ELIJAH HELENUS | THE NOVA | CENTAURIAN | 30

On Centauri, you were born a star-weaver, one who can read the heavens and predict the future. Earth does not appreciate your talents nearly as much, but it won’t stop you from continuing your ancient practice. There is a great prophecy, one you’d read since you were small, one that tells of the end of an era. You aren’t supposed to mettle with the future you see, but for the sake of everyone else, tradition will be broken. 

BIOGRAPHY

What most humans don’t seem to understand— indeed what most other species besides the centaurians seem to dismiss— is that time is not linear. It is not a river that runs from one point to another. It is not a singular path in which the living are set upon, and to think so has always seemed incredibly arrogant to Elijah. Instead, time is like a chorus, crying out endlessly, and everything that is and ever will be are parts of the universal melody. Elijah has never known why anyone would prefer to deny this fact, why they would shut their eyes and plug their ears against the universe’s will and struggle uselessly against the current of time. They have a theory that it has to do with the dangerous self-importance that other species have such an overabundance of. Elijah can see it start to spread like a disease. The concept is catching among their own people until soon there will be none left who will listen to the universe when it sings.

This is why Elijah has come to Earth, even though the ache for home is a physical thing inside their chest. There is a prophesy that rings in their ears always, humming louder and louder as it’s time approaches and Elijah knows it will be the brightest thing the universe has ever revealed to them. It signals an ending, and usually that would not bother Elijah so much, because only a fool or a novice Starweaver thinks that endings do not come accompanied by new beginnings. But this one, this vision that was the first thing the universe ever showed them as a child, it might mean the ending of Elijah’s culture, their way of life, and it all starts on Earth. This is not something they can just let happen. There is too much that hangs in the balance. Too many lives.

The prophesy cannot be ignored, because when the universe speaks it will make itself heard, one way or another. Its voice echoes endlessly and reverberates through the bones of every living thing that shares its energy. That was Elijah’s first lesson as a Starweaver, told to them when they were only four years old by their mentor and caretaker, Priam Hecuba, a Starweaver who worked at the pleasure of the Chosen. At the time, Elijah was unable to recognize the weight of those words, or what they would mean, though as they grew and their ability as a Starweaver manifested just as Priam had predicted it would, Elijah found that nothing was as absolute and all-consuming as the universe’s will. They still remember the first time they’d realized that fate was something that hung around their shoulders like a shroud, a clinging shadow. It was when they’d first asked Priam why they did not live with their parents like most of the other children who had shown a knack for glimpsing the universe’s will at a young age.

Priam had replied that on the day of Elijah’s birth, she had a vision, one that compelled her to go to Elijah’s parents and explain that their child was meant for Starweaving and that she personally would like to oversee Elijah’s education. At the time, Elijah believed her, because she had never lied to him before, but Elijah would soon realize that there was a difference between lying and deliberately hiding parts of the truth. Only a few months later, while they lay half asleep in their bed, Elijah heard their father cough wetly, painfully, the sound ripped from his throat and coming from nowhere. It was then accompanied by a vision of their father, older and thinner, wasting away from disease. Elijah’s mother was absent from his side, but the bandana she often wore in her hair was wrapped tightly around his wrist like a talisman.

In all their time as Priam’s apprentice, this was the lesson that was hardest for Elijah to learn: Not everything that the universe shares can be changed, and not everything is set in stone. The true talent of Starweaving is being able to tell the difference between the two. And here on Earth, the line that is drawn down the middle is more blurred than ever.

CONNECTIONS

THE KELVIN: Something hangs in the balance with them, they are a potential catalyst for greatness and ruin. Your not certain they’re the center of your apocalyptic vision, but it seems more and more likely by the day. They don’t seem to believe you, but their actions speak louder than their words. If it’s advice they want, you’ll freely give it. To save the worlds, you’ll give them everything. 

THE HOLO: It is tradition for the picked heir to seek the guidance of a star-weaver, but they seem completely uninterested in what you have to say. You thought quiet meant thoughtfulness, but with them it means contempt. They’re planning something, they must be, and it can’t be good. 

THE SILICATE: Your cousin has always been interesting, clearly filled with contempt for all those who remind them of their lost sibling. You’ve never wanted to glimpse the future of a family member, but the universe won’t let you be. It’s not good, it’s tragic in fact, and you can’t tell them what you see. Ever.

