Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

MAEVYTH

D usk had fallen, the dark blue sky lit by the many torches that flickered around the entrance of The Eating Woods. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I stood beside Moros, my mind spinning out a desperate plan for my and Aleysia’s escape.

Even if we’d be hunted, it was better than what either of us faced otherwise. We could flee to the mountains. As far as Romisir in the north. Anywhere but here. Through a mess of red robes, four village men brought my sister before the archway, and on a breath of pure rage, I looked away from her. Stripped of all her clothes, she stood naked before the parish, her body bruised with beatings, her long blonde locks shorn away.

I wanted to charge forth and save her, but the Vonkovyan soldiers stood between the two of us, and without some sort of weapon, I’d be useless to defend her.

Instead, I kept my gaze turned from her, to collect myself, because it was up to me to figure this out. On the fringes of the crowd, I caught sight of The Crone Witch leaning into her cane, the hood of her cloak pulled up over her head. She tipped her chin up, and I followed the path of her gaze to find the bright, full moon overhead. Full moons on the night of the winter solstice were said to be rare.

An omen. A sign the villagers would see as justification for their cruelty.

I had to think logically. Wise. Haste would doom my sister and me.

“My fellow parishioners,” Sacton Crain lifted his hands up. “On this eve of the winter solstice we bear witness to a most egregious crime against our beloved god. This young woman stands accused of fornicating with her uncle and sprouting the seed of this terrible iniquity. For, inside her belly lived the unholy beast, but by the Red God’s grace, it has been destroyed!”

It was then I noticed the dried blood at her thighs that, in the dim light, I hadn’t noticed before, and tears welled in my eyes as I choked back the urge to cry. Instead, I lifted my gaze to Aleysia, and where the spark of rebellion had once shined, nothing but a dull resignation remained.

No. I would not let them turn her into the monster. Not when I stood amongst so many of them in the crowd. Those who’d committed crimes far worse. Like Moros, and his repulsive collection.

“But she is not alone in this sin,” Sacton Crain kept on, inciting a collective gasp from the crowd, and I listened intently to see if he’d dare to accuse Uncle Riftyn. “For the man who planted the seed is as much to blame!”

I scanned over the parishioners to find Agatha, Lolla, and Uncle Riftyn standing at the back. Even in the darkness, I could see Agatha’s eyes widen with fear. Uncle Riftyn shook his head, backing up a step, but two brawny parishioners took hold of his arms.

“Tonight, we will bear witness to two banishings!” the governor announced from where he stood alongside Sacton Crain, while the men hauled Uncle Riftyn past me, toward the front of the crowd.

In one hard shove, they threw him to the ground before Aleysia, who stood trembling, undoubtedly chilled to the bone. Uncle Riftyn jumped to his feet and charged back toward the crowd. The Vonkovyan soldiers stepped in front of him, one of them knocking him backward.

“This good community has no tolerance for depravity and sexual perversion. Your bones, flesh, and blood will cleanse us of this offense!” Sacton Crain pointed to both of them, his teeth bared like a rabid dog ready to tear into them.

The soldiers prodded the two of them toward that dreaded archway.

Aleysia screamed, the sound rippling through my muscles like a battle cry.

Do something!

To my left, one of the parishioners stood holding a torch that blazed and wavered against the frigid wind. My mind swirled in chaos, my senses slipping into the depths of rage.

Without a lick of a plan, I reached for her torch, knocking embers onto her dress. She tugged for it, and in the struggle, it slipped just enough to catch on her cloak.

A hand gripped my arm, and I spun around to Moros, holding the flaming torch between us. The hood of my cloak fell back as I swiped out at him, and he jumped back a step. A Vonkovyan soldier took hold of my hood, yanking me backward, and I spun around, the fire catching on the cloth of his tunic.

He let out a cry and released me, frantically patting at the growing flame.

Another soldier lurched, but I swiped the torch at him and backed myself toward Aleysia and Uncle Riftyn.

Bayonet lifted and aimed at me, he prodded forward, and I found myself trapped between the crowd and the archway.

“Witch!” someone from the crowd shouted, and my blood turned to ice.

