Immortal Consequences(7)

“Your marks, obviously. Everybody knows you’re nearly top of the class.” Olivier shrugged. “Not to mention all the Housemasters absolutely adore you.”

Emilio flushed and glanced at the floor. “But I’m terrible at reaping assignments.” He wasn’t being modest. His reaping skills were mediocre, at best. His last few assignments into the Ether had ended in near disaster, and he would have failed miserably had Olivier not been there to clean up his mess. “And it’s only my first Decennial. I’m not going to be chosen on my first one.”

Olivier waved a dismissive hand and wandered back to the window. Emilio followed, glancing at the yard sprawled just beyond the foggy glass. A blanket of mist obscured the grounds, but he could vaguely make out the dormitories looming in the distance, the glimmer of distant candlelight illuminating the various arched windows.

“Your reaping will improve with time. What you have, what makes you unique, is your ability to retain copious amounts of information like some living and breathing encyclopedia.” Olivier chuckled and crinkled his nose. “Perhaps living and breathing aren’t the appropriate terms, but you get what I’m saying.”

“So what?” Emilio shrugged. “Knowledge won’t get me anywhere.”

“Knowledge is everything,” Olivier challenged. “It’s a source of power. An echo of life itself. And if you’re capable of acquiring knowledge at a rate most of us can’t even fathom, then you’re an asset.”

“Right,” Emilio muttered. “An asset. A part of a machine. Something to be used and manipulated—”

“That’s not what I meant.” Olivier placed his hands on Emilio’s shoulders. “You, my love, are an asset to yourself. And that’s a quality every Ascended should have.” When Emilio didn’t respond, Olivier assessed him intently. The realization washed over his face almost immediately. “Do you not…want to become an Ascended?”

Emilio fidgeted. “You sound surprised.”

Olivier slipped his hands away and leaned against the window. “It’s just, well…I can’t imagine wanting to cross over to the Other Side. What if you just…cease to exist?”

“You don’t know that,” Emilio countered. “What if the Other Side is really—”

“Oh, come on.” Olivier chuckled, an unfamiliar bitterness laced through his words. “You can’t possibly believe there’s some sort of celestial paradise waiting for us on the Other Side.”

“I don’t know,” Emilio whispered, aware of the flush creeping onto his neck. “There has to be something, right?”

“If there’s one thing Blackwood has taught me,” Olivier said, hoisting himself onto the windowsill, “it’s that people’s rudimentary idea of death is nothing but a shortcut. Simple, clean-cut answers people can wrap their pea-sized brains around. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the afterlife is so much more than a clear division of good and evil. It’s…complex. And considering nobody really knows what’s waiting for us on the Other Side, I’m not entirely inclined to toss myself into the unknown and end up somewhere I might not be too fond of.”

“So you’d rather exist here forever?” Emilio asked. “In Blackwood?”

Olivier blinked at him, as if he hadn’t been expecting that question.

“Yes…I suppose.”

“But you’d eventually transition,” Emilio reminded him. “Forget who you were. Your old life. Your memories.”

Olivier grimaced. “I still have time before I need to start worrying about the Forgetting.”

“How much?”

“I…” Olivier chuckled, but there was something dark clouding his eyes. A heaviness in his shoulders that wasn’t there before. “Don’t worry about me, Emilio. I’m indestructible. You, on the other hand…” He shook his head. “There has to be a way to convince you not to cross over to the Other Side.”

An acute twisting sensation tugged at Emilio’s chest. He wanted to tell Olivier the truth…that a part of him was desperate to prove he was good enough to cross over. That he was worthy. It had haunted him almost every day since he had arrived. The doubt. The uncertainty.

Because maybe he wasn’t good enough. Maybe he deserved this punishment. Emilio had always been a coward, plagued with self-doubt and insecurities. Never really trying. His parents loved him, but he knew they were constantly waiting for the switch to turn on. For his potential to be met.

But he’d only left them disappointed.

“Emilio?” Olivier was watching him intently, concern creasing his face. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know.” Emilio rubbed the back of his neck. “I just…I just wish I didn’t have to think about this. I just wish I were still alive.”

“But you’re not,” Olivier shot back with surprising intensity. “And despite that, you’re here. You can think. You can talk. You can feel. And sure, perhaps you have no pulse, and you can’t feel pain and so much of this doesn’t make any sense, but…you’re here. And you can continue to mope and yearn for a life that no longer belongs to you, or you can take control of the existence you’ve been given.” He inhaled a sharp breath, a playful glint sparking in his eyes. “Not to mention, the circumstances aren’t all terrible. If you had never come to Blackwood…we would never have met.”