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Euphie.
The wounds are fresh.
The earth over the grave is even fresher.
The sun is setting in the window, painting the skies in deep oranges and bright reds — like the skies are bleeding at the loss of such a brilliant and beautiful soul. It’s a sight that Anis would never see.
A sunset that would be for Euphyllia’s eyes only.
Tomorrow there would be another one for Euphyllia, another one that Anis would never see. The day after that? Another. And then another and then another.
The world has only ever been beautiful in Euphyllia’s eyes because Anis has been there.
Now that she’s gone, the world is just a wash of meaningless colours.
Tears haven’t even dried on Euphyllia’s cheeks yet as she tears herself away from the wounded skies — the skies which resemble the tatters of the heart in her chest. Still, she finds herself opening the letter that Anis has left her. It’s simple in nature, a plain white envelope. Free of any royal seal or official markings, just her name on the front in a messy scrawl that’s slightly tilted.
Even at the end, Anis joked and apologized that she could never do anything right, anything straight because she was not straight.
Sniffling, she unfolds the letter inside the envelope.
Dear Euphie,
The familiar handwriting tugs at her broken heart, reopening the wound that had only just begun to scab over. The letters are firm and decisive, each stroke of the pen sure and unwavering. This letter was written a while ago, Euphyllia realizes, while Anis was still healthy and spry, grinning at her with something mischievous in her eyes.
It takes everything in Euphyllia to look away from the letter, letting her tears fall into her lap and not the delicate paper. She would hate to cry over the words before she even had the chance to read Anis’ parting words.
They had lived a long and fruitful life together.
Hadn’t they?
Lumielle had warned her of all the consequences of completing the spirit covenant and Euphyllia had braced herself for the worst. Every day, she questioned if today was the day that the last dredges of her humanity, the fleeting emotions that stirred in her chest every time she so much as even thought about Anis, would disappear.
To her surprise (and somewhat smug delight), no such thing happened.
Though who was to say that it hadn’t already happened without her noticing and Anis never mentioned any changes in the way that Eupyllia looked at her-
No, Euphyllia shakes her head, trying to physically dislodge the thoughts.
Anis was barely gone, and she was already doubting the strength of the bond that they shared.
How would she handle the rest of time without Anis?
How would she, indeed?
Still, she finds some satisfaction — a cruel satisfaction that stems from the way that she was brought up to be the best at everything, in knowing that she and Anis didn’t end up like Lumielle and her lover.
Perhaps it was because her and Anis’ situation had been so different compared to Lumielle’s and her own mortal lover, but Euphyllia didn’t find herself drifting away from Anis at all. It certainly helped that Anis had the dragon magistone running through her veins; an unknown quantity that couldn’t be predicted.
There were some benefits to such a strange existence.
A more youthful appearance for one. Even on her deathbed, Anis looked hardly a day over seventeen. She had kept up her high-energy lifestyle until the last few weeks of her life when her entire body seemed to give out. As if the universe had come back to collect twofold on the debt on all the borrowed youthful energy and strength that she had subsisted on for her longer-than-normal lifespan.
Yes, Anis had lived until the overripe age of 169.
Far longer than Euphyllia could have hoped, but selfishly, not nearly as long as she would have liked.
Some secret part of her wished for forever.
By the time you read this, I will be gone.
Grief is never-ending.
It swallows Euphyllia in monstrous waves and pulls at her relentlessly with dark currents.
She stays curled up in bed for several days, maybe even weeks or months. It's hard to tell when she doesn’t really need to eat or sleep or do anything, really. They had long divested themselves of routine responsibilities quite a few decades ago, content to spend her days tackling whatever new magicology project Anis thought up (her last project, the ‘thermal oven’ or ‘microwave’ had been a huge hit and she was determined to replicate her success one last time before she left).
This meant that Euphyllia was free to wallow in her sorrow.
And she wallowed.
Or she would have.
The sound of the curtains being pulled back harshly and blinding sunlight to come bursting into the dark bedroom makes her flinch.
“How long do you intend to spend in bed?” Lumielle stands at her bedside, hands on her hips.
