What is life if death doesn’t exist? No matter what happens to me, I never die. Lately, I wish for death, but then I see the flowers grow, the sun setting behind a mountain, and birds flying. I hoped for two things in my life; freedom from worry and a long, happy life.

The town witch, Ursula, promised me a life of adventure, wanderlust, and immortality. I wanted to escape my hellish pit at home, so I begged for her spell. The last thing she said before I left her was, “Be careful of regret—it can be your curse.”

It’s an odd and mysterious thing; regret. It’s stealthy and dark. One hundred and fifty-two years have passed since Ursula used the spell, and I never asked if it could be broken. I wish I’d thought it through before I groveled for ever-lasting life. I can’t tell if I’m regretful or lonely. Oh, how emotions like to disguise themselves.

I plan to climb to the highest peak of Restless Mountain. Will I be brave enough to jump? I’m not sure I’ll survive. Whatever happens, it should give me a lovely freefall.

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