12 — The AttemptDaelus sat on the bed while I sank into my corner seat. We were in my apartment. I rarely brought Daelus here–this space was mine and it felt odd to have him here–but tonight I felt like I needed him close by. It would make it easier.

  There was a window near me. The view remained nothing to speak of–just a sea of bricks. I normally kept it closed to block out the sounds and smells of the city, but it was raining tonight. I liked the sound and smell of rain.How long had I been doing this? Time was growing blurry for me. It had been more than a year since that first day at the museum, or had it been six months? A calendar would tell me, but at this moment all that seemed to matter was it had been a bit.

  I was thumbing through the worn, dog-eared and torn notebook that had once belonged to Randall. It was a detailed recounting of his process with Jaegré. My banned book. I had devoured it. Memorized it. All of the techniques developed over years were second nature to me now. But the book was empty. It was clinical. There was no feeling to it. As much as it taught me, there was nothing here about how Randall felt about Jaegré. What was their actual retionship? Maybe he felt it was too private. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he didn't care.

  And yet, Jaegré continued to exist after the death–the murder–of his delegate. Had the entourage somehow emergently manifested a consciousness and will of his own? Did something else happen that I couldn't yet conceive?

  I tossed the book back into my single uneven, wooden table. It was probably going to colpse at any moment from the stacks of binders I brought home with me from the museum. I often brought my work home.

  I looked at Daelus. As him, I looked back at myself. Our eyes met, locked together.

  What if we just… tried it. What if it had never been done before but it still could be.

  The idea was so simple in my head. It was crystal clear. I knew exactly how to un-be myself and fully transfer my consciousness back into Daelus. It was an effort as simple as closing my eyes. Why not, then, the other direction?

  He'd pop out of existence just as I would when he turned me off. Then there'd be just me. Only me. Only Sheam.

  I got out of my chair and sat down on the bed close beside him. As him I leaned close to me. I put an arm around him, and as him I put an arm around myself. Our heads touched. I held myself close and I held myself closer still.

  I thought. I willed it. I focused on the intention. At any moment he'd just disappear and I'd be left alone on my bed, in my ft, just me.

  I was afraid.

  What if in the moment he vanished whatever it was that made me real vanished with him. What if in wishing for this I unmade myself. What if it was impossible. It was impossible. I was losing my mind. It was just a foolish dream.

  We ended our embrace. I had him get up.

  Daelus looked back at Sheam, sitting there on the bed. But even as he looked, the two of them could not make eye contact. He wouldn't let himself. Something inside him ached. It was a feeling that filled his entire self. His skin tingled with it. His head turned. It was unbearable.

  With a thought, she de-manifested. The impression her weight left on the bed took an instant to fill back in. It was like she had never been there at all.

  Daelus locked up, and began his journey back to his estate.

  He'd be her again tomorrow.