Page 87 of Never Quite Gone

I studied his face in the ritual light – this man I'd loved through centuries, who I was choosing to love now withoutmagic binding us together. His surgeon's steadiness met my endless searching, creating something new from the ashes of what we'd been.

Above us, the mansion creaked with ancient secrets. Around us, Sofia and Marcus continued their preparations, power building like storm clouds. Ahead, the ritual circle waited to unmake what desperate love had once created.

“Will would have hated this,” I said softly, feeling my brother's absence like physical pain. “Letting go, choosing uncertainty over eternal connection.”

“He loved too much to let go,” Eli agreed, his fingers steady against mine. “But maybe that's the point. Maybe real love means accepting that nothing lasts forever – and choosing it anyway.”

The vial grew warmer between our joined hands, responding to truth older than magic. Vale's blood carried centuries of watching, of trying to protect us all, of regret for choices made in desperate times.

“There will be no going back,” Marcus warned as he completed the final ward. “Once the cycle breaks, these memories – all these lives you've lived – they'll fade like dreams upon waking.”

“Good,” Eli said with quiet certainty. “Some dreams need to fade so new ones can begin.”

Sofia's power filled the room like summer lightning as she took her position. “Are you ready?” she asked, though we all knew it was more ritual than question. “To choose one life, lived fully, over endless cycles of finding and losing each other?”

I looked at Eli – really looked at him, seeing past all the lives we'd shared to this moment, this choice, this particular present. His hands remained steady on mine, surgeon's precision meeting endless love.

“Together?” I asked, meaning more than just the ritual.

His smile held promises that needed no magic to bind them. “Always,” he replied. “In this life and this life only – until its natural end, whenever that comes.”

The last drops of Vale's blood seeped into the ritual circle just as dawn broke through ancient windows. The curse dissolved not with dramatic flourish or supernatural display, but with the quiet certainty of a long-held breath finally released. Like the moment after surgery when you knew the patient would live, when everything settled into rightness without fanfare.

I felt the weight of centuries lift from my shoulders, watching the same liberation dawn in Eli's eyes. The memories remained, but they were different now – like beloved books read long ago rather than lives demanding to be relived. I remembered Greece and Florence and Paris, but the remembering felt gentle, natural. Not the desperate reaching of a soul bound by magic, but the quiet appreciation of paths that had led us here.

Sofia and Marcus stepped back from the circle, their work complete. Their power settled into peaceful watchfulness as morning light painted everything in shades of possibility. The sacred room felt lighter somehow, its ancient purpose finally fulfilled after generations of waiting.

“It's done,” Sofia said softly, her priestess's authority gentled by completion. “The cycles are broken. The patterns released.”

Marcus nodded. “Choose wisely,” he told us. “This one life is all you get now. Make it count.”

I looked at Eli across the fading circle – this man I'd loved through centuries, who I was choosing to love now without magic or destiny compelling us. His surgeon's hands were perfectly steady as morning light caught his wedding ring. Michael's ring, which didn't feel like betrayal anymore. Just part of the story that had brought us here, part of the life he had lived fully before finding me again.

“The memories will continue fading,” Sofia explained gently. “Not vanishing completely, but settling into proper perspective. Like dreams that leave impressions without demanding attention.”

I already felt it happening – the urgent press of other lives softening into background texture. I remembered being Alexandros,watching Elias heal on ancient battlefields. Remembered being Alessandro, studying Elia's art in Renaissance studios. Remembered every version of us finding each other across time. But the memories felt like treasured photographs now, not lives trying to overlap with the present.

Sofia and Marcus gathered their tools with practiced efficiency, ancient implements disappearing into modern bags. Their power lingered in the air like incense, protective and blessing both.

“We'll watch over the pattern's dissolution,” Marcus assured us. “Make sure nothing unexpected emerges as the magic fades.”

Sofia's smile held centuries of wisdom. “Live well,” she said simply. “That's the greatest magic of all.”

They left us alone in the sacred space, morning light growing stronger through ancient windows. The room felt both older and newer somehow – like it too was ready for whatever came next.

“Ready?” I asked, offering my hand one final time. Not the eternal searching of bound souls, but the simple choice of two people facing tomorrow together.

Eli took it without hesitation, his smile holding all the promise of this one precious life ahead of us. “Ready.”

We left the sacred room together, walking into a future unburdened by cycles and curses. Behind us, the ancient space settled into peaceful silence, its centuries of purpose finally complete. The morning sun painted the corridor ahead in colors that reminded us of temple light, of studio windows, of all the lives that had led us here.

But for the first time in centuries, we were walking toward tomorrow instead of looking back at yesterday. The memories continued settling into gentler forms as we moved through the mansion's historic wing. I remembered everything – every life, every love, every moment of finding each other. But the remembering felt like appreciation now, not desperation.

“What happens next?” Eli asked as we reached the main floor, modern reality reasserting itselfaround us.

“Everything,” I replied, meaning it completely. “One day at a time, one moment at a time. No destiny, no pattern. Just us choosing each other every morning until we can't anymore.”

His hand squeezed mine, surgeon's strength meeting corporate power. “I like those odds.”

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