Page 14 of Anatomy of the Immortal Species
As if from afar, the Queen’s voice reached her. “Now I will discuss the details with your betrothed, and then he is all yours.”
Kathrine glanced at Sevar. His face was ashen.
“Go, daughter!” The Queen’s tone was final, dismissing Kathrine.
“Your Majesty.” Kathrine bowed deeply and started for the door, her mind racing.
“Kathrine,” the Queen called, her tone almost casual. Kathrine’s heart skipped a beat. She’d almost reached the door. She turned, her face a mask of composure despite the fear that gripped her. “Clothes are meant to be worn. Dresses are meant to be taken off.”
4
The sky hung low over the Central Sofia Cemetery, wrapping the gravestones in a grey fog. Amelia left the red roses on the bare rock in front of her feet. The gravestone had three names written on it, followed by a single word.Forever.
No right words exist to bid farewell to someone you are not yet ready to part with. Amelia hadn’t found them four years ago. She didn’t have them now either, and deep inside, she felt that this was her last chance to do it.
The January wind whistled through the graves and pulled a few stray locks out of her ponytail. The bare skin on her face and hands shivered in response. Underneath her thick coat, she wore an elegant black dress that had cost much more than she could afford. But she would never disrespect her family’s grave by arriving in the worn-out clothes she owned.
Standing before the only thing that was left of her family, Amelia realised she wasn’t saying goodbye to them. This was a goodbye to herself. Because the old Amelia would never have agreed to do what she came here today for.
Pretend. Steal. Lie.
Amelia imagined her mother, father, and brother, wrapped in white light, smiling and happy together.
The greatest happiness is having someone whose pain you feel like your own.
Her mother had spoken those words in front of the mirror in her bedroom, as she was tying Amelia’s hair in a high bun she called a palm tree. Her mother would never have abandoned her,had she had the choice. Never betrayed her.
Suddenly, the dress began to tighten around Amelia. Her mother was gone, but if she could have seen her now, she would have been appalled by the absurdity of spending so much money on a dress like this.
Amelia was still adjusting to the recent changes in her body. Her figure, once modest and slightly awkward, had become more defined and feminine in ways she hadn’t anticipated. Her slim arms and legs now bore discreet muscles that enabled her to lift objects twice as heavy as before and run for miles without breaking a sweat. She could endure days without food, and stay awake through the darkest nights.
She shifted with unease, experiencing the unsettling sensation of being watched. Glancing over her shoulder, she felt a wave of relief when a small group of people dressed in black made their way down the nearby path. Their solemn procession was led by a priest who began to read from a small Bible, his voice a soft murmur in the evening’s quiet. The mourners, heads bowed, held candles that flickered against the relentless wind, struggling to stay alight.
The contrast between the sombre procession and her own discomfort seemed stark. Amelia’s new strength, her body’s transformation, felt so incongruous with the muted grief surrounding her. She was caught between two worlds – the weight of her new reality and the remnants of her past life, both pressing in on her with an intensity she hadn’t expected.
God, let Mikhail not show up…
Amelia kept her eyes fixed on the priest, fighting the urge to flee. The Church’s rituals were a mystery to her. After her family’s death, she had been too overwhelmed to absorb any details. Her mother’s cousin had arrived from abroad to handle the funeral arrangements, while Amelia had been a passive observer, her senses numb and detached. She barely recalledthe rituals performed, only that they had been meticulously followed. Now, she felt a strange compulsion to listen to the priest’s words while he sang of wrongdoings and forgiveness, impiety and faith, death and resurrection – concepts that seemed increasingly elusive the longer she lived on.
She listened intently until the end, her gaze lingering on the stranger’s grave, long after the relatives had left. A long time had passed, and there was no trace of Mikhail. Maybe he wouldn’t show.
How I hope he doesn’t show.That would at least save her from becoming a thief and liar.
She stared at that wordforever,until her vision blurred.
This is it. Mikhail isn’t coming.
“Thank you for everything. I love you, Mum. I love you, Dad. I love you, Sammy. Forever.”
With a heavy heart, Amelia turned away from the grave, her eyes misting with tears. The weight of her loss and the uncertainty of her future pressed down on her, mingling with the chill of the evening air.
Amelia tightened the belt of her coat, her fingers digging into the fabric when she wrapped her arms around herself. The chill of the evening deepened, and while she hurried along the path between graves, her intuition erupted in a flurry of warnings. The surrounding atmosphere seemed to shift, weighing down on her with an eerie gravity.
Then she saw him. Mikhail stood under the stone arch at the entrance of the cemetery. The sight of him sent a jolt through her, her muscles tensing in instinctive alarm. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to turn and run, but Amelia pressed forward, determined to face whatever lay ahead.
At her approach, her treacherous gaze roamed over his features. His eyes, a complex blend of green, brown, and yellow, held her captive. His light brown hair, longer than she remembered,framed his face in a way that accentuated his striking appearance. The dark suit he wore was impeccably tailored, a stark contrast to his usual simple attire. The elegance of his jacket only heightened her awareness of the distinction between him and any ordinary man.
Mikhail’s hooded eyes widened slightly when he smiled, a gesture that mingled charm with an unsettling intensity. “Hello, Amelia.”
