Outlive her children? Outlive her grandchildren? Suddenly the truth of that hit Darin like a ton of bricks. The work they were doing, both here today, and in their whole trip, would outlive Ridahne, and her children and her children’s children, and her children’s children’s children. It would outlive Ridahne’s descents for more generations than Darin cared to count at the moment. And yet she would get the chance to count them. And she wouldn’t just count the generations of Torenzis. She would count the generations for Thomas, for Milla, for more people than she could fathom. Darin would outlive them all.

She wouldn’t even be remembered. How many generations did it take before The Gardener’s name was forgotten? How many more until his true mission and home had faded into myth and legend? How many generations until no one knew him as a man and only knew him as The Gardener? How many years until all the people he knew personally had died? How long did it take until he had been a stranger, a myth, a legend, an untouchable, in a land he had helped create, but would never be home? How long until his family and friends were gone from anyone’s memories save his own.

Darin’s hands came up to grip tightly to her hair and skull as she stared unblinking at the ink that wouldn’t come up. How long until the only piece she had of Ridahne, her mother, Thomas, Milla, Talbot’s person, Harris, and others were only her faulty memories? She had planned for a life that was sixty, maybe seventy, years long, if her own clumsiness didn’t kill her first. She could barely comprehend living to Ridahne’s one hundred and three years. How could she live a life that was practically timeless? Her breathing was becoming sharp and erratic. Ravi said it was her, that it had always been her. Yet each realization, each truth that Darin finally forced herself to see, made her feel that much more lackluster. She was human. She was flawed. She was damaged. She was no one’s favorite.  Even RIdahne, who she adored beyond all measure and couldn’t imagine a life without, was only here because it was her thigh The Seed was strapped to.

She looked at Ridahne with a pained smile on her face, “You’re right. It’s a lot of pressure. I didn’t realize how much when I asked you to do this.” She stood and forced a laugh out, “It still needs to be done, but we can take a break. The books aren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Let’s get outside for a moment.”

Darin was quickly gathering papers and closing books. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t seem to control her breathing. Darin tried desperate to not let Ridahne see that. She needed to get out of this room. She needed to get out of this building. She needed to just breath. She couldn’t breathe. She just didn’t want it to seem like she was running. She was so tired of running, running form Ridahne and from responibilites. She just wasn’t sure how she could handle the weight of the world when she couldn’t even breath. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking and she dropped the papers that she was holding. She was moving too fast. Her limbs were jerky. She tried to collet the drawing again. They scattered again. Darin suddenly jabbed her nails into the flesh of her arm. She needed to get a flipping grip! She needed to breath!