Chapter 22 #2
Two days, it turned out, was not nearly enough time to prepare for a friendly luncheon at which one plans to reveal one’s deepest, darkest sins.
Oaklin stress-cooked way too much food in anticipation of the visit, anxiety bringing out their inner host. They spent the morning baking bread, slicing veggies, boiling eggs, and arranging delicate salads of both grown and foraged greens.
It was a lot.
And none of it would matter if their friends decided to hate them.
The day was almost offensively sunny and beautiful, so Oaklin opted for a picnic, dragging their cleanest blanket out near the wildflower patch in front of the house.
Maybe being outdoors would put their friends at ease.
Plenty of space for them to run away if they felt so moved.
Yes, a picnic would be the perfect, nonthreatening setting to admit having been in a murder cult.
Who didn’t love a picnic? It would definitely help. Definitely.
Oaklin hauled all of their food outside and spread it over the quilt, then had a tiny panic when it didn’t all fit. There wasn’t even room for their guests to sit. They’d made too much. Or had they? Better to have too much than too little. Right? Right?
They were mere seconds from spiraling into another round of anxious pacing when they spotted three distant figures on the road coming toward the house.
It was time.
Oaklin shooed curious chickens away from the picnic setup and cast a quick ward against ants to protect it, then yanked on their gloves and wrapped their hands in strips of canvas before shoving them into their pockets.
Hopefully it would buy them at least a minute to greet their friends before revealing the reason for the visit.
They whirled around and called, only remembering at the last second not to pull a hand out of their pocket and wave.
“Uh, hey…folks…”
Their voice sounded totally normal. They were nailing it.
Ryn, Jules, and Lior all stopped before Oaklin, worry plain on their faces, about to have their entire perception of them changed forever.
Oaklin pasted a weak smile on their face and started to gesture toward the food, stopping once again just in time and cramming their hands deeper into their pockets instead.
“I, uh…made lots of food! Help yourselves!” they said, cheeks aching with the effort of maintaining the smile. Their friends all exchanged a look.
“Oaklin…” Ryn began.
Lior grimaced. “Maybe we could just…”
“We’re all worried and dying to hear what you have to say, so let’s just skip right to it,” Jules said, his gentle expression cutting the bluntness of his words.
Oaklin bit the inside of their lip and closed their eyes, then took a breath and nodded. “I asked you all here because… I owe you an apology. And an explanation. Especially you, Lior. I’m so sorry I ran off like that after the festival. I thought you deserved to know why. You all do.”
Lior shook her head, stepping forward as if to reach for Oaklin’s hand. “It’s okay, Oak, really, I—”
Oaklin took a quick step backward, doing their best to ignore the hurt that flashed across Lior’s face. “No. Please. I need to do this.”
With a steadying breath, Oaklin removed their hands from their pockets and began to unwind the canvas wraps. The red glow of the curse peeked through the seams of their gloves, and they heard Ryn’s intake of breath before they even had their gloves fully removed.
Then their hands were bare, the mark of their sins glowing for everyone to see. Blood-red illumination visible even in broad daylight.
The words came spilling out.
“The Inquisitor’s spell. It mostly missed me because I ducked down behind the edge of the roof,” Oaklin said, unable to make themself look up and see the reactions coloring their friends’ faces.
“But you were grabbing the edge,” Lior said quietly. “It still hit your hands.”
Oaklin nodded, hot tears pooling in their eyes.
“I joined the Enchantrix when I was seventeen,” they began.
“I was…bored, and angry at my family, and I wanted more than anything for someone to teach me magic. I was the only one in my family with any magical gift, and I felt so called to use it, but my parents didn’t want my magic touching their farm.
It was against their beliefs, but I would lie awake at night, feeling the land all around me, and it was maddening.
Back then, the Enchantrix cult was just… ”
Lior picked up the thread when Oaklin’s throat grew too thick to continue. “They claimed to be a magic guild that would teach anyone. Of course you went to them.”
Oaklin nodded, finding their voice again.
“I don’t remember much else, honestly. About my life before the guild, or about when things started to shift from guild to cult.
But I remember the night of the ritual that changed me.
The Enchantrix came in person, told us we’d all be doing incredible things with our magic that we could never imagine.