A hard object struck my hip on a blast of bruising pain, and I looked down to see a rock had been thrown at me. Another struck my arm.

“Witch!” another voice screeched.

Aleysia cried out, and I turned to see one had struck the side of her head, the blood trickling down her temple.

“Witch! Witch! Witch!” The crowd chanted in unison as they lurched forward, The Eating Woods at our backs.

An unbidden memory flashed through my mind out of nowhere. The dream I’d had of Danyra. The symbol on her hand that I saw clearly in my head– the intersecting lines .

One parishioner rushed toward the three of us, a pickaxe drawn back.

A rush of heat and adrenaline charged through me. As he neared, I threw out my hand on instinct, and a loud clattering sent me jumping back on a shocked breath. The man with the axe skidded to a halt. On the ground between us lay a pile of off-white and ivory-colored objects stained with rot and decay. Bones. Some splintered. Others were so intact, I could make out a long stretch of vertebrae.

Spine .

Short panting breaths beat out of me. I looked to the bones and up to the man who stared back at me, lip curled in repulsion, as if I were something dead that’d crawled out of a grave. The whole crowd had quieted, and I glanced over them to see their attention riveted on me. Torch still in hand, I waited, every muscle trembling and poised for their next move.

“Witch! Witch! Witch!” The crowd’s chanting grew fevered.

“Evil!” Sacton Crain shouted over them. “The girl is an abomination!”

“No.” I shook my head, backing farther away.

“Burn her!” someone from the crowd shouted.

“She’s a death witch!” another cried out.

“She must be destroyed!” the governor finally shouted, and a roar of assent echoed around me.

“No! Stop this at once!” Moros yelled, pushing his way through the surrounding bodies. “Stop this now!”

The crack of a gun silenced the crowd, and with slow and careful steps, Moros approached me, lowering the gun he’d pointed skyward. He reached out a hand for me. “Come, dear. Do not fear, I will protect you.”

“You are disgusting. What you’ve done to those poor women … is unspeakable evil. And I’d sooner face death than go anywhere with you.”

His eye flickered with an unsettling amusement, and I could’ve only imagined the visuals racing through his mind–my legs sewn together, my skin peeling away as I floated in that tank.

I glanced over my shoulder and whispered to Aleysia, “Run.”

My sister spun around on her heel and, to my horror, breached the archway into The Eating Woods.

“Do not follow her, Maevyth,” Moros urged, his voice a distant sound to the clamor inside my head. “Do not go into those woods.”

Frigid spikes of adrenaline rushed through my veins, and I dropped the torch as I chased after her, with the commotion of angry shouts at my back. A gun fired off behind me, but even if I’d been shot, I’d have refused to pause and look.

Passing over a fallen log, my cloak snagged on a branch. “Aleysia! Wait!” I called out, turning to yank myself free. Once loose, I shot forward after her, her pale form fading in the darkness of the trees. “Aleysia!” Cold air burned my lungs, but I pushed speed from my legs, ignoring the fatigue.

Dark trees loomed overhead, their gnarled branches reaching out for me as I ran deeper into the forest. Splintered branches tore at my calves and ankles, but I ignored them, keeping my eyes on her for as long as she remained in view—until I lost sight of her.

A crackling beneath my boot brought me to a halt, and I paused to catch my breath and bearings. Through a veil of white mist that blanketed the forest floor, I could just make out an object at my feet, the overall shape of it obscured, except for the dark hollow sockets that bled through the fog. A skull. Under the faint scent of pine needles and rich loam festered the sinister stench of rot and decay, the air thick with death’s putrid breath. A graveyard of bones.

I snapped my gaze back to the surrounding trees, and fell into a jog, anxious to distance myself from this godless stretch of trees. “Aleysia!”

Something buzzed past my ear, and I swatted my hand, knocking an object bigger than a pesky bug. I slowed my jog to a brisk walk, looking around for it again.

Zzzzzz. Zzzzzzz.

I swatted again, its shadowy form slipping past me, the size of a sparrow.

