Chapter 13 #2
Four. I found his gaze staring back at me, assessing and cool.
There was a flicker of something there in the Kinslayer’s eyes.
Something broken and irrevocably shattered resting within them, reflecting back my own emotions.
Could he see it, that I didn't want this?
That I didn't agree with it one bit. That I wanted to lay ruin to them for the cruelty they forced these people to endure.
Kinslayer.
The shadows hissed for the first time in my mind that day, low and menacing. Fury, rage, utter and complete sadness brewing like a storm. Mixing and merging, fueling my own emotions.
He is no better than they are, little shadow.
Born to the moon, sea, and stars,
yet he bows to the flames that ravage us all.
Breaking the gaze as I turned back to Mirabel, I noted the sweat that trickled down her skin. Skin that was so sallow and sickly—leeched of its healthy warm glow—it made my stomach heave.
"What happened?" I asked softly, wanting her to speak, to reassure me that she still could. I pressed my fingers to her wrist, silently cursing as I counted the beats. Too fast.
"We had a funeral for mama." Her voice was quiet and slurred as her brows pinched together in pain, a quiet groan escaping her lips.
“Not long after you visited, she was gone. Dad said we should do it under the light of the moon, so Lua could find her and bring her to her Kingdom to rest. He said it was what mama wanted.”
Fenrir held a Luanthian funeral for Kerlina?
"What hurts, Mirabel?" I felt for any bloating as I gently pushed upon her stomach.
Finding none, I immediately ruled out a few poisons I had whirling through my mind.
"My head," she cried softly, clutching at her temples. Reaching forward, tipping her back, I examined her eyes. Pulling down slightly upon her cheekbone so I could see the whites of them more clearly, the usually red veins now ran through with black.
Heart racing, I grabbed her hand, turning it over to examine her fingernails, a hiss escaping between clenched teeth.
"I know it hurts, but I need you to stick out your tongue for me, Mirabel, can you do that?" Rubbing soothing circles upon her palm, I tried to comfort her as best I could. There was a small nod and just as I suspected, a blackish-blue tongue poked out at me.
Moonshade.
The bastards used moonshade.
A small, prickly leafed plant that was completely black in color and not only deadly, but had torturous symptoms. It grew in the wild wood of Tavari, past the northern forests and deep where the sun rarely shone.
If ingested it started with a fever, then the eyes would begin to burn, and a pressure so intense it felt as if your head could combust would start to build.
In the later stages it would move through your body, turning your veins black as it went, that tight constricting pain travelling with it.
Your whole body would burn as the pressure built.
It would feel as if your very blood were trying to slice through your skin and purge yourself of the poison.
"Wait here for me, okay Mirabel? I'll be as quick as I can be."
Rushing to the ingredients table, my hands no longer shook, determination steeling my nerves. I would not allow her to suffer any longer than necessary.
I grabbed everything I would possibly need, stacking it on to the crook of my elbow. A thatch of thistle reeds, a small jug of water collected upon a full moon, and fermented Tavarrian sea slugs.
I glanced around looking for the last ingredient, my gaze skimming the table hurriedly, jumping forward when I saw the blood red vial. The secretion of a northern moonbeetle, the only thing in existence able to ingest a moonshade leaf without fear of death.
Right as my hand wrapped around the vial, a hard body knocked into me causing it to tip slightly and pour that acidic secretion down my hand. A gasp of pain escaped my lips as the skin immediately began to bubble and blister, eating the flesh straight to my bone.
Without the addition of the fermented Tavarrian sea slugs to neutralize the acidic nature of the secretion, it was horribly painful when it met exposed skin.
I tried my best to mentally block the pain out as I frantically checked the amount of secretion left in the vial, prayers to Lua running desperately through my mind.
Realizing the amount still within would be more than enough for the potion, a tremor shook through my body.
Head snapping to the side, my eyes narrowed on the man beside me. I took in his brown hair, his skin pale and freckled. I realized it was the same man that had shot me a nasty look in the first trial.
"Watch where you're going," he snapped, before shoving past once again, his own ingredients stacked in his arms.
Goddess, I didn't have time for petty squabbles and arguments. Instead of retorting, I hurried back, lips pursing when I saw black veins slowly inching down Mirabel’s neck.
Carefully, precisely, I cut through the thistle reeds before squeezing the sticky substance of the reeds into the empty pot, adding two cups of the moon water to it.