They began channeling a spell, and I remember staring up at them, someone who seemed so much like me but better, someone who really saw me and what I could be. And then…”
Oaklin squeezed their eyes shut as if it could block out what memories remained. “I can only remember the next six years in flashes. Faces. A few names. Blood. Battles. And then…the moment I woke up, about to be killed by an adventurer.”
Oaklin’s eyes flew open, the darkness clearly no escape from the haunting images.
They stared down at their glowing hands as they spoke.
“I was there from the very beginning, from the day the cult became an army. I’ve done horrible things that I’ll never be able to atone for.
I know no one would trust me or want me here if they knew. ”
“Oak—” Lior began, but Oaklin shook their head.
“I should have been able to break the mind control,” they gasped on a barely contained sob, cutting Lior off, the thought conscious for the first time but no less true for it.
Their tears were like liquid fire as they rolled down their cheeks, dripping into their lap in splash after splash.
“There were people who did, on the fringes, so I know it was possible. But I was too weak.”
The last word was practically a growl, and Oaklin ripped up a fistful of grass at the declaration. The next words, though, were barely a whisper.
“Or maybe there was some horrible part of me that loved finally getting to use my magic. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t strong enough.
I just didn’t want to be.” Oaklin swallowed hard and let the grass fall from their fist, turning their red, swollen eyes back up to their friends.
“And now you know. Now everyone will know. So, I guess this is probably goodbye. I know you probably never want to see me again, and everyone in the village will want me gone too, but I just wanted…wanted to…”
Oaklin’s throat closed up as their shoulders shook, the sobs they’d been withholding for days finally breaking free. It was over.
It was all over.
Then, a hand closed over theirs.
“Oh, Oak…” Lior said, her voice so gentle. “The village council ran that inquisitor out of town right after you left.”
Oaklin froze. “What?”
Jules huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, people were pissed at her for interrupting the festival.”
Ryn bent low until he could see Oaklin’s downcast eyes, an amused smile on his lips. “You missed the highlight of the festival, actually. Mr. Oran, your grumpy customer, summoned a stinking cloud and made it follow the Inquisitor around the square until she left.”
“It was truly hysterical,” Jules said with a laugh. “Didn’t know that guy had such quality jokes in him.”
Oaklin shook their head, first stunned, then disbelieving.
“No,” Oaklin said, finally forcing their watery gaze up. “It’s one thing for people to…do that and be okay with it in theory. But if they were actually confronted with an ex-cultist in person, I’m sure it would go differently.”
Ryn, Jules, and Lior all looked at each other.
“Oak… They were,” Lior said. “Someone was outed.”
The shock hit Oaklin’s spine like the first autumn chill wind. There was another former cultist hiding in Mossley’s Rest?
Ryn’s brow furrowed in sympathy as he spoke. “You know Dara, that ranger girl that’s been living in the woods and comes to the market once per week? She’s bought from you a few times, right?”
Oaklin’s breath huffed out in surprise, their mind immediately calling up the image of the cautious girl they’d been carefully nursing a tentative acquaintanceship with.
She’d seemed so skittish, so familiar somehow.
Had it been actual familiarity, not just kinship of spirit?
Oaklin’s stomach sank like a river stone. “Dara? She…?”
“Glowed like a festival lantern, yeah,” Lior said. “Just collapsed to the ground sobbing her poor heart out. She thought she was about to be killed on the spot.”
Thought, she said. Not was.
“So, she’s okay?” Oaklin asked. “No one cared? Really?”
Jules shrugged, his mouth an irritated angle. “I mean, every village has a few assholes.”
“We all know where Sister Talla stands,” Lior said with a scowl. Ryn patted her arm, and her shoulders dropped from where they’d bunched around her ears.
“But truly, most people were fine, yeah,” Ryn said. “Sammy hauled Dara off to the tavern to feed her and give her a real bed for a night.”
One act of kindness, okay. One from a prominent member of the village council, but still only one person.
“What happened to her?” Oaklin asked, hoping against hope she hadn’t left without a goodbye. “Is she still glowing?”
Lior shook her head. “No. Elder Varron broke the curse on her and gave her his word she would not be harmed by anyone in the village. I could do the same for you, with your permission. Do you want that?”
Oaklin’s eyes went wide. The glow could be gone right now, and the crash of relief was so strong they nearly agreed on the spot…
but now that they knew it could be removed at any time, they felt a strange urge to keep it.
