Let’s Not [Obliterate]

That evening, they left the dancing area still hot and breathing hard, with Theora carrying Dema halfway over her shoulder to give support. The stuffy atmosphere and smoke faded into a cool autumn drizzle. 

“I wanna go somewhere up,” Dema mumbled, dragging her shoe over the curbside. “Up.”

Theora looked around. “There are several ups.” The roof of a shed. The roof of the main house of the grounds. And of course, towering above, the slanted glass roof of the abandoned factory building they’d just left.

That’s where Dema pointed.

“Really?” Theora squinted to make out a potential spot for them to sit on. “There’s a little platform next to the tower.”

“Yeah!” Dema cheered. “Get me there?”

After scanning a potential path, Theora said, “You would need to hold on tight.”

“Right.” Dema giggled. “’Cause I’d die if I fell.”

“No. If you slip off, I will save you. But I’d rather we go up there together.” Theora preferred to feel Dema’s touch and presence.

“Fine!”

Dema crawled on Theora’s back, wrapping her arms around her chest. And so, they climbed up a ladder of thick wire in a nook of the building, and when that led to a dead-end, Theora jumped across to find her way along the gutter. Then, she heaved them both up, and tapped across the roof.

The lights in town glinted under the cloudy sky.

They lay down on the tiled platform. Theora did not mind the moisture, and was wrapping Dema in her coat to keep her dry.

“That was so cool,” Dema said. “Got lots of ideas for new songs too.” She cuddled herself into Theora’s chest. “You’re so warm.”

Theora pulled her a bit closer on reflex. “I—”

She didn’t know how to continue the sentence. 

“You know,” Dema went on, playfully letting her fingers walk over Theora’s attire, “Invent One’s been talking about that other reality we used to live in.”

Theora’s heart sank. So Dema was going to talk about that after all.

“And I remembered something,” Dema continued. “When I talked to Isobel. I asked her to send another surge through to activate my memories since I figured I had to know. I guess that’s what sent me into the hospital, to be honest. But it’s important, so.”

Theora didn’t ask. Instead, she looked away, into the clouds, hoping for a voice to save her that didn’t come.

Dema said it anyway: “Remember when we were in your home town? Before you left.”

Heofen. The place of Theora’s childhood.

Dema continued, “I’ve been to the library they dedicate to you.”

Theora’s eyes widened in horror. A raindrop fell in one. She forgot to blink it away. Another one rolled along her sclera, and they filled her eyes like tears.

Meanwhile, Dema rummaged around in Theora’s multidimensional attire. “When I remembered what I saw there, I wondered if I’d already brought it up to you before… but I never did, right? You were so stressed before you left, and… I stored them in here so I could bring it up when we had the chance. And now I kinda have to. Time’s running out, right?” 

Theora didn’t quite understand. Her fingers scratched along the fabric of her jeans. “Stored them?”

Dema pulled out two scrolls. One small, the other so large she had to leave Theora’s embrace and move back to make room. Theora vaguely recognised the smaller one. It took her a second, but yes. It was a scroll to pierce immortality. The larger one was…

Dema unfurled it carefully. “It’s a replica,” she said. “… Of a replica, to be honest. They made one for me to keep.” Countless magical symbols and circles and complex shapes were drawn across it with thin and careful strokes of ink, all rounding in on a vaguely triangular, empty area in the centre. Dema wiped a few raindrops off it but otherwise didn’t seem to care about it getting wet and dirty. “You recognise this one?”

Dema had such a serious expression, gentle and yet cruel.

“I thought you’d just talk about our shared past,” Theora whimpered. “But this? Why?” Snot was building in her throat, she swallowed, and was about to cry. “We will break apart.”

Dema bit her lips. “Just hear me out.”

“I thought we could be happy in this place.”

“I need you to know something.”

Theora took a massive, slow breath. She stared at her surroundings. A factory building? Why were they in a place like this? They’d fled to a cruel world as escapism; it was not right.

“Remember when we first met?” Dema went, unfurling the smaller scroll, “You said that this was the culmination of the planet’s magical scholarship. You said it was the strongest scroll they ever made.”

Theora frowned, and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “It is.”

