Fifty-three

Shay brings me back to the loft, where I find that it is in the same state I've left it. The door to the cupboard split in half, still slightly dangling with every shift of draft circulating through the loft. The pan is still on the stove, cold, waiting, and abandoned just like how I feel.

And that's the last thing I see as I sway on my feet, and promptly pass out. It's really old now, but it can't be helped.

I wake up eventually, still feeling lightheaded and a little bit nauseous. It all becomes background noise when I look around the loft and realise that I'm alone and he is not with me. At least I have Shay, who has probably resigned himself and now just waits out my fainting episodes, patiently. Well, sort of, he just goes to sleep. I guess making so many trips takes it out of him, and he needs rest. With a groan, I push off the floor and dust myself off, as panic begins to swell like a tidal wave.

Fear grips me tightly in its claws, with each breath I take, every razor-sharp edge sinks deeper into my soul. It bleeds for us. The frenzied, terrified look in his eyes, as he reached his resolve will be forever etched in my memory. He won't come near me, out of fear that he will hurt me just like Micah has been trying to for eighteen years.

With a deep deep breath, I steel my dark thoughts and every part of my soul that I can wrangle and cram into a small space to keep it from tearing itself to pieces.

It hurts. It is as simple as that. It is soul deep ache, as if a boulder is sitting on my chest preventing me from breathing. I need to keep strong, to keep moving. He is running just like I did. It will take time, but that is a decision I can't make for him. He has to come back of his own accord.

What if he doesn't? The insidious thoughts slither in through the cracks of my very brittle confidence. It infects everything around me, and it spreads quickly, like flesh-eating bacteria contaminating every beautiful fleeting moment we've experienced together.

It is a sad possibility, but I'll hold on for as long as I can.

In my desperate attempt to find answers, I've destroyed the only good thing that has been born out of this tragedy called life. Our story. A tormented, painful, but also at the same time beautiful and endearing tale that will live on. Even when we will be nothing more than ashes and dust, carried by the whimsical winds to every corner of the earth.

A tear leeches down my cheek, and I already know that is one of many. Shay crawls into my lap, nudging my palm with his nose.

" It's you and me now," I sniffle, and try and fail to keep my emotions on a tight leash.

Unlike Balthasar, Shay doesn't speak, but it reminds me of the book I stole from Timeea's library.

My eyes search for it around the room, and find it right where Mason has left it, balancing on the corner of the table. Without letting go of Shay, I stretch over the small space between the bed and the table and drag the book until it is fully in my grasp. Its weight is considerably greater to be held with one hand.

Once it's secure on the bed, I open it and lose myself in it as a form of distraction. Losing myself in a textbook has always been a form of distraction from the reality that is my life.

Leafing through the first few pages, which don't contain much other than the names of the authors who have contributed to its creation, and filled the pages, there isn't much. It is all handwritten which is incredibly unusual and rare. But it means that this is the only manuscript in existence, or at least the original one.

It begins with a vague description of a winged creature that bears a striking resemblance to a moth, who has the ability to see into a person's soul.

Then it moves forward to a variety of daiō who can take animal form but possess abilities beyond our capabilities of understanding. Travelling on the pathways created by electrical charges. Summoning storms, and controlling them, those are called storm breakers. Summoning flames, and teleporting, that's Shay. Nareen was right, his species is indeed called Sarteri.

And Balthasar, who can practically evaporate into thin air doesn't possess a corporeal form of his own. He is more of an optical illusion. Manipulating particles of light, in order to create the illusion of a living and breathing person. When they gave him a name, they weren't very inspired they simply named him the illusionist.

And the most powerful of daiōs, my mother Alizee. The one who can absorb, and project all sorts of energy to the point of becoming a threat to herself and everything carbon-based. So basically everything that is organic. The ephemerae. Also revered among daiō as it has the power to summon them, even without their consent. I wish I could learn that trick.

The manuscript is extensive, detailing their life cycles, which vary from species to species. Some are longer, some are shorter. Shay's spans for ten to fifteen years before he descends into a deep slumber. Once again Nareen was right. I wish I could ask him a million questions.

Ephemerae, just like all the other species chose a master only if they saw fit. Only one ephemerae is known to have chosen a master, and I have a feeling that is my mother. It makes me wonder why, she chose Ifrim as a master?!

Unlike all the other daiō species which can be male or female, the ephemerae are all females. No known male has been ever produced. I guess there is some truth behind Timeea's initial theory. I'm familiar with parthenogenesis, but I'm not a lizard, or so I like to believe. Who knows what lies within my genome? Clearly, we possess the ability to wield magic, in the absence of a better term, but still, there must be an origin to where we come from, and that information might be long lost. I'll settle for what I can get. Chasing, and being chased is beginning to be rather exhausting.

I move on with my reading, trying to cram as much as possible and keep my mind off the disaster that has become of my relationship with Mason. One word was all it took to destroy what we fought, tooth and nail to hold onto.

As it turns out my species cycle is only twenty-five years long, after which we become dormant for a period of two thousand years. It takes me a hot minute for that information to truly sink in, and when it does, there is only one word that comes into mind. One that can encompass, all that I'm experiencing in that very moment.

Fuck!!!