Just for a little bit. Especially knowing there was another ex-cultist in the village, one who was likely just as secretive and distrustful as Oaklin.
“I know this might be hard to understand, but… I think I need to keep this for a little while longer,” they said. “At least until I can talk to Dara.”
“I understand,” Lior said. “Just send word to the library when—if—you ever want the curse lifted. I’ll come back out here and help anytime.”
“Thank you so much, Lior. I…” Oaklin’s throat closed up at the sheer force of all the things that needed to escape. Years of pain, fear, anger, uncried tears, and now: overwhelming gratitude. “I don’t know if it’s possible to say how much this means to me.”
Lior approached carefully, reaching a hand out slowly enough to give time for Oaklin to pull away. When they didn’t, Lior cupped Oaklin’s glowing hands in hers and pressed a kiss to them.
“I’m happy to help. Truly,” she said. “You’ve endured something horrific. You deserve a life unburdened by this curse.”
A wave of conflicted feelings followed Lior’s words. Did Oaklin deserve that life?
“You know, if you’d asked me a few hours ago, I would have said no. I don’t deserve it,” they said, the words rough as a blighted tomato vine.
“Oh, Oaklin,” Ryn began, but Oaklin shook their head.
“Hey, we’re up to a solid ‘maybe’ now,” Oaklin said. “That’s progress. But I think I just…need some time to process. I’ve been avoiding a lot of stuff and I need to start dealing with it.”
“Should we go, then?” Jules asked, strumming a wistful little chord on his lute.
For the first time in over a week, Oaklin gave a full, genuine smile, right from their heart.
“After you eat some of this mountain of food, yes. For today,” they said, shoving their hands in their pockets, then taking them back out again. “But I promise not to disappear again.”
“We’ll come hunting for you if you do!” Lior said, swaying closer so their shoulders were in constant, reassuring contact.
“I know some great hunting songs,” Jules said with raised eyebrows, his fingers pulling a plucky marching tune from the strings. “Very inspiring, I’m told.”
“Yes, yes, vague threats, we love you, and so on,” Ryn said, already picking up a loaf of Oaklin’s fresh-baked bread and knocking on it to test its doneness and crust. “This looks incredible though. Magical?”
Ryn’s hope sprung eternal. Oaklin smiled, shaking their head.
“No, sorry, just regular bread like my mom taught me. I’ve never been good at any sort of cooking or cleaning spells. My cottage is an overgrown forest of dust.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Jules said, stealing the bread from Ryn’s hands and ripping a chunk from one end.
Ryn clicked his tongue. “Whoa, big word there. Can you really blame me?”
“I can and I do,” Jules said with a sniff. “And hey, I’m very cultured, haven’t you heard?”
Ryn and Jules continued their friendly sniping, so focused on each other that it went quietly unnoticed when Lior tipped her chin down, a question in her eyes.
Oaklin hesitated but, at the brush of Lior’s hand on theirs, leaned in to accept the offered kiss, their heart aching with overwhelming gratitude.
These were their people.
This was their home.
For the first time in a long, long time…Oaklin felt safe.
***
Once the food had been eaten and Oaklin’s friends had all left, the ghost emerged from the shadows and stood in silence while Oaklin made a cup of tea. Once they settled by the cold hearth, Granny sat beside them and let them drink half the cup before speaking.
“So, what will you do now?” she asked.
Oaklin huffed a small laugh, staring down into their tea mug and watching the dregs slowly settle to the bottom. “Right now? Probably lay in bed and panic about that whole conversation. Convince myself they were lying. Maybe cry some more. I assume you heard all of it?”
The ghost hummed noncommittally, then nodded. An admission. “You were brave. That was a hard thing you did.”
“The hardest thing,” Oaklin agreed. “But after I have my minor panic about it, I’m gonna go out and harvest those tomatoes before night falls. And tomorrow…”
Oaklin looked out the window to the woods beyond their fields, feeling the threads of magic pulling them deep into the forest.
“Tomorrow I’m going to go find Dara,” they said. “I feel like she and I have a lot we need to talk about. I want to make sure she’s okay.”
They hesitated, then added: “I want her to know she’s not alone.”
“Good,” Granny said.
That was all.
But it was enough.