A month passed. All this time, the farm was buzzing with preparations like a disturbed beehive. Aya, adjusting her festive bonnet, kept sighing:

  "Who would have thought this day would actually come?"

  I didn't wait around.

  SNAP.

  One short jump through space, and we were already standing at the massive castle gates. Erol, Alastor, and Aya were visibly nervous—even for demons and vampires, a royal wedding was a test of nerves. Only little Tizor maintained a frightening calm, curiously examining the stone gargoyles.

  We entered the castle. We were met by... them.

  The King, Alexia, Lianel, Draconite, Anna, Cael, Alphus... Georg and his wife stood in the back.

  I looked at them and couldn't understand—who are all these people? In my head, clogged with the ash of a thousand souls and the shards of past cycles, their images had faded, turning into blurry watercolor stains.

  We went into the hall. Us, the "old guard," were seated at a separate table. I swept my gaze over the group and couldn't help but whistle.

  "Damn, you guys are something else... You've gotten completely ancient. A bunch of geezers."

  Alphus, who now proudly wore a thick, neatly trimmed beard, was the first to break the silence.

  "Yeah, Greg... And you've barely changed at all. Only your hair is different now, and your eyes are getting lighter. I look at you and remember our Academy days. You know... you helped me out a hell of a lot back then."

  Lianel and Alphus exchanged a glance, and some shared, adult secret flashed in their eyes.

  "We already have twins, Greg," Lianel announced proudly.

  "We do too," Anna chimed in, leaning against Cael's shoulder. "A boy and a girl."

  They started laughing. They reminisced about their studies, the mirror teleports, the stupid tests, and that infamous "brown shower" incident in the dorms. The table was full of noise and chatter; people were sharing the moments of happiness that made up their lives.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  But I sat in silence. I tried to tune into their stories, tried to catch the same wavelength, but... I only had fragments. Short, disconnected frames. I saw their laughter, but I didn't feel the reason behind it.

  Anna, noticing my silence, stopped smiling. She looked at me with such unbearable sadness, as if she were looking not at a friend, but at the gravestone of their youth.

  At that moment, the doors swung open. A girl walked into the hall. She moved smoothly, confidently, with a grace that was impossible not to recognize.

  "Oh, Alastia!" everyone shouted. "How are you? Come on in!"

  I froze. Seriously? This is that same little pain in the ass who tried to stab me in the gym?

  Now, a fully grown, beautiful young woman sat before me. There was no longer a childlike look in her eyes—there was a depth there that hadn't existed before.

  She sat across from me. She studied my face for a long time, and then slowly took off her glove. Her bare hand rested on the table, reaching out to me.

  I hesitated, but eventually returned the gesture. I shook her hand. Skin to skin.

  Alastia smiled softly.

  "Why..." she asked quietly, not letting go of my hand. "Why is it that the only person I can touch... can't be with me? Why are you like this?"

  I felt the heat of her palm burning my fingers. But it wasn't the heat I was looking for.

  "I don't know," I answered, freeing my hand. "Probably because I don't know how to stay."

  The conversation at the table sprang back to life. Jokes about Alphus and the kids started pouring in again. And I just sat there, watching my friends turn into a history that I was no longer a part of.

  Evening descended on the castle. The guests started being led to their rooms—as organized as prisoners after a battle. I walked down the hallway, feeling the itch in my bones giving way to a familiar, viscous indifference.

  In the shadow of one of the columns, Anna was waiting for me. She looked as if all the light had been drained out of her. Her eyes were red, her hands trembling slightly.

  "Greg..." she whispered, stepping closer. "I had to tell you in person. Planus... he died."

  I froze. In my head, the gears of memory turned slowly, with a creak.

  Planus. My great-grandson. Or great-great-grandfather? Ah, whatever. That massive guy who once cried on my shoulder and guarded my Book. My blood, running in a stranger's old body.

  I looked at Anna. She was waiting for something. Tears? A scream? Words of comfort?

  But inside me, it was quiet. Like in a crypt that had just been aired out. Planus's death seemed like something natural to me, like the sun setting. He was old. He was human. People die—it's their main defining trait.

  "Okay," I said in a flat voice, devoid of any emotion.

  Anna flinched as if I had backhanded her. She looked at me with such horror and incomprehension, as if she were looking not at a friend, but at a block of cold granite. She didn't say a single word—she just spun around sharply and practically ran off into the darkness of the corridor.

  I watched her go.

  Why did she run away like that? I thought sluggishly.

  I reached my room, pushed the door open, and collapsed onto the bed without undressing.

  Planus is dead. That means the Book of Oblivion is now with Anna. Or with Georg. Or just lying under a dead man's pillow.

  It should have hurt. Probably. But I only felt my mind slowly falling asleep, erasing the remnants of the day's impressions.

  "Okay..." I muttered into the pillow.

  And I fell asleep.