HOME
[hom] noun
a gathering place for FAMILY to join together in laughter. the one place you will always be surrounded by those who LOVE you. a place or feeling of BELONGING.
the frosts - the story of a family ripped apart. the story of two teenag...
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"And in the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness." - Christopher Poindexter, Naked Human
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For fifteen years, Edmund had been searching for answers.
He scoured every book, talked to every elder he could find, and tried every remedy. Every time they travelled, he made it a point to speak with everyone he came across and search through every library for a book he might not have read yet.
And every single time, he came up empty.
Aslan had said there was nothing to be done to cure immortality. Once the fruit from the Tree of Life was eaten, only death itself could put an end to its effects.
Edmund refused to take no for an answer.
For the last fifteen years, he had been searching for an answer. Searching for a way to cure immortality. Searching for a way to give Andie and Jack the life they deserved.
Edmund's chance had long since passed. He was only a few years shy of turning thirty, whereas Andie and Jack were both still teenagers.
Well, technically, they were both a hundred years older than him.
But if he found a cure for their immortality, perhaps they could pick up where they left off. It was too late for Edmund, but if he could give Andie a new chance at life, he would. She deserved it. They both did.
He remembered being a teenager. The nights he would pore over dozens of books, searching and scanning for answers in every line. He would write letters to anyone he thought might have answers. He would write like he was running out of time.
He was running out of time.
The older he got, the less time he had.
The older he got, the more hopeless his search seemed to become.
Unfortunately, he spent so much time searching for answers that he often ignored what was right in front of him. He let his life pass him by. One day he woke up and he was twenty-eight - still with no answers.
He hardly saw Andie. Or Jack, for that matter. Sure, they had spent the last fifteen years together, but their appearances seemed to be scarce. They were always there for every battle, for every trip, anytime they were needed.
But every chance they got, they spent it trying to uncover more of their family history. They tried to track down anyone who might have been related to them. Anyone who might have known their family. But each time, they came back even more dejected than the last.
They were the last surviving members of their family.
Even when they were around, Edmund was not. He was always searching. Always writing. Always letting the years he did have waste away.
