Wisdom and War

Chapter Seven

People think that immortality is this great gift- having the ability to cheat death in the face and have 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 first, 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.

Joaquin found me sitting on the floor across from Elias' room. As soon as we arrived at the omada, Maiko was there to greet us and we headed straight for our quarters. I briefly instructed Felix that Joaquin was with Crisanto before helping Maiko carry Elias to his room. As soon as we laid him on the bed, I stepped out of the room to give them some privacy. I passed by my room to grab a book to read, but my mind wasn't in the right place to skim over the words. It's been forty five minutes and I knew they still had a long way to go when I opened the door slightly and still heard whispers coming from Maiko's lips. Elias still wasn't moving.

"Crisanto?" I asked as Joaquin sat down in the space beside me, elbows placed over his bent legs.

"Still as charming as I remembered." Joaquin complained and I chuckled, copying his position and leaning my head back, my eyes falling close. "He doesn't want to leave the safe house until the assassin is identified."

I hummed, expecting as much from the president. He was the type to immediately retaliate after being offended, much less attacked. He was most likely still fuming and ordering Maharlika House's legal team to make sure the man ends up behind bars for the rest of his life. The failed assassination was obviously not a one-man job, since anything that has to do with politics never is.