The Complete Forever Trilogy (Books 1,2,&3) by Brandon Alston & Quinteria Ramey

Author:Brandon Alston & Quinteria Ramey [Alston, Brandon]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-08-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Sixteen

I didn’t get all of my memories that night—just the memories from this lifetime that were taken and some that had belonged to my aunt. They confirmed what I’d already learned, that she’d become obsessed about spending an eternity with Tristan without limits, and that the same crazed version of myself had gone searching for him in the maze the night of my supposed “anxiety attack.” But having these memories also unveiled the side of her that everyone else seemed to remember, the normal side of her, the confident and determined girl who truly believed that she could change the world. Part of me wondered if she would have if she never met Tristan, or remembered their past. Not that he had been any less incredible then. The weekend they’d snuck off to Times Square was simply beyond words. Unfortunately, having her memories didn’t help me with figuring out what the deal was with Tristan and the whole “die if you choose me” thing. Those memories, for some reason, continued to elude me. Still, it was enough that I no longer dreamed of Tristan, which was fine by me. How could I disappear into happy memories of him, when the present state of things was anything but?

Every day for the next eight weeks, I reached out to Tristan, and every day he’d respond. I wasn’t sure if I could reach his mind the second time I tried, him being possibly anywhere, but our connection was strong, and his voice came to me as clear as if he was sitting on the bed next to me. However, the conversations were brief, often painfully so. Surya was right about them torturing him. Sometimes, I would slip into his mind too deeply, my rush into his mental embrace too forceful, to the point that I could feel what he felt, and the pain that would race throughout my body was paralyzing. Still, I went to him. I wouldn’t abandon him. If it meant that I would suffer from time to time, it was nothing to what I would have faced had he not sacrificed himself for me.

It was my intent that my thirty-second visitations be spent comforting him as best I could, but often times it was the other way around. The guilt would swallow me up sometimes and leave me unsure of what to say. He’d tell me not to worry about him, that if I truly wanted to honor his sacrifice then I should just live. In fact, that’s how he’d end all of our talks. “Live, Ana.”

So that’s what I tried to do.

Those eight weeks were in many ways a period of adjustment. For one, I had to get used to being considered a “freak,” and not the “weird kid from out of town” kind of freak that I was used to, but a “freak,” freak. The news of my being confirmed a conjurer had spread quickly, and witch folk showed up from all over the world hoping to get a glimpse at the “cursed heir.

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