I live in a world where everyone has a soulmate.

That used to mean the person you were going to marry, even if you didn’t love them. Now we accept that they’re merely just your ‘other half’. Your soulmate could be your spouse, your best friend, a one-night stand, or someone you’ll never see again; they could even be your sibling.

A majority of the world understands that not everyone is going to end up with their soulmate, the two may be connected but that doesn’t mean their lives are tied together.

I was never that interested in following the compass on my wrist, I’m aro/ace so I knew I would never be in a relationship with them and it didn’t really matter if I became friends with them. My family found it interesting how the girl named after the most romantic flower, didn’t experience romantic attraction herself.

There are people whose only goal in life was to find the person fate was pointing them to, who would travel across the world if it meant they might find them. I wasn’t one of those people, but unfortunately, my soulmate was.

work as a barista in a café a few miles from where I grew up. Most of the shifts are pretty copy/paste. You have the regulars who always order the same thing at practically the same time every day, the people who insist you messed up their order and wish to speak with the manager, the ones who want to try everything on the menu, and that one person who claims a free drink with their punch card that you know they punched out at home.

It’s not always in that order but it’s practically guaranteed that one, if not all of them will show up during your shift. We also have our fair share of coffee dates or students coming in to study, but those are hardly as memorable.

I was behind the register taking orders when the door opened; I didn’t look up as the bell was hardly anything new.

A man came up to the counter, a big grin on his face. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.

“Excuse me?” It wasn’t the first time a customer had offered to buy us something from the café, most of the time it was because of the holidays or their way of paying it forward. This man was something else, I had never seen someone this excited to place an order, let alone one that wasn’t even for him.

“A drink, I figured I should get you something before I ask you on a date.”

He held up his left arm when I gave him a confused look. His compass was red and pointed at me, sure enough when I looked down my own was no longer black and turned towards him.

This man was my soulmate.

I had gone over in my head multiple times what I would say when I ended up meeting them, however my speech would have to wait as a small line started to form behind him.

“Look, my shift ends in half an hour. If you want we can talk after that,” I said.

He nodded, “sounds great,” a grin still plastered on his face.

I asked him if he wanted anything for himself since he was at the register and punched in his cortado.

“Can I get a name for the order?”

“Chase Frederick.”

I didn’t need his last name but I didn’t comment on it. “That will be out shortly.”

I couldn’t help but notice how he picked the seat that was the closest to the counter. I had a feeling he wouldn’t like being “just friends” but there was nothing I could do about that.

The next thirty minutes passed by painfully slow, my soulmate seated a few feet away as he scrolled through his phone, occasionally glancing in my direction. My coworker Sarah tapped on my shoulder and I moved aside so she could take over the register. I was now free to clock out and have whatever uncomfortable conversation awaited me.

My purse over my shoulder I made my way over to Chase.

“Hey soulmate,” he greeted.

I sighed, this wouldn’t be an easy conversation. “It’s Rose.”

I don’t know why I introduced myself, I had had a nametag on and I knew he read it. Perhaps I was stalling.

I took a seat across from him, “look Chase, we may be soulmates but there will never be a romantic relationship between us.”

It was blunter than I had prepared but those were the words that ended up coming out.

“I’m sure you’re great and it would be wonderful if we could be friends. But I’m aromantic, I’ll never have type feelings towards you or anyone else that matter,” I added.

I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I expected; denial, maybe yelling, but not the one I got.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I didn’t think it would be that easy.

“But can I ask you one thing?” He said.

“Sure,” I said, I no longer knew where this conversation was headed.

“Can I still take you out on a date? I know you said you don’t get those types of feelings but I figure I should still try.” He gave a nervous chuckle and I noticed how he kept turning his phone on the table.

I suppose there wouldn’t be any harm in one date, he did know this wouldn’t lead anywhere after all. “Why not.”

We agreed on tomorrow night and exchanged numbers. He waved as he walked out the door, the big smile back on his face.

I couldn’t help but wonder what I had gotten myself into.

* * *

“So you finally met them?” asked my cousin Tyler.

I nodded as I hung my coat back in the closet. I wasn’t surprised that he had followed me to my room when I told him; Tyler now laid on my bed with his feet against the wall.

“We’re getting dinner tomorrow night.”

I now had his full attention. “You’re going on a date with him?”

“I guess, technically. He knows I’m aro,” I said.

“You’re going on a date. It doesn’t matter if you have a blinking sign, people are oblivious.”

I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see, my back towards him as I grabbed my pajamas. “Well if Chase hasn’t gotten it through his head now, he will by the end of the night.”

Tyler shrugged as much as he could while laying down. “If you say so, let me know if you need me to fake an emergency tomorrow.”

“Thanks but that won’t be necessary.” At least I sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be.

I kicked Tyler out of my room as I left to take a shower and he offered to pick out a movie for us to watch.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right, did my soulmate really think he'd be able to win me over? I already knew that wouldn’t happen. It never would, let alone over one dinner. But some people refuse to understand that, especially when it comes to soulmates. I prayed Chase wasn’t the same way.

