Chapter 15
1050 Words
His hand found mine in the darkness, fingers intertwining with practiced ease. "Then we choose each other. Every day, every moment. Not because of genetics or politics or destiny, but because we want to."
"I choose you, Costa Blackthorne," I whispered. "Not the prince, not the symbol, but the man who caught me when I was falling."
"And I choose you, Shantali Jackson," he replied. "The woman who taught me that love is the only rebellion that matters."
Outside, the night sounds of Haven's Gate settled around us—natural sounds of insects and rustling leaves, so different from the mechanical hum of New Avalon. Somewhere in the distance, a night bird called with a voice like silver bells.
As sleep finally claimed me, I felt truly at peace for the first time in six centuries. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new choices, new opportunities to build something meaningful from the ashes of the old world. But tonight, I was simply Shantali and the man I loved for 600 years Costa, no longer the prince that the world once knew, but the man I feel in love with.
The morning came with morning light I woke to notice that Costa was watching me, “Good Morning Sleep Beauty.”
I smiled, stretching languidly in the soft morning light. "How long have you been awake?"
"Not long," he replied, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I wanted to make sure this wasn't another dream. That we really escaped."
Through the window, I could hear the sounds of Haven's Gate awakening—children's laughter, the gentle murmur of conversation, the melodic chiming of those strange flowers in the breeze. It was so different from the sterile silence of the preservation facility.
"It's real," I assured him, catching his hand and pressing it to my cheek. "We're really here."
A soft knock interrupted the moment. "Costa? Shantali?" Elena's voice called through the door. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's something you need to see."
We dressed quickly and opened the door to find Elena holding a communication device, her expression troubled.
"What is it?" Costa asked immediately.
"Reports from the other Sanctuaries," she explained. "The preservation facilities aren't just shutting down—they're being systematically destroyed. Someone is making sure there's no way back."
I felt a chill despite the warm morning air. "The Council?"
"That's what we thought at first, but the pattern is wrong. This isn't random destruction—it's surgical. Someone with intimate knowledge of the systems is ensuring complete elimination of the preservation technology."
Costa frowned, his hand finding mine instinctively. "Dr. Thorne?"
"Missing," Elena confirmed. "Along with several other high-ranking preservation specialists. But here's the strange part—they're not destroying everything. The memory crystals, the psychic dampeners, anything related to consciousness preservation is being carefully extracted before the facilities are demolished."
"They're building something new," I realized with growing unease. "Something using the same technology that imprisoned us."
Elena nodded grimly. "The resistance councils are calling an emergency meeting. They want to hear from you both—not as leaders, but as the only people who truly understand how the preservation systems work from the inside."
I looked at Costa, seeing my own conflicted feelings reflected in his green eyes. We'd hoped to simply integrate into this new world, to help other refugees adjust as we planned. But it seemed our unique experience was needed for something far more urgent.
"When?" Costa asked quietly.
"This afternoon. Representatives from all seven Sanctuaries will gather virtually—another technology the Council kept hidden from their subjects." Elena's expression softened. "I know this isn't what you wanted. But if Dr. Thorne and his colleagues are planning something..."
"They could create a new form of control," I finished. "One that's even harder to resist."
The morning that had begun with such peaceful promise now carried the weight of impending crisis. As we prepared to face whatever new challenge awaited, I couldn't help but wonder if we would ever truly be free of the shadows cast by six centuries of imprisonment.
“And with our luck going to try and take us against our will again, along with all the others,” Costa said wrapping his strong arms around my waist.
I leaned back into Costa's embrace, drawing strength from his solid presence. "We won't let that happen. Not to us, not to anyone else."
Elena watched us with a mixture of concern and admiration. "The meeting will be held in the community hall. Until then, try to enjoy what's left of your morning. Sarah mentioned you haven't seen the orchards yet—they're quite beautiful this time of year."
After she left, Costa and I sat at the simple wooden table, the remains of our breakfast forgotten as we processed this new development.
"I should have known it wouldn't be so simple," Costa said, running a hand through his dark hair. "Six hundred years of control doesn't just disappear overnight."
"No system ever gives up power willingly," I agreed. "But I didn't expect them to adapt so quickly."
We decided to take Elena's advice and explore Haven's Gate while we could. The settlement revealed itself as a marvel of integrated living—technology and nature working in harmony rather than opposition. Solar collectors shaped like leaves gathered energy while doubling as shade structures. Water purification systems mimicked natural filtration processes of wetlands. Children learned in open-air classrooms where lessons about history blended seamlessly with hands-on agriculture.
"This is what humanity could have become," Costa mused as we walked between rows of fruit trees heavy with unfamiliar produce. "If the Collapse had been handled differently."
"If people had been allowed to adapt naturally rather than being preserved like specimens," I added.
An elderly gardener overheard us and chuckled. "The preserved ones always say that. As if adaptation was ever a choice."
I turned, surprised by his directness. "You've met others like us?"
"A few," he nodded, his weathered hands never pausing in their careful pruning. "Most don't last long after awakening. The shock is too great, or the psychic damage too severe. But those who survive... they all say the same thing. 'If only we'd been allowed to choose.'"
"And what do you tell them?" Costa asked.
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