Page 129 of Aurelian Prisoner

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Allie

Seventy years later.

The grave is a simple tombstone.

Over the past seven decades, I’ve watched my younger sister age from a girl, to a woman, and finally into a wise, old dame.

And now, finally, she’s gone.

That whole time – from her first grey hair, to wrinkles and liver spots, I stayed the same age.

I watched the course of her entire life, and to any observer, it would be as if I was frozen in time.

Yes, I’ve seen Lilac grow, and mature, and age, and finally wrinkle and die…

But I’ve also seen her go from a broken young woman, on the brink of insanity, to regaining her sense of self, her identity, and her life.

Lilac and I spent seventy good years exploring all the worlds we could together, ensuring we never saw an Aurelian during any of our travels.

The therapists and treatments helped Lilac recover from her years of abuse – but not totally. The sight of an Aurelian was the only thing that could instantly undo all that work; triggering one of her breakdowns. She saw one, once, five years into the treatment…

…and we lost all of our progress. It took years to recover to the point we’d been at.

Every day, during all of those decades, I thought of Daccia, Kitos, and Hadrian. I even thought of taking off the Orb-Ring, countless times. I nearly cracked time and time again, and thought of going off to see them – promising myself it would only be ‘for a few days’ but I knew it was too cruel.

Cruel to them. Cruel to me. If I’d succumbed to the Bond – if I allowed it to take hold of me completely – it would be too cruel to Lilac, because I’d never have returned to her.

So, in the end, it was easier to just keep myself completely cut off from those three incredible men.

I knew if I saw them, I’d succumb to the Bond completely. I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist them. As much as I hate to say it, it was ‘all or nothing’ with them.

But that was a long time go – for a human, at least.

“I love you, Lilac,” I say, and lay the bouquet of flowers I’m holding on her grave.

She was ninety-one years old when she died – wizened and wrinkled, always cackling at my youth and beauty. Lilac was never jealous of my eternal youth. She told me once, when she was eighty, that she was actually happy for me.

She’d lived a good, quiet life. That’s all she’d ever wanted. I’m so thankful I was able to give it to her.

The tears come out. They well from my eyes like a storm – a storm that had been waiting for decades to burst.

I soak the ground with my tears, and when all my grief is finally expended, I walk back to the simple house where we’d lived alone together in quiet solitude – away from everything else in this universe.

I look down – at the hand that hasn’t developed a single wrinkle or spot in all these decades.

I gently touch the Orb-Ring I wear on my finger.

I’m too afraid to take it off. I couldn’t bear to learn that any or all of the three Aurelians I’m Bonded to might be gone, or that they hate me for leaving them. I’m fearful that they curse my name with every waking breath.

But I touch it.

I touch the ring, and the Orb-Material it’s crafted from glows at me – blue-black, angry, and hot. It’s like the ring is filled with rage.

I know it has one purpose – to sever the link between Bonded partners.

I felt like I died when I first put this ring on, in the palace of Queen Jasmine, over seventy years earlier. I felt like I’d died three times over – as each of the auras of my beloved triad winked out of my mind.

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