Everlasting (Immortals 6)

My body reduced to a throbbing, bleeding pulp of a mess—my soul mate convinced I’ve abandoned him—as Rafe makes a show of enjoying the fruit.

And for what?

What was the point of it al ?

Why fight so hard? Why succeed at each and every step, only to fail at the one thing that counts more than anything else?

This bitter taste of defeat reminding me of what I once said to Damen after I’d confessed the whole horrible story behind my thwarted bout of time travel:

Sometimes destiny lies just outside of our reach.

And surprised to find that no longer rings true.

My destiny is stil very much attainable.

There’s no way it ends here.

I leap.

Working past the screaming pain in my body—working past my protesting muscles, my raw and bloody palms. I leap as high as I can, grab hold of the branch just above me, and then the one above that. Swinging like an agile monkey, until I’m just one branch below Misa and Marco, who are now only one branch below Rafe.

And when Rafe surprises us al by leaping from his branch to theirs, I see his face is stil aged, stil marked by time, and yet there’s no denying his glow—he’s positively radiant—he has an aura that’s beaming—al the proof that I need to know that it worked, his immortality has been reversed. He drops what little remains of the fruit onto Misa’s outstretched palms, then scrambles to the ground, as I swing myself up to where they now stand.

I veer toward them. Cringing at the sound of the branch creaking ominously from the stress of our combined weight, though they don’t seem to notice, don’t seem to care. They’re too distracted by the sight of the fruit, and the distant cry of a whooping and hol ering Rafe as he makes his way down the roots.

“Don’t come any closer,” Marco says, taking notice of me.

I freeze. Not because he told me to, but because my eye just caught sight of something unusual, something I never expected to see.

“Stay right where you are.” He glances at Misa, gestures for her to proceed and I watch as she shoves the fruit between her lips, her shiny white teeth tearing into the hard, velvety flesh as she closes her eyes, takes a moment to savor the taste before she hands it to Marco, who looks at me and says, “If I was feeling generous, if I had the slightest bit of concern for you, I’d share this last bite. After al , it appears there’s enough for both of us, wouldn’t you agree?”

I sink my teeth into my lip, hoping he’s too involved in taunting me to pay any notice to the miracle that is occurring just a handful of branches away.

Is it?

Could it actually be?

Should I trust in what my gut is telling me?

Should I trust in something that goes against every myth, every bit of wisdom I’ve ever learned about this tree?

Or shall I tackle Marco right here, right now? Get at that last bit of fruit while I can, knowing they’re as bloodied, broken, and weakened as I am?

He holds it before him, teasing, mocking, parting his lips in an exaggerated way. And I know it’s time to choose, time to decide between what I’ve been told and what I see happening before me, when he says, “But, as it turns out, I’m not feeling the least bit generous toward you, so I think I’l just take the opportunity to finish this very last bit.”

One step forward, as he shoves the fruit into his mouth.

Another step, closing the gap between us, as he closes his eyes and bites down.

The sight of it blurred by the song of Lotus’s voice in my head when she said:

The tree is evergiving.

I stop. Lose my footing. Find myself spiraling backward, back toward the ground. My fal stopped by a tangle of leaves just a few branches down, as Marco towers above me, makes a show of swal owing, wiping the juice from his chin with his sleeve.

I watch, noting how they’ve transformed much like Rafe did. Though stil aged, their auras glow vibrantly, vividly, making them appear positively luminous as they join hands, and make their way down the tree. Paying me no notice as they pass me along the way, but I no longer care. My attention is claimed by something they’re too shortsighted to see—something that changes everything.

It’s the fruit.