Dema smiled, and shook her head. “Nah.” She pointed to the larger one. “This one is. Although I assume they’re both part of the same project. They use the same dialect of magic and all.”

They were? Theora had assumed the second one was specifically made for her, as punishment. 

“It’s ingenious, really.” Dema shrugged weakly. “What they did to you.”

Theora’s eyelids fluttered close, but she relented with a nod. “It would appear so,” she answered, monotonously.

“And I was curious if I could find a way to decipher and break it. No such luck. They went hard on that one. You are their biggest achievement. Cause if we’re being honest, if you really meant it, you wouldn’t need that little scroll. What’s a hole in a continent if it means getting rid of the Ancient Evil?”

Theora dug her fingernails into her arms. They failed to draw blood. Dema’s gentle fingers grazed along the smaller immortality-defying scroll. Why did it even still exist? Theora never took it into space. She left it behind somewhere; it was not on her mind at the time. Had Dema been carrying it on her person for almost two centuries? Not only that; she’d actually just put it back into Theora’s possession after her return from space?

“Why didn’t you burn it?” Theora asked.

Dema raised her brows. “What?” She scoffed. “Already told you, I’m not scared of it.” She pointed at the larger scroll. “But with that, these scholars made a decent attempt. Wait for someone strong enough to kill me to come along. Then bind their soul to mine so they can’t die before me.” She put her hand into the empty space at the centre. “That were you sat? On the original? They made you sit there as a child, to make sure you do as told?”

Theora swallowed, mouth and throat dry, and nodded. “As a teenager,” she supplied.

Dema nodded. “I studied the magical language of scrolls during our years in Hallmark, while you were dealing with the Afterthoughts. Had some books imported, even. But these two scrolls are so different from what they taught. Luckily, your library in Heofen stored guides about the old dialects, so I was finally able to decrypt them both. But I had to spend months in there with the dilation device.”

Theora shuddered, pulling her legs closer.

“They really lucked out with finding you,” Dema went on to say. “My [Immortality] only keeps my spirit alive, so to speak, not my body. So I need tons of specialised Skills to make it work properly. This scroll’s similar, it piggybacks off of it. Similar to an additional slot like the one I gave Iso. But you’ve got such control over your body that you can just will it to stay the way it is. No other Skills needed.”

“They never told me what it was about,” Theora murmured. “Just some excuse to get me to sit on it. After I first voiced concern about the nature of my quest, they bound me. And took my death.”

Dema nodded. 

Theora gave a weak shrug. “So you’ve known for so long? You knew, the entire time, and still came to fetch me back from space? You had centuries to think, even found new love, and still made sure I’ll have to kill you at the end?”

Dema tilted her head. “Wait, what? New love? Who’s my new love?”

Theora lost the tension in her body and slumped against the wall behind her. “I can’t believe you knew, and yet came back for me.” She wiped her eyes. “And why tell me this now? Only I can kill you, and I can only die once you are gone. So you know. You know that we can never— that this could never work. Our fate is inescapable. There’s only one way for things to end.”

It had taken a reality without this knowledge to attempt even just a make-believe happiness. 

“Really?” Dema asked, looking mildly confused. “I thought it was good news.”

“Good news?”

Dema gave a little nod. “Yeah, like. I mean. You sound like there’s no escaping our fate, but it’s looking pretty easy to escape from where I stand.”

“How?”

Dema scrunched up her face, and scratched her head. “Why… how do I put it…”

Upon Theora’s confused expression, she drew a horizontal eight into the ground. She drew it over and over, never stopping, just grazing the same path, relentlessly. “Like that, right? And like… walking in a circle.”

“This isn’t helping me understand.”

“Why, you’re saying you gotta kill me one day because it’s the only way things can ‘end’. But like, nice to meet you? The name’s Dema. I’m obsessed with immortality. If we don’t like our ending, then let’s just not go there.”

“Not go there,” Theora echoed in a low voice.

“Yeah. Like numbers. Like circles. Some things never end.”

Theora shuddered at these words. 

“I’m gonna prove it to you,” Dema said. “Alright? It’s a promise.”

