Unbound (Unbound, Book 1) ~Formerly Casting Power~

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Death was the hardest thing I'd ever had to learn.

Of course, I knew the semantics of it: you are born, you live, and then you die. Such is the cycle of life—anything alive, anyway. A rock, on the other hand, lived a long time, having to wait for its transition until worn down by nature. But what about afterward? What happened to those who are no longer here? Do they feel their absence as deeply as those they left behind? Did they even remember them, or did they simply feel nothing at all?

"In the end, it doesn't matter," I remembered my mother saying as we lay on a blanket in our backyard. The light breeze blew strands of her hair against her flawless cheek. "We are all one. When we die, we are merely losing our physical shell. Our lives, our souls, live on throughout the generations."

"How?" I'd asked, confused. If we were all one, why were there so many of us? "Why can't we keep our bodies, the physical shell, and never die?"

"We wear them out." She'd shrugged. "I'm sure the Creator wanted us well-rounded and that's why there's reincarnation. You can come back as anything that Karma decrees you deserve."

"That sucks."

"You wouldn't know you've lived as anything else unless you were a rare and powerful seer."

"So? You'd be happy to live like a rock or something? I'd rather be dead-dead. Like, for good."

"It wouldn't be forever." She'd smiled wistfully as though already knowing the universal plan. "Eventually, you'd transform into a higher being, above life or death or reincarnation. You could surround yourself with everything you love and watch those you've loved. I imagine, as a higher being, you'd be able to remember the best of all the forms you've taken during your soul's lives."

"And that's what you want?"

"I want it all!" she'd exclaimed dramatically in a low whisper with outstretched arms before the conversation had faded and we'd gone inside.

I wished I could be like her, so accepting of death, but I'd been numb. I'd felt nothing. Ashamed, but too sad to care, I had hated my mother for wanting it all. Had her acceptance of death made it easier for Death to claim her? Had she wanted to die?

Hadn't she thought about me?

"When I die, I'll wait for you," she'd told me once. "I'll come back as some part of nature—"

"Something beautiful," I'd cut in happily, not believing then that it could happen.

"I'll come back as a beautiful part of nature and wait for you so that we can still be together until we become higher beings." She'd tucked my hair behind my ears. "That way I can always watch over you."

"Okay." I'd squirmed. "Besides being a creep, what'll you do if I die first?"

"There'd be no waiting," she had said as though the answer was obvious. "If you ever left me, I'd have no will left to live."

Now that she was gone, I knew exactly what that meant. Sometimes, it was a struggle to remember how to breathe, and life would be so much better if I allowed myself to forget. No matter what lay after death, spending it with her would be better than living life here with her absence.

* * * * *

Giving up was easy, the lure of seeing my mom almost enough to coax my surrender to the water's coffin. Giving in meant peace, and I wouldn't have to endure Duvessa or Devland any longer. I wouldn't have to fight to go home or keep my mother's things close. The constant sight of her would prevent the memories of her from fading as we built new ones, wherever we might be in the afterlife.

If I gave in, I'd never be back in Briarville again. I'd never see Nancy or Julian or their parents. Devland would take Onyx to the pound and she'd already lost too much. I was all that she had. Besides, I couldn't be happy knowing Calin and Maible would be burdened with the guilt of my demise, and someone had to take Duvessa on, make her accountable for her actions.

I wanted to be the one to teach Duvessa what nightmares were truly made of.

The current was strong, though. It was tougher than my feeble swimming prowess, which was compromised by the debilitating confines tied around me. I'd waited too long to fight. The cold was numbing, paralyzing my muscles as residual twitches from Duvessa's shock treatments lingered. My lungs were drowning and felt as though they'd exploded from my chest. I pulled myself into a tight ball like an unborn child in the womb of its mother and prayed that the industrial strength washing machine stuck on high power would take mercy and spit me out.

If I didn't do something, use my powers to save myself, I was surely going to die.

With the power that I'd need and my weakened energy, I might sap myself of the last of my energy and die anyway.

It was a chance that I had to take.

I called on my magic for help as my last thought turned to darkness. Everything stopped.

No more fear.

No more struggling for air.

No life.

I had used my magic too late.