Euphyllia barely glances up at the senior spirit covenantor. She shouldn’t be surprised that it's her. Lumielle is the only one who knows where the villa is. She and Anis had moved out into the countryside as soon as they could. It was hard to explain to the public why they looked so young — good genetics only carried them so far, and the Kingdom of Palettia was quickly becoming self-sufficient without an official ruler under the formation of various councils.
Less of a kingdom, Euphyllia supposes, and more of a republic.
“You can’t spend all day moping around like this,” Lumielle continues brusquely, drawing up the authority of a girl who has lived far beyond her years.
Euphyllia rolls over, burying her face in what was once Anis’ pillow, trying to find the lingering traces of her scent there — it smelled like nothing.
Panic surges through her. Oh, how foolish she was, she should have carefully preserved the pillow and sheets and bed, so that Anis’ scent would linger on the fabrics for eternity — the final traces, the final pieces of evidence that Anis had even been here, that Anis had even existed and been alive and been hers.
Now, she has nothing left.
Anger — white-hot, flares through her.
Rage — at her own foolishness.
Fury — at Lumielle for intruding on the safe cocoon that she had surrounded herself in, the layers of denial and haze that she might forget altogether the pain that she feels squeezing her from the inside.
Resentment — at Anis, for leaving her here by herself.
“I warned you that this would happen,” Lumielle sighs.
“I do not need you to come to tell me that ‘you told me so’,” Euphyllia snaps crossly, wiping at her face with the back of her hand.
She hates that she cried when she got angry. It has rarely helped her in the past when dealing with stuff nobles, it certainly doesn’t help her now, dealing with a haughty former noble.
“I’m not here for that. Well,” Lumielle pauses, reconsidering. “I did not intend to come to tell you that.”
“Then what did you intend?”
“I just wanted to see how you were doing.” the older woman takes a few steps closer, not so close that she’s just within arm’s reach, just in case.
“I’m fine,” Euphyllia lies.
Lumielle masks a noise of disappointment. “Didn’t they teach you that it’s rude to lie to your elders?”
“Didn’t they teach you not to disturb someone who’s grieving?” The words fly out of her mouth before she even realizes it. Immediately, she claps a hand over her mouth, lest she say more rude things.
The other woman smirks at her, “There you are. Do you know how long has passed?”
“A few days,” Euphyllia tries not to look too embarrassed.
Lumielle stares at her with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” Euphyllia grumbles.
“Darling, Euphyllia,” Lumielle smirks at her, teeth bared like a predator approaching her prey. “It’s been three months.”
I know that you will grieve, and I know that there is nothing that I can do to comfort you. I am sorry.
It’s strange to live on her own.
She supposes that she must get used to it, for the time that she spent with Anis is a mere drop in the bucket of her lifetime.
There is no schedule to follow, no other person for her to consider. She has herself, and on occasion, Lumielle.
Some part of her yearns for the days that Lumielle describes — the distance of a page between what she feels so acutely in this moment and her eventual existence. How long until the gaps in her chest fill? How long until she could live without being at the mercy of the ebb and flow of her sorrow?
Could she consider this to even be living?
Several more months pass before she can bring herself to wander around the villa. Magic and Anis’ magical tools have kept the place in good condition while Euphyllia has locked herself away.
Everywhere that she looks, she sees little traces of Anis. The little step stool that she used to reach the higher cabinets, the aging thermal pot (still a first edition, its continued use a testament to the quality of Anis’ work), and two teacups on the tray. Quietly, Euphyllia picks up one of the teacups.
The other one would never see use again.
In the past, she would not have minded being alone as much, content to bury her head in books at the library and her studies to become queen. But both of those things belong to a life in the past, a life that she hardly recognizes — the life of someone else entirely.
She finds her feet wandering into the workshop, a familiar path down the stairs and to the door marked with a handwritten sign, still slightly crooked on the door. Bracing herself, she opens the door.
The smell of harsh reagents and powders and something slightly burnt still lingers in the air. The space is dark, only lit through the half windows near the top of the basement wall — just the right angle for the fading sunlight of dusk to spill into the space, drowning everything in reddening light. Everything is neatly put away, not a speck of grime or piece of magical tool set out on the table.
They had tried.
They had tried researching various methods to prolong Anis’ life. Research into immortality was not something new. Taboo, perhaps, but nothing new.
They never succeeded.