THE NOVA IS PORTRAYED BY EKA DARVILLE AND IS CLOSED

ENIF CARINA | THE NEBULA | LUYTAN | 28

They may call you Luytan, but centuries of separation from your so-called home planet have made any comparison seem nonsensical. You are human through and through, even if other humans have rejected you before and Luytan’s look down at you with shame for trying to buy into their game. You’re determined— there will be peace on earth, even if you have to preach like a heretic your entire life. 

BIOGRAPHY

“Do you want to go to Earth?”

“Yeah!”

“Then let’s go to Earth.”

Though by 2030s, a large number of Luytans had already moved to Earth, Corvus and Lynx stayed on their home planet. It was where they grew up, where they met, where they loved and they were happy with having it be where they raised their little girl. And Enif in turn as a kid was simply satisfied with the twilight beauty, the tight knit community and her fathers. But alas, curiosity always gets the better of them, when there’s so much more out there in the world, how could anyone not want to know? When Enif was 4, Corvus took the chance and left for Earth, searching for what more it could offer his family, while Lynx took care of their daughter. Their rose tinted excitement was almost radiating, as her father regaled fascinating tales of Earth and the baby blue sky and lush green nature that resided there. Stories of the humans were like Enif’s bedtime stories and the little Luytan can’t help but be entranced by that species. Sometimes they sounded too good to be true. Nonetheless there was that want and need, to go to Earth. Her fathers sat her down to talk things through, but it’s obvious what she wanted, and they did too. So by the time she was 6, Lynx and Enif packed up everything they had, which wasn’t much, and left for Earth without looking back.

As their family reunited, there was that initial glow to being there, if only things could stay that way. Enif loved the humans. She wanted to learn everything about them, be like them. The humans had a saying, when in Rome do as the Romans do, an interesting saying. And wherever Rome was, Enif definitely wanted to visit. But it wasn’t easy finding a school for her, when she insists on going to a human school. She was too smart, too fast for their curriculum. She started dressing like the humans, making intentional mistakes in her work, but she still stood out. Many were curious and always asking questions about her but not many wanted to be friends with an alien.

She tried the best that a little girl could to hold it together, but if there was anything to show how much more human than Luytan she was, it was her in the corner of an empty classroom for lunch, trying to push back the tears welling up in her eyes. This wasn’t how she imagined Earth. Her father told her how beautiful it was, and she thought it’s people would’ve been just as beautiful.

Then someone came in. Someone in her class. They simply sat down in front of her and pulled out their own lunch and began eating. Greeting Enif with the brightest, warmest smile she’s ever seen. No weird alien questions, no condescending remarks, no critical facial expressions, just a quiet lunch. And suddenly it didn’t seem that bad anymore. They begun spending more time together, outside of school, they’d show her all the fascinating human things and culture, she took every chance she could to learn and understand. They were the one to help Enif believe in the beauty of Earth and its people again. She continued with school but at home her fathers would teach her the proper curriculum for her potential. Sure she didn’t learn much academically in school but socially, she wouldn’t have exchanged it for the world.

Her new best friend started to bring her pictures to show her the things her eyes couldn’t see, the midday beauty, the dark night sky and the city lights, it was more than what she could imagine. Enif began to pick up the camera, recording everything new to show her fathers, letting the lens be her eyes. College rolled around and it was better, there were more Luytans around but somehow Enif felt much more comfortable around humans. There would always be stares, from the humans of this stranger that did not belong and from the Luytans of this girl that betrayed their people. But the people around her made it worth living with it, people who accepted her for who she was - human. When school was done and work took over, her fathers were right, skills over mount a lot of things. She took up the job offer of camera operator, having her own set of pupils that’ll dilate however she wanted. And with that she could help create entertainment, do news, and show others the beauty that she sees in this place and its people that Enif sees as home.

CONNECTIONS

THE AJAX: An odd couple perhaps, considering they’re fire and fight, but you’ve never had a closer friend. You’re human to them, human enough, which is all you’ve ever asked for from your peers around you. You value them so much, you’re often willing to overlook their descent in to illegal exploits 

THE ASTREA: Bowing down to any royalty, Luytan or not, has never been your forte. It seems fit that they should hate you, unwilling to bend to their will. They see you as a sort of traitor to your species, you see them as a snotty brat. Now, only if you could avoid them. 

