The doctor was young. Maybe thirty. She looked uncomfortable delivering news to someone who’d fought parasitic immortals.
“Early-stage dementia. Alzheimer’s specifically. We caught it early, but it’s progressing.”
Sera sat very still. Marcus held her hand.
“How long?”
“Five years before significant impairment. Maybe ten with treatment. But eventually…” The doctor trailed off.
“Eventually, I won’t remember anything. Won’t remember fighting. Building. Losing. Winning. Won’t remember Marcus, Morgan, or the twins. Won’t remember myself.”
“We have medications that slow progression. Support systems. Memory aids—”
“I don’t want to forget. I spent eighty years building memories. Learning. Growing. Now they’ll dissolve? Disappear?”
The doctor had no answer. No one did.
Marcus drove home in