No matter what they tried (and they certainly tried, Anis spent a long time recovering after multiple attempts), nothing ever worked. Euphyllia had been at Anis’ side every step of the way, encouraging her when she felt down, holding her hand when the latest experiment failed.
If Euphyllia was the single wound that stayed with Anis, achieving immortality was an insult that Anis never recovered from.
Anis had spent very little time in her workshop in her last days and Euphyllia found very little purpose in being here by herself, either. The princess must have cleaned up before she had… gone.
That thought strikes Euphyllia in the chest like a blast of magic, knocking the breath out of her lungs. It wasn’t a thought that had ever left her or was particularly novel in any way — more like a boomerang arcing its way back to her. She had, just for a moment, been foolish enough to think that being in the workshop would alleviate the ache in her chest.
The emptiness of the once lively and messy place has only served to further remind her that Anis is gone. There are no projects left half-finished on the table, diagrams on the chalkboard, papers scattered everywhere — all signs that Anis had run off in a hurry and would be back to finish things up. There is none of that.
There is no Anis.
That thought makes Euphyllia sick, and she rushes out of the barren workshop, the once fruitful space, out into the hall, door slamming shut behind her.
Euphyllia is alone.
Would be alone.
Forever alone.
Alone.
Know that I wanted that forever with you, too. My only failure is that I was unable to give you an eternity of happiness.
Euphyllia spends much of her days wandering around in the vast forests and towering mountains, counting the setting suns like children would count sheep before they slept. Her only companion is Arc-en-Ciel. The faithful sword is her one keepsake from a life that she no longer quite lives. Everyone else that she knew has already passed on, a half dozen funerals that she and Anis had attended in secret.
A half dozen graves she leaves flowers at.
What was another?
She drifts from place to place in almost a daze, like her mind and heart and soul can’t quite comprehend that Anis is gone.
Gone gone gone.
Gone.
Euphyllia is alone.
Staying by herself in the villa that she and Anis had once called home together was too painful in its emptiness. It’s no longer her home. Her home is Anis.
So she wanders the world instead, like a distant guardian watching over the world that she and Anis had helped shape.
People speak about a mysterious figure who roams the mazes of woods and depths of caves. She never approaches, never speaks, but also never hesitates to help someone — like some benevolent spirit of nature.
This is the way that Euphyllia prefers it. There are very few people who wander out this far into the wilderness (though the civilization of Palettia is expanding with all the new magical tools, something that makes Euphyllia happy to see even if it makes her hidden existence more difficult). She relishes in the solace. Where some would have found a salve in the company of other people, Euphyllia finds the presence of other people, even someone like Lumielle, only to be salt in the wound. It’s like the presence of other people only further highlighted that Anis was no longer there.
The gaping void where Anis used to be threatens to swallow her whole, no matter how she has prepared herself for this time.
This inevitability.
The rest of her existence.
It doesn’t seem fair to leave you by yourself, in a forever of loneliness, but I hope that this lifetime of happiness is of some small comfort to you.
Euphyllia visits Anis’ grave every year. Once on the day she was born, and once more on the day that she left.
The stone marker that denotes where her beloved rests is simple. A well-deserved rest, considering all the weight that she had carried for so long and all the things that she had accomplished. Smooth stone bears a single word: Anis.
It’s not too far from the villa, tucked away so that people who didn’t already know it was there couldn’t find it.
If there’s anything that Anis deserved, it was undisturbed peace and rest.
Euphyllia carefully wipes away half a year’s worth of dust from the stone with her handkerchief and a small splash of magic, rainbows filling the small space around her. If Anis were still here to see it, she would probably have gazed with wonder at the sparkles as magic glimmered in the air.
Even after so many years, magic never failed to make Anis smile.
How Euphyllia misses that — how she misses Anis.
Gently, her fingers trace over the name engraved in the stone and she wonders if someday, when the letters are worn away, she would still remember who lay here.
Tears fall from her face.
She wishes Anis was still here.
Please don’t cry. I know that you probably already are, but please, think of me fondly and all the time we had together.
Several decades pass before Euphyllia decides that Lumielle is a liar.
That’s what Euphyllia decides. That’s what Euphyllia realizes.
