Shadowland (The Immortals #3)(51)
He turns toward me, hand at my cheek. “Or at least that’s what I believed up until I saw you. Because seeing you for the very first time—” He shakes his head, eyes gazing into mine. “Nothing can ever compare with that very first glimpse of our love.”
“You didn’t stop painting for me—did you?” I hold my breath, hoping I wasn’t the cause of his artistic demise.
He shakes his head, gaze returning to the painting before him as his thoughts travel a long way away. “It had nothing to do with you. It’s just—well—at some point, the reality of my situation set in.”
I squint, having no idea what that means, or what he could possibly be getting at.
“A cruel reality I probably should’ve shared with you before.” He sighs, looking at me.
I gaze at him, stomach filling with dread, unsure I want to hear the answer when I ask, “What do you mean?” Sensing from the look in his eyes just how much he’s struggling with this.
“The reality of living forever,” he says, eyes dark, sad, focused on mine. “A reality that seems incredibly vast and infinite and powerful, with no limits in sight—until you realize the truth lurking behind it—the truth of watching your friends all wither and die while you stay the same. Only you’re forced to watch it from afar, because once the inequity becomes obvious, you’ve no choice but to move on, to go somewhere new and start over again. And again. And again.” He shakes his head. “All of which makes it impossible to forge any real bonds. And the ironic thing is, despite our unlimited access to powers and magick, the temptation to make a big impact or effect any real change is something that must be avoided at all costs. It’s the only way to remain hidden, with our secrets intact.”
“Because—” I coax, wishing he’d stop being so cryptic and just get to the point. He makes me so nervous when he starts talking like this.
“Because drawing that kind of attention guarantees that your name and likeness will be recorded in history, something of which we must work to avoid. Because while everyone around you will grow old and die, Haven, Miles, Sabine, and yes, even Stacia, Honor, and Craig—you and I will stay exactly the same, completely unchanged. And, trust me, it doesn’t take long before people start to notice how you haven’t changed a bit since the day you first met. We can’t run the risk of being recognized fifty years from now by a nearly seventy-year-old Haven. Can’t afford the risk of having our secret revealed.”
He grabs hold of my wrists, gazing at me with such intensity I actually feel the weight of his six hundred years. And, like always, when he’s troubled like this, my only wish is to whisk it away.
“Can you even begin to imagine if Sabine, or Haven, or Miles discovered the truth about us? Can you imagine what they’d think, what they’d say, what they’d do? That’s why people like Roman and Drina are so dangerous—they flaunt what they are, completely ignoring the natural order of things. Make no mistake, Ever, the cycle of life is there for a reason. And while I may have scoffed at that in my youth, feeling quite full of myself for rising above it, I no longer do. Besides, in the end, there’s really no fighting it. Whether you reincarnate like our friends, or remain the same like us, your karma will always catch up. And now that I’ve experienced the Shadowland, I’m even more convinced that life as nature intended it, is the one and only way.”
“But—if that’s what you believe—then where does that leave us?” I ask, a chill blanketing my skin, despite the warmth of his hands. “I mean, to hear you say it, we should lay low, and just live for ourselves, rather than using our incredible powers for any real change. And how can that possibly help your karma if you don’t use your gifts to help others? Especially if you do so anonymously?” Thinking of Haven and my hopes of helping her.
But before I can finish, Damen’s already shaking his head, looking at me when he says, “Where does that leave us? Exactly where we are.” He shrugs. “Together. Forever. As long as we’re very, very careful and continue to wear our amulets, that is. And as for using our powers? Well, I’m afraid it’s much more complicated than simply righting all wrongs. While we may judge things as good or bad, karma doesn’t. It’s a simple case of like gets like, the ultimate balancing act, nothing more, nothing less. And if you’re determined to fix every situation you deem as bad, or difficult, or somehow unsavory, then you rob the person of their own chance to fix it, learn from it, or even grow from it. Some things, no matter how painful, happen for a reason. A reason you or I may not be able to grasp at first sight, not without knowing a person’s entire life story—their cumulative past. And to just barge in and interfere, no matter how well-intentioned, would be akin to robbing them of their journey. Something that’s better not done.”
“So let me get this straight.” An edge creeping into my voice I don’t try to hide. “Haven comes to me and says, my cat is dying. And even though I’m pretty sure I can fix it, I don’t because it would result in too many questions I could never explain and draw undue suspicion. Fine, I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. But when she says, my parents might be divorcing, I might have to move, and it feels like my entire world is caving in—telling me this with no inkling whatsoever that I’m in the perfect position to help her, to maybe even reverse some of those things by—I don’t know.” I shrug, feeling totally frustrated now. “But anyway, my point is, something like that happens to our good friend and you’re telling me we can’t help? Because it would mess with her journey, or her karma, or whatever it is that you said? I mean, explain to me how that helps my karma by keeping the goods to myself.”