I know that I will never see her again.

The House of Trask finally stands in triumph.  Since 1795, they have sought to eradicate the legacy of witchcraft in Collinsport.  In 1796, they added a blood vendetta against me to their crusade.  Mr. Lamar Trask succeeded in both.

Today, he murdered Angelique Bouchard.  In doing so, he has inflicted a wound upon me that shall never heal.

He ended her with a common pistol and then ran.  Her lips tasted of honey and rain, and she was dead in my arms when I finally told her that I loved her.

Desperately, I seized at the one pleasure retained for me by life: crushing the throat of Lamar Trask.  As he staggered into the impenetrable world of Parallel Time, I was denied even that.  The great house of Collinwood exacted vengeance for me, and I am beset with a conflict of pique and flattery.  

When she saw me, Julia tried to be a comfort.  The results were not successful, but I was moved by her intentions.  I was mourning a love that was not she, but Julia found sympathy for me, anyway.  Was the denial of my love causing her suffering equal to my own?

No.  Respectfully, Julia, no.

These centuries have taught me many things, and one fact stands above all others; while my capacity for joy has always been limited, my capacity for grief is infinite.

We returned home.  We changed clothes.  We met Elizabeth.  I am being driven to the opening of the new Collinsport Historical Society, where Roger is giving a speech.  Eliot and Elizabeth are having a lively chat in the seat before me, and Julia is laughing with them, only occasionally glancing at me and then looking downward in shame.

It is a moderated shame, however, for I have led her to believe that I, as always, have recovered.  I shall sit at attention as Roger speaks.  I will hold my program politely.  My mind and heart will be centuries away.  I have saved the Collins family, and I have lost the only thing that has ever made me purely happy.  But had never felt it at all, I would not be feeling what I am, now.

We’re parking.  They expect happiness from me.  Showing otherwise would be quietly harm Collins family yet again.  So I will do what humans always do.  What I always do.

I shall pretend.



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