SCENE 2: DESCENT
— or —
The thorn; the forever list; and the first to fall.

KERENSA MORIN'S PARENTS were out of town, as they were most days of the year. The five had climbed out through her third story window and onto the roof of her family's suburban home - a colonial house with a white exterior and a slanted rooftop. There they sat on the tiles and watched - Harlow, Jean, Kerensa, Tallis, Rhodes, all lined up, watching over their small forested town. There was a storm raging in the distance, and every now and then lightning would stab down at the earth, a flaming sword sent from the heavens.

Kerensa felt the show was meant for them; the storm, timed perfectly with their escape to her roof, was too far away to have any affect, but just close enough to enjoy. She liked to think it was timefire, communicating through nature, whispering, I heard you. The burnt circle of flesh on her palm felt sore once more, tingling with inexplicable heat.

Beside her Tallis leant back against the roof and stared up at the darkening sky. The sun had set and faint stars lit up in the gaps between the clouds. "When it's all over," he said, unusually pensive, "who will live?"

The gang was silent. Tallis Sandoval wasn't one for depth of thought. He skimmed on the surface of life, never diving too deeply, never considering consequences. When confronted with the depth of his world, he adopted a joking, almost sociopathic identity. Mr and Mrs Sandoval were the same - a whole family of shallow, uncaring beings, laughing at their televisions, laughing at their neighbours, laughing at their friends.

A question like that, coming from Tallis, was a miracle of a thing. The whole universe seemed to pause for a moment, the spinning of the earth rendered stagnant as it reeled in shock.

"Because we have to decide, don't we? We have the formula. We choose who receives it."

"The whole world?" Jean suggested.

Tallis snorted, his thoughtful quota for the day apparently over. "Fuck that. Morons don't deserve to live forever. They're a waste of space."

"We should make a list," Kerensa decided. She crawled back down into her room and returned with pencil and paper. Seated between them, she wrote down their names. Kerensa Morin. Tallis Sandoval. Jean Noel. Harlow Whitfield. Rhodes. Then she paused. "Matthew?"

Rhodes spoke first. "Not Matthew."

"Not Matthew," Kerensa noted, tapping the pencil on the page. "Lily Marquet?"

"Obviously."

"Add Ben Hendriks, too." This was Harlow, speaking up for the first time. None of the others particularly liked Ben; he was too nice, too moral. Tallis (behind Harlow's back, of course) had frequently used the "stick up his ass" analogy. But in this moment, none were courageous enough to deny Harlow's latest fling.

They finished with a round list of ten names, the final name on the list belonging to Sara Kohli because everyone agreed (mainly just Tallis) that she was too hot to grow old. Kerensa stared down at her handiwork and sighed. "This is who we're going to spend eternity with."

The world had grown darker. Twilight was melting into night. The storm was blowing farther away. It was just them and their little town, fading into insignificance with every second spent considering the consequences of immortality.

"They're so small," Harlow said, and everyone knew what he meant - they had all been thinking the same thing. "Insignificant. Forgettable."

"So are we," Kerensa thought to mention, but it didn't feel like it anymore. Not now that they had the formula in their grasp.

"Not for long," Rhodes replied.

Kerensa tilted her head back and looked at the stars. They had lived for millions of years. They would live for millions more.

"Immortality is power," she whispered. At last she knew what Rhodes had never spoken aloud; the secret he had never shared. The world would come for them. It would chase them with pitchforks. It would burn them at the stake.

It would devour them alive.

— : —

SOMETIME LATER, UNDER the cover of darkness, the quintet crawled down off the roof and headed downstairs to Kerensa's front door. They had class tomorrow, and as mundane and inconsequential as it all seemed, they still wanted to do well. Immortal or not, knowledge took focus and a good night's sleep to acquire. But before Kerensa could reach for the handle, there was a knock at the door. Instantly the group went dead-still.

"I thought you said your parents weren't getting back until next week," Tallis whispered, his tone demanding and outraged - and underneath it all, afraid.

Kerensa looked back at him, dark eyes flashing with warning. Her gaze was like a knife, pinning Tallis to the spot. She didn't take well to insults. "They are."

"Then who is it?"

She looked one second away from slitting his throat and tossing his body into a lake. "How am I supposed to know?"

The knock came again, louder and more demanding. "Screw this," Rhodes said, and threw open the door.

The five of them froze as the figure, silhouetted by moonlight, was revealed. The moon was framed in the doorway, and as they looked out it lit up their skin, made ghosts of their faces, transformed the group into a herd of deer caught in headlights. They recognised the shape of the person on the doorstep, the stance, the eyes that seemed to slice through the darkness and right through them, towards the piece of paper folded in Kerensa's hand that held a list of ten names, and burned with the absence of one.

The newcomer spoke. "What are all of you doing here?"

Kerensa realised, in that moment, the mistake she had made. It was a Wednesday. Which meant is was study night. With Matthew.

The question was rather devoid of any accusation - it held mostly curiosity and confusion - but Kerensa felt accused. She felt caught out and guilty. The piece of paper in her hand crumpled as she tightened her grip.

