Chapter 24
Mora
“Me?” Mora spat, wiping her face on her sleeve. All she managed to do was smear more gore on her lips, the metallic flavor of Arlen’s blood festering on her taste buds. Bile churned in her stomach, but it was nothing next to the heat boiling in her veins. “What the hell is wrong with you!”
Castellan’s upper lip curled. “If I hadn’t put him out of his misery, you would have tortured him forever.”
“He deserved it.” Imani stepped out from the embrace of her tree, her deep green hood hanging limply at her back, revealing dark hair that was shaved down.
She heaved a heavy breath and wrapped her arm around Jade, supporting her love as they limped, roots slithering over broken cobblestones and clearing a path.
They locked eyes, a silent conversation in that long stare.
“I know that look,” the other King’s Guard said. “There’s been enough fighting today; leave Castellan alone. I can vouch for him.”
Jade shook her head, then winced. “That’s a royal sword,” she said, pressing her palm against her swollen eye, “and we don’t trust King’s Guards.”
He sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and waltzing closer. “While I love being the exception, this whole saving you thing won’t work if you don’t trust my friend.”
Imani rolled her eyes. “We never said we trusted you, either.” Her tone was harsh, but the tiniest smirk pulled at her lips as she accepted the cloth.
The guard admonished them for leaving the farmhouse without him, but Mora paid them no mind.
“I did as you wished,” she muttered to Castellan.
“That had nothing to do with me!” He tore his hood free, nostrils flaring, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “You weren’t thinking, you were reacting, like you did back in Moldenna.”
Mora’s eyes narrowed. Though, part of her wilted under his assessment, knowing he was right—she’d gone too far. What scared her most was she’d reveled in it, losing herself to her fury.
We all become monsters.
Dother’s words rattled in her mind. Was this what she wanted? When she’d told him she was ready to be a monster in her own right, a creature he would fear, had she intended to become one to all?
Mora didn’t know who she was anymore. Nor who she needed to be. She may have ended Dother, but he’d shackled her to the flask, and now she was lost in a world she didn’t recognize. Trapped under the whims of every Keeper to come.
“I warned you,” she seethed, crossing her arms.
Castellan shot an incredulous look to his counterpart, but the man simply shrugged his shoulders. He almost seemed... amused?
“You never warned me of this,” Castellan countered, blood flicking off his blade as he pointed to the man he’d beheaded.
“I said you may not like what comes of your wishes.” She held his stare, unafraid of the thunder raging within him. “You chose to make one regardless.”
Leather squeaked under Castellan’s palm, his grip tightening on his sword. Fresh drops of blood tumbled from the blade’s sharp edge, splashing in the cooling puddle while Mora watched. How much of that mess was from her own wounds?
Would Elodie come for it? Was that what she’d wanted?
The Aegist acted strangely, his blank stare so much like Jonah’s, and they’d both stabbed her. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
Then there were Elodie’s rings. They’d almost looked like...
She swallowed, flexing her fingers to keep them from shaking.
... They looked like blood.
Her voice quieted. “The woman who accosted us in Moldenna was here.”
“Someone bested you, Cas?” His friend snorted, sauntering to his side to punch him playfully on the shoulder. “I’d pay to see that.”
Wide, gray eyes raked over the dead. “Where is she?”
Mora shrugged, tipping her chin toward the buildings at the square’s north end, their red bricks untouched by gore or flames. Fresh prints peppered the snow between them, but Elodie was nowhere to be found. “Last I saw, she was in that alley with her beast of a man.”
The spray of freckles on Castellan’s cheeks faded, consumed by red—Mora couldn’t be sure if it was fear or fury burning in his stare. Did he long to hunt them down and demand they return his bag? Or was he remembering how helpless he’d felt on his knees in Moldenna?
A pallor overtook his friend’s sun-kissed face, cooling his honey-beige skin, lips parting on an inhale. Could he sense the gallant knight’s feelings? How well did they know one another? When Mora blinked, the tension dissipated, sparks of mirth softening his handsome features.