THE WORMHOLE: A movement solo seemed idiotic, until they came along and said their was a group for people just like you. It’s small, it’s dangerous, even the General Assembly sees it as a terror cell. You see their ideals shine through like starlight, and it’s exciting to be a member. 

ADONIS PETYR | THE HOLO | CENTAURIAN | 26

You were chosen by the Centuarian people, albeit from a roster of few, but chosen nonetheless. Succeeding Luther should be child’s play, your ambitions large and hard to sate. You’ve developed a persona of sorts, the quiet one, thoughtful and diligent in their work. Truthfully, you plan to take Earth for yourself, maybe the other planets as well. Your rule has no bounds and everyone is for the taking. 

BIOGRAPHY

Your life is not your own. It is the first lesson you learn.

You were something made to propel everyone else into the great unknowns of the future, bringing about altruistic change to the world that you’d grown up on. You were to be of great importance, your parents said, a child whose destiny was to be part of something that could give rise to a new age that would tip the fates of many. You were the promise of a Starweaver to your parents, and you were going to deliver on that, whether you liked it or not.

You learned the cost of a new world early on–an assemblage of teachers, of tutors and groomers that would make you into a Chosen that the people deserved, that Proxima deserved. They built you up and stripped you down in to be who they wanted you to be. The golden child, the savior, the foothold in politics, and when they were done, they marveled at who you were, a child scrubbed clean of his identity. After that, the dream soured into a nightmare, making it feel like servitude–forced indenture, rather than a choice you would have gladly made for yourself. But you smile, and grin, and bear it because there is no other choice to make.

At least, for now.

Like Atlas, you bore the weight of everything on your shoulders, of a destiny from a Starweaver, of the pressure from your parents to run and be the Chosen, even the people who never met you, but expected you to save them from themselves even though you wanted nothing more than to be one of the men who waited for deliverance. It was tiring, walking up to people and putting on facade after facade, only having moments to discard it and resent ever having to put a mask on before walking around and shaking hands and answering questions once more.

You felt the cracks on your face, on the carefully manufactured visage that they had constructed for yourself, weathered and worn, until the bubbling from the inside had to be released somehow, for fear you would burst from the sheer pressure. Haunting bars, haunting people in the dark of night was one of the only ways you could maintain everything thrown at you, shore up the supports for the cracks in your foundation. It was intoxicating, to say the least, always coming back for more under another name and another guise just to relax and live a life that seemed better than yours.

As the years leading up to the election went by, resentment grew and blackened within your heart because you were–you are more than what they made you to be, an obedient puppet, serving the whims of the people that you should so dearly think of. But in your bones, you knew that you were never meant to bend the knee or serve the masses, but to rule over them with sweet words and a sweeter tongue.

( You remember winning by a mere thousand votes–crocodile tears on the stand, hugging your opponent as a show of good faith, and you deliver your speech with the hammering of your heart inside your chest. It is good, you think, to show them emotion while you still have your plan in the works. Win their hearts over and they will bow down and smile when they do it.

And for a second, you feel yourself again, show through the cracks–even just for a while. )

Playing Luther’s protege did take some getting used to, the new impositions and rules chafing into your skin as if they were chaining you to the floor, but you managed to pull through, enjoying the little diplomatic acts that they had done for themselves on a regular basis. You were going to be in it for the long haul, you thought, as every board meeting, every public appearance, ever last one of Luther’s missions to some backwater place had to make you think of what to do when he was going to step down.

But this time, you control the moves you were going to set into place, the pace you were going to go, and you feel yourself return to something greater, something meant to wear a crown and preside over the masses. You smile and nod to the public as your mentor watches you at your periphery, a subtle glance, as if he hears the whispers of those in power and believes them. ( For a petty old fool, he knows how to listen, you’ll give him that. )

Though you watch as he self-destructs before you, his impartial leanings towards the masses making them walk into his arms every second he gets up on that pulpit, or consults with a foreign leader, and you barely have to lift a finger. You watch and laugh in private, for Luther was an age long past, and you are the harbinger of a brighter future.

( Once, you asked a Starweaver under cover of night, in cloak and hood, if what you wanted was going to come true. They smiled at you, a tense smile, full of nervousness and worry, and told you that if he was going to let himself be what they wanted to be, it would. If he was going to.