A sharp sting struck my leg, and I looked down, lifting the hem of my dress to find some strange creature clung to my shin. Its stick-like body reminded me of a small twig, with translucent wings that fluttered against my skin. I reached down and smacked it away, knocking it backward from my limb, and it hovered in the air a moment, its face horrifically human-like and covered in my blood.

A wicken. My head slipped into stories of the small sprites that were said to attack unwitting foragers who got too close to the woods.

It snarled at me and charged again.

More buzzing alerted me to others. Flailing my hands about, I took off running, choking back a panicked sob as they caught up to me quickly. An eerie tittering at my ear urged me faster. Another sting pinched my arm. Another struck my neck. Teeth sank into my back in two spots.

I ground to a halt, twisting and swatting, to no avail. The wickens surrounded me, chittering and giggling and biting. The sound of tearing fabric drew my attention to one chewing away at my dress, just before its teeth lodged into my flesh.

“Get off me!” My slapping and flailing only seemed to goad them.

A flash of black swished past me.

The chattering sound turned to squealing.

Another flash of black, and I followed the path of it to where it landed on a branch overhead. Raivox sat perched with two of the wickens trapped in its front, clawed talons. Their tiny arms flailed just like mine had moments ago, and they screamed as the raptor lifted them to his salivating maw and tore away their heads, chomping on them like a snack, the bones crackling in the bird’s mouth.

The other wickens buzzed off, squealing.

I reached out to Raivox, flicking my fingers. “C’mon, Raivox! Come here!”

He popped the last of the second wicken into his mouth and tipped his head, staring down at me.

“Come, Raivox. Come with me.”

Another wicken shot past, and the bird took off after it, leaving me standing there in what I just then realized was a small clearing of the woods. I twisted around, found only a wall of trees everywhere I looked. The forest seemed never ending. A labyrinth of frost and moonlight. I’d lost sight of Aleysia so long ago, I didn’t even know where to begin again.

Dizziness swept over me, my vision wide and blurry, and blinking hard, I shook my head. A burning sensation wormed beneath my skin like venomous snakes, and I frantically scratched at my arm where I’d been bitten. “Aleysia!” I called out, clawing at my skin. “Aleysia!” My surroundings bounced in and out of focus, as if something poisonous had worked its way into my blood.

Leaves crackled at my back, and I spun around.

A hand gripped my throat.

Moros stood before me, sharpening and blurring with my faulty vision, but I could see a blazing fury smoldering in his eyes. “Did you think I’d let you escape so freely?” He drew me in. “Tell me, how did you manage that little parlor trick back there, hmmm?”

“Let me go!”

“Let you go? You are mine! You will produce an heir for me, and I will add you to my curious little collection of freaks when I’ve no longer any use for you!”

“I will never give you an heir!”

A whack across my cheek left a bone-numbing sting, and I shook my head, my vision doubling and slinking back to a single image.

A low growl from my right caught my attention, and both of us turned toward a tall, shadowy figure in the distance, whose form wavered after that smack and whatever dizziness still persisted from earlier. Long, curled horns stuck up from its head, its body crooked where it stood on cloven feet. It reminded me of pictures I’d seen in the dark fairytales my grandfather had sometimes read to Aleysia and me about the wrathavor.

Moros’s hand fell away from my throat. “What in God’s name …” The awe in his voice matched my own.

The figure hobbled closer, and while I couldn’t summon a single muscle movement in my body, Moros turned to run in the opposite direction. The creature dropped to all fours and chased after him, swiping him up by his throat only a few yards from where I stood, paralyzed.

Was this the creature that hunted the woods? The one that stripped bodies of skin and devoured them? The one The Crone Witch had seen as a young girl?

Dangling in the air, Moros kicked his feet, while the beast sniffed him.

I quietly backed myself away, small steps at a time, so as to not rouse its attention.

With a grotesquely mutilated hand, the fingers of which reminded me of small branches, the creature reached into Moros’s pocket and tore out the vial that held the white stone he’d given to the captain. As if mesmerized, its eyes widened, and it dropped Moros, who rolled and coughed on the ground. After popping the vial open, the creature dumped one of the stones into his palm and sniffed it again.