I grabbed the flint and stone and struck a flame.
Worry had my focus darting back to her, her green eyes fluttering—soft pants of pain in every breath.
"Mirabel is a very beautiful name," I said, soft and calming as I grabbed two of the fermented sea slugs and placed them into the mortar.
She tried to settle her attention upon me, drifting in and out, as I began to grind them down into a paste.
“Did your mother ever tell you the story of Mirabel the Great? " Quiet, so no other could hear.
Her head shook, words beyond her capability now with the pain that I was sure she was experiencing.
"In the Celestial War there was a warrior, a woman who stood tall and proud, dressed in silver armor as the Solerian armies rained down upon her and her soldiers," I began, a distraction for her.
"It was said that no warrior could defend themselves against her, for she was the fiercest the world had ever seen. With hair white and silver eyes that they say shone like the stars high in the sky, she defended the city of Selis with her every breath, with every stroke of her mighty sword. It was said the Goddess Lua herself blessed the warrior, that she had placed a kiss upon her forehead when she was just a babe.”
Mirabel’s breathing slowed slightly as she listened intently.
"The woman fought for three days, through injury, through pain, through her grief.
She stood outside Selis with merely a handful of soldiers left at her side, knowing that death would await her.
Knowing that she would give her life to keep her beloved city safe from the Solerian invaders.
With a mighty cry she fell upon her knees, emitting a scream so loud it's said to have shook the sky with its wrath. "
I quickly measured out the secretion of the moonbeetles, careful to spill no more upon my own skin. The burning of my hand had my vision growing watery as I worked through the pain.
"It's said that in the midst of the battle, the skies went dark at her cry, her blessed gift of shadow spilling out. A blanket of blackness stopped every sword and weapon in fear, before a silver light broke through, shining down upon the mighty warrior. It surrounded her, encased her in its warm, loving embrace. The light of her Goddess, answering her call.”
I continued to grind the secretion into the slug paste as I spoke, quick little twists of my wrist to make sure it was well and truly mixed. “And before everyone's eyes, thousands of sparkling stars moved to surround her body."
Pouring the paste into the pot, I stirred it three times counter-clockwise before letting it settle to steep.
"They say the explosion that happened next was blinding as it burst forth.
When the magic cleared and their eyes settled upon a large moon willow tree that stood tall and proud, towering before the entrance of the city, the Solerian soldiers fled in fear of what they had borne witness to.
Mirabel's sacrifice kept Selis safe for the time being. It was the last Luanthian city to stand in the war, that towering moon willow ever present—guarding and watching over her people. It was the Goddess Lua’s gratitude for the bravery she had shown.
That warrior sacrificed herself so her friends, her family, could live to fight another day. "
I put out the flames beneath my pot as I poured half the potion I had made into a little cup, checking to make sure it was the correct burgundy shade before lifting it to her mouth.
"You, Mirabel," I said softly as I poured it down her throat, eyeing the black veins that travelled all the way down her arms now, "are named after a warrior of legend.
A woman who did not falter, did not scare, and did not allow others to control her fate or destiny.
A woman who stood proud and tall and fiercely protected those she loved.
" Placing the cup to the side, I leaned in closely, my voice so, so quiet.
"Mirabel the Great did not fear the light nor her wrath, and you are her namesake. Never forget that."
Sitting back, my eyes fluttered shut as I cradled my scalded hand.
I made the potion, and she would live to see another day.
She would live.
But Goddess, did I want to curl up and never open my eyes again. My mind ached, my body ached, the pain in my hand a never ending burn that brought tears to my eyes now that the adrenaline began to recede.
It was the gurgling that brought me out of my stupor, causing panic to once again sink its claws into my mind.
No.
My eyes flung open, I had done everything right.
I checked over Mirabel, my hands shaking, but nothing seemed to be amiss. The black veins were receding, the color was beginning to return to her cheeks, and her breathing evened out.
It wasn't her.
Glancing around the room, my focus settled upon the table diagonally placed from mine, where the man with hair the color of chocolate stood stiffly, watching as his patient's body writhed in pain.
Black veins covered nearly the entire man's body, his lungs sounding as if they were drowning within his own blood and I felt my entire body freeze in horror.
He had brewed the potion incorrectly.
Fenrir was going to die.