But if recent events have shown you, that’s not really a question for you anymore. Not really.

And with Luther, it wasn’t ever a question of if you would take the helm anymore—it was a question of when. )

CONNECTIONS

THE EON: An elder of Tau is an interesting perspective to hear and they seem most eager to share their knowledge. Their own royal clearly lacking, they’ve turned to your ear instead. You might only be pretending to care, but they seem enamored either way. You’ve so perfectly fooled them, it’s almost humorous. 

THE ZENITH: Your guard knows more about you than you’d like, knows your true aim in life. You’d cut them out in an instant, if it wasn’t for the role you have to play to stay in power. Betrayal from them is right around the corner, you can feel it, so all you can do is play the part of the victim. It’s worked for everything else in your life, after all. 

THE NOVA: In the past, leaders have looked to star-weavers for guidance, to find the right path, but it’s unnecessary for your reign. They seem to know they’ve been cast aside, but don’t seem willingly to act upon it. That’s fine with you, it just makes your rise to power easier.

KALAIS VITERI | THE HEXADECIMAL | TAU CETIAN (E) | 30

Always watching, always listening, you hide in plain sight with your discreet and unassuming personality. You have enough dirt saved up to make a hefty sum in blackmail, but the prospect just doesn’t interest you at the moment. You’ll see as all this unfolds, but for now you stay out of the way, simply watching and waiting. 

BIOGRAPHY

It starts at the earliest memory. The soft song sung by their mother. So gentle in nature that it soothes the little one quickly. A scent coming through a window. A flower in bloom that would forever be associated with the one that held them. Over all of the years, they would look to their first memory burned into their mind with a gentle smile. A muted moment that would always find space in them. It set the tone for the early years of their life. Parents with soft words and encouraging smiles that said more than anything voices could. In the chaos the world became around them it would be a center to focus on.

In the year 2030 Viteri Kalais was born. A small little thing that came into the world. So silent it left their parents quaking that perhaps they wouldn’t get to keep the little one. There was nothing to fear. Their cries were muted when they finally opened their lips. Soft little things that were more like a mew than a scream. That would be their way. Soft sounds with a near purr like quality when it came to happiness. Never boisterous or loud. An easy little thing but it was their wide eyes watching that they noticed most. Dark eyes that seemed to take every tiny detail in. Of course it was the nature of their people to pay attention to things around them but Kalais’ hushed nature seemed to add to that fact. A little one made of details.

As they aged, Kalais stayed quiet. Whenever they did speak they tended to be low soft tones. More often than not an observation that could be nearly cruel in its honesty. Their parents found it refreshing. Someone that wasn’t afraid to speak their mind but in the world they lived in it was dangerous. Their family standing wasn’t the highest. Neither from a class of true note. The dirt under their nails spoke volumes. But it seemed they need not worry for their little one. Kalais wouldn’t speak to those their age and if they did there were little words and more facial movement. There was obvious dirt under their nails too. Still, in the quiet of the Viteri home, they fostered that nature. Parental words softening to suit their little one’s nature. It had taken years to have a child and they cherished every little quirk.

The quiet home was a sanctuary for the things happening around them. The people were changing. The way their world worked was changing and in their opinion it was none for the better. Maybe it was Kalais that helped them see it. Their low tones of how it was changing the other little ones around them. Maybe it was the things they saw happening to people they knew. It was no longer the world they had grew up in when they were young. Instead the government began to lead with an iron fist. The sort of fist the strangled people like them. Hand so tight around the lower stations throats they could barely breathe. Perhaps it was that that got them interested in politics.

Kalais noticed the change. They watched while their parents got involved in silent movements. A little over twelve, they saw them move about in the quiet nights. Whispered words of wanting a better future. Wanting to make the world safe again. Safe for them. In the moment, the memory would slip away in the night. Waking them to a world where their parents looked at them like they were the shimmering stars that hung around their planet. It would take weeks for the memory to settle, for it to explain certain behaviors they had noted since the change. Somewhere in Kalais’ mind they agreed with the change. The government above them, people around them, they were all dangerous in more ways than one. Maybe change was good. Maybe their parents were right.

