The soft echo of footsteps followed Elijah up the stairs as stifling heat threatened to suffocate him. The building had not been built with airflow in mind, and without active air conditioning, it would've been sweltering even before Honolulu had been set down in the center of a desert. Now? It was like an oven. Sweat poured down Elijah's face, soaking his clothes beneath his armor.
Elijah paid it almost no attention, though. Instead, he was wholly focused on the emotions churning within his mind. The anxiety gripping his stomach. The fear threatening to overwhelm him.
He knew what he was going to find.
During his trek through the desert and in Honolulu itself, he'd seen far too many mummified corpses to expect a happy ending. And yet, that thread of hope persisted. He wanted to believe that Nina had escaped, that when he reached his destination, he'd find nothing but an empty apartnt. Perhaps she'd gone in a different direction. Maybe she had even been in Rubibi and Elijah just hadn't noticed. He certainly hadn't seen the entire population, so it was possible.
But he knew it wasn't likely.
If she'd escaped, Shane would have known, and he wouldn't have kept that information to himself. Not after Elijah had given him enough money and opportunity to steer his life in an entirely different direction.
He was well aware of just how ridiculous it was to cling to that tiny sliver of hope. And yet, he couldn't help himself. He wanted to believe that sothing good could co of his trip down mory lane.
When he finally reached the third floor, he hesitated. The exit from the stairwell looked much like any other door he'd encountered. Just dust-covered steel. But it represented sothing else. Sothing terrifying.
Elijah reached out with a trembling hand and twisted the handle. It opened easily, though it did let out a screech at the movent. It echoed the terror in Elijah's heart, though he didn't hesitate to step into the hall.
The building wasn't large, so there were only four units on each floor. Elijah's forr apartnt was on the left at the end of the hall. He could rember following that path countless tis. Nina had insisted he take the stairs instead of ride the elevator. One of those simple but effective health tips she loved to espouse. Often, they'd annoyed Elijah, though in retrospect, he missed her constant admonitions to eat better, exercise more, and live an overall healthier lifestyle.
Sothing had shattered the window at the end of the hall, so most of the corridor was covered in a few inches of coarse, white sand. Elijah stepped across it with caution. He knew just how many dangers it could conceal, and so of them were very adept at hiding their presence – even against Soul of the Wild.
As it turned out, there was nothing there, as he discovered shuffling through the hall.
The first two apartnts – one on each side – had belonged to Mr. Kaimana and Miss Nakagawa, respectively. Though they were both elderly, they were a study in contrasts. Mr. Kaimana was welcoming, often inviting Elijah and Nina over for dinner and regaling them with tales of Hawaiian mythology. He was a long-retired professor on the subject, though he was still quite enthusiastic about sharing the legends of his people.
Unfortunately, Nina and Elijah rarely accepted his invitations, mostly because of their busy schedules. But when they had the ti to take him up on the offer, they'd found his cooking to be incredible. Elijah was particularly fond of Kaimana's version of chicken long rice, though Nina had preferred his Spam saimin. They both enjoyed his stories, though.
Miss Nakagawa was nice enough in her own way, though where Kaimana had been boisterous and pointedly welcoming, the diminutive Japanese woman had been more controlled in her deanor. She got along great with Nina, but she'd always looked at Elijah with what he interpreted as disapproval.
When Elijah checked the two apartnts, he found that they had died together in Kaimana's apartnt. Had they been closer than anyone suspected? Or had they simply banded together like so many others? Elijah had no idea, but he took so comfort in the fact that, in the end, neither had been alone.
No one wanted to die, but going out alone was sohow more terrifying than dying among friends or family.
Elijah did find a few dozen cans of Spam in Kaimana's cabinet. He helped himself to the canned at, as much out of nostalgia as for the food itself. Normally, it would only keep for a few years at most, but when he focused on it with Soul of the Wild, he found that it was still edible. No harmful bacteria had taken hold, and the fat hadn't gone rancid.
And besides, he could protect himself against food poisoning. If his constitution wasn't enough, then his healing spells would certainly take care of it.
That discovery afforded Elijah an excuse to delay the inevitable for a few extra minutes. But eventually, he found himself standing in front of his old apartnt. The door was locked, but that was nothing to his strength. A simple twist, and the handle broke.
The door swung open slightly, but it stopped after only an inch.
Elijah pointedly ignored Soul of the Wild. He didn't want to know what was in there. And he definitely didn't want to feel it before he saw it with his own two eyes. He shoved against the door, though it resisted slightly. A cascade of sand revealed itself to be the stubborn impedint, but it was no real obstacle for soone like Elijah. He shoved the piled sand out of the way.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
And then, he saw his old apartnt.
The familiarity hit him like a tidal wave. Nostalgia enveloped his mind, squeezing it in its grip and threatening to overwhelm his every thought. He stepped inside, and aside from the sand piled on the floor – from another broken window – nothing had really changed.
That sa old couch stood in the center of the living room, its leather cracked and faded, but still as plump as ever. Elijah wanted to just plop down, kick his feet up, and watch television. Countless nights had been spent doing just that, with Nina curled up beside him as they watched so forgettable, paint-by-numbers movie on Netflix.
The film itself was never the point. Just the relaxation. The company. The shared experience. The way Nina felt in his arms. Comfortable, but sohow the opposite as well. Familiar, but demanding of his attention, and in the best way possible.