She waits so long for the promised bliss of ignorance when her feelings fade and her memories are nothing more than words on a page. Those days never come and she still feels the loss of Anis as acutely as the first day she spent in their bed without her.
Instead, she buries herself in the memories as she plays every moment that she can remember over in her head. There's her book — one that she's flipped through countless times, too scared to return to a time when she was happy and too afraid not to. Like a fading book that's been read too many times, she worries that her memories will fade the more she loses herself in the ghost of Anis' presence, the haunting touch that passes through her. But she's also worried that if she doesn't revisit the aging pages, she wouldn't remember Anis either.
Euphyllia sinks into the distant embrace of someone who doesn't exist as the sun sets around her. She closes her eyes, letting the dying light paint the insides of her eyelids a warm crimson.
It's not the same, she understands. It's not quite right, she knows.
But it's all she has. That and another setting sun that she's spent alone.
I know that there may come a time when you no longer hold these feelings for me or for anyone else, but know that I will always hold you close.
“What are you going to spend the rest of your days doing?” Lumielle sits across from her at a small table.
They are at her place today — Lumielle has grown tired of outdoor picnics. An unfortunate happenstance ever since Euphyllia started wandering the lands like a breeze set adrift.
“I’m not sure,” Euphyllia admits.
Time passes too slowly and too quickly all at once.
Every second without Anis is agony, an eternity drawn out over scarlet skies as the world revolves into the next day. But seemingly, decades have passed in time since, centuries even.
“You must have some idea,” Lumielle presses.
“Learn more magic maybe,” Euphyllia sighs.
Lumielle laughs, “More magic?”
“Yes.” Euphyllia stares off into the distance, at the blend of colours as the sun tucks itself into bed under a blanket of night sky. “I think Anis would have wanted that. She always thought that magic was so beautiful. She loved magic more than anything else in this world.”
“You know that’s not true,” Lumielle says sharply, setting her teacup down with a loud clatter.
The sudden noise makes Euphyllia jump, nearly spilling her own tea.
“Anis loved you more than anything or anyone else in this world, you know that right?”
Euphyllia smiles, a little sad and misty-eyed. “Yes,” she lies.
Lumielle frowns, not believing her.
“Euphyllia Magenta.”
She jumps, unused to hearing her former name — the person that she had once been, and maybe had always been.
“You’re a spirit now. Perhaps one of the most powerful spirits to ever exist, and do you know what spirits are?” Lumielle leans across the table, one finger poking Euphyllia in the chest as the glint in her eye grows.
“What?” Euphyllia asks, confused. Why is Lumielle trying to give her a lesson on the basic concepts of spirits?
“Magic.”
Magic has brought me endless joy and smiles and you, Euphie. You are my magic. For that, I am endlessly thankful for what we had.
Euphyllia spends a long time by herself after that.
She retires to the distant countryside, needing to put a little bit of space between herself and Lumielle, the woman who knows too much and says even more.
She was magic, huh?
Her steps slow.
She remembers a conversation that she and Anis had once, as they lay in bed together, the early morning sun’s rays peeking through their curtains. Their limbs were still heavy with sleep, too lazy to truly get up even though Euphyllia knew that she should make something for Anis to eat. Not everyone could subsist on magical energy like her.
“What’s on your mind?” Euphie mumbled, burrowing her nose against the side of Anis’ neck, inhaling deeply. The light scent of tea and something floral with notes of citrus flood her senses. There’s something else there too, something uniquely Anis, even if she is stealing Euphyllia’s soap.
Euphyllia nips lightly at the sensitive skin there in petty revenge.
“Hey!” Anis yelped. “What was that for?”
“You’ve been stealing my soap again,” Euphyllia grumbled, but soothes the spot over with a gentle kiss.
“I couldn’t help it,” Anis whined. “You smell so good.”
“You picked your own soap!” Euphyllia laughed. She couldn’t really be mad, not when Anis was so cute when she pouted like this. “Are you going to tell me what you were thinking about, though?”
Anis sighed. “I was just thinking about magic.”
That got another laugh from Euphyllia. “You’re always thinking about magic.”
“I know. But ever since I was a child, I’ve yearned for magic. Even in my past life, I have loved magic. I spent two lives chasing magic.” Anis’ expression grew wistful, eyes staring off into the distance. “I wonder what I’ll do next?”