Movements are only natural when things around people change for the worst. A part of them understood that but it would take days for their mind to add that there are consequences to those movements. People don’t always come back from their night time jaunts. They don’t always make it home for breakfast or to kiss someone on the forehead when they wake. There isn’t a soul to ease a phantom ache when the person can’t remember for a split second that the people they are waiting for will never be home again. Kalais was fifteen when there was that hole in their chest. Something like jagged edges gaping in such a way they can’t fix it. Another memory that would stick forever in their mind. The morning they would wake expecting to see them but seeing no one but themselves in a small home that wasn’t home. It was surprising what happened to someone that was connected to political activists.

When Kalais was twenty and looked back on it, they realized they were lucky. Death could have been the answer. Instead they continued to live their quiet life. Difference was that no one was there to listen to soft words when they were finally spoken after days. No, Kalais walked among people they knew more about than they perhaps knew about themselves. The little ways they moved to protect their belongings. Silent shifts in body language others of their kind would notice but were so caught up in their own thoughts at times they didn’t pay attention to. So, they made themselves small. It had become the normal for them. The first few years without their parents had been difficult. There had been others that disappeared and it seemed like the whole planet knew. Kalais hated whispered stares. They loathed silent curiosity. Kalais hated how they saw them. Which of course meant they would rather not be seen.

Kalais’ quiet nature made it easy to move into the background of all things. Slowly people forget one or two details about them. They would never forget that people never made it home to their families but when they forgot their face, it made them breathe a little easier. It made their silence more natural rather than forced. The things they saw. The things they knew were always on the tip of their tongue but there was danger in truth. There was pain in truth. Kalais knew that pain. They never wanted more memories of it lingering in their mind for when they got older. For years it was the same but the whispers of change where among them once more, but different. Technology of change. Change that offered opportunities. New planets to find that weren’t right next door. More options. More resources. There were a million reasons their government was interested but there was only one reason for them.

Home.

The world they lived in was no longer that. Just echoes of what they wanted splatter with the paint of lies Kalais had to hear. It was the sort of change they could get behind. A sort of change that wouldn’t mean they wouldn’t make it home one night. There was no one to go home to but it never changed the ringing silence in their ears. It was the one time in their life when they made sure to be in the right places at the right time. They weren’t of the higher houses or names. Kalais had to be tricky with how they got to the new world that was being offered. Time was all they needed. They didn’t have to be to persuasive or underhanded. Their worth was easy to gauge, their skills at blending in were natural. So natural even their own people let them through without so much as a second glance.

Maybe they should have been worried about how easy it had been. There was a part of them that wondered what it was like to be seen. Still they soothed their murmured worries and found a new planet. The arid wind of Roswell left their skin feeling warm and their eyes wide. Kalais could taste their new type of freedom on their tongue. Taking the family name and shoving it behind their given name was a breath of fresh air. Their people weren’t the first extraterrestrials to land on Earth and maybe they wouldn’t be the last. It took some time for their mind to acclimate to the change but once they did they knew there was a chance to finally have a home of their own once again.

Of course Kalais should have known problems didn’t go away with a change of scenery. Those issues came with people. People from various planets with various motives were wild and free among the ones of earth. They should have seen it coming. The whispers among people like them and those native to the planet. Still they listened. They watched. They noticed every little detail but if there was one thing they remembered, that vivid component etched in their mind, was how people wouldn’t come home the moment they got involved in such things as the change a government can bring. Kalais had finally found a home again. They didn’t want to lose it just as quickly.

CONNECTIONS

THE PULSAR: Since arriving, you’re found an interesting friendship with the doe-eyed Centaurian, head over heals for a mere human when there are a fair number of their own species to pick. Despite your differences, they’ve found a way to get you to speak, even if you’re kicking and screaming the whole way. 

THE VIRUS: Their previous misdeeds are well documented in your memories, so you have no doubt that whatever they’re pulling now is similarly duplicitous. There is a pang in your heart when you look at their so called significant other, but it isn’t enough to move you to say anything. Maybe, when the tides change, their secret won’t be so safe with you. 

THE QUARK: Your human counterpart of sorts, a watcher in their own right. You’ve been around longer than them, so you feel it is a bit of your duty to pass some of your knowledge down to them. They get you thinking about larger things, bigger than yourself, creating a plan so that they’re formed from birth. It’s strange, but you’ll indulge their inane ideals. For now.