* * *

We had agreed to meet at the local Italian restaurant, already a bit fancier than I hoped. The destination alone made it feel more like a romantic date than two friends getting together. Tyler helped me pick out an outfit, a nice shirt, and a skirt; he said I didn’t have to completely dress up but he lovingly refused to let me leave the apartment in jeans.

I couldn’t help but stare at my wrist while I waited for Chase to arrive, my leg bouncing on the sidewalk from nerves. I still wasn’t used to the red, the arrow slightly moved from side to side. The mark that let everyone know I had met my “other half”; depending on how tonight goes I might get it covered up. There were no rules against getting tattoos over your compass, it was just generally frowned upon. Most people were proud of theirs, some were not.

Chase waved once he came into view and I stood up from the bench to greet him. He wore a fancy dress shirt and nice black pants, thankfully nothing over the top.

“Shall we head in?” I asked.

“We shall.”

It didn’t take too long to get seated, I tried not to immediately look at my menu. I was too antisocial for whatever this “date” was. “Any topics you’d like to discuss?” I said after a minute or two of awkward silence.

“I brought an icebreaker if you'd like to do that,” Chase suggested.

“Sounds great.”

He pulled a set of notecards out of his pocket, one stack in front of me, one in front of him. He flipped over the first card, a small “1” in the corner, and read the question.

Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

I never thought of that before, there were plenty of famous people I would love to meet but for a whole dinner? I wasn’t sure.

I told him my favorite author and he said the president.

Chase gestured for me to flip over the first of my pile. A “2” in the corner of this card; looks like I had the even numbers.

“Would you like to be famous? In what way?” I read.

Chase said he wasn’t sure, he had no desire to be at the moment but wanted it to be for helping people if he ever did become famous. I thought being a well-known artist would be nice.

“What kind of art do you like to do?” He asked; this wasn’t one of the notecards.

“Digital, but it’s more of a hobby.” I pulled up my social media when he asked if he could see something. I averaged about a hundred likes per picture, which certainly wasn’t horrible, it was more than I ever thought I would get, but it was far from famous.

“These are amazing,” Chase said as he scrolled through my page, he left a like on every image he saw.

“Thanks,” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Even if the feedback was mostly positive I was always self-conscious when I showed others my work. “Should we continue our icebreaker?”

Another card flipped over. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?

I said it depended on who I was calling: if it was important or work, yes. If it was family or friends I rarely did. He said no.

“How many questions are there?”

“Thirty-six,” Chase answered.

I nodded, I knew what he was doing. The thirty-six questions to fall in love. I had heard the first few but never the whole list, I didn’t see the point. You couldn’t make people love each other with a few questions, or maybe you could, I wouldn’t know. I just knew they wouldn’t work on me.

didn’t say anything about it, I did like the already chosen topics. The waitress stopped by to get our drink orders and I waited to flip over the next card till she was gone.

What would constitute a ‘perfect’ day for you?

We looked over our menus while we thought about that one, our server would be back soon anyway and as someone who’s worked at a restaurant, I always hated when people took forever to decide what they wanted. Chase got the seafood fettuccine alfredo, I chose the chicken pasta in white wine sauce.

“So what would be your perfect day?” I asked as I leaned against my elbow.

“I think that would be a nice morning run, followed by a cup of coffee, lunch with my family at my grandparent’s diner, and game night with my friends in the evening.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say they want to start their day with exercise, especially when describing the perfect day,” I laughed.

“What about you?”

“Let’s see, that would include sleeping in for once, the day off of work. I think I would spend the day at the beach with a good book, and end it with a movie with my cousin Tyler.”

Ever since Tyler and I moved in together movie night, practically every night became a sort of tradition.

“What do you consider a ‘good book’?” He asked, which wasn’t one of the icebreaker questions.

“Mystery, a modern Sherlock Holmes perhaps,” I said with a smirk.

He smiled, “I always loved the original stories.”

Chase looked down at the table when he realized he had been staring, “question five: when did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?”

He started to turn his phone on the table like he did at the café; picking it up onto its side and setting it back down over and over again. Maybe it was something he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable, maybe it was just a fidget. I always played with the spinny ring on my right hand.

“By myself would be the car ride over here, I love singing along to the radio. To someone else that would be with my coworker a few days ago before opening.”

Sarah was so excited to show me the latest musical she had found and they were always catchy.

“I also sang to myself today and to someone else that would be at an open mic yesterday,” he explained.

“You should let me know when the next one is, I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”

Our waitress came back with our food and politely let us know that the plates were hot as she set them down.

“If you want I could sing now,” he joked.

I merely laughed and took a bite of food. Thankfully he did so as well so we wouldn’t have the entire restaurant’s gaze on us. It doesn't matter how good your voice is, people don’t start singing in the middle of dinner unless they’re paid to.

We set the notecards aside, and both of us agreed to continue the little icebreaker later. Even if they wouldn’t make me fall in love, I did enjoy the questions. They were deeper than the standard get to know yous but not so personal that I didn’t want to answer.

Over the meal, I learned the basic facts about my soulmate. Chase was twenty-four, two years older than me. He was an apprentice at an electrical company and was taking music lessons from someone he found online. He lived with his best friend and was a Gemini.

I shared the same things about myself if I hadn’t already mentioned it: twenty-two, barista, taking graphic design classes, living with my cousin, and Libra.

We liked most of the same things. Same taste in food, and music, we both even preferred TV shows over movies; movies were something I only watched with Tyler.

Chase was easy to like, he was charismatic and awkward, and kind. He was someone I wanted in my life, to learn hobbies with, or even have over for movie night. But as a friend, it would only ever be as a friend.

The bill came and I insisted that either I paid for all of it or we each paid for our meal; we split the check. Chase was the perfect gentleman and opened the door for me, he didn’t ask about a second date but technically the night wasn’t over.

We walked down a few blocks to a park, we did need to finish those icebreakers after all.

Barely anyone was around as the sun was about to set. I sat down on a swing, my legs slightly pushing me as I rocked back and forth but not enough for them to leave the ground. Chase handed me my stack and followed suit.

It was my turn to read a card, “If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?”

We both agreed on body. While the idea of slowly losing your mind and memories was terrifying, not being able to do anything by yourself for who knows how many years was worse.

“Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?” He asked. “I think I’ll die in a car crash, it’s common enough.”

“I have a feeling I’ll drown in the ocean,” I answered.

“That’s morbid, I’m surprised you still consider going to the beach a part of your perfect day.”

“I’m surprised you still get in a car,” I countered.

Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.

We both liked the color blue, we both preferred underrated characters, and we both liked to sing.

We both never planned to go to college, we both loved animals, and we both had horrible sleep schedules.

For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

I said family, he said life in general, being alive.

If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?

Chase said he wished he were raised in a Christian household; the difference in religions was a bit of a sore spot in his family. I told him my parents should have gotten divorced sooner, they failed at hiding their constant fights throughout my childhood, they thought they were doing the right thing. But if we had those little changes we might be completely different people today.

Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.

Chase took out his phone and set a timer, I thought for a moment before I hit start.

When I was little, around eight years old, we went to a family camp a few hours away from here. We got a few hours of free time and we tended to separate from each other as we did our own “age-appropriate” activities. I had managed to disappear from all the staff members and when I didn’t show up for lunch they eventually found me taking a nap in the woods with a baby bunny in my lap. I named him Timmy.

We laughed and joked about the fact that surprisingly they wouldn’t let me take him home.

I reset the timer for Chase. He shared a story from his freshman year in high school. He and his friends had volunteered to run a haunted house for Halloween and they wanted to make it as scary as possible. They had the standard things like vampires, jump scares, and gory props but they wanted to have something more; for the experience to end with a bang. His current roommate suggested adding some small firecrackers, whatever they could get that was legal. They ended up setting off the fire alarm and got suspended for a week.

“At least I didn’t try to burn down my school,” I teased.

“It was an accident,” he laughed.

If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

We both went the supernatural route, he chose the power of flight and I said the ability to shapeshift.

I placed the card I had just read at the back of the pile, from what I remembered about the thirty-six questions there were three “parts”, and we were now a third through the questions. I wanted to keep going, I liked getting to know him, but I didn’t want to give Chase the wrong idea. Was Tyler right? Did he think he had a chance at a romantic relationship even though I told him when we first met that I was aromantic? Did he get false hope with every answer I gave?

He read the next card: If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?

“How I would die, see if my hunch was right.” Chase jokingly shook his head at my response. “What about you?” I asked.

“I’d want to know who I’d end up with.”

I sighed, “Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?”

If he didn’t want to speak to me after tonight, which was understandable, I wanted to enjoy being his friend as long as I could and prayed that I wouldn’t lead him on.

We both said we wanted to try skydiving but made no effort to actually do it.

“Maybe that can be the next thing we do together,” he said with a smile. At least he didn’t say date.

What is the greatest accomplishment in your life?

Mine was when I won an art contest a year or two ago; his was being the person he wanted to be. Chase explained how he used to put everyone else’s needs and wants before his, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but what he did wasn’t healthy. It took him a few years to finally work on his mental health.

I smiled. I knew that wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but we both knew now wasn’t the right time for that deep of a conversation. We continued, answering a little quicker as it got late.

What do you value most in a friendship?

We both said loyalty and trust.

What is your most treasured memory?

Mine was some Christmas from when I was little, there was nothing special about it but it was something I loved to think back on. All of us were in matching pajamas while we sat around the tree with a pile of presents. Some holiday movie on in the background and gingerbread cookies in the oven, they tasted like cardboard but we still ate the whole batch.

Chase said his was when his adoptive sister Kathrin asked him to be her son's godfather. His nephew/godson Jonny was three years old.

What is your most terrible memory?

That one got brushed over with vague answers. It didn’t matter if we were supposed to honestly answer them all, “icebreaker” or not, we weren’t ready to discuss that one yet.

If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?

I said I would do all the things I was afraid to do; I would quit my job and live off my savings, and make the most of my borrowed time. He told me something similar, how he would treat every day as if it were his last and do his best to have no regrets.

“What does friendship mean to you?” I read. We were twenty questions in, the stars now visible in the dark, slightly cloudy sky.

Chase said it was one of the things that made life worth living, I said it was everything.

We moved to the playground and sat across from each other on the plastic, hole-filled floor. I pointed out Orion and a few other constellations that were noticeable. I couldn’t help but smile when he recited the Greek myth of Orion and shared the jokes his grandpa would make about Ursa Minor.

Card number twenty-two was flipped over, Chase forgot to write down number twenty-one so we moved on. Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.

“Kind,” he started.

“Funny.”

“Thoughtful.”

“Optimistic.”

“Artistic.”

“Friendly,” I said with a smile.

“Intelligent,” he replied.

“Considerate.”

“Likable.”

“Adventurous,” I finished.

Chase grinned and flipped over the next question: How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?

Despite my mom and dad slightly hating each other, they were good parents. Minus their fights I think I had a good, happy childhood.

Chase said his family was very close, he and all of his siblings were adopted. He said he wouldn’t change that for the world.

How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

We both said that we could be closer but it was good.

Number twenty-four answered, we were now in the third set of questions. They were more detailed: Make three true “we” statements each. For instance, “We are both in this room feeling…”, Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share …”.

They also got more personal, number twenty-seven: If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.

I re-shared that I was aro/ace, a part of me was nervous that he would want to end the night there. He merely smiled and shared that his job didn’t give him a lot of free time. I hoped that was a good sign.

Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.

I liked how sweet and carefree he was. From our rushed and unexpected meeting to this moment he had shown me nothing but kindness. Even when I could tell he wasn’t sure what to say it was never uncomfortable. I told him I really hoped we could be close friends after this.

He liked that I was real, that I was kind and honest. That I didn’t push him away from the start, that I gave him a chance. He said he also hoped we could be close friends.

The next one was more lighthearted: Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life. We shared silly school stories and laughed at each other's humiliating stories.

I read number thirty which was similar to one we already had: When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself? Neither of us remembered when that was, each I suppose is a good thing as that means we haven’t cried recently.

Someone came by and asked if we could leave the park, it was already 11:00 PM so this area was technically closed. We apologized and quickly left. Chase read the next card as we walked to our cars. Tell your partner something that you like about them already.

“Didn’t we just answer that a few questions ago?” I asked.

“I think we did,” he laughed and gestured for me to flip over number thirty-two.

What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?

We both agreed on suicide and other similar topics.

If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?

I wasn’t sure, I’d like to think that I tell people everything important. Chase said we can circle back to that one as he also wasn’t sure.

Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?

“Probably a box of things I consider irreplaceable, you?”

“My computer,” I answered.

“Your computer?” He said with a small laugh.

“Hey, I paid a lot for that thing.”

Our vehicles were in sight and we had two questions left, this would be the end of our late night.

Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?

“My cousin Tyler, I’ve known him my whole life and live with him. I don’t want to think about him dying anytime soon.”

Chase nodded and said his father; he had been there for him for as long as he could remember, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like without him.

I flipped over my last notecard, the last of these thirty-six “icebreaker” questions.

Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you on how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.

Maybe it was because we wanted something to come back to, maybe it was because we didn’t want to ask the other for help. Whatever the reason was, we didn’t answer the last of the questions to fall in love.

Chase kissed my cheek and wished me good night. I smiled and waved farewell as I got in my car. That was the end of our “date”.

* * *

I didn’t hear from Chase the next day or the day after that. It hurt but I wasn’t sure if I should say something; if he didn’t want to be friends I didn’t want to push it. Tyler said there was no harm in sending a simple “hello” but I felt like if I sent something I should say more. I wasn’t sure why but that’s how I felt.

I was near the end of my shift at the café, Sarah was in the back making the drinks while I punched them in as normal. The bell rang; I didn’t look up from my task, the bell rings all the time.

“How can I help you?” I asked.

Chase stood on the other side of the counter, “A cortado and a conversation if you’re free,” he said with a shy smile.

I typed it in. “I get off in fifteen,” so similar to the day we met.

He paid for his drink and sat down at the same spot as before. I didn’t know what to expect from this conversation but I tried to stay hopeful.

“Rose,” Sarah said as she tapped my shoulder.

“Hm?”

“Is that your soulmate?” She asked with a small gesture towards Chase.

I nodded and took the next person's order.

It was time to clock out when she spoke again. “I don’t mean to pry, but is he also aro?”

I hung my apron up with a sigh, “no.” I didn’t see her reaction and made my way over to Chase. “Can I sit here?”

“Of course.”

I took the seat across from him. “I’m sorry I didn’t message you,” he said.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

He shook his head, “it took me too long to accept that I wouldn’t marry my soulmate, you told me from the start that wouldn’t happen.”

I looked away, so that is why he didn’t reach out; because I would never love him that way. Chase continued to speak, “I thought maybe it would be different since I was your soulmate, I was even foolish enough to try those ‘scientifically proven’ questions to fall in love.”

“I knew what they were from the start,” I said. He seemed surprised by my answer. “I’m sorry if I lead you on by wanting to continue the questions, but I liked getting to know you and I didn’t want that to stop.”

There was a moment of silence, a moment too long in my opinion.

“Friends?” He asked.

I smiled, “I would like that.” Part of me couldn’t help but feel relieved. My soulmate and I were on the same page, we were honest with each other, we were friends.

I got a drink of my own and we stayed at the café; we conversed and laughed. Sort of like part two of last night, but this wasn’t a date. There were no questions to fall in love, there was no lying about who we were to get the other to like us. Just two friends hanging out. It was wonderful.

“You know, if you want to be in a relationship I know someone I could set you up with,” I offered.

“Really, who?”

I smiled and gestured towards the counter, my coworker Sarah at the register.

“What about her soulmate?” Chase asked, her red compass visible from here with her short sleeves.

“He has a boyfriend so there shouldn’t be any problems there,” I answered.

I had a feeling they would get along, and the two of them looked like they would be a cute couple.

We continued our conversation while Chase debated if he should go talk to her, which I eventually convinced him to. And I was right, the two of them hit it off almost immediately.

Our relationship may not have started how either of us expected but no matter what happened, I’m glad my other half is a part of my life.

“Look, my love. What do you see?”

I blinked several times to get my bleary eyes to adjust. I forced my body to shed its tiredness as I dredged my mind from fatigue’s deep embrace.

Gray coated every surface. Frail blades of grass—warped and twisted—crunched underfoot as Mother and I walked on, stirring up forgotten flakes of ash with each step. The sickened dirt stretched for miles in every direction. Only crumbling headstones broke the monotony of it, and even they were hueless. Color stemmed solely from our vibrant blue robes, enhanced by the white light of the dull sky.

“I see nothing, Mother,” I answered honestly at last. I peered up at her, half in awe and in fear of her response. I searched her face for the slightest crease, any tightened muscle that might’ve conveyed my wrongness. Instead, she smiled.

“Exactly.” Mother inhaled deeply, relishing what I could only assume was the fading smell of smoke. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

I didn’t think I could agree. The world around me was hollow, an odd absence craving to be filled. I didn’t find any charm in the decaying life or extinguished embers. The latter only seemed to stain my trailing robe, muddying its pristine hue with ugly soot.

Mother’s fingers flexed. Red nails sharpened. “Isn’t it?”

Fear traced my spine. I couldn’t lie to Mother. I couldn’t give her my truth either. Instead, I shifted the question to her.

“What do you find so beautiful about this place?”

Mother’s blue eyes glimmering with understanding. “Of course, my love. You are still too young to understand. You see only absence, don’t you? An emptiness that needs filling?”

I nodded.

“Emptiness makes people uncomfortable.” A maroon-stained hand drifted to Mother’s graying hair. “That fact has been proven time after time through my many years. People constantly seek to fill any void they come across. They cram their living areas full of furniture and knick-knacks that might’ve once offered delight but now only serve to occupy space. They’ll flood their blank minds with nonsensical media, their open stomachs with food, or their hollow hearts with fleeting infatuations. They pack their days full of meaningless tasks until they’re sated enough to sleep at night. And when they wake, the cycle repeats, rotating over and over until they die.”

Mother’s face creased. “It’s a miserable existence: constantly filling the void with useless junk and feelings. People waste precious space on cheap consumption or “pretty things.” Potential is prettier than any reality that fills it. Potential needs no host to cover it, no knick-knacks to conceal it. Potential deserves to thrive. The cycle must be broken.” Mother’s fist clenched. “Let the world breathe you miserable—”

I flinched at her harsh tone. Mother instantly took notice. Her stance loosened, and she tucked her fisted hand under an open palm.

“That’s where we are, my love.” Her words flow much softer, a clear river. “We’re at the break in the cycle—the sliver of time between old and new life. Our Coven has achieved its most arduous goal: renewal.”

My fingers drifted to a nearby headstone. The cement is rough, but cool to the touch. Though most of its engraving had fallen victim to cracks and crumble, I’m able to make out three letters: E.N.D. I found them oddly fitting.

“So this is the end of the cycle?”

“And the cusp of the beginning.”

“Does all of Earth look like this?”

Mother smiled. “Our machines have sown the seeds of potential into every inch of this planet’s surface.”

“For the Coven to choose how to fill the absence?”

Mother’s easy expression twisted in an instant. Her claws thickened. “Have you learned nothing, child? Do you think us gods stranded on a mortal plane? Are we no better than the villains we so ardently destroyed?!”

Mother raised a hand, arm winding back. I staggered back out of range. My feet caught on the hem of my robe and before I could catch myself, my back slammed into the colorless Earth.

A cloud of ash rose around me. Whether it was to conceal or suffocate me, I couldn’t tell. I held my breath.

With a shaky sigh, the red bled from Mother’s vision. The glimmer of crystal knowledge returned to her eyes. She lowered her arm.

“We are not gods.” Her voice was low and as rich as the honey coating her words. “We are officiants guiding the Earth to the path it chooses.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes, Mother.”

