And now … whatever this is … whatever is hidden from me in the armoire.
The knowing falls away, leaving me to my own choices.
But I already know, don’t I?
I have no idea how Disa did it, or why she made that terrible choice for me, for herself. But I know she did.
I press my hand against the armoire where a handle should be. The doors depress under my hand, then spring back. Like a touch latch, though it’s clearly essence wrought.
I remove my hand, and the doors slowly fall open.
Three objects sit on an inner shelf, just a little higher than eye height. At first glance, they appear to be large handblown glass urns, though I can’t see lids on any of them. Thick threads of essence appear to be captured within the glass of each object — or rather, the threads are the glass, shifting as if reacting to my presence.
Iridescent, almost otherworldly, the object in the middle is composed of threads of burnished gold. The object on the left is shaped of dark amber strands. And …. on the right … opalescent green coils around a red so dark it’s almost black.
Ignoring all the other objects within the armoire, including a stack of books that I assume must be my aunt’s missing journals, I reach for what I already know is going to hurt the most.
The green-and-red glass urn that is neither glass nor an urn is nearly weightless in my hands as I tug it off the shelf. The energy stored within churns under my touch, as if wanting to be released, to be utilized.
I don’t want to look at it closely.
I don’t really want to know.
But I gaze within it nonetheless, because it’s not a handblown glass container at all.
It’s my missing soul bonds.
My severed soul bonds.
Taken from me by the Conduit, my aunt. Sections of my soul, my destiny — as Zaya, not the Conduit — torn from me, then somehow coiled up and displayed on a fucking shelf for me to eventually find.
I sob. Pure grief is torn from me as if my ribs have been cracked, my chest ripped open, and my bloody, beating heart wrenched from within. Held in my aunt’s palm, presumably to protect me. In her mind, at least. Even as she destroyed the future I might have had.
Even without touching it, I know the burnished gold bond was my tie to Rought, and that the dark-amber threads were woven between Rath and me. Severing those bonds meant that only the ties to the gryphon and the celestial dragon remained, because Rought and Rath hadn’t yet manifested their beasts when Disa wounded us all so badly.
The soul bonds I’m holding, green and red-black, once tied me to Reck and the cu-sith. And I know, just standing there and cradling those bonds in my palms, that there’s no way to reattach them.
I know that the future within each — the future stolen from me — has already been rewritten.
I don’t want to look, but I do.
Hands shaking, legs trembling, soul bleeding, I look within the energy that once tied me to Reck and his beast. I fall into those bonds.
I see everything I never knew was possible for me. Everything I’m never going to have.
I died the day these bonds were stolen from me, taken without my — or the universe’s — permission. But now I know I should have woken with this future, this destiny intact. I should have had this lifetime to live before ever becoming the Conduit.
My aunt altered my destiny, shortening her own at the same time. Though perhaps that was inadvertently done. And this life — the life shining through the soul bonds that were stolen from me, me and Reck — this life was full of love and laughter. This life was everything I know I desperately wanted, even without my memories.
It was all supposed to be mine. Mine and my three soul-bound mates, whose destinies Disa also completely fucked with. So much pain she caused, all done to protect me from everything she had wrought in her own life.
I shower. Then I change into a lilac sundress with thin shoulder straps, pulled from the back of my childhood closet. The sundress appears brand new and is far too adorable for any article of clothing I’d choose for myself. The myself I am now.
I imagine the dress must have been a perfect fit for the Zaya that was Before. Before I first died. Before I had my destiny stolen from me.
Downstairs, I find a half-full container of homemade chocolate-coconut ice cream still in the freezer. After scraping off the freezer-burnt edges, I eat it all.
I try to ignore the severed soul bonds. I can’t.