“You could do anything you wanted,” Euphyllia pointed out. She would later recount these words and laugh at naive she had been.
“I would want to continue to love magic and chase after her.”
Her.
Euphyllia had thought that Anis was referring to magic as ‘her’, like how pilots referred to their Airdras as ‘her’. But now that she’s here, after so many years, she thinks she understands — the words that have been in front of her the whole time that she didn’t quite want to recognize. That she didn't want to believe in, because what is more painful than no hope but false hope?
If Anis spent one life chasing magic, and another one finding magic, she could spend a third or a fourth rediscovering magic for herself.
It’s a farfetched thought. A distant hope on the horizon, like the rising of a sun after an eternity of night.
But it’s Anis. If there’s anyone who could do it, it would be Anis.
I ask that you believe in me and believe in magic. Just as my soul yearned for magic here, I know that I will yearn for you, my own beautiful magic.
Euphyllia doesn’t return to the little hidden villa for years. What was once her sanctuary, her haven, is still haunted by the ghost of the one that she had given up everything for.
Truly everything.
If someone asked her if she regretted doing what she had done, she would say no. She has no regrets. Even if given the choice a thousand times, she would choose this a thousand and one times.
The smile on Anis’ face when she was researching magicology or chasing monsters through the wilderness made everything worth it.
Everything.
An eternity by herself is nothing compared to the lifetime of suffering that Anis would have endured.
Still, she returns to it after several centuries.
Enough time has passed that the surrounding areas have changed since they first built the villa. The trees are larger, taller, older — stronger. There’s a small creek that winds its way along the front yard of the villa, a small offshoot of the much larger stream not too far away.
Lainie had moved into one of the guest bedrooms in Euphyllia’s absence and the former maid keeps the place in good working order.
“Euphyllia!”
Euphyllia smiles at the familiar face. Lanie has changed very little over the years, a perk of being a vampire, perhaps. There’s a touch more confidence in the way that she carries herself, but even after so long, she’s exactly how Euphyllia remembers.
“Lainie!” Euphyllia smiles as the other woman rushes up to her, a smile on her face. “It’s been so long. I haven’t seen you since-”
She pauses.
Since Ilia’s five hundredth anniversary of her death.
Even then, that was at least a century ago.
Some part of Euphyllia wonders how Lainie does it. For all the time that she had with Anis, Lainie had even less with Ilia. The other maid had little desire to become a vampire, and Lainie hadn’t pressed the issue.
“You are making sad faces again.” Lainie takes her by the arm, leading her into the villa. “I heard from Lumielle that you’d be back today, so I made us some tea.”
“Tea sounds nice,” Euphyllia murmurs.
Stepping inside the villa is like a slap in the face. Perhaps this was a mistake.
Nothing inside the villa has changed at all. If she closes her eyes, she can still hear Anis' laughter echoing off the walls, the sound of her footsteps as she rushes from one thing to the next.
Lainie had taken meticulous care of the space and everything was exactly as Euphyllia had left it — as Anis had left her.
Euphyllia presses on. Once the fresh wave of pain and grief subsides, she exhales shakily. There is an ache in her chest, one that time can never quite soothe and is tucked away in the depths of her silly hope.
It is not so bad on the other side of the wave.
“Maybe we should have tea outside,” Lainie suggests quietly. “I’ve tidied up the table and chairs in the garden.”
“I think that would be best,” Euphyllia says tersely, turning on her heel and heading out the backdoor.
It’s much easier to breathe outside where everything doesn’t whisper Anis’ name, a hallowed refrain that grates on Euphyllia’s psyche like nails on the chalkboard in Anis’ workshop. Nothing that she can’t handle, but irritating nonetheless.
Lainie sits across from her, two cups of tea on the table in front of them. Euphyllia notes that the teacups are from a new set that she has never seen before.
“I felt bad using your things without your explicit permission, so I brought my own,” Lainie explains immediately when she catches Euphyllia glancing curiously over the new china.
“Oh,” Euphyllia picks up her teacup, steam rising from its depths lazily. How long has it been since she had had a proper cup of tea? “Thank you for the tea.”