A lie. They needed a lie - and a good one. Matthew Godard had an ear for lies and half-truths, maybe because he was told them so often.

Harlow sensed the need that hung in the air and, to the relief of the other four, spoke up. "To collect Kerensa's notes, of course, why else?" Delivered with Harlow's signature blank face, the lie would be tricky to pick. Especially considering that they did indeed collect Kerensa's study notes every exam season.

Matthew looked instantly down at their empty hands. Kerensa knew what was needed next. "Would you all like something to drink while I grab them? Feel free to wait in the lounge."

As a heard, they obeyed and moved into the adjacent room. Matthew looked suspicious, but also unsure as he crossed the threshold into the house. It was as though he did not know what he suspected them of - or if he did at all.

Kerensa left them and ran lightly up the stairs. She had her notes printed out and stapled in clumps, simply waiting around on her desk for someone to want them. Every season before exams, people flocked to her in hoards. She was well-known for her brilliance at organising and simplifying a course into one little bundle of A-grade-producing pages. She had considered emailing them to people - if only to save time printing and act like she gave a damn about saving trees - but knew she couldn't control where they ended up. And Kerensa quite enjoyed handing them out to those she liked, rejecting the requests of those she didn't and watching the drama that ensued as people flaunted her notes in the faces of the unfortunate. In their small town, it was almost like a medal of honour.

She grabbed a stack of four and headed back downstairs.

The lounge room was tense and silent when she returned. Everyone sat on couches and arm chairs, not speaking, eyes anywhere but Matthew. Rhodes had leant forward, hands clasped together as he looked down at the fur rug. His right leg bounced anxiously and inexorably.

"Here they are," Kerensa announced, and dropped them onto the central coffee table. Rhodes got up instantly and grabbed one, holding it up in silent thanks as he passed her by. A second later, he was out the door. Everyone else went next; Jean, Tallis, Harlow, accepting the notes and speeding out of Kerensa's tense home. She was left to deal with Matthew alone.

"Come on, we'll study upstairs," she said. Matthew nodded and followed her up. In her room she pulled a textbook off the shelf and started gathering her study supplies. Matthew was silent behind her, but she could feel his eyes like two hot coals against her flesh of her back. "So, you cool to start with ancient history?"

"Why were they here?"

Kerensa turned around, shooting him a look that brought his sanity into question. "We told you. Collecting study notes."

"Jean already has your study notes. You gave them to her last week."

"No I didn't. What are you talking about, Matthew?" She hadn't missed a beat, but neither had he been convinced.

"This is about the other night, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The ritual." As if Kerensa needed further explanation, he held up his palm, blistered pink flesh facing outwards. Her own burn was by now a neat little scab. Matthew clearly didn't know how to play well with fire.

"If you think we're angry at you for storming out, you're wrong. We aren't. I invited everyone over to collect my study notes before I start handing them out next week. The only reason I didn't call you was because I knew you were already coming over." She picked up a bundle of notes off the desk and extended it to him, as much an offer borne of courtesy as one of reconciliation. "Here."

Matthew looked down at the extended study notes, clearly considering whether or not to accept. Then his eyes skipped past them, to something on Kerensa's desk. "What's that?" he asked, eyes suddenly turning two shades darker.

Kerensa frowned and looked behind her. It took her a moment to see it, but when she did, the colour drained from her face. The piece of paper she had been gripping so tightly earlier was now sitting slightly crumpled but face-up on her desk. The list of names stood out harshly on the exposed page, the letters themselves seeming to slice at her vision. She must have put it down when collecting the study notes for everyone. And now she'd led Matthew straight to it. She may as well have presented it to him on a silver platter.

"What is that?" he repeated, voice rising, buzzing with anger. He strode over and ripped the page from the desk. Kerensa held her breath. "Kerensa Morin," he read. "Tallis Sandoval. Jean Noel, Harlow-" His eyes flicked back and forth as he scanned the rest of the page. "Where's my name?"

"Matthew-" Kerensa began, but he cut her off.

"Everyone's on here. Lily Marquet, Sara Kohli. Bloody Ben Hendriks. Ben Hendriks! Why the hell is dick lover on this list and I'm not? Why am I not on this list?!"

"Please, if you just calm down, I can explain."

"This is about the ritual!"

"Yes!" she barked, exploding with sudden anger, "It is. What did you think would happen? You disrespected timefire. You called our circle a cult. And then you walked out on us, making it damn clear that you wanted no part."

"So you left me off the forever list?!"

"Oh no. You don't get to punish us for this. You want eternal life? Fine. Come crawling back, plead for forgiveness, we'll consider it. But you don't get to play both sides. You can't disrespect timefire and then beg for it's help in the same breath."

Matthew's whiney voice suddenly dropped, rolling low like thunder. "Says who?"

