Breathe

Chapter 24 - Ancestry Lines, Ancestry Lies

"It's you." His hands were on my shoulders. His eyes were looking directly into mine. There was an air of solemnity. Still, despite that, I pushed his hands off of me. Despite that, his face didn't grow solemn; it stayed straight, fervent, true. Eyes looking a little bit away, he said, "I know that you don't want to believe me." He looked back at me. "But Alastair, it's true."

Walking away from me, he let the door close and in a murmur—a soft one at that; one in which no one else could've heard him—he said, "We'll talk later."

I joined the others. Next to me, Phil asked, "What happened?"

I didn't respond. Honestly, it wasn't worthy of a response. That, or giving a response would be too troublesome; if I respond once, he's going to expect another. And another... And another. He'll convince me to talk until I can't talk any longer and at this moment, I would hate for that to happen.

Not when I didn't understand what was happening at least.

It was possible. After all, I didn't know my parents. Miss Helena never bothered to tell me, either. All she ever told me was that my parents loved me dearly and they regretted giving me up. Still, by the look on her face, she didn't look certain. Additionally, that was her response when anyone asked: "You were loved, but they had to give you up." Thinking about it now, was she even telling the truth? Could I trust anyone who was "telling me the truth"?

Looking over the horizon, I paused and stared off at it. If he was true, then this is the same horizon that my parents saw—Sansoucie and Her. They must've spent some time here, or somewhere, just staring at the open sky, dreaming of what could be, what they wanted to happen, what was coming to them in the near future. But as for me, I never got to experience that: that scenario where I'm holding someone's hand, watching the sky as it set or rose. I didn't get that luxury. Especially not with someone who's supposed to love me.

I turned away from the light and went back on my path. Already, they were a few feet away from me—already enveloped in the thick forest greens that we had emerged from earlier. I could hear the rustling of the leaves, the sound of bird wings fluttering, and the sound of things starting to fall to sleep. It was the end, and this is what happens at the end—fluttery noises until it just stopped. Dead. I of all people would know that.

We carried on our way to our house. Once there, Chris unlocked the door and we headed inside. It was just like how we left it. There were no blood stains, no fallen, torn objects, nothing to be alarmed of. Nothing was different except the beating of my heart. Then again, wasn't that to be expected?

As everyone else congregated in the living room, I threw my blade on the pile of others and headed upstairs. I was never one to participate in late-night rendezvous and tonight was going to be like any night. I was going to go upstairs, read a good book, and fall asleep while I pondered theories in my head.

At least, that was the plan.

Before I could crack open a good book, I heard a knock on the door. Not wanting to be rude, I yelled, "Come in."

Low and behold, like the night before, Newvy peeked through the door. Well, more so opened and then walked in, but same difference. Softly, he closed it and made his way to my bed. Moving some books to the side, he made room for himself on my bedside table and sat and looked at me.

I knew what he was here for. He was here to fulfill his promise. That is, for us to "talk later". How could I forget? He said that a few minutes ago and it wasn't as though he was going to forget, especially when it was this important.

Or at least, I think this is important.

"Alastair, I'm sure you're confused," was what he started off with, "but all these things happened for a reason. Not for reasons that you like or for reasons out of your control, but it was for a good reason."

I cracked open the book and flipped to the first page. "Go on," I said, trying to read it. But I couldn't. Not when my heart was beating out of my chest.

"Should I begin from the start?"

I glanced up at him. In a matter-of-fact tone, I stated, "Of course," and went back to staring at the blurry page.

Finally, he started:

"Alastair, your name is Win—not win as in 'to win a game', but 'Win' as in w-y-n-n. It was chosen by your mother, otherwise known as 'Her'."

"Meaning 'white; fair; handsome' in Welsh," I stated, flipping a page. Honestly, I could have flipped two, five, a hundred pages—that wouldn't have made a difference. I wasn't focusing on the book, anyway; only Newvy had my attention.

He sighed. "Since you seem disinterested, I will cut to the chase." Crossing his arms, he stated, "Al, you were born to die."

I looked at him. Once more, he sighed.

"Not like that. I mean to die for a purpose—not like everyone else. Al, you...you are different. Your mother was hesitant on letting you be the host, but she decided that it was necessary. Once you were four months old, she injected you with a vaccine. Not any vaccine, but the vaccine for the X.Q. virus. The issue was, the vaccine was premature and wasn't developed for it to function at its best ability, hence, your symptoms for the virus."

He pointed at my white locks and pink eyes.

"Only difference was that your eyes were pink—that enough assured her that her vaccine worked."
"Where's the rest of it?" I asked. "If She was successful in finding a vaccine, why wasn't it given to more people? Why didn't the Liberation Alliance have access to it and inject everyone with it?"

"No one else but you and myself knows about it." Before I could retort, he continued, "It's because the Regality found us and took it away along with Her. They almost took you, too, but you escaped."

Something sparked inside of me. It was like a burst of light, a burst of hope. It was indescribable: a mix of excitement and the numbness from loss. Still, that numbness didn't stop me from asking, "Is she still alive?"

He looked away. The spark died. "Not quite." It came back. "But we can't see her. Not when she is how she is now." He looked up. "I have a feeling I know what happened to her, especially considering what you brought back yesterday. Before, I thought there was no hope for her coming back, but now... now, there's a chance that she's back. Not as herself, but as a different person. If we find her, then we can find the cure. The issue is..."

"What's the issue?" I demanded. "If finding her means we can find the cure, then shouldn't we seek her out, anyway? Our deaths will be worth it if we can end this civil war."

He shot a glare in my direction. For the first time, I felt my muscles tense. "It's not as simple as that. She's somewhere where we can't just go in—not as who we are, anyway. If we were still part of the Liberation Alliance, there would be a greater, at least, slightly greater chance. But as we are now—as only eight people, we can't possibly get to her."

"Where is she?"

He sighed. "In a royal estate."

"An estate?" I asked. "Similar to the one Phillip and I were sent to?"

Quietly, he murmured, "More so a castle than an estate."

"A castle?" I asked, repeating his words. I laughed, "What would she be doing there? It's not as though my mother's royalty, right?"

He didn't say anything.

"Right?"

He looked me straight in the eye. His eyes were cold. I tried to look away, but I felt a numbness stretch all over my body. My hands, despite it being late summer, were freezing. If the atmosphere could become soberer, it did. Then, he dropped the biggest news that he had told that entire night. Something more sinister than anything else; something completely unexpected. And now that I thought about it, it made complete sense. Everything added up. All the references, all the suggestions that he and so many people had been making. It made sense now. But suddenly, I wished I hadn't know who my parents were. Maybe then, maybe then my life would've been normal or at least stayed how it was. But now...it was all different. Everything rested on my shoulders. In my head, even now, I can clearly hear what he told me:

"Your mother is Princess Evangeline."