I’d finally hidden myself behind the twisted trunk of a thick tree, and something covered my mouth. A scream ripped through my throat, muffled by my captor’s hand.

“Shhhh,” Uncle Riftyn said, and I turned to see his eyes fixed on the creature that paused to scan the surroundings before setting its attention back on the stone in its palm.

“Where’s Aleysia?” I whispered.

“I don’t know.”

The creature tossed the stone into its mouth, gulping it down, and let out a gravely moan that echoed through the woods. It tapped the vial against its palm, clearly wanting more.

Still on the ground, Moros stared up at it. “I … I know where to find more of it. I-i-if you want more … I can get it for you.”

The creature tipped its head, as if it understood him.

“There’s an entire chasm just outside of Sawtooth Mountain. I can take you there.”

My heart hammered inside my chest, as I watched the creature hobble closer to Moros. Seconds ticked off in my head, wondering if it’d strip him of flesh. Instead, it opened its mouth. Wide. Wider—expanding its jaw to a cavern of sharp teeth, so impossibly stretched, it appeared unhinged. In one swift move, it clamped its mouth over Moros’s head, while the man screamed and clawed at it.

It took both hands over my mouth to contain the scream that fought to tear out of me, while I watched the creature devour Moros whole.

“We have to go,” Uncle Riftyn whispered, still standing behind me. “We have to get out of here. Now!”

As he tugged at my shoulders, I watched the last of Moros disappear inside the beast’s mouth. Then, as it stood upright, swallowing the last of him, its form changed, its skin and bones shifting like marbles in a satchel. Until, at last, by some twisted evil, it had taken the appearance of Moros.

It held its hands up, as if marveling their human form, and it turned its head in our direction. It was Moros, but with grotesquely loose skin and protruding bones that looked like they hadn’t quite settled beneath.

Black, beady eyes scanned over the forest, and I twisted around, chasing after Uncle Riftyn, who already had a good start ahead of me. Over snapping branches and twigs, and the crush of bones, I raced through the dark woods, goaded by the snarls that trailed after me. I leapt over a fallen log, and toppled to the ground, when something caught me from behind. I twisted to see my cloak snagged again. Tugging at the fabric, I tore it from the branch and felt arms hook beneath mine. Uncle Riftyn stood over me, lifting me to my feet.

As I turned to push on, a large palm gripped the top of his head and yanked him back.

“No!” I screamed, reaching out for Uncle Riftyn, as his body shot backward.

The creature held him by his skull, while Uncle Riftyn’s legs dangled helplessly, and he let out a gut-wrenching scream.

In the next breath, the horrific deformity curled his fingers into Uncle Riftyn’s cheek and tore his skin away on a wet meat sound that echoed inside my head. Uncle Riftyn’s flayed skin dangled from the creature’s fingers, his body convulsing as his exposed muscle and tendons glistened in the moonlight.

An insidious fear crawled down my spine, strangling my breath. My head couldn’t process what I was seeing.

Run! Just like in nightmares, my legs wouldn’t move at my command, at first. Until, like trudging through quicksand, I turned to run, delirious with shock.

Instinct took over, the adrenaline commandeering my muscles, and I didn’t look back. I ran until the air burned in my lungs. Until my legs flamed with fatigue. Until the trees blurred and my skin flushed and I stumbled in my steps. I ran until the prickles of a dead bramble bush prodded me out of my stupor, and I skidded to a halt in the thick of a thorny wall.

A pale blue light beamed from a clearing on the other side of it, and I stepped through, hypnotized by the soft glow behind a bony archway that appeared similar to the one I’d stepped through upon entering The Eating Woods. Thorns scratched at my skin with every step, until they cleared for a stony pathway.

Fireflies danced about the archway, the sight so beautiful after all the macabre I’d seen. Maybe Moros had caught up to me, after all, and this was the afterlife. As one of the fireflies neared, I raised my palm, letting it land there. On close examination, its tiny face appeared almost human-like, reminding me of the wickens, but not as malicious. It almost seemed docile with wide black eyes which tapered down to a small mouth—one that seemed to smile back at me—and instead of bristled legs, there were hands and feet with bitsy little fingers and toes. I studied its thorax, entirely translucent as if made of glass, with a magical blue light that pulsed slowly.

The sound of whimpers pulled my attention toward the edge of the thorn wall, where Aleysia sat crouched, bleeding and shivering.

“Aleysia!” I snapped out of my wonderment and abandoned the firefly for her.

One touch of her skin told me she was dangerously cold, and I yanked off my cloak to cover her.

Small teeth marks covered her body, not unlike the one at my shin, as if she’d encountered a swarm of wickens. “D-D-Did you … s-s-s-s-eeee it?”

“Yes. C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” It made no sense that she’d be so close to freedom, yet crouched there.

“I … I couldn’t leave you,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “I wanted to run through, but I couldn’t bear the thought that you were trapped with the monster.”

“I’m here, Aleysia. Let’s go. Let’s run and never return to Foxglove.”

With a nod, she pushed to her feet, and I wrapped my arms around her, guiding her toward the archway. A shimmering wall flickered as we approached, like a liquid mirror, reflecting our image so I couldn’t see what was on the other side of it. I released her, padding carefully ahead of her.

Tiny silver sachets hung from the top of the archway, and I reached for one. An overwhelming warmth settled over me, followed by a wonderful, earthy scent so strong, it brought tears to my eyes. “It … it smells like petrichor,” I whispered. The inexplicable urge to pass through pulled at me, beckoning me beyond the archway. With an uncertain glance over my shoulder toward Aleysia, I drew in a deep breath and pushed my hand through the strange barrier, the prickly sensation scaring me into retracting my shaking limb.

Holding my cloak tight around her, Aleysia trembled, watching me.

A quick examination showed no damage to my hand, and I pushed it through again, pulling it back out with no resistance. I reached to push through again, and she gripped my arm.

“Wait!” The fear in her eyes darkened. “W-w-what if … s-s-s-something bad is on the … other s-s-s-side?” she asked.

“What if freedom lies on the other side, Aleysia? I’ll go first. You follow, okay?”

She gave a tearful nod. “Okay.”

“Promise me you’ll follow.”

“I promise.”

I turned around and, in the reflection, caught sight of Moros standing in the thorn bushes behind us. Panic exploded inside of me. “C’mon!” Without hesitation, I jumped through the barrier to the other side, where I was greeted by what looked like the same forest. Only, when I twisted around, instead of a reflection, I could see Aleysia standing on the other side. I thrust out my hand to reach for her, and a hard surface smashed against my knuckles. The liquid barrier had hardened to an impenetrable wall.

“No. No!” I slammed my hands against the translucent surface. “Aleysia! Aleysia!”

Her lips trembled as she edged closer to the archway, but in the distance, the ruined version of Moros strode toward her.

“Aleysia! He’s behind you! Aleysia!” I slammed on the clear surface again, desperate to break through, but it was as though she couldn’t hear or see me. “Aleysia! Aleysia!”

“Turn around! Now!” a foreign voice shouted from behind, but I ignored it, watching Aleysia reach out for me.

“Come on, step through! He’s coming!”

An arm banded around her throat, dragging her backward.

“No! Aleysia! No!”

At the same time, arms wrapped around my waist and neck, dragging me away from the archway.

I kicked and wriggled, fighting to get away, not yet having seen my captors.

A blast of light flickered around me, and a paralyzing rigidity gripped my muscles. The branches of trees slipped past my view, as I seemed to rise up into the air. Every muscle trembled, tight and burning, as if a bolt of lightning ran through me, locking up my limbs, my jaw. I could hardly draw in a breath as my body spun around, and I found myself facing a dark-haired man on horseback, decked out in steel and leather, his hand outstretched toward me.

Three other men stood on foot alongside him.

“What is that smell?” the blond, dressed in the same garb as Dark-Hair, asked. “I want to eat the fucking air, it’s delicious.”

“Is she mortal?” one with red, curly hair asked, and the man whose hand twisted slightly, turning me to the side, answered, “Yes.”

