Gods, I hope Kellan is okay right now.
I roll on my side and stare at Jonah in the pale moonlight. He’s finally fallen asleep, which relieves me greatly. After our family left for the night, he spent another hour on the phone with Zthane and Karl, and then two more with members of the Elders Subcommittee. And then, after that, we debriefed together for a half hour before I strong armed him into getting some sleep before he fell over. It seems too unfair that he has so much responsibility weighing down his shoulders, that we’re both asked, at only twenty years of age, to fumble through what we think is right and wrong for trillions of beings.
I love him. I love that he is such a good man, that his heart is so wide and generous. That he struggles with these decisions, that he is willing to sacrifice so much to ensure others’ well-being whether they know he’s doing it or not. Even mine, when he surely knows I still struggle with how much I miss his brother and crave his presence.
With all that I know about Connections, with all of my assuredness about my choices, I still cannot wrap my mind around how I can be so perfectly in love with my husband, so grateful that his life and mine are intertwined forever, and still want another person, even if I am positive I will never act upon those feelings again.
Letting go is a hard, hard thing. Some days, it seems impossible. Stubbornness sets in, heels dig firmly into the dirt below us, and fingers refuse to uncurl from something so precious to one’s heart even if by a centimeter. Other days, though, it’s a fervent wish.
I thought I’d let Kellan go the moment I chose Jonah. I thought I’d let him go again when our legs dangled above Annar and I broke both our hearts by admitting, whether or not Jonah chose to be in my life, I knew my truth. I thought I’d opened up my hand and watched Kellan’s slip away when I swore before a Justice of the Peace and all our closest friends and family that my life was now tied, emotionally, physically, and legally, with Jonah’s. And, in many ways, I did. Except ... all of those were tiny releases. Not that I’d done it purposely, nor do I ever want to renege on what I’ve chosen for my life, but ... he is still here, firmly entrenched in my heart.
But maybe that’s how it’s always going to be. And maybe, that’s how it is for him, too.
Maybe letting go isn’t about forgetting. Maybe it’s something more—maybe it’s an act of true love.
I just have to keep working on uncurling my fingers so that one day, my palm is open wide.
The Council convenes to discuss the escalating Elders situation. With the most recent deaths, our consensus is unanimous: something has to be done and done fast. We can no longer wait and see. Action must be taken.
There is very little debate. Members of the Elders Subcommittee report to the body their findings from over the last few years. Jonah shares what we’ve learned from Bios. We discuss the best strategies to get me down in the caverns Iolani, Karl, and I created several years prior that now house a number of incorporeal Elders. The Council drafts a plan to have a team of Emotionals go with me and subdue these prisoners immediately into submission so they can finally find peace. We decide to follow Bios’ advice and wait until Enlilkian is taken out, as anything attempted before might be suicidal.
Hours pass by, but it is one of the tightest, most focused meetings we’ve ever had since I sat down in a Council seat. I am going to take a team with me, and we are going to hunt down Enlilkian. There is no more excuse good enough to keep me hidden away, all in the name of protect the Creator at all costs. Magical society is worth nothing if a madman takes over it and destroys it anyway.
So it’s funny that, just minutes after we begin discussing who from the Guard, Council, and Métis Council will be joining me, Enlilkian renders our planning irrelevant by finding me first.
Mass chaos breaks out when what sounds like a bomb explodes in Karnach.
The walls of the most revered building in Annar rattle so hard that bits of plaster flake down in painted snow all around us. Screaming fills the building alongside terror so thick and deep goose bumps break out across my skin like tiny sentries of fear. Feet are flying and skidding here in the Assembly Room, hands push and shove all around us; calmness amongst a race of people often thought to be gods is increasingly difficult to find.
“We need to get out of here,” Jonah yells at me. Or maybe it’s, “We need to get you out of here,” which is stupid, so stupid, because we need to get everyone out of here.