“Listen to me.” Marlow spun around in his chair. “Millennia ago, an old colleague of mine targeted your planet for destruction. I thought it a grand idea to hire the very mercenaries who inhabited the planet, since I figured you two might want to stay alive and keep your loved ones alive too. Unfortunately, you failed, your planet was destroyed, taking your lives with it, but not before I could bless you with an extremely rare gift of rebirth. Throw in a few extra shakes of sorcery, and bam, you’re always reborn on his next target. You have since failed your home planets ninety-eight times. The least you could do this time is pretend that you care.”
“I’m out.” Danielle concurred. “Pinch me. I’m getting out of this dream.”
The man was clearly going through puberty again. That was the only explanation anyone would have surmised. Including Danielle, who finally turned her head in his direction and asked, “The hell is wrong with your voice?”
“Like I said, you have to see it to believe it.”
Danielle slammed her coffee cup onto the counter. This was the first time she had seen him in months. His hair was the same. His skin was still pale, especially now that summer was over. His face, however, was anything but what she recalled.
“Did you get plastic surgery? Your chin is different. And maybe your nose too… actually, you look… different.” More like unsettling. Devon was the same, yet something was amiss.
“Because this happened!” Devon lifted his sweatshirt.
“My body is older than yours, but my soul is as young as yours. I couldn’t control who I was born as. Not today, and not a thousand years ago. But the Void decided that nothing was more important than us crossing paths one day. I’ve regretted every time I’ve let you out of my sight since.”
That head of blond bowed, a hand covering her face.
“You don’t remember me because of something we did. Something we can’t take back.” Miranda switched to English. “We can’t take it back. But it’s not our fault. We did what we had to do.” Miranda wasn’t as strong as Danielle. She had to shed more than a few tears as she fought for the words to say that would get her point across without potentially damaging Danielle’s soul. “I wish to the Void you could remember. Anything. Even the worst day of our lives.”
Emily truly and honorably believed she was doing the right thing when she swerved the car toward the large oak tree towering over some rancher’s fence line. Her sacrifice meant eradicating the terrible afflictions haunting her daughter’s mind in the Process. It meant someone better than Emily could take care of her and give her everything she needed. It meant Emily’s personal freedom from her own demons that haunted her.
It meant seeing her mother again, somewhere in the Void, where they would flutter together as perfect, golden butterflies until they were washed and dissipated, ready to be born as new, unrelated people. Such is the promise to those not bound to true reincarnation.View Book