Chapter 25 You Missed My Heart #3
I stand, unsteady on my feet—confused at what the boy is, what I’ve done to myself, what I’ve created.
Have I driven myself to insanity by the simple action of repression?
He’s my darkness. My contradictions. How is it possible that I didn’t know this? How could I have missed it?
My mind isn’t in love with me. My mind pities me. My mind thinks I’m insane.
My mind is trying to save me, in the only way it knows how—by making me worse.
What have I done?
Something gnaws through my stomach. The same pit the boy pointed out before I felt it. Someone is in danger. The worm eats a pit in my stomach, warning me.
Then I spot Calista in the distance. She’s past the protective barrier, deep into the woods—and I know that monsters are lurking out there. One even got past.
I chase after her, grateful for a reason to ignore myself. Perhaps that’s the problem.
“Calista!” I call. She doesn’t stop. “Calista, where are you going?”
I run faster, grabbing her shoulder when I reach her. She smacks my arm away roughly.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she hisses.
“Calista—”
“The moonaro is still out there!” she shouts, pointing aimlessly into the woods.
“So you want to get yourself killed?”
“No!” She chokes on her breath. Her hand clamps over her mouth as she turns away from me. Desperately, she takes a sip of air, then turns back. “Lilac won’t wake up. I thought… maybe the monster has to be killed first.”
I reach for her, holding her wrist so she doesn’t run—trying to save her the way the boy told me to. The pit in my stomach is still there, the worm still eating through me. I fear if I let Calista out of my sight, she will die, just like the boy said.
“If that was the case, don’t you think the scholars who study the monsters would have found out?” I ask, trying to talk some form of sense into her.
“There haven’t been attacks in decades,” she says indignantly. “How am I to trust their studies?”
“Your parents pay for them.”
“My parents are insane!” She glances at my hand clamped around her wrist, and I know she’s strong enough to pull away, but she says, “Help, or let me go.”
She truly wants my help.
I fear she will need it. Only one of us here has killed a monster. Awfully, I think I enjoyed it. But the dread—the carcass in my stomach—aches, and I know even if I didn’t enjoy the kill, I still wouldn’t leave Calista.
“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll help.”
Calista’s face softens, and I feel her relief settle in my muscles. An appreciated reprieve. “Really?”
I let go of her wrist. “Yes.”
Her eyebrows rise in surprise. “All right then.” She turns away, the moonlight illuminating each step. “Let’s go.”
I stay close behind her, and when I snap a twig beneath my foot, Calista uses her air magic to suppress the sound.
As we step beyond the protective barrier, I hold my breath.
I’m really doing this, searching for the danger instead of waiting for it to come to me.
The monsters weren’t the first thing to ruin my life; they were only one in a long line of catastrophes.
Though after the pernipe killed Ma, I never thought I could face them—nor that I’d have to.
The monsters aren’t supposed to attack.
But just in the distance, I see the subtle glow of blue. Barely, I make out the moonaro, feasting on an animal carcass. Blood coats its bright gray fur, shining in the blue light.
The ache in my stomach sharpens, and I take a deep breath against the pain.
I signal to Calista, pointing to the moonaro, and she raises a hand. In her palm, a yellow ball forms, quickly turning translucent. Something she struggled with dearly a year ago. The barely visible ball grows, closing around us—trapping our voices.
“What’s the plan?” I ask.
Calista looks puzzled—she doesn’t have one. Instead, she reaches behind her back and unsheathes her long sword. “I cut its head off.”
“How?”
She sneers. “With my combat training.”
It sounds like an awful idea.
“Calista…” I say gently. “You’re a princess.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I sigh, my tone soft. “How… do you know they truly train you and aren’t simply letting you win. A queen won’t fight—”
“How dare you?” Calista demands, her voice laced with disdain. “And I presume you possess the expertise to kill a beast despite your utter lack of combat training?”
I stay silent. There are many things I could say. None would be welcome. The princess before me would be yet another person who’s shocked at what I can do and have done.
What I’ve become.
My body brushes against the edge of her magical ball as I step back, extending an arm toward the moonaro. “Lead the way.”
Calista smirks, thinking she’s won the fight—though I’m only conceding to protect her. I could be wrong, but I can’t imagine they train the queen of Folkara to fight. I assume they’d focus on strategy, not brute force.
I know how Folkara is—a patriarchy. Calista has often complained how the queen is a ceremonial role, not one with real authority. Why would the academy teach her power?