“Of course you’d be all business.” He chuckled, smacking his hand lightly between Castellan’s shoulder blades. Then his dark eyes roved over Mora, glittering with approval. “I always wondered if you’d look like your paintings.”
Mora clenched her fists until her knuckles ached. “And I find myself wondering who would speak to a stranger like this.”
He pouted, pressing a hand to his chest. “Castellan hasn’t told you of me?”
“There have been more pressing things to discuss than tales of standing guard together for hours on end,” Castellan shot back. Though, his focus never left the alley, his noble features hardening further.
Royal blue fabric wrinkled beneath his friend’s palm. “Cas, I’m hurt!” The weight of his stare shifted back to Mora’s face, dark eyes ensnaring her. “The least you could do is properly introduce me, so I’m no longer a stranger.”
Once again, she was soothed by memories of mint splashed with petrichor, the pungent scent of decay lost to the winds.
Mora blinked, flashes of viridian and sage fluttering behind her eyelids.
She tried to look away. Made every attempt to peek over his shoulder at the husk of a burning storefront. But she couldn’t.
And he knew it.
The guard grinned.
What a prick!
If she imagined gold glittering in the depths of those eyes, she could almost pretend he was the Fae from her dreams. They weren’t dark enough, his cheekbones a little too soft, but...
her heart fluttered in her chest as a voice she rarely heard when she was awake rumbled softly in her mind. Hello, Little Witch.
She nearly growled—what games were the Fates playing, taunting her endlessly like this?
“I’m Eris,” he said, offering her his hand.
His grin grew when Mora made no move to accept it.
“At least, I think that’s my name.” Dropping his arms to his side, he took a step closer, tipping his chin down to better look at her face.
“It’s hard to remember when the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen is standing before me.
Perhaps I’ve died. Are you a goddess? Is this the heavens? ”
Mora blinked. Who did he think he was? “Don’t speak to me with such familiarity,” she spat, a quiet rage seething between the words. Though, the thrum in her chest at his closeness was impossible to ignore.
She hated it.
Castellan cleared his throat. “The woman from Moldenna, did she—”
A tree burst through cobblestones and slammed into his back, his words cutting off with a grunt.
Castellan’s hands hit the ground first, slapping on ice and grit.
Gravel slicing through his palms. When his cheek smacked against stone, Mora flinched and brought her hand to her face, imagining the ache throbbing in his jaw.
Water sputtered around Jade’s fingers, though it was barely a few drops. “We have questions,” she seethed, narrowing the one eye she could.
Eris pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did I not say—”
“We’ll bind you too, if you don’t shut your damned mouth,” Imani spat.
“But—”
His lips pressed into a thin line when roots swarmed his boots.
The tree reached for Mora, branches curling around her arm. Their touch soft. Timid. When they slowed, gently caressing their prey, the Naturalist furrowed her brow. Sweat dripped from her forehead, barely missing her eyes, as she pushed her power harder.
Nothing happened.
“Is this truly necessary?” Mora asked, frowning at the plant matter tickling her cheek. “I saved you.”
When Imani didn’t stop, Mora sighed and tugged at the tether in her chest. Ash floated on the winter breeze, waltzing with snowflakes under the careful watch of a dying blaze, while Mora burst into a sea of glittering obsidian.
She snaked through blood and snow before rematerializing at Castellan’s side.
“You’re wasting your time,” she said, plucking a leaf from Imani’s new tree and twirling it in her fingers. The mist still clinging to her skin fluttered along with it, a dissipating string of darkness reaching for the plant but never quite catching it.
Then it was gone, locked back within her. Pacing behind her ribs.
The knight attempted to push himself up, but the tree pressed harder, until he sprawled on the ground. “A little help?”
Mora pursed her lips and looked to the Halflings, the Naturalist staring daggers at her—until Imani had nothing left to give, they were at a standstill.
“I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do.” She dropped the leaf and bent so Castellan could see her face, lips tipping up in dark amusement.