Panic shook me, as I couldn’t see Aleysia from this new angle, and my muscles refused to obey the command to turn around.

“Balls of Castero! A mortal! Has a mortal ever crossed over?” The blond stared up at me in awe.

“Not to my knowledge.” The dark-haired one, who held me in some invisible grasp, tipped his head in curiosity. What I surmised to be guards, given that they all wore the same shiny metal and leather, with the same strange emblem, stared back at me, as I floated above them, completely helpless.

Let me go! my head screamed, but I couldn’t summon a single word.

“How the fuck does she speak Nyxterosi if she’s mortal, genius?” Redhead asked.

“Don’t know. But Captain says that smell is distinct for mortals. That’s how they lure ya.” Eyes closed, the blond flared his nostrils with a deep breath. “I wonder what her cunt smells like?”

“Go on, then, taste it, if you’re so curious,” Red challenged, and I urged my muscles to wriggle free from whatever it was that held me. “My great-grandfather said they carry the nastiest blood diseases. Lost two of his brothers when they crossed the vale once. Came back sick as dogs. I heard, if they bite you, you can pretty much kiss your ass goodbye.”

“That’s a load of crap,” the blond argued. “No one has ever crossed to the mortal lands. Your grandfather is a liar.”

“He did! I swear it!”

“What do we do with her?” The blond licked his lips, and I didn’t want to imagine the revolting thoughts running through his head right then. “You can’t take her back to the castle dungeon. You’d be inviting a scourge, and the king would have your head. She smells so fucking delicious, though, I could piss myself. Like oranges, or something.”

“No. We can’t take her to the castle dungeons,” Dark-Hair agreed. “The king would insist on her immediate execution, anyway. Seems a damn shame to waste such a monumental event as a mortal crossing over. I’m curious to see how they work.”

One of the guards didn’t speak, at all, but merely watched me in silence.

Aleysia. I had to focus on Aleysia. Can you see her? my head was desperate to ask the guards. Is she alive?

“What do you mean, how they work ?”

The men prattled on, my impatience growing thinner by the second.

A toxic mixture of rage and terror clogged my throat, and I was on the verge of breaking, but only the silence persisted.

“I’ve never seen a mortal’s cunt before, have you?” Dark-Hair asked over his shoulder toward the other men.

“No. Can’t be any different than our women, eh?”

“Oh, I think you’re wrong.” The guard grabbed a stick from the ground and hooked it on the hem of my dress. “I heard their cunts have teeth. Bite your cock clean off.” He lifted my skirt to my thigh, sparing me a wicked grin, then lifted it higher. “Does your cunt have teeth, pretty?”

My scream arrived as a muffled hum in my chest, unable to break past my clenched jaw.

All eyes remained rapt on my naked flesh beneath, but before he could expose my privates, the stick was somehow knocked out of his hands, though none of the other three were close enough to have touched it.

“Enough. Perhaps send her back through. No one has to know.” It was the man who hadn’t said a word up until then who’d spoken that time.

“You ever interrupt me again, I’ll take your head clean off,” Dark-Hair warned, snarling back at him. “She isn’t going back through. The vale won’t allow it.”

“Then, offer her a mercy kill.”

“I say we take her to Bonesguard and give her to the poor bastards due to be hanged.” A wicked grin stretched across the redhead’s lips. “They won’t care about diseases, and we’ll get a nice little show. From afar, of course.”

Dark-Hair smirked and twisted his hand again, giving them a view of my backside. “I think that’s a brilliant idea. She looks like a feisty one. Might put up a good fight.”

Eyes straining, I peered out the corner for a single glimpse of the archway, still too far out of view.

He twisted me back around and dropped me just far and fast enough that my dress flew up, giving them a flash of my undergarments. “Ah, shame. Thought she’d be naked beneath.”

The fourth guard turned silent again. With as much as I could muster, I focused my attention on him, my eyes pleading, begging him to speak up and let me go.

Warm fluids leaked down my leg, and tears filled my eyes.

“She fucking pissed herself!” One of them sneered, but I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to me was Aleysia.

My sister.

Who was probably dead.