Journal Entry, Dated 22/02

Jasmine

Metadata

Reference Number: BICI/SSP/CRJ1004/015

Title: Journal Entry, Dated 22/02

Author: Jasmine

Date: Written approximately 22/02, Year 5607 A. o. W.

Extent: One journal entry, three pages long

22/02

The village ruins have been picked clean of spare materials. We have to go further and further into the forest to find anything worth adding to the wall. This morning, we walked for what must have been an hour before finding anything we could use.

I want to start tearing down some of the old cottages, though Nico prefers not to. It’s no trouble at all for me to swing an axe at some rotten wall until the entire thing comes down. Nico can’t. He doesn’t need to explain why; the hesitant smile he offers whenever I glance at him is explanation enough. 

We’ve already torn one down. On our way back to Nico’s cottage, I passed by another building that seemed easy enough to dismantle. I touched one of the walls, and found a clear gap between the wooden logs.

We still had some sunlight, and I still had some energy. I retrieved an axe from the weapons cottage and returned. I could feel Nico’s eyes on me, though I didn’t take much notice of his expression. 

I stepped into the cottage, through what was once a doorway. Before I could lift the axe, Nico was beside me, his hand covering my own. I pulled out of his grasp immediately, but the feeling of his fingers around mine lingered. He was so warm. His skin was oddly smooth.

I nearly jumped at the sensation. I set the axe down and my hands balled into fists. Still, his touch lingered. 

“Heh. Sorry,” Nico said, with another small laugh. I caught a brief glint of panic in his eyes as he stepped back. “I just… well. This one is special to me.”

I remembered what he told me that first morning. “Your… childhood sweetheart?”

Nico shook his head. “My best friend. She grew up here.” His eyes grew gentle, glowing a soft orange in the shadow of the broken wall. “She was my very first friend. She was shy. Had such a soft voice that sometimes, I could barely hear her. My earliest memory is of sitting next to her and telling her that we should be friends. She agreed, and said she had someone else she wanted to be my friend, too.”

Something told me that third person must have been the childhood sweetheart.

All I saw was ruin and rot, but Nico moved as if he was somewhere comforting and safe. I wondered what this place must have been like when he was young. I struggled to imagine this place full of life. 

“She was brilliant. She understood the world in a way I never could. Understood people better than I ever could, and I’m pretty good at understanding people. I felt so lost without her at my side, helping me out. She was a writer, too, and her every word was so beautiful. I loved her stories…”

I thought of Spica. She’s the furthest thing from an optimist, yes, and she’s not much of a story crafter. But all the words she’s too nervous to say come out in her writing. 

I miss her. She must be off training in the Tending Grounds now. I hope it’s going well. That she’s getting everything she ever dreamed of.

I don’t know if we’ll ever meet again. That thought hurts. 

But at the moment, Nico was still speaking, so I listened. 

“We were inseparable,” Nico continued. “Her, me, and the boy who gave me this,” he said, touching his earring. He laughed softly. “Everyone in the village knew that if they saw one of us, the other two weren’t far behind.”

I was already thinking of Spica, and a memory of something she once told me came easily. Most Undying Embers receive their Sparks as teenagers. Sometimes, someone they know will give them traditional wedding jewelry. Not as an engagement, but as a promise of their return. 

In a way, I’m glad I didn’t see Spica before she left. I would have wanted to give her something. Maybe not an earring, but… a dagger. A necklace. Something to remember me by. 

I wouldn’t make her promise to come back. That’s far too close to a trap.

“But she was… sick. Here,” he said, tapping his temple, then dragging his hand down to rest over his heart. “…and here. I wanted to help her. I tried my hardest. I cooked her food, I dragged her out of bed, and I begged her to stay with me. Then one day, she just… left.”

“She also left the village?” I asked.

He blinked at me, then smiled with no joy. “She went somewhere my letters could never reach.”

Oh.

“Sorry.” I was a fool. Trying not to make a bigger ass of myself, I asked, “Do you have anything to remember her by?”

Nico shook his head. “Just this cottage.”

Spica also told me that if the Ember does return, they usually take off the promise earring. But if the boy was dead… no one would blame Nico for memorializing him. 

If only he had something for her, too. This was too big a place to ever carry with him.

“Did you love them?” I asked.

“I still do.”

I winced. What a stupid question. “I…”

“It’s okay. I may have lost her, but at least I can carry him with me always.” He stood up and faced me. His smile was bright, some fragment of his happiness having returned, but his eyes were sad. “We can break this place down. She’d want us to use her home to protect other people.”

We did. We tore up the floorboards and dismantled the foundation. Tomorrow, we’ll carry our new materials to our wall.

His friends must have reincarnated by now. I wondered what Nico thought of that. Was it a blessing, or just another reminder of what he had lost?

I know what my answer would be.