and weary.
But mostly, I’m too alone. Too fil ed with thoughts of missing Damen and the way we used to be.
No matter what I try to convince myself of, no amount of positive thinking could ever replace the very real, very wonderful comfort of having him beside me.
And in the end, that’s what gets me through. The memory of him is what al ows me to close my eyes for a while and drift off into some other place, some better place. A place where it’s just him and me and none of our troubles exist.
I have no idea how long I slept—al I know is that the second I open my eyes and swipe my hand across my face, I see the landscape has morphed. The trail is stil impossibly narrow, there’s stil a huge, gaping chasm on either side, but the season has changed—it’s no longer winter, which means I’m no longer forced to huddle against a pounding cold blizzard.