Chapter 37
A crystal mine in Nezjar has been destