I risked everything to come here, and standing in the dark, shivering and cold and soaking wet, I understand that my choice is what makes me powerful. It is my choice to be here, risks and all. No one else’s. I trust that the Sun will take care of me.
My head aches from its absence, like a million hailstones have been dropped on me at once. I want to collapse, to bury my head in my hands and wait for the eclipse to pass, but something in the back of my mind pulls at me, begs me to consider it.
Encompassed in silence and drowning in darkness, I think of the magic that surfaced this year and changed my whole world, a magic I could only discover because of trust and respect and love. I think of what happened just moments ago, how I felt all four seasons at once, and while I don’t understand it, I know it only happened because of the power that comes from being together.
I’m so cold. My teeth chatter, and I shiver.
My legs can’t hold me up any longer, and I collapse on the ground. All of my organs have turned to ice, a cold so deep and fierce I can’t remember the feeling of sunlight, can’t remember what it’s like to be anything but freezing.
Mr. Hart once told me that love carries risk for all of us, and I want to take that risk. I want to take that risk so badly I feel as though I could reach out and touch it.
Crumpled beneath the crown of the brightest star, my star, I realize I’m not okay with any of this. The sun is as much a part of me as my heart, and you can’t survive without your heart.
For so long, that’s all I have wanted—to be rid of the sun and rid of magic and rid of fear. But now I accept it all, want it all, choose it all.
My breaths are ragged and shallow, as if the ice is slowly freezing my lungs, as if I’ll never breathe again.
But something inside me tells me to stay present, to experience this infinite darkness even though it hurts, even though it feels like I’m breaking.
Then, clarity. Perfect clarity.
I love that I change with the seasons. I’ve lived my whole life believing change is bad, that I’m supposed to be only one thing. But why would I ever want to fit into one tiny box? I want to thrive and experience new things and love in different ways and use the magic of all four seasons.
I want to live.
Change makes me powerful, and finally, finally, I’m ready to claim that power.
Here on the ground, under a black sky, my connection to the sun broken, all of my pieces fall into place. All of my insecurity and doubt fades into the darkness.
I want to be an Ever, and that’s my choice. Not Mr. Burrows’s or Ms. Suntile’s or anyone else’s. It is fully and completely my own.
Mosquitoes cluster in the air around me. Crickets chirp, and owls hoot in the distance, believing that night has fallen. Bats emerge from the trees and fly erratically overhead.
It’s been two minutes and seventeen seconds without the sun, and my entire body is shaking, hurting, submerged in pain, as if I’m bathing in a tub of razors and needles and jagged edges.
But still I keep my eyes on the sky, forcing my head back. It feels so heavy, too heavy. But still I stare, begging the star to come back, begging it to fill me with its light.
The moon basks in its final moments between the Earth and the sun, and my heart aches. I shake from the cold and the darkness and the loss of myself, feeling the star’s absence in every part of me.
Then the moon begins to move, beads of sunlight shining through its mountains and valleys, reaching out as if to touch me.
It’s almost over.
I force myself to stand, keeping my eyes trained on the grand finale.
A thin ring of light appears, followed by a burst of brightness on top. It looks like a diamond ring in the dark sky, like the Sun is asking me a question.
Yes. My answer is yes.
This is who I am, who I am meant to be.
And I know now that if given a choice, I’d choose my life as an Ever above all else.
An inexplicable peace moves through me, like all my mismatched gears have finally slid into place.
Relief.
In one glorious burst of light, the Sun reclaims her place above me, and I am drenched in her warming rays. The sky brightens, and the most perfect shade of blue saturates the atmosphere. All the ice inside me melts away.
The sun hasn’t reclaimed me, though, our connection still broken. I stand with my arms outstretched, my palms facing up, begging the sun to give me another chance, to choose me again.
I don’t move my eyes from the star. Normally, it wouldn’t burn me the way it would a shader, but without my magic, it stings. And still I stare. I stare and stare and stare, an unspoken promise that I will do better, that I will trust the Sun and trust myself. But above all else, it’s a declaration of love. A pure, vibrant, all-consuming adoration for the Sun that’s free of the resentment I’ve held for so long. A love so strong it warms me from the inside out, even though my magic is gone.
A love that is undeniably worth the risk. I will stand here forever if that’s what it takes.
Chapter Forty
“The shaders insist that seeing an eclipse can be life-changing. It seems they are correct.”
—A Season for Everything
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here. Long enough for my neck to hurt and my eyes to burn, long enough for the birds