She motioned for me to stand before facing the other direction. I pushed off my hands to get to my feet.

My fingers snagged on an unfamiliar texture.

I shot a glance at Mother. She’d resumed her spiel, inspiring words drifting through the stale air. I dared a peek at the source.

Green slipped through my fingertips.

It was a sickly green, most faded and withered, but it was life nonetheless. A single leaf, no bigger than a coin, blessed a thin stem.

I cupped my hand around the sprout. Warmth leaked into my palm, traveling up into the rest of my body. An intense feeling gripped my heart, brimming with an odd sense of purpose, fiercer than any resolve I’d felt before.

I must protect this.

“Don’t dawdle, darling. C’mon now.”

Mother’s voice sent a tremor through my body. With several quick blinks, I memorized the plant’s position before jumping to my feet. I trailed after Mother, ash whirling in our wake.

***

Night turned the Earth’s scape into a true void.

Color had no claim here. The faint, yellow glow of my shrouded lantern did nothing to warm my surroundings, but I didn’t want to risk uncovering it. The Coven house was still close, and I’d figured I’d already tested my luck enough tonight.

Surprisingly, sneaking out had gone better than I’d expected. Usually, the area was heavily guarded, but no one stopped me as I slipped away.

Then again, the Coven’s guards weren’t stationed to keep people in.

I kept my deep-blue robe drawn tight around me. It was the darkest one I owned. Mother forbade us from wearing any other color.

With no moon or stars to guide me, I relied on the terrain alone to find my way. Holding the light as high as I dared, I came across the spot Mother showed me that morning.

Half-a-headstone marked the plant’s home. The same three legible letters embellished it: E.N.D.

They seemed more ironic now than fitting.

Placing my lantern in a dead patch, I knelt next to it. The light found the green before my eyes did. In darkness this deep, the sprout seemed to glow.

I smiled down at it. How the tiny specimen had survived the fires and machines the rest of the world had fallen to was beyond me. Perhaps it was its size that—

A force slammed into my side, knocking me to the ground. Hands flipped me onto my back before covering my mouth. A solid weight pressed against my chest.

My lantern provided just enough light for me to make out a face. Soot smudged the girl’s ruddy skin and matted loose tendrils of greasy hair. A black bandana hid her mouth, but I saw her eyes clearly: a burning blue.

My thoughts flew to Mother, but they faded as the girl spoke.

“Coven scum.” Her voice was piercing, wicked—a stark contrast to Mother’s honeyed tone. “Have you come to destroy the last of all that’s good?”

I wanted to cry out, hoping by some grace of God, there was a chance the guards could hear me. But the Straggler’s grip was too tight. Even as I wriggled underneath her, she held firm.

I tried to speak anyway. Perhaps it would prompt her to remove her hand. She did, only to replace it with a dagger pressed to my throat.

“No.” My voice was a hoarse whisper. “I came to defend what I discovered this morning.”

The blade dug into my skin, steel stinging my neck.

“You discovered nothing. This plant has been here longer than your despicable Coven and the devastation you’ve caused.”

“I don’t want to hurt it—”

The girl scoffed. “Oh, of course not. You just want to ‘cleanse’ it, right? Purify this imperfect life so you can build the world back from scratch.”

“No!” The word came out a gasp. Under her weight, it was becoming harder to breathe.

The girl flinched at my sudden burst. She drew back slightly but kept her blade at my throat.

“I promise,” I told her. “I swear.”

Her face remained hardened, but there was a small give in her eyes. She wanted to believe me.

The girl pulled back fully but kept her dagger aloft.

“Who are you?” I asked as I struggled to sit up.

“Ash.”

She hesitated before adding. “And you?”

My chest tightened. I didn’t want to confess that I had no name. Mother had only ever called me ‘love’ or ‘darling.’ The other Coven members had never addressed me at all.

My eyes searched for inspiration. They landed on my robe.

“Blue.”

Ash snorted. “How fitting.”

She turned her gaze on the slip of green. In seconds, her eyes lost focus.

“I don’t remember the last time I talked to another person. It’s been weeks, I think . . .”

I tucked my knees close to my chest and stared with her.

“You’re a Straggler, aren’t you?”

“Is that what they’re calling us?”

“Is there another term?”

“Survivor.”

Ash tilted her head. “But I’m not sure what I’m surviving for anymore. The Devastation took everything. There’s nothing left for me.”

She traced a single finger over the sprout’s leaf. “Maybe it’s for this. Maybe it’s for hope.”

“Have you seen any others like it?”

“I’ve come across two, but they’re several miles from here,” Ash answered. “I spend most of my time going back and forth between the three sprouts to make sure they stay healthy.”

Fragments of Mother’s speech sifted in my mind. People constantly seek to fill any void. They pack their days full of meaningless tasks . . .

“Why don’t you plant the three of them together?” I asked. “It might save you some time.”

Ash’s face fell. “I don’t have much time worth saving.” An odd hollowness crept into her eyes as it leaked into her gaunt face. “Besides, I don’t have the tools or nutrients to do it right. I’d end up killing what little life is left.”