“Anytime!” Lainie beams. “It’s been a long time since I had to make tea for anyone else.”
They lapse into an awkward bit of silence, marked by slow sips of tea as the afternoon melts into the evening.
“How do you do it?” Euphyllia finds herself asking.
“Hmm? Make tea? If you would like to learn, I could teach-”
“No, I mean. How do you go on like nothing has happened since Ilia…” Euphyllia trails off. This question feels too rude. “My apologies. Please forget that I said anything.”
To her surprise, Lainie smiles.
“Well, our situations are a little different. I’m not going to be immortal like you, despite how long I have hung on to life.” Lainie takes a slow sip of her tea and hums with satisfaction, like this was her first sip all over again. “I just know that Ilia will be upset with me if I don't spend my time well after she’s gone. So I live my days as best I can so that when I see Ilia again when my time comes, she’ll be proud.”
When did Lainie become so wise? Euphyllia can’t help but wonder.
Maybe it’s the hundreds of years that have passed them both by in the blink of an eye.
“Do you think… I could do that ?” Euphyllia doesn’t dare speak the words into existence, afraid of jinxing what little hope that she already had.
Lainie seems to understand though, smiling kindly at her. “You’re Euphyllia., the genius girl, the brightest student at the nobles academy, the only ruling queen of Palettia, the spirit covenantor. Is there anything that you can’t do?”
I love you — so believe in the magic of our love, of me, the greatest magician that you have known.
Lainie passes on a century and a half later, a few days shy of Ilia’s birthday.
Euphyllia tells herself that it was because Lainie couldn’t bear not to celebrate Ilia’s birthday with her. She hopes that they’re happy wherever they may be.
The little creek outside the villa has grown into a full-fledged stream, with fish galore and wildlife stopping by to take a momentary rest. Lumielle drops by unannounced every once in a few decades. Just to see how things are.
Things are always the same.
Quiet.
Carefully, Euphyllia makes herself a cup of tea, exactly how Lainie had shown her, and how Ilia had shown her before that, and exactly how Anis would have drank it when she was growing up. There’s a sense of peace as she takes her tea out into the garden, content to sit and just watch. Her grief has subsided to tiny ripples in the water, lapping at the walls of her heart. There’s nothing that she can do about the gentle (and sometimes not so gentle) reminders of who’s no longer with her.
But she lives. She has her tea. She watches the sun set.
And she still wanders the lands, watching over the kingdom of Palettia from the distance like a doting mother over her children. She hardly ventures from the villa for more than a day, preferring to return to her little piece of quiet at the end of the day. It had taken her decades to be able to sleep in the bedroom that she and Anis used to share.
She still wakes up, hand searching blindly for Anis, for something, someone between the empty and cold sheets.
Magicology is more commonplace than magic now and Euphyllia’s heart soars, knowing that Anis’ dream had taken root so deeply, changing the course of this kingdom and history as everyone knew it. She’s proud of how far the land has come.
She had made the right choice, freeing Anis from the shackles of the crown.
She knows that; she has always known that. But even so, she can’t help but feel a little lonely.
How much longer must she wait, she wonders.
Would Anis come back? Or perhaps there was another Euphyllia out there that Anis had found.
She would be okay with that too.
As long as Anis is happy… she will be happy, too.
Ah, she’s lost herself in her thoughts for too long. The tea has long gone cold, a few bitter sips left at the bottom of the cup that Lainie had left her before passing on. A few weak rays of sunshine begin to stretch over the horizon.
A sunrise.
The start of another day.
Euphyllia doesn’t track the start of new days like she does the end of current ones. Something about it starting anew by herself has never felt very appealing, but there’s still something beautiful to be had in the sight of the dark sky receding away to the light.
Her peace is interrupted by the sound of splashing and branches breaking. Immediately, Euphyllia is on her feet, concerned that one of the baby deer that she’s seen around the stream has fallen in and needs help.
“I don’t remember a stream being here.” An all too familiar voice muses.
Is Euphyllia dreaming? She must have fallen asleep at the table. This is a cruel dream.
A nightmare.
Her heart is pounding in her throat as she takes a few steps around the far side of the villa towards the stream when she sees her.
Blonde hair like sunshine condensed.
Green eyes like emeralds.
