Ashan 14
An arc had gone by, and they had gotten older - but Jackson Eclipse had not.
Amaris contemplated this and only this, waking at the start of the trial like they’d been struck by something. And maybe they had been. It was a sudden waking that robbed them of a tumultuous sleep they wouldn’t return to. A full six breaks ago. This was how’d they’d remained: in bed staring up at their ceiling and listening to the sound of their breathing. Breaths they had been allowed to take; protected by the death of someone else. How often did they think about that?
The silver haired mixed blood blinked, eyes dry. No tears for the fallen? There was a sound akin to a hiss and they stilled, thinking it might have been something else. Until they realized they’d sucked in a breath hard enough to startle themselves. It was still somewhat dark in their room, but if they turned their head to the side, they could make out the subtle rise and fall of The Twins’ sides as they breathed almost as one. Around them, there was sleep, but it would not come to them. They blinked again, holding their eyes shut for a moment longer hoping it would beckon sleep, but there was nothing.
There was a very specific sort of understanding that came to them, that felt like a heavy weight sitting on their chest and looming over them. They stared up, as if it would manifest itself, but they were met with darkness. They supposed there ought to be a name for the creature upon them that they could not see, and under the pretense of searching for just that, they allowed themselves to remain in bed for another break.
But, once it had passed, they could remain in bed no longer. Rising, they were careful to avoid disturbing the still resting cats that had made their way to the bed. Light streamed in through the window, almost as if this would be like any other trial - but it would not. The beast from earlier in the break had shifted to their shoulders, pressing down on them. They almost didn’t want to move, almost considered returning to bed and not moving for the remainder of the trial. How close they had come, hand gripping their sheets, ready to through them back and return to the warm spot where they’d lain. How inviting it was.
Swallowing, they turned away from their bed and proceeded to leave the room. Best to avoid the temptation altogether. Of the few felines already awake, Butterball threaded between their steps as they made their way to the fireplace. It wasn’t cold enough that they needed to light it, but they’d felt a comfort in watching the flames. A second furry body nudged at their legs, joined by another still as the house woke around the mixed blood. Perhaps they’d been louder than they’d intended to be.
There was usually some enjoyment that could be taken from watching the cats, one by one, greet them for the morning before wandering off around their home to do as they so pleased. However, it could not be found. Not as wide eyes stared at them or mewled their morning greeting or purred their contentment as Amaris made them something to eat. Because there on their backs was that phantom creature, whispering in their ear this time. If you had not been there, he would still be alive. You’re here on a borrowed life.
It was right.
They’d often thought of how things might have gone if they hadn’t been present. If Amaris had never ventured into those caves, they would have never had to put Jackson in such a situation. He would have been free to focus on saving himself rather than saving them. They’d made a mistake that had cost a man his life and it would always remain as such. No naming of a portal stone could rectify that. No dedication could excuse their carelessness.
It felt now like the creature had wrapped its hand around their throat and squeezed, cutting off the air to their lungs as they slumped down in their chair. It wasn’t just Jackson Eclipse that they had on their hands. There was Trey Arnold, the poor man they’d attempted to help the season prior. All that was left of him was a torso for his family to bury. The knowledge of what his other limbs had been used for made their stomach churn. And the ordeal they had survived once again through cowardice.
That was what the arc between Jackson’s death had comprised of; spaced acts of cowardice and continuous incompetence. They could not have saved Trey’s legs, but they might’ve saved his life if they’d stood against Volker. If they could have fought back rather than cower at the press of a blade. If they could have at least held him off, frightened him perhaps into thinking the elements were on their way. If, if, if - but you didn’t. Amaris swallowed, looking forward to the fire before them, brows furrowed.
It wasn’t a matter of feeling sorry for themselves, they’d already concluded. It was burning disappointment that matched the flames in their fireplace. They failed the people around them, even when they tried to help. They’d run away from it all a cycle prior, and had come back expecting a change. To be better. What was better? They had not improved; they had not changed. They were the same, useless and likely nothing more than a burden to those around them.
They took in another breath, shaking as they closed their eyes. Warmth slid down their cheeks, tears hurriedly brushed away before their mind could make something of it. But not fast enough. They didn’t deserve tears. You’d sooner cry for yourself than for the man you killed. They would protest that they hadn’t killed either Jackson or Trey, but there was truth to it. They had not cried in their realization of what today was. They had not cried as they watched Trey bleed out on the desk. What had they done that deserved tears? They had done no more than create one mess after another.
Opening their eyes, Amaris found a stillness around them. Like their home awaited their next move. Their home; a place of murder. It made their skin crawl, thinking of how many trials that had passed with them remaining here. But this was where they should be. They brought death with them and it made sense they would reside in a place where a life had been taken. The shadowy monster coiled around, shapeshifting to best wring the life from them. Or no; to remind them that they were living and two others were not because of them.
A borrowed life, indeed.
And they weren’t even living it to the apparent fullest.
Instead, they cowered and fretted, as if it were the only thing they knew how to do. Because maybe it was. They would likely not be as brave as Jackson had been. Not been as determined as Trey. They would remain as they had always been: a disappointment. They couldn’t rightly tell if they were truly sobbing or not, the ugly beast behind them raising its voice to further chastise them for such tears. But there was a voice among all of this that had finally spoken up.
So what are you to do now?
What were they to do? If this was a borrowed life, how were they to make up for it? This was something they had thought about and come up short with. How did one make up one life for another? Two? They had thought that perhaps throwing themselves more into their work would be sufficient, but it hadn’t felt like it. The mixed blood wondered, for breaks before this day, how would they atone for their mistakes, their incompetence. Pondering this subject always left them in a particularly abysmal mood, hence why they would tend to avoid it. But today was for remembrance and reflection of their actions a whole arc ago, and could not be avoided.
Not with the weight on their shoulders and that persistent voice in their head reminding them constantly. But that’s what it was, truly: the weight of living. The weight of surviving something while another had not. This weight would follow them for more arcs to come, they were sure. They would be forced to mourn the results of their shortcomings.
A memory surfaced, one tainted with another. Their mother looking up at them with pity and understanding when they’d first returned home. A simple smile and they’d broken down, a child once more. It would be later that they would explain themselves, as if attempting to justify their return. And their mother, in all her wisdom, would say, “You must live with it.”
Perhaps they had not taken that advice as seriously as they should. It had been enough to make them return to their work, but maybe not to the extent that was necessary. Perhaps it was that they needed to enjoy the moments they had each trial. Amaris was by no means someone who could understand such things, but perhaps they needed to appreciate the life they now had. Swallowing, they took in a deep breath, wiping their eyes. The voice was not accustory, but almost curious - in their opinion.
What will you do now?
