The Choice
Elara returned to her father’s room.
He was sitting on the bed, his gray hair disheveled, his brown eyes dim. He looked up when she entered.
“You’ve been gone a long time,” he said.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
She sat beside him.
“About the choice. About the sacrifice. About the end.”
Her father took her hand.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
She looked at the door.
At the corridor.
At the thousands of trapped souls.
“Because they need me. Because you need me. Because Mom needs me.”
“We need you to live.”
“I will live. In here.” She touched her chest. “In my heart. In my memories. In the love I carry.”
Her father’s eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t want to lose you again.”
“You won’t lose me. I’ll be with you. Always.”
She stood.
She walked to the door.
“Elara,” her father said.
She turned.
“I love you.”
She smiled.
It was a real smile, warm and bright and full of love.
“I love you too, Dad.”
She walked to the heart of the ship.
The first captain was waiting.
“Are you ready?” the old woman asked.
Elara looked at the heart.
At the light.
At the pulse.
“I’m ready.”
She reached inside.
The light consumed her.