“Some,” Janan went on, “will never be content, knowing what they have lost. While I can do nothing for those fallen during Templedark, to show you I am not truly without heart, I will add one to our ranks.”
Sam looked at me. I looked at Janan. A low murmur rippled through the crowd.
“You’d make me immortal?” I asked. “Like everyone else?”
Janan nodded. “You and Dossam care for each other. You’ve fought hard to be part of this community.” He swept his arms over the crowd. “You were exiled, but that doesn’t have to be true any longer. You can live forever with your friends. With Dossam.”
My heart stumbled on itself. Life with Sam. With music.
“Ana.” Sam’s hoarse whisper drew me closer to him. Our eyes met, and he didn’t have to say what he was thinking. He’d already told me a thousand times.
He would choose me.
No matter the price, no matter the consequences. Sam would choose me.
My heart broke.
“You understand why I can’t, right?” I touched his face. My eyes ached with fresh tears. The salt stung cuts on my face.
He nodded. “I understand.”
I brushed my lips against his, then climbed to my feet to face Janan. Here was a chance to make the others see.
If there were any who’d been too afraid to speak up.
If there were any who’d wanted to make a choice, but hadn’t known how.
If there were any who wouldn’t stand for the slaughter of a phoenix and newsouls.
“What is the price of immortality?” My voice sounded wisp-thin, only a thread of a song, but I urged strength into it.
Janan spoke easily. “One life never lived. One tiny spark that will never know.” He motioned at the phoenix, which gazed over the assembly with unreadable eyes. “And this.”
Couldn’t everyone see how wrong this was? Whit and Orrin had insisted there were good people we were leaving behind. I wanted that to be true. I wanted them to stand up for what was right and prove all my fears wrong.
But no one moved.
What about the people we’d freed from prison? When I glanced over the crowd, I spotted familiar faces, but when our eyes met, they looked away.
“Five thousand years ago, you told everyone the phoenixes had imprisoned you because of the knowledge you gained, but that isn’t true. They imprisoned you because you captured a phoenix and tortured it.”
Everyone was silent. Staring.
“The phoenixes wouldn’t kill you for what you’d done, but they did give you eternity in a tower. Instead of repenting, you began exchanging souls. You reincarnated people because you couldn’t bear to be without them, and then you made them forget.”
Janan cocked his head and remained silent.
The whole city was silent, save ragged breathing and groans of dragons dying and the muted roar of the pyroclastic flow surging past.
No one was listening.
“It’s true.” Sam forced himself to sit a little straighter. “You stole our memories.”
Whispers sizzled through the crowd.
“You made them forget because you knew the guilt of trading a newsoul every lifetime would crush them,” I said. “You didn’t want them to know what you’d done.”
“You didn’t just trade their lives for ours,” Sam said. “You took newsouls, and you ate them. You consumed their souls for power. Our reincarnation was bought with that stolen life.”
“No. No.” The voices came from the crowd. Some of the people I’d freed from prison moved about the others, muttering and pointing.
“What I did before was wasteful,” Janan said. “Now I know a better way. One soul for infinite life. That’s all it will take now. No more death and rebirth. No more reincarnation. Just life.” Janan motioned to the phoenix. “And I have this.”
“I would die for other people,” I said, “and other people have died for me. We do it because of love. But I won’t accept an unwilling sacrifice. Not the phoenix, and not a soul that’s never lived.”
Janan nodded. “Very well. I was afraid you might feel that way, but I’d hoped otherwise. We will continue without you.”
The crowd hushed. Everyone watched me; I could feel their stares. Only, I had no idea what to do next. I’d hoped to inspire them, make them see the truth, but no one was moving.
No one was willing to speak up.
“Wait,” someone called. Someone from the prison? “You made us forget?”
“What was that about newsouls?” another asked, and voices poured from the crowd, talking to one another, shouting questions at Janan.
“They’re just newsouls. They don’t know what they’re missing.”
“We thought newsouls would replace us, but we’ve been replacing them this whole time.”
“We’ve had more than our share of lifetimes, and the cost . . .”
“I’m afraid to die.”
“The girl is right. We can’t do this.”
The questions and demands for more information intensified. I couldn’t believe it. They cared? Not everyone, but some were asking questions and pressing through the ring of skeletons, and Janan looked stunned, like how could they not accept the trade?
He didn’t understand the value of one life. He underestimated the impact one soul could have.