Euphyllia is running before she understands what’s happening, feet flying over the ground, lifting into the air as she slams into Anis.
Anis, who’s here and alive and whole and real and catching her in her arms.
“Anis!” There are tears streaming down Euphyllia’s face as she buries her face against the familiar shape of Anis’ shoulder, even as the foreign material of her outfit scratches at her skin. The sting of the scratches confirms that she’s not dreaming.
She’s here.
She’s really here.
“Euphie?”
The sound of Anis’ voice saying that nickname, her nickname, makes Euphyllia’s heart soar.
There are no other words though as Anis’ lips crash into her own, pouring a lifetime of warmth and love and affection and magic into Euphyllia.
She came back.
Anis came back.
I will return to you.
Anis W. Pahlettya, as she was known in the new world that she had come from, died at the ripe old age of 69.
From what she told Euphyllia, this was an extraordinarily long time for people in the world that she came from.
They lived many long years together, some in Palettia (Anis was delighted to see how her magicology had taken off, how magic had become so intertwined with technology), and some in the new world that Anis had lived in for so many years before finally figuring out a way to make it home. Anis invented new things. Inspired by the world she came from, she was no longer satisfied with the sky.
She wants the stars.
And Euphyllia would go anywhere with her, to the stars and beyond, as long as she was by her side.
They watched the sun set and then rise again countless times. They saw rainbows streak across the sky, the plethora of colours trailing behind them as they danced through the air, joy never-ending. They chased falling stars and whatever whims caught their fancy. They travelled from one place to another, rejoicing in the other’s company until they were too tired to do anything but fall into bed together, only to do it all over again the next day.
Memories do fade, Euphyllia realizes, as she could no longer remember every second and moment that she spent with Anis in her first lifetime. Instead, the spaces between those moments and the cracks in her chest fill with the moments that she spends with Anis in her second (and her third, and fourth, and fifth, and sixth — until time itself gives out).
Lumielle hadn’t lied.
But Anis wasn’t just anybody. She had dreams and she would stop at nothing until she achieved them. Her only regret of a previous life wasn’t a failure.
She had always achieved what she set out to accomplish, immortality notwithstanding.
She had already achieved immortality.
Just not the way that they thought.
The brilliant and beautiful girl, the greatest magician that Euphyllia had ever known, pursuer of magic, would spend her whole life making her happy.
And the next life, and the one after that.
You are my future. You will be my past and present too.
Tears fall as Euphyllia bids Anis one final farewell, kissing her pale and lifeless hand gently as the otherworldly woman disappears into a bright flash of light.
Euphyllia is alone again. She feels this loss acutely, a gaping hollow opening in her chest, waves of grief that wash over her. She lets the emotions take her, surging over her head. But she doesn't budge. No, she has built herself up on a distant hope that spans time and space and worlds and dreams. The grief of loss is familiar but it too would end. Euphyllia knows this.
With a deep breath, she steadies herself. In her hands is a cream-coloured envelope.
Euphie.
Her name is written on the front in a tilted scrawl.
It’s not straight, just like Anis. Just like her.
She smiles slightly at that thought. Maybe after all this time, Anis’ terrible humour is rubbing off on her.
Carefully, she opens the envelope.
She already knows what the words will say.
Dear Euphie,
By the time you read this, I will be gone. I know that you will grieve, and I know that there is nothing that I can do to comfort you. I am sorry. I know that you wanted me to stay much longer than I could have. Know that I wanted that forever with you, too. My only failure is that I was unable to give you an eternity of happiness. It doesn’t seem fair to leave you by yourself, in a forever of loneliness, but I hope that this lifetime of happiness is of some small comfort to you.
Please don’t cry. I know that you probably already are, but please, think of me fondly and all the time we had together. I know that there may come a time when you no longer hold these feelings for me or for anyone else, but know that I will always hold you close.
Magic has brought me endless joy and smiles and you, Euphie. You are my magic. For that, I am endlessly thankful for what we had.
I ask that you believe in me and believe in magic. Just as my soul yearned for magic here, I know that I will yearn for you, my own beautiful magic.
I love you — so believe in the magic of our love, of me, the greatest magician that you have known.
I will return to you.
You are my future. You will be my past and present too.
Anis