Page 135 of Obsession

“Maybe because Jaegen was bad at magic, or maybe because Sem wanted it to be that way. So I started disappearing, and you…”

I drift off as I remember his rage and relief, how he clung to me desperately when I returned. Aris says, “And I panicked. Because I was losing you, and because I realized that I didn’t want to lose you.”

A few seconds tick past, and then I keep going, because it suddenly feels like I’ve been seized, possessed, and I must finish the story. “I left you after the Institute, as Sem knew that I would, and Jaegen found me. He came up with a plan to incapacitate you and…”

“Yes, I remember this part well,” Aris says wryly.

“Right… so, you lost your memory, but Sem wanted you back as yourself, just with more restraint—with a guiding hand and conscience that you would listen to. And so, here we are. Your memory is back, mine’s back, and you’re changed.”

I pause for a moment, waiting for him to contradict me. I wait for him to tell me that he isn’t different, that I don’t matter and never have, but all Aris says is, “She has gotten exactly what she wanted, then.”

The full meaning of his words sink in slowly, the coldness between us dissipating, and I take in his tone. He’s speaking matter-of-factly. Calmly. It isn’t like him.

“I don’t get it,” I say. “Aren’t you angry? Don’t you want to flay her alive? You’re being so rational about all of this.”

He sighs and leans forward, placing his forearms on his knees. It shifts him a little closer to me, and I suddenly want to unfurl myself and touch his leg. I have no idea what desires are my own and which were crafted by Sem.

“I will admit, a part of me wants to make her hurt,” he says. “But as you were speaking now, laying this truth out, I just enjoyed hearing you talk and speak to me civilly.”

Aris doesn’t look at me; I don’t look at him. Purposefully, I study the carpet. “I guess it makes sense why she did it,” I continue, trying to stick to the logical side of this and not the part where he just implied that he’d rather have me happy and at peace than get revenge on his sister. “It’s not like you would’ve listened if she told you to lay off on all the annihilation and chaos-bringing.”

He lets out an amused breath. “No, I don’t suppose I would have.”

We sit in silence for a few moments.

Seeing the web you’ve been stuck in is a strange feeling. Most people who have been manipulated never even realize what happened. That’s for the best. Knowing is off-putting: an awkward, embarrassed sense of relief. We thought we were the highest on the food chain, but there was someone above us the whole time, feeding and ushering us where they wanted us to go.

“So, it worked?” I ask, looking at him.

He glances at me, knowing what I mean: Are you changed because of me? “Yes,” he says, finally. “It worked.”

That’s all there is to say, but he continues, “I can’t go on without you. When you’re unhappy, when you’re not yourself, I am acutely aware of it.” He pauses. “You asked me once what I needed. I need you.”

Compelled, perhaps by some instinct Sem shoved inside me, I put my hand on top of Aris’, and both of us stare at where our skin connects. Neither speaks for a few moments.

“I will always be what I am,” he says, then. “Chaos. But if I were to rein that into something that is balanced and manageable… if we went somewhere where I could act as my nature dictates, a place you are not so emotionally tied to, then maybe…”

“Yes?” I say.

“Maybe we could be together.” He finally meets my eyes.

My brow furrows at the concept. Be together. Be ourselves. Somewhere alien, somewhere new.

“Don’t make me get back on my knees,” he says, tone wry and slightly bitter.

I want to say something mean, like: Do I have a choice? What if I say that I want to stay? Will you steal my memory and make me go with you anyway?

But he is being vulnerable, and lashing out is not the path to take. And, besides, what would be the point? Deep down, all cards on the table, I think that I actually want to go. Maybe Sem forced me to feel that way, or maybe the urge is there by its own design. Either way, it’s there.

“Okay,” I say.

I know that there’s no return from this. But there is no rush of dread; instead, I feel the rightness of my decision, a gut sense that guides people from a time before we were people.

I don’t know if Sem is masterminding this, but, at the moment, I don’t care. My earlier anger is forgotten, my destiny embraced.

He looks back at my hand atop his own, then moves so he can slide out and hold it. “I will make a formal promise to you, then: This world will see no more death and destruction by my hand. If humans die, it will be because they harm each other. Their ends will be their own.”

He’s said this before, in an abattoir, in the belly of his menagerie. I didn’t expect him to stick to his word, and yet, there had been something in his voice. And now, this.

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