Chapter eight-salt and fire
803 Words
Lina didn't get much sleep.
The dream yanked her under, then spat her back out. She was shivering in the dark before dawn, with her heart going crazy in her chest.
Amaris.
The name stuck in her head.
She sat on the bed's edge for ages, bare feet on the cold wood floor, staring at the window. The sky was starting to get a gray-blue tint.
She took off as soon as it started to get light.
She grabbed the letter and headed out.
Adrian wasn't tough to find.
He never was, not when she wanted him.
She walked along the cliffs until the trees got dense and the air felt different. It always did when she got near him—cooler and quieter. Like the world was holding its breath.
He stood outside his weird glass and stone house, like he knew she was coming.
Maybe he did.
She didn't say anything until she could see his eyes narrow a bit, like he was waiting for something bad to happen.
Lina held up the letter. You left this in my attic.
Adrian nodded once.
You knew I'd find it.
Yeah.
Why?
Because the memories… they show up little by little, he said. But feelings are quicker and stronger. They link us up before facts even matter.
She looked at him, her voice sharper than it had been in days.
I want facts now.
He didn't say a thing.
So she moved closer.
You said I was someone named Amaris. You said we've been through this before—different versions of me, finding you again, always forgetting. You expect me to buy that just because you wrote me a letter and know how I laugh?
He sort of winced.
Lina's voice cracked. I don't even know what's real anymore, Adrian. I see stuff. I feel stuff. I hear voices when no one's around. And you're just standing there, like you've already gone through this and are waiting for me to catch up.
I am, he said quietly.
She shut her eyes, fighting back tears.
I don't want to be nuts.
You're not.
Then tell me. Tell me the whole story.
Adrian paused, then nodded once.
Come on in.
His house was like some church for forgotten stuff.
No furniture, just soft rugs, tall windows, and piles of books in the corners like they grew there. Paintings lined the walls—tons of them. All of her.
Every version of her.
Different hair, clothes, different times, but always the same eyes.
She walked past a painting and stopped dead.
It was her, no question. But older, standing in a burning town. And Adrian next to her, with bloody hands.
She turned to him.
What happened to her? To me?
He looked away. That time, they took you from me.
Who did?
He didn't say anything.
Adrian.
He looked at her. His voice was barely a whisper.
There are others like me. And some don't care about love.
Silence.
She glanced at the painting again. At the fire, and at herself.
So what am I? she asked. Some cursed soulmate? Your ghostly bride?
No, he said. You're human. So amazingly, sadly human. Every single time.
Then why do I keep coming back?
Because some souls are old, he said softly. Older than forever. And sometimes they fall for something they shouldn't.
Lina swallowed. You?
He nodded. Me.
Later, she stood by the window, touching the glass.
You said it's a curse, she mumbled. That I forget over and over.
Yeah.
Why?
Adrian's voice was quiet, with an edge of pain.
Because remembering would destroy you.
She turned around.
What?
There's a price, he said. For lugging memories across lifetimes. It burns you up inside. You can't handle it, not like this. Every time you remember too much, too fast—your soul starts to fall apart.
And you just let that happen? You watch it?
I've tried to stop it, every time. I've begged you to live a normal life, to forget me, to move on.
But I always come back.
Adrian moved closer, closer than he had in days.
You always pick me, he said. Even if it kills you.
She looked up at him, so close she felt how cold he was.
I don't want to die.
I know.
And I don't want to forget you again.
He reached out, slowly, carefully, and tucked some hair behind her ear.
I know that too.
Lina caught her breath.
His hand stayed on her cheek for a second too long. His fingers were cold, but the look in his eyes…
It was intense.
That night, Lina stayed awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.
She was falling for a ghost.
And for once, the word forever didn't sound like a good thing.
It sounded scary.
- Writer
