Leona stared into the mirror and assessed the lines on her face. She was tired. Faded blue eyes looked out of a face that resembled a roadmap of deep wrinkles.
I look like a fucking mummy
, she thought to herself. It was time to die and get this damned life over.
Turning away from the mirror, she gathered her soft, silky robe around her. At least there was one good thing about getting old and dying; she didn't have to get dressed anymore. No one cared if she stayed in her nightgown and robe all day, and that suited her just fine. She gave a heavy sigh;
one more, just one more
, she thought and then she was done.
She had lived for one thousand sixty-two years and she was so very tired. Having watched everyone she loved grow old and fade away, Leona was ready to join those no longer with her. Tightening the belt around her waist, she sat on her favorite chaise lounge in front of the windows and relaxed. Lifting her right hand, she gazed at the diminished delicate scrolling around her wrist.
While others had been born with the strange mark, it was by total and sheer luck that Leona had discovered its secret. Since then, she'd taught hundreds of women how to live forever; yet only twenty-four currently resided in her self-made city. On Harper's birthday next week, she would lead the ceremony to bring them to twenty-five. And then she would die.
Leona lay back and, closing her eyes, allowed the memories to come; memories of how she got to this great age in this wonderful place. Oh the things she had done, the things she had seen; her life had been full, and certainly amorous. A slight smile graced her lips as she drifted in her reverie.
~~~
She had lived quietly. Married young to a big, strong warrior, she had given birth seven times, but only four had lived. Those tiny little bodies she'd held so briefly before the midwife took them away had completely broken her heart. Her remaining three boys and one beautiful daughter always brought her happiness, helping to wash away the sadness of those lost babies.
Another woman born with the mark on her wrist lived nearby. Leona and Hesta had been good friends, sharing recipes, watching each other's children grow and play. They had discussed the strange scrolling, but since no one, not even the wise men of the village, knew anything about the strange discoloration, they let the curiosity go. It simply wasn't important enough to worry over.
The day the news came that her dearest Timo had been killed on the battlefield was the day her world went dark. Because of the nearly constant wars that raged around them, as warlike leaders battled each other for more land, more space, she was used to him being gone, used to raising their children alone. But knowing that he would never return to her, never again hold her in his powerful arms and love her so sweetly, nearly broke her completely.
Neither her children nor her circle of friends were able to pull her out of the dark depression that swamped her. She lived each day in a fog, going through the motions of caring for her house and children. By the laws they lived by, widows were taken care of by the village, and so their basic needs were met, even if she was sure her heart would never mend.
On her daughter's wedding day, she met the young man that would change her life, change her very existence. She had worked tirelessly for months to make sure her daughter's day was perfect. Leona suspected that with this being her last child to be mated, it wouldn't be long before the dried poisonflower tucked away in the box under her bed would find its way into her tea one night before bed. She would sleep and be done with this world, joining her Timo once more in the afterlife.
But there she met Aurenda's new brother by-marriage, Aleph; a mischievous twinkle in his eye, unkempt golden blond hair, eyes as blue as the sky, and the most adorable dimples that flashed frequently in his cheeks. He was a cherub in man's clothing, young and strong. He took one look at Leona and even she could see the interest spark in his eyes.
Her body had grown soft and slightly plump over time. She had no husband to impress and so had taken little care over her appearance, letting her once rich-brown hair fade and the gray strands show, allowing her body to sag, no longer bothering with the long walks she had taken when her Timo was alive to retain her trim shape.
But despite this, Aleph flirted shamelessly with her, took liberties with touching her, and amazingly had her blushing like a young girl with her first love. She was shocked at her body's response to this young man, as he swept her into his arms for an entirely inappropriate dance after the wedding. She felt her nipples tighten and a warmth bloom down low in her belly, feelings she hadn't experienced since Timo's last visit home, before his death.
Leona was terrified that others would notice and kept trying to avoid the young man's attentions. But he was persistent. As much as she tried to hide from him, he seemed to treat it as a game and was soon once more nearby with yet more sweet words dripping from his lips. At once flattered, embarrassed, and exasperated by the young man, she remained on edge the entire evening.
The next day found the golden Aleph at her door, under the pretense of checking to see if the widow's home needed any repairs. As she stammered and tried to find a way to persuade him to leave, he backed her into her home and shut the door. She protested and fluttered her hands, and he captured them in his and pressed a hot kiss to her palm. Leona's heart beat so hard in her chest she feared she may die on the spot.
But -- perhaps a little disappointingly -- he didn't press his advantage that day. Instead, to her great surprise, Aleph courted her. He brought her sweets, spent hours reading to her, even singing to her in a surprisingly strong voice. It was weeks before Leona even thought again about the dried poisonflower, but found she no longer had the desire to take the final sleep. While she knew nothing could possibly come of a romance between her and one young enough to be her own child, somehow, someway, young Aleph had wormed his way into her heart.
On her fiftieth birthday, her family appeared and presented her with a lovely meal and a wonderful time of gathering and socializing. She spent some time with her two young grandchildren in her garden, enjoying her continuing and growing family. It was a nice, sweet time and it saddened her to see them all leave near dusk.
Little did she know that her day was far from over. She had just risen from her bath when a noise alerted her. Quickly wrapping herself in a robe, she was about to seek out the source of the noise when she found Aleph standing at her bedroom door, a handful of wildflowers drooping in his grasp.
"By the gods, you are beautiful," he whispered.