That was what Elijah rembered when he looked at that couch.
He shuffled forward, looking around the apartnt. It looked almost identical to how he'd left it. When he'd broken things off with Nina, he'd decided to give the place to her. It was rent controlled, so she could afford it. But more than anything else, with his death looming over him, he knew he wouldn't need it anymore.
She hadn't changed anything in his absence, though.
He'd only been gone for a few weeks before the world had changed, but the sa art decorated the walls. The sa couch. The sa tal basket – now with the desiccated remains of fruit – on the kitchen counter. Even his old panini maker, which Nina had always hated, sat next to the Keurig machine. Wave after wave of nostalgia slamd into him with every familiar detail.
But when he saw his dog's bowls, one for water and the other for his food, Elijah could no longer keep his emotions at bay. He knelt next to those two bowls and read the na.
Fremont.
He still couldn't rember how he'd co up with that na. Probably a lark. But that simple word had co to an so much to him. Such a loving animal – practically a living plushie – who was as even tempered as any animal Elijah had ever seen.
He'd also attached himself to Nina in a way that sotis elicited a little jealousy. It made sense. She was around a lot more than Elijah. But he knew that was just an excuse. The two had taken to one another from the very mont they'd t. It was one of the reasons Elijah had latched onto her as well. He could deal with a lot of things when it ca to soone he'd chosen to date, but if his dog didn't like her, he was no longer interested.
And Fremont had loved Nina.
Had Elijah?
Maybe. It was difficult to say for certain. In retrospect, it felt like it, but he'd been so terrified of attachnt that he'd never said the words. Not out loud, but he'd even avoided the subject in his own mind. With the benefit of hindsight, he had to admit that, even if it wasn't the sort of true love one might find in a fairy tale, he had loved her. In his own repressed way, at least.
Never was that clearer than when he stepped into the bedroom and saw what was left of Nina lying on the bed.
Her mummified corpse looked so peaceful. Elijah could still see hints of the woman she'd been. Like that old high school tee-shirt she loved so much. Or the way her black hair draped over her eyes.
Or the small dog curled up beside her.
Elijah couldn't tell who'd died first. Probably Nina, but Fremont couldn't have been far behind. And they had been together until the end.
Next to the bed, Elijah fell to his knees and stared. Since the world's transformation, he'd seen a lot of death. He'd caused much of it, but he'd walked through multiple fallen cities as well. He had witnessed the final resting places of too many n, won, and children to count.
And yet, few hit him quite as hard as when he looked upon Nina's and Fremont's bodies.
The closest was when he'd visited Alyssa's house.
Or more recently, when he thought of the vision of his sister he'd seen while advancing his mind cultivation. There were plenty of other monts when he'd been forced to confront death. Dat's demise ca to mind. The panther as well. And many others. So, like Alyssa or Dat, were like sledgehamr blows of grief. But the others, like the death of the gnomish barbers or Zhang Yue, were more like chisels.
All left him affected.
But seeing Nina and Fremont?
That was like soone had taken an icepick to his heart.
Before Elijah even realized it, tears were falling down his face. He didn't bawl – not like a grieving widow in a movie – and he didn't spread his arms and scream at the sky. There were no lodramatic gestures. No real sounds at all.
Just tears.
Simple. Silent. Affecting. And full of grief for sothing he knew he could never change.
He had so many regrets, not least of which was how he'd handled the break-up. He still believed it was necessary. Nina didn't deserve to see him waste away and die. But when she'd pointed out that she could make that decision for herself, he'd said a lot of things he didn't an, all in an effort to push her away.
It had worked.
Lines had been crossed.
And he regretted every word the second they'd left his mouth. Yet, he'd not been strong enough to say as much. Not aloud. Instead, he had sent her a letter, dropping it off as he went to the airport to take his ill-fated flight. There was no chance she'd ever even received it.
He rested his hand on her desiccated wrist. It felt like crumbly paper.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I never ant to hurt you."
Though that wasn't entirely true. His words had been chosen carefully, and for maximum impact. He'd known they would sting. But he'd thought there would be ti for her to see the truth. That his letter would make it all right. That she would have a chance to recover and move on.
But like so many others whose lives had been cut short by the World Tree's touch, she never gotten that chance. And for the first ti since Earth had changed, Elijah understood why so many referred to it as an apocalypse. He never had, and he never would. The World Tree was a beautiful and natural thing, and its touch, while transformative, was beyond value judgents like good, evil, or anything in between. It just was.
He understood why others didn't see it that way, though.
As the grief and guilt threatened to overwhelm him, Elijah forced himself to focus on better tis. On all the good mories they'd shared. So were simple, like when they'd take Fremont to the beach, where he'd spend all of five minutes frolicking before he was spent. Elijah could practically see him flopping to the sand and looking at him like the re act of remaining outdoors was torture.
So were more complex, like the mories of his first few dates with Nina. He'd put so much effort into them back then. He knew precisely how lucky he was that she'd agreed to go out with him, and he'd been desperate not to blow it. Miraculously, he hadn't.
Not until the very end.
And now, he would never have a chance to make things better. So, he wept. He processed as best he could. And he vowed not to make those sa mistakes ever again.
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