If Kerensa were anyone else, she would be afraid. Matthew, as pathetic and weak-willed as he was, could be an imposing figure if he so desired. He was a full head taller than her, and twice as wide. And the threat in his tone was hardly concealed. But she was Kerensa Morin, girl of thorns. No one even got close to hurting her without spilling blood.

"Says us," she replied firmly.

"And what would happen," he said, "if by complete accident, the immortality formula was leaked, say, to our peers? To the general public? Would your little cult still be calling the shots then? I doubt it."

Kerensa shook her head, almost laughing at the idea. "You wouldn't. You don't have it in you to-"

"To...? To what? To ruin the schemes of a sociopathic cult via exposé? What was that derogatory nickname everyone used for me years ago? Oh, that's right - Matt the rat."

Kerensa had to admit - it sounded awfully similar to things he had done in the past. Matthew Godard was a coward and a snitch, through and through. He crawled back to the law every time things got tough, ratting out his peers, his friends - even his family. But this? He couldn't do this.

Kerensa took a breath and said, voice low, "To murder us."

Because that's what it was, wasn't it? Take away someone's chance at eternal life and you condemn them to eventual death. You kill them, right there and then.

Matthew had no answer for that.

"What exactly do you think you're going to achieve, Matthew? If you spread this formula - or even let loose word of it's existence - there's no way any of us will be able to use it. It'll create chaos. It'll bring the worst of this town - of this world - to our very doorstep. Even if we did manage to use it, we'd be hunted for the rest of our lives - which, by the way, wouldn't be very long. Because timefire may protect against death, but it doesn't protect against people. We'd be dead before we even got the chance to live."

Matthew was silent for a long while, staring at her. She couldn't read his face, though she suspected he was on the brink of acquiescing. But when he finally did say something, it wasn't the words she expected to hear.

"So be it."

She almost flinched. "I'm sorry?"

"I'd rather die right now then let you five live forever."

There was a long, tense silence. Then Kerensa felt something dark eclipse her soul. "So be it," she said. This was her threat.

Matthew, suddenly remembering himself - and who he was dealing with - turned pale as ash. But he still had the list of names in his hand, and he wasn't letting it go. "If this - if this is what the formula does to people, I don't think anyone should have it," he stuttered, his head shaking back and forth like his body was recoiling against the situation, against his very words.

"Who are you to judge me?" Kerensa said, the sound snaking out between her teeth. "Matthew Godard, the kid who ratted on his own parents because he was afraid. When things get tough, you run like the coward you are. You're weak." As she spoke, she began slowly circling him. She was a predator sizing up it's prey. "I can't think of a single time anyone honestly enjoyed your presence. You spoil every room you enter. People tune you out every time you open your mouth. You're so filled with bullshit you can smell it from the other end of town. You have no loyalty, no respect, no dignity. You're a greasy, impotent piece of trash, and you know it." Up until this point, all her remarks had been insulting, but nothing was designed to cut deeper than her final words. "It's no wonder Jean argued passionately against your addition to the list," she spat. "Why would she ever want to spend eternity with you?"

And that had done it.

"Jean - Jean said that?" he stuttered. "She doesn't want..."

"No," Kerensa said nastily. "And she never will."

Matthew had no ability to cut back at Kerensa, yet here he was, a filthy animal trapped in a corner, with nothing to do but lash out. "You're a bitch."

"Creative."

"No, I mean it. You're a malevolent, sociopathic bitch. Tallis is a jerk, Rhodes is delusional, Harlow's a literal psychopath. Even Jean is a spineless little thing. But you know what? Congratulations. You're the worst of the whole lot of 'em. Because you actually know better. Yet look at you."

Kerensa stared at him for a long moment. Then she smiled. "You ought to know by now, Matthew. Nothing you say means to shit to me. Now please, hand over that list, shut your trap, and stay the fuck away from us."

Matthew shook his head. "I won't do it. People need to know about you."

"I'm warning you, Godard."

"And I'm warning you!" he said, cheeks flushed. He was angry and embarrassed and defensive. But most of all, he was just hurt. "I won't let you get what you want. Not now, not ever!"

Kerensa took a step forward, hands raised. "Hand me the list."

Like the defenceless animal he was, Matthew backed up, his head still shaking - his whole body now, thrumming with nervous energy. "I hope you die young. It's what you deserve."

Unfazed, she simply took another step forward and repeated, "Hand me the list."

"Put me on it!" he countered. He was almost at the point of tears.

Another step. She extended a hand, palm up, a gesture that said both, Take my hand, it's okay, and Give it to me. "Matthew-"

"PUT ME ON THE LIST!"

Too late, he realised that the final utterance of his name had been a warning, not of the consequences of his refusal to comply, but a warning of his immediate danger. He had hurried back, blinded by fear and anger, right into the window, left wide open from the five's earlier venture out onto the roof. Kerensa, arm still extended for the list, had every opportunity to rush forward and stabilise him. But she only watched, lips parted, as he lost his balance and tipped over the window ledge.

And just like that, Matthew Godard, arms waving, flailing, fingers still gripping the list, lungs screaming for an eternity, became the first to fall.