Never Enough

☠☠☠

☠☠☠

I chase away the memories that attack me, sneering at the memory of the one that transformed me in one of his kind. Even now, two centuries from when I first opened my eyes, I look at my reflection and can't marry the flawless skin, obsidian eyes, and rosy lips with the girl full of freckles with pale lips, and arctic eyes. The eyes are the ones that shock me every time I look at myself in a mirror. They are not mine. They are his. The same nothingness looks at me from the silvery water and I see him in front of me. Mocking me.

When I woke alone on that green bed, I expected to see him, but in his stead was a sad looking girl, having the same eyes as him – as me.

"I'm sorry," she said, kneeling in front of me, tears falling from the cage of her eyelashes. "I reached you too late."

I remember her words and the pain they inflicted. I didn't need words; I understood too well what happened. My grandmother was right about the Elves, they were Tricksters and now I was one of them. They tricked humans into giving up their humanity and... well, nobody knew what happened after you sacrificed your humanity to them. But now I knew. We became Elves.

They couldn't have children, so the only way to keep their kind from dyeing was to make others like them. Not everyone survived the change. That's why many of the Elves that gave the kiss of change, left the one they kissed to either survive or die. That's what he did to me. He left me to my own faith, not wanting to see me die.

And now, after nearly two centuries of learning how to live as an Elf, the High Council decided it was my turn. He decided it was my turn; Velethuil, the one that transformed me and left me to my faith.

That is why I am standing in this crowded park, sitting at the edge of a fountain and looking at the people that pass. I am looking for someone that will survive the change. I don't want to do it, but unlike Nuovis – the one that tries to sabotage the High Council – I am still too young to survive on my own if I refuse the decision of the Council.

It is my thirty eight day since I chose this place to find my victim, and so far nobody has caught my attention. I must choose someone soon, or Velethuil will choose for me. I want my first try to be my only one, so I need someone that I can love, which is not a small feat. Even though a lot of time has passed since my heart got broken by Velethuil, I still feel as if I can't love anybody. To leave myself open to heartbreak and pain again? It feels as if it is an impossible feat to do.

A breeze suddenly appears and plays with my auburn hair, bringing with it the presence of someone else.

"So... it is your turn." Nuovis says sitting on my left, raising her head, to let the summer rays give her pale skin a gold hue.

I don't respond. I don't have to. Nuovis knows everything.

We let the silence encompass us. She gives me the companionship and the approval, that I hadn't known until this second, that I need, making the burden of disappointing her disappear.

"You should try that guy," I hear her say; looking in the direction she pointed with her chin, curios to see whom caught her attention.

There is only one word to describe the sun-kissed Grecian. His eyes are a mesmerizing deep ocean blue; flecks of silvery light performing ballets throughout. His lips are pale and thin and his nose slender and rounded. A prominent jaw curves gracefully around and the strength of his neck shows in the twining cords of muscle that shapes his entire body; strong arms, bold thighs and calves, a firm chest and abdomen. He is an Adonis among the other men who each pale in comparison. One look and both women and men swoon at the sight of him no matter their sexual preferences and one word past from his lips has even the straightest of men flushing shades of red that no one ever knew was naturally possible. Adonis.

He would do and even as I think this, the breeze that brought Nuovis begins again and it pushes the Adonis so hard, that he stumbles right into me, pushing me into the fountain, while he falls on top of me. And the rest is history, as they say. Only... it isn't. It is our future.