Why give her the ammunition to topple the government she was born to serve?
With every step toward the moonaro, the pit in my stomach grows until it is all encompassing. It beckons me in the opposite direction. Perhaps the feeling is trying to protect me. Save my life.
But that’s not what the boy said.
Calista and I continue to approach the moonaro in perfect silence. Yet, as if it has a sixth sense like one of our own, its head rises and swivels toward us.
But the moonaro’s natural inclination is not to attack. For only a moment, it wishes to ignore us. It lulls me into a false sense of safety.
I do not wish to fight.
I become as passive as the creature.
Then something takes over.
A burning need, a desire not of its own creation, forcing this monster to want blood.
Similar to the longing in the kapha.
The moonaro rises to its hind legs, standing three heads taller than me—and four heads taller than Calista.
The sword in her hand has never looked so small.
Blood coats the beast, chin to chest, from the animal it was feasting on. The blue glow beneath its ribs pulses, the source of its magic—but also something else. Just like the kapha, I know someone is controlling this beast.
The same way I’m sure the Royals controlled the pernipe that killed my mother.
This poor beast.
It charges toward us.
Calista raises a hand, a gust of wind pushing against the monster—but it does not send it back. The wind only holds it still. It does not last long, either.
With a small amount of effort, the monster breaks through her barrier.
Needles prick beneath my skin as roots push through the soil. They grow around the moonaro’s hind legs. As it tries to step forward, it falls onto its stomach. The crash shakes the ground beneath the beast.
“Now!” I scream.
Calista charges, raising the sword. But as she approaches, the monster flips its head up. The sharp, ice-cold antlers catch Calista’s ankles, flipping her back several feet.
She lands harshly, the blue glow of the moonaro’s ribs giving out.
Then, the moon above stops shining.
The world darkens, nearly pitch black.
I turn to Calista silently, making sure she’s okay. She’s barely visible in the darkness, and as she begins to groan, I put a finger to my lips.
We cannot give the moonaro the upperhand of sound.
It seems the moonaro understands this, too. It’s nowhere to be found, shrouded in the dim silence.
I steady myself, turning from side to side, searching.
Then I’m run off my feet. I fall to the ground, my back hitting harshly. A sharp pain dulls my senses.
For the first time in my life, all my focus is not on anything else. It’s on me.
The warmth that trickles from my ribcage.
I touch a hand to the gaping hole beneath my breast, lifting it before my face. Dark liquid clings to my fingers.
I fear it’s red.
As the light slowly fills the sky again, I spot the monster behind Calista. It raises its long claws to her throat—desperate for the kill, even against its better judgement.
I press my hands into the ground, praying I can stand. That my body will not give out from beneath me.
There’s a terrible taste at the back of my throat. It tastes like death.
The pain of power pulses against my ribcage as I run to Calista. Every step takes me closer to toppling. But I manage to reach her, to unbutton my gloves, and set a bare hand on the monster.
For the first time, I use my power the way I was meant to but was never allowed to.
Never should have.
I take my downfall, and I twist it.
The monster’s emotion overflows me. Once more, I find myself reaching for something I can’t see, unsure why I’m reaching in the first place.
It feels heavy in my chest, as if I’m choking on a hunk of metal. And yet, it eases the sting of my wound.
A double-edged sword.
Then I rip the weapon from Calista’s hand, wrapping an arm around her and running for the academy.
I’m surprised when the monster follows. Its movements are slowed, its inhibitions lowered, but my touch was not enough to kill something of its stature.
We are not in the clear.
I push a tired and hurt Calista to the floor. She screams my name as she falls, and I turn back to face the creature.
Even slowed, it’s faster than us. Already steps away.
I run toward it.
I force myself not to falter.
Blood clings to my shirt. Breath fails to come. If I don’t defeat this creature, I’m dead. I will bleed out. Succumb to my wound. If I don’t kill the moonaro, I won’t have the space to heal myself.
If I even can.
We haven’t been taught to heal our own wounds.
The weight of the world presses against my shoulders as I give birth to a tree. It emerges from the ground beneath me, my feet right atop the bark.
As I rise into the sky with the trunk, I worry I don’t have the strength needed to reach the moonaro’s height.
That I don’t have the strength to swing the sword.
There’s only one way to kill a moonaro. What if I can’t?
I have to.
The tree stops growing as I reach the moonaro’s head.
I swing the sword at its neck.
The head comes rolling down with the thick scent of blood.