Still, a sliver of hope pierced me. Stef was dying. We both knew it. If reincarnation were possible . . .
“I see your doubts,” Janan went on. “Your uncertainty. So I’ll tell you more: when you’re reborn, you will forget everything from this lifetime.” He gazed around the ragged assembly. “From family to friends to work, you will forget it all. You will have to relearn skills, such as farming and building and fighting. There is no other way. But I beg you: do not look at this as a curse or punishment. See this as an opportunity. You will be new again. You’ll still be yourselves. Your experiences will still be part of you. What you went through to get here—that will not change. Your experiences will be engraved on your souls; there’s nothing anyone can do to change that. But you will not remember that hardship.
“See this as a second chance at life, this one unburdened by the pain and loss you’ve suffered. See this as a gift, a chance to pursue your dreams. You’ll be given dozens of lifetimes, and in the following ones you will retain your memories of those that came before. All of those lives will be enough to hone your skills in whatever you choose to do.”
The crowd was deathly quiet, but I was still shaking my head. Stef was, too. This wasn’t possible.
We would forget this night, the losses, and the long and dangerous journey. But not be free of it. If the experiences didn’t just go away, they could still haunt us for eternity. We just wouldn’t know why.
Assuming what he proposed was actually possible. Why did he need us to agree so badly? Why was this so important to him that he had to do everything in his power to convince us of the benefits?
I closed my eyes and breathed. I couldn’t imagine forgetting music, and the way it made my heart soar—made life bearable. Forgetting those moments in the concert hall with the piano, my mother encouraging me to play something. Forgetting the way my brother looked at me when he first heard my music, and the strange kindness he’d shown by taking an instrument for me to bring with us. So I wouldn’t be without music.
How could I agree to let go of those memories?
But to become new again? To forget? It might be a relief. I’d forget the pain of Mother’s loss, and Fayden’s death, and the terror of this short, brutal life. It could be worth it, being reincarnated. Having a chance to live without the burden of these haunting deaths.
If Janan told the truth, I’d have a second chance at life—more and more and more chances. And if Mother was right—if I did have music in my heart—surely I’d find my way back to it. I’d gain not just one lifetime of music, but a hundred. Maybe more.
And Stef . . . Stef might live.
“How?” The question was mine, like part of me thought Janan might actually be able to do this. “What is the cost?” I asked.
Good things always had a cost. My music meant Father hated me, even if he never knew about it. Growing close to my brother meant it hurt so much more when the dragon took him. Gaining a friend in Stef meant that if he died, I would have nothing left at all.
The cost for endless life had to be tremendous.
Janan leveled his gaze on me. His voice was somber. “There is a cost. You’re right. And it is a regrettable one. But you’ll never miss it. You’ll never know of its absence. When you die, I will hold on to your soul. I will ensure you are reborn. In exchange, I will take a new soul—a life never lived.”
My mouth fell open. “And what would you do with them? Those souls?”
Behind me, people shifted and muttered, but Janan raised his hand and the noises ceased. “I will . . . absorb their potential. Consume their power. And when I have enough power, I will return to you.”
He would eat them? How could anyone even think like that? Like it might be a good way to get anything done?
I wanted to be sick.
Stef shook his head, just slightly, and his voice was weak. When he whispered, I had to repeat his words: “This isn’t possible. None of it is. You’re talking about souls and magic, as if it’s anything we can actually touch.”
Janan spread his arms wide. “You live in a world with trolls and dragons and phoenixes—creatures that didn’t exist a hundred years ago. There is magic in the world. There’s magic right in front of you. This tower—that wall—wasn’t here until our enemies created it. This, what I am proposing, isn’t imaginary. It is real: an equal exchange of energy. Life for life.”
Silence flooded the area, thick and smothering. Undercurrents of fear threaded the crowd, with people shifting their weight, rubbing chills off their skin, and seeking out others’ gazes for comfort or support.
No. This wasn’t real. The imprisonment had driven him crazy. Horribly, disgustingly crazy.
“You must decide soon.” Janan glanced at the sky, and the moon dipping toward the horizon. Morning hovered beyond the snow-capped mountains.