Theora took the deepest breath yet, and managed a nod. It was difficult to wrap her head around Dema’s suggestion, but she did trust her. So she nodded. “I’m glad I have you, you know that?”

Dema smiled. “Same here. But really, though! Who’s my new love?”

Theora frowned, trying to remember her name. Not because she didn’t care; the name was difficult to reach, being outside of this world. Eventually, she remembered.

“Antankla?”

Dema tilted her head. “What’s got you thinking I’m in love with her?”

Theora frowned. “You spoke fondly of her. All the way back home.”

Dema laughed. “I mean, yea! I like her! I wanted you to like her too! But like… would be kinda mean to just fetch another lover immediately when I’m jealous over you all the time?”

“Immediately?” Theora frowned. “I was gone for ages. And unlike me, you can’t just fall asleep. You waited for so long. You should have—” Theora jolted as the realisation sunk in. “Dema. I want you to be happy without me too. I—What if I had never returned?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dema said, waving off. “I already knew I was gonna fetch you back, remember? We made the plan with the Orb after cleaning up the mess of the insurgent heroes.”

“But, also,” Theora added, “it’s different. Of course I know you get jealous sometimes, but that’s because you had to spend so much time alone. You don’t want to lose the few people you have managed to find after getting out of that place. You are a bit possessive, but I don’t mind. That doesn’t mean you have to stay lonely for me as well.”

Dema laughed. “Not staying lonely for you! Or, I mean—” She put her chin in her hand. “Would that work?”

“Hey, now,” Theora let out. “You don’t have to do things like that. I won’t abandon you.”

Dema shifted a little closer. “I’m sure if you start thinking about why you’re never jealous of me you’ll find something worth unpacking too. But anyway, if I’m gonna fall in love with someone new, I’d rather you and I do it together.”

That did seem a lot more fun, Theora had to admit.

After that, the minutes passed in silence. The muffled sounds of music in the distance shifted, maybe another artist had taken over. Laughs and unintelligible shouts came from beneath as a small group of people passed.

“Still, there’s something I don’t get yet,” Dema murmured. “That soulbinding’s been weighing on you so much…”

“It weighs on me a lot,” Theora managed to confirm.

“But you have a Skill that destroys anything, even abstract concepts. If you don’t like the soulbinding you could have voided the contract. Obliterated it. No?”

Theora bristled. “The binding is powerful. It’s a large target. Being so closely tied to you, damage could have spilled.”

Dema blinked. “What’s the chances of that?”

“I don’t know. I am well-versed with the Skill by now, I know the ins and outs. But it’s never a certainty.” She sighed, trying to simulate obliterating the contract in her mind many times over. “Perhaps it would go wrong in one among a hundred tries.”

“One in a hundred chance?” Dema echoed. “Huh. I mean, I get the hesitation, but it’s been thousands of years. It’s gotta get tempting at some point, if you hate it that much? And you thought I was evil and such. We didn’t even know each other.”

“What are you trying to say, Dema?”

She shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just confused. You do lose your temper sometimes, every century or two, when something ticks you off.”

Theora couldn’t well deny that. “I suppose I do.”

“Then why did you never lose your temper with this?”

Theora swallowed. “It didn’t matter whether we were strangers or not. These people—” She clicked her tongue. “They pushed this binding on me as a punishment for being disobedient. They wanted me to destroy you.”

Dema’s eyes widened. “So…”

“It ticked me off.”

Dema actually laughed; not quite a cheerful laugh, but one filled with astonishment. “My, I’ve got a scary girlfriend. You couldn’t lose your temper with this because you’d lost it all along. Why, you didn’t even wanna grant them that one percent chance of success? You’re an actual rascal.”

Theora looked away. “That used to be the reason, yes.”

“Not anymore?”

“Not anymore,” Theora confirmed, a bit more quietly.

Dema scratched her head. “But still. One in a hundred? I think if it’s you doing it, the chances are way better. If you’re so tired of it all you can barely get up and sleep for centuries, if it crushes you and pulls you apart… If that binding ticks you off so much, let’s turn it to dust.”

“No.”

Dema turned her head up, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. “No?”

No.

“I’d rather live a hundred times than hurt you once.”