She came back to me. I came in from the workshop feeling like half a person and there was Nadia, dripping rainwater on the floor and wearing my glass and telling me she loved me right in front of my mother. It was strange, because right then, without me having to do anything, I was a whole person again. I don’t know why, or what I did to deserve it. I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve it. Or her. But it happened, anyway. And I couldn’t argue even if I wanted to, because it’s right, and we both know it. I don’t know why that is, either. It just is. Like mountains and purple sky and a room of machines I will never understand. Facts.
It’s also a fact that if we can’t stop this, I’m going to go right back to being half a person again, and I think so will she. Will I be able to feel my missing pieces if I forget her, even if I don’t remember why they’re gone? I have twenty-four days not to find out.
I’ll do what it takes to fix this. We’ll steal the book. We’ll figure out the machines. We’ll find a way. Janis can’t have her. The Forgetting can’t have her. Because I choose her.
I choose Nadia the Dyer’s Daughter.
Now it’s written and I’ve pushed so hard on the pen the ink is soaking through the paper. It can’t be unwritten, and I will not mark it out. Even if in twenty-four days, I don’t remember why I wrote it.
Gray the Glassblower’s son
Book 18, page 115