GABRIEL ASTOR |THE TESSERACT | LUYTAN | 22

Your loyalty is your greatest strength, once a duty has been assigned to you there’s little to stop you from accomplishing it. You thought you were racking up favors, points to buy your way out of a royal family you have little interest supporting. Instead you became the perfect pick for a suitor, and this is the one duty you can turn away from. 

BIOGRAPHY

Like many of the upper class Luytan families, the Astors moved to Earth when their own planet became too warm for comfort. Traditionalists at heart, integration into Earth’s culture wasn’t their primary concern. They were a young couple at the time of their move, but already well positioned within the sphere of politics due to their heritage. Gabriel never knew his birth parents, but to the Luytan, it wasn’t blood that made family. The Astors adopted him at a young age and raised him as their own, making him the first child and the heir to their legacy. Gabriel’s mothers took him in and treated him with a fierce sort of love, but not one that was devoid of expectation.

It was a heavy weight to put on him, but he carried it with vigor. He committed himself to his studies and did whatever was expected of him. His mothers loved him unconditionally, but that never changed the fact he always felt he had to earn his place in their household. Privilege had been simply handed to him, and he considered it his duty be the epitome of everything he was supposed to be. The perfect son, the perfect Luytan; Gabriel spent his life crushing himself to fit the expectations of others. And high expectations they were, with his family having been guards for the major royal family for generations. It didn’t matter if Gabriel wanted the career or not, it was simply the one assigned to him since birth. He had a duty to his species, one he always intended to fulfill, no matter the cost. His mothers taught him to be loyal, to live his life honorably, and he always took that lesson to heart. Part of that was serving the rightful Luytan heir in anyway that was required of him, even if his own dreams always veered more academic.

It took him until the end of his schooling to realize how much the path he was on differed from his own aspirations. Conceptually, he supported the major ruling Luytan family, and the heir. But in practice, he couldn’t always bring himself to actually like them. He never showed his distaste for his position, or the heir, instead accepting it as unchangeable. The thought of abandoning his duties never even crossed Gabriel’s mind, it would go against every single ideal Gabriel held dear. Personal feelings meant nothing in the face of duty.

That was at least, until they became part of his duty. The arrangement wasn’t a shocking one to everyone except for Gabriel. He was the perfect candidate: loyal to his people and the throne, intelligent, and he had succeeded in every task handed to him thus far. To the Luytan nobles, it seemed an arrangement borne out of common sense, but Gabriel had been raised on Earth. He had lived amongst humans and other species as well as his own kind, and had assimilated in ways his parents never wanted him to. Love came second to obligation in Luytan marriage, especially among the nobles. Love was something he already had, though he had never dared to speak his feelings aloud. He had always thought there would be a chance, at some point in the future, but then once again, the rest of his life was chosen for him, and he was obligated to follow the path because it was what was best for his people.

There was nothing to do but suck it up, tolerate the engagement and just accept the hand he was dealt with. He’d give his life for the monarchy easily, if it was required of him, but somehow the task ahead of him seemed even more daunting than that prospect. The most he can do is put it off, hoping alternate solutions might present themselves. There’s the talk of rebellion, of course, whisperings from [THE ZENITH] of an overhaul of the old leadership. With that plan, Gabriel can almost taste his freedom. But it would require not only betraying those close to him, but also everything he has ever stood for.

Freedom will just be something he’ll have to learn to live without.

CONNECTIONS

THE ASTREA: Duty bound, you’re the knight to their king. They are the most important piece the Luytan people have and you’re obligated to do more than just protect them. You’ve been groomed to be their spouse, a merging of two noble families. You feign moderate interest, when the truth is you two couldn’t be more polar opposites. You bite your tongue, suck it up, even if your heart belongs to someone else. 

THE SCHRÖDINGER: You’ve been friends for as long as the both of you can remember, not that anyone else would know. From late night text conversations to hazy summer days curled up in front of a computer, they’re always their for you when you need a shoulder or a laugh. There’s something that stirs in your chest every time you hold their hand, from the bottom of your heart you wish you didn’t have to hide.

THE ZENITH: You have stricken up a kinship of sorts, both knights for monarchies neither of you have particularly warm feelings for. They talk about their links to a rebellion, a set of intermixed extraterrestrials set on breaking free of human oppression and the proxy alien leaders. You want to join them, taste the freedom that’s so tantalizingly close. But you’d have betray the one who means most to you and it leaves you wondering if it’s all worth it.