Page 163 of The World Undone

I bit my lip, remembering the first time I saw the stone—the bonding ritual between Atlas and Reza.

The air flared with the memory, growing hot and angry.

When I glanced back at the stone, it seemed to almost glow—there one moment, then gone the next, almost like it felt my memory, and the pain laced within it.

I knew the limits of what this stone could achieve were beyond our comprehension. Something about its proximity created a buzz in the air, and late, in the darkest parts of the night, I was almost certain I could hear a voice calling to me from it, begging me to reunite it with the lake outside.

“Yes, it’ll work.”

In one of the brief reprieves of sleep I’d managed to steal, I’d dreamt of the ritual, watching it play out like an old movie. I knew what I had to do, how I had to do it. I wasn’t sure if the stone was sentient, if it sent me the dream itself somehow, or if the dream was some latent memory passed down in my blood, risen to the surface now that it was time.

I supposed it didn’t matter either way.

Izzy grabbed my hand, squeezing softly, her voice barely even a whisper. “When?”

I cleared my throat, studying her. When I saw her eyes glaze over with grief, her throat bobbing as she fought desperately to contain it, I squeezed her hand back. She knew what this ritual meant, knew that I would go through with it. Unlike the others, she wouldn’t argue with me, wouldn’t convince me to wait.

We were out of time—a truth I felt so viscerally that it might as well have been tattooed into my bones.

“Now.”

She tensed next to me, her head shooting to the doors down the hall, before she dropped my hand and grabbed me by the shoulders instead, turning me towards her until her eyes were all I saw. “You’re not waking them? You’re not saying goodbye?”

My throat tightened. I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled out a small, tattered notebook. I’d spent the first part of my morning writing them letters, each of them—inking in my wishes and hopes for their futures, telling them how much I loved them, thanking them for giving me so much joy, so much love since meeting them. There would never be enough words to give them, never enough time, but it would have to do.

“Can you give them this wh—” my voice broke, and I took a moment to collect myself before handing her the pages, “when it’s done? There’s a letter for you too.” I licked my lips, sniffing as I tried to hold it together. “And Ro.”

My chest squeezed at the thought of my brother, at the thought of leaving him behind—the last remnant of a family I’d taken for granted too many times.

I squeezed my eyes closed, reminding myself over and over again that he wouldn’t be alone. He had Arnell, he had Izzy, he had this entire community he’d helped build. He’d be okay.

I hadn’t planned on telling Izzy beforehand. I hadn’t planned on telling anyone. They knew it was coming, but prolonging the inevitable, the goodbyes, just seemed impossibly cruel to us all.

Mostly because I wasn’t sure how to say goodbye. Wasn’t sure I could go through with it after lingering in that pain with them all. Wasn’t sure if I’d have the strength to leave them when they begged me to stay.

So, I’d written them letters.

This would be better, I’d told myself. I’d save them from witnessing it. They’d simply wake up in a few hours to a new world—a better one, hopefully.

They’d be angry, devastated, but they’d be alive. They’d realize that we succeeded. And they’d have each other.

They’d be okay.

They could build a new life, a new world.

I pressed the notebook into Izzy’s hands, and she dropped it, like it had burned her, the soft thud echoing in the silence around us.

“Max, no.” She shook her head, tears carving silent and angry tracks down her cheeks. “You can’t do that. It isn’t right. You can’t just do this on your own. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to you either. And Ro, he doesn’t deserve this?—”

“I can’t say goodbye to them,” I whispered, unable to meet her stare. “I won’t be able to do it. I know it’s not fair, trust me. None of this is fair.” My voice broke on a tremor. “But I have to do it alone. It’s the only way I can go through with it.”

I squeezed my hands into fists to cover up how badly they were shaking. I wanted to be brave, to face the ritual with pride and purpose. But I was fucking terrified. And if they gave me an out, which I knew they’d try to do, it would be only more difficult for me to resist—for me to see my own heartbreak mirrored on their faces and not do everything I could to repair it.

“Well, you won’t be alone.” Izzy grabbed my hands, unfolding my fists and threading my fingers through hers. I could tell she wanted to argue, to say more, but her face softened, relenting. “I’ll stay with you,” she squeezed my hands, “until the end.”

My lips trembled, the word ‘no’ stuck on my tongue.

I swallowed it back and nodded.

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