A beat of silence pulsed through the air.

“What if I helped you?” The question kindled a warmth twin to the sense I’d felt that morning. “The Coven has tools and resources. I could grab them for us. We could plant the other sprouts here.”

No expression crossed Ash’s face as she thought. At last, her brow creased. “How do I know this isn’t some Coven trap?”

My mind went blank. I could offer her nothing but my word.

“You still have your dagger,” I said, “If this is some trick and I betray you, kill me. Use my corpse as nourishment for the sprouts.”

Ash made a face. “Okay then . . . sounds like you’re . . . committed.”

“Perfect!” I stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

***

The next day passed faster than any I’d lived so far. Purpose propelled the time forward, turning my minutes into seconds.

I spent every moment outside of my lessons scouring the Coven house for supplies. I managed to piece together a few tools along with a jug of clean water.

Pride sparked in my chest when I saw Ash’s smile that night. Relief melted the harshness of her features, softening into a quiet beauty. I didn’t realize I was staring until she shot me a weird look.

“Sorry.” I sheepishly handed her the tools.

Ash shrugged it off.

“I was worried about the water,” she confessed. “Most of what’s left is contaminated.” Slight desperation tensed her expression as Ash eyed the jug. “Do you mind if I have some?”

I offered it to her. “Take all you need.”

She took several deep gulps.

“At least we won’t need fertilizer,” Ash said as she sat. “The Devastation’s fires took care of that for us.” She laid the other two sprouts down gently. “All we need to do is replant them, water them, and . . . pray, I guess.”

We worked together in tandem, tilling the pitiful dirt and moistening it with water. Silence filled the air, no longer stale, but shifting slightly with our movement. There was a peacefulness in the quiet, not a complete absence of sound, but a calm accented by soft noise.

“My family used to own a farm.”

Her words jarred me. Farm. I tried to piece together what that might’ve looked like, but my mind drew a blank.

“What was it like?”

Ash paused. “Almost like this, just ten times the size.” She set a sprout in one of the holes. “Well, it wasn’t a huge farm. We only grew enough to sell at our village market and keep our family fed.”

When I said nothing, she went on.

“I miss the simplicity of it. There was no great purpose, no gritty survival or desolation. There was just peace. And plants.” Ash smiled softly at her replanted sprout.

She chuckled. The sound hummed through my ears, a beautiful melody.

“I feel like my mother,” Ash confessed, “She would get so excited when the tomatoes ripened. They were always her favorite. She loved the color red as much as she loved the rest of us.”

Ash’s words stirred in my mind, dredging memories from its depths. Images echoed in my head, words rippling through one another.

“You’re meant for a great purpose, my love. You are meant for anything and everything.”

With a red-stained hand, Mother cupped my face.

“The rest of the Coven is old and spent, but you are young and fresh. You’re a smooth slate for the future to mold as it sees fit. Destiny sees no bounds. As you are now, you are limitless.

“My mother is in love with potential.” My breath hitched before I divulged. “I think that’s what she loves most about me.”

I held my breath in the silence, waiting for Ash to reply. If she’d even answer at all—

“She shouldn’t.”

Ash lifted her gaze to meet mine. Through the smudged soot, I could make out a resolve in her expression.

“We weren’t born to be blank slates forever. Your potential is yours to fill, Blue. You chose a path, even if it limits the others you can take.”

Her words kindled a feeling in me deeper than anything I’d felt before. The warmth extended, filling out the tips of my toes and reddening my face.

I tried to find a way to express it out loud, but the feeling didn’t translate to words. When I opened my mouth to speak, all that came out was: “That’s not my name.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t given one. I made it up.”

Ash observed me for several seconds. She shrugged. “Even better. You’re already blazing your own trail.”

***

The next week passed the same as that night. We hid our progress, smothering the green with ash in the day, then uncovering it each night to admire the green. The sprouts were growing better than I’d dared to expect. Each of the three had begun to bloom new leaves, stretching to the blank sky.

Their presence made the area by the E.N.D. seem lighter. The headstone had brightened, glowing with pride for the life taking root below it. Ash’s face had softened, its creases fading into clearing skin. My chest expanded, fueled by the steady pulse of purpose, of hope.

But, of course, when things were brightest, they were most susceptible to darkness. Our darkness came in the form of a shadow. It fell in the way of our lantern’s light, blotting out its warmth.

With a swift kick, the glow was extinguished.

A harsh, white beam replaced it.

Ash and I stumbled back. My fingers etched along brittle grass as I lifted a hand to shield my face.

“Sorry, darling, am I interrupting?”

Mother’s voice was a blade to my heart.

Instinctually, I reached out to Ash. Our dirt-stained fingers had barely grazed one another before rough hands clamped down around our arms and shoulders. They yanked us apart, drawing us out of the light and into cloaked shadows. In the dark, our attackers were phantoms, but flapping fabric and gnarled palms manifested them into Coven members.

A series of 'oomphs' and scuffles pierced the air, and I knew Ash was fighting back. I tried to do the same, but I only managed a few weak thrashes before I was fully restrained.