“Unless you’d like to make another wish?
” she taunted. Watching him. Silently promising he couldn’t hope to control her.
Because, if Mora knew anything for certain, it was that she wouldn’t bend so easily to anyone’s will, even if their intentions were pure.
Eris laughed under his breath.
“Shut up,” Castellan wheezed, his focus slipping toward the Halflings. “You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish.”
“Or out of options,” Jade offered, pain tightening her face.
Imani pulled Jade closer. “I’d say it’s nothing personal, but...” She looked to Mora, upper lip curling. “The royal family did this to us.”
“And somehow, the Crown falling made it worse,” Eris added, tugging at his bindings.
Roots snapped, bark scuffing his boots, though several remained, still tethering him in place.
He grimaced, pleading eyes lifting to Imani.
Missing the creature he’d reawakened, prowling behind Mora’s burning stare.
Blood rushed through her ears, those words resonating along with an endless, enervating pounding.
“Say that again,” she said, voice a deadly whisper.
“Mora...” Castellan warned. He knew. Saw into the depths of her blackened soul, somehow understanding the way Dother ruined her. Twisting her into... this.
Eris, unfortunately, was woefully unprepared.
“What?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. Frowning at whatever he saw. “The Crown has fallen and—”
Mora shrieked, despair crashing through her to join the dead strewn across the square.
Erupting violently into a sea of vaporous wrath, she slammed into Eris, trying to grab him and wrap him in shadows.
Because she still lived, and she would tear those words from his tongue.
From the mouths of all of Berwick’s people.
But no wish compelled her. No wish allowed her to do anything. All Mora accomplished was to slide over him, a soft wave of frigid smoke.
The way he trembled as she consumed him soothed something in her broken soul. “We can talk this out, Vicious Thing,” he said, fumbling through the darkness.
Jade cried out, and Imani backed them away, nearly tripping over Arlen’s remains. Her tree tipped over, boughs creaking as they withered.
“Take your King’s Guard and leave us!” Imani shouted, lifting her free hand in supplication. In response, her plants crept back into the earth.
Castellan groaned, forcing himself up. “I won’t forget this,” he said bitterly, baring his teeth at the Naturalist while he swept his hands over his cloak.
It sparkled, bits of snow clinging to the gray fabric.
After a deep breath, he turned to Mora’s undulating form.
“I’m tired, Princess. Please, don’t make me call you back to the flask. ”
She flinched, black wisps jerking back before they stilled.
Part of her now ached to slam into him, with every ounce of her power—if only she could. Instead, she twirled around him, mussing that perfect halo of golden curls. When she emerged by his side, she didn’t bother to give him her attention, marching past him to the puddle of blood.
“I thought I deserved to feel human,” she said flatly, undoing her cloak’s laces and slipping free. “How quickly your standards change when I become an inconvenience.”
“That’s not—”
“Save it.” Mora’s voice dipped low, a tired apathy crawling over her body and pulling her into its embrace. It hadn’t mattered how gallant he was—Castellan was another Keeper. Another shackle. Apt to control her.
And what did it matter? Everyone she loved was dead, and the world thought it just.
“Mora?” Castellan’s voice sounded far away.
Her pulse pounded, coursing through her body as she stared at the mess she’d left behind. The puddle that had gods knew how much of her in it. Had she done the same in Moldenna? Did it matter?
What more could the Fates take from her?
“Mora?” Castellan called again, but she was too busy avoiding Arlen’s cloudy blue eyes, Dother’s ceaseless taunts plucking at her sanity.
I bound us in blood, he cooed, his phantom touch trickling over her skin. Sticking to her side like her sullied tunic. No one could take me from you, Treasure. Not even the Fates. Not unless I allowed it.
Mora shivered as she knelt on the ground and dropped her cloak onto the mess. “You don’t get to keep me, bastard,” she whispered.
But Dother whispered back, Oh, Treasure, you already know you’re mine.