Wisdom and War

Chapter Seven

warning: blood

People think that immortality is this great gift– having the ability to cheat death in the face and having all the time in the world to do what you want. It's the never ending youth that usually locks someone into the ideology that immortality is the human equivalent of a utopian society. I've seen a lot of films during the six hundred years I've been alive and the image of immortality has never been properly portrayed.

The wonder is there. During my first few years as a descendant, I was amazed at everything my body was capable of doing. I'd walk for miles without any breaks for food or sleep and by the time I reach my destination, I'm still filled with energy that I wouldn't have had if I was still human. The feeling of being invincible was like a rush of adrenaline with a never ending flow. I remember feeling energized whenever I got into fights and how my opponents would hit me with everything they got. I'd fall for a few seconds as the injuries registered on my body, but it only took a few seconds before I was up and ready to fight back. Those few seconds were what led me to believe that immortality was a gift that I'd forever be grateful for.

It hits you like a wave whenever you see people doing the most mundane things. You would think that you could do the same thing–and you definitely could– but then someone appears beside them. Most of the time it's a relative or a friend, but there are instances where it's a complete stranger that was just striking up a conversation. You'd glance beside you and see no one. With immortality, there's no point in building deep relationships with people who'd disappear in your life. They'd never be able to stay, so what was the use of making an effort to get to know them?

The loneliness is the first part of it, but then the pain kicks in.

The memories of the people you once knew– the people you loved– would continue to haunt you for the rest of your never ending life. It's the melancholy feeling that you register, which is then overcome with pride that what you're a part of is for the greater good. You convince yourself that everything you lost was for the lives of others and that's enough to continue. It's the truth, but then the pain swallows you whole.

Death. Sorrow. Suffering.

It starts off with the ones you loved. The stab in the chest you felt when you watched them die would forever be engraved in your heart. It's like a knife is lodged into your chest, and the hilt is pushed further and further into you every time someone dies, be it a loved one or a stranger. To you, it's another life lost while you stand there gifted with immortality. We each have an opinion against immortality because of the amount of pain we've endured, hoping the day never comes that we'd have to face it again.

Unfortunately, that's not a certainty that immortality can give. We all suffer from the memories we've kept as both mortals and descendants but Elias has always gotten the worst of it. Maiko would still get nightmares of hearing her mother's whimpers along with the trauma she experienced before Demeter came to her. Elias would always be the one to wake her up from it and she wouldn't fully calm down unless she felt his presence in the room. Joaquin had a knack of suffering on his own, rarely telling me whenever memories would spring back to him but I've always kept watch. No words would be said as I wait for him to either come to me or grab the letter I gave him years ago. Neither of us experienced any nightmares or got stuck in a memory because we went through something else. Voices. Whispers, screams, and pleas on top of one another. They were always there at the back of our minds, threatening to break the surface and create a crack on our calm and expressionless demeanors. There was no waking up from it unlike how Maiko and Elias deal with their own problems. With us, we had to live with it and try as much as we can to push it to the furthest space in our mind and get through the day with soft murmurs that became incomprehensible as time passed.