Mother passed the light beam to another Coven member, who aimed it directly at me. She advanced, her steps tracing around the headstone.

“So this is where you’ve been sneaking off to every night.” Mother’s voice flowed cooler than I’d expected. She aimed a pointed glare at Ash. “Or rather, who you’ve been sneaking off with.”

When Mother’s face turned to me, her expression softened.

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice, child.” Mother’s look was almost pitying. “I see all, my love. Every crease in your face, every step you take, every lie you claim.”

At the last word, I flinched. Her eyes narrowed.

“Are you so immature as to be driven to explore these . . . exploits in the dead of night? I thought you were better than this.” Mother wrinkled her nose at Ash. “Better than her at least. She’s filthy.”

“At least you’re still clean,” Mother murmured. When her gaze flicked to my hands she cringed. “Mostly. What did you . . .”

Her eyes widened.

“Ma’am—”

Mother whirled to the Coven member who’d spoken. He pointed a crimson-crusted hand at the base of the headstone, at our garden. It was a single splotch of green against miles and miles of gray. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how small our sprouts truly were. In my eyes, they were the world.

In an instant, Mother’s pale face contorted, reddening with rage.

“My love—” she spoke the term as an insult, spitting malice “—are you . . . growing something?”

There was no point in lying. I lifted my chin. “Yes.”

Her calm voice simmered. “You’re filling space—beautiful potential—with these scraggly weeds?”

“Yes, Mother.”

In an instant, she spun back to me. Maroon claws latched onto my chin.

“YOU ARE NO CHILD OF MINE!”

Mother yanked me from the Coven member’s grasp. She gripped my wrists, pinning them behind my back with one hand. She kept the other on my face in a skin-twisting grasp.

Mother pitched my face forward to the dirt. She stopped a mere inch above our pitiful garden.

“Look, my love.” Her words came slow and gritted, forced through sharpened teeth. “What do you see?”

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. They fell, caressing our greatest achievement, our most damnable weakness. For a second, I feared they were too much for the plants’ leaves to hold, but our sprouts stood strong. My tears slipped down their leaves before dripping into the soil.

“I see strength,” I whispered. There was no use lying to Mother. And now, there was no use holding back. “I see life and all the glory it nearly lost to the Coven—”

“You idiot! You fool!” Mother tightened her hold on my wrists, yanking my shoulders back. “You fancy yourself some self-righteous rebel? Some valiant hero for the meek?! Your heart holds nothing but hubris. You are a scrap of prideful scum, no better than the ragtag, soot-faced peasant you call a partner.”

Mother drew a shaky breath. “You’re nothing.”

“No, they’re not.”

Ash’s voice was venom, acid dripping with truth.

The fury in her face matched Mother’s to a tee, from bulging veins to twisting folds of skin. Fires burned blue in their eyes.

I was just close enough to Ash to meet her gaze. Ash’s rage softened for only an instant before it intensified. Lips twisting, she aimed for Mother and spat.

The spit landed close to the hem of Mother’s robe. A splotch of soot stained the rich, royal blue satin.

Mother’s cry echoed with the wrath of a dying sun. Her next words were a screech.

“KILL HER!”

Ash’s dagger glinted as a Coven member freed it from her waistband. In a single swipe, he sliced it through her throat.

The Coven members released Ash’s gasping form. Her hands clawed at her throat in a vain attempt to seal the wound. The motion only spewed more blood through her fingers, droplets spraying across the withered grass.

Her eyes bulged as they met mine. They searched for comfort, solace.

I could offer her none.

I held her gaze; it was the best my crumpled face could manage. I tried to think of something to say, a way to vocalize the feelings swelling inside of me, the love I harbored for her.

I only managed to mouth her name.

Ash . . .

Her trembling body collapsed with a puff of ash. When the cloud cleared, she was utterly still.

Mother’s grip forced my blurred gaze away from my friend. She turned my attention back to herself.

“You’re shedding tears for scum?” Her words fueled a fire in my chest. “She was nothing. You were meant for greatness, a model for the world to shape as it saw fit.”

I remembered Ash’s words. “I am no one’s husk to fill,” I shot back, “I make myself whoever I wish to be.”

Mother’s eyes narrowed. “You could’ve been a monarch. An innovator. A saint. Instead, you choose to fill yourself with warped weeds, a soot-stained girl, and a pathetic hope.”

“Those things are better than hate and destruction. They’re real, tangible, more so than your shoddy attempts at control and your empty hope for greatness.”

Mother’s claws dug into my skin, stinging with swelled pricks of blood.

“You wish to be scum?”

I said nothing.

“Then you shall die like one.”

In a snap, Mother’s hand released my wrists to brace the back of my head. With all her might, she jerked my head to the right.

My neck cracked.

There was a single mercy in my death: I didn’t die facing her. Mother released my twisted form, letting it collapse at the base of the crumbled headstone, where our garden flourished.

Green consumed my vision. From this angle, our sprouts looked large enough to conquer the world.

Written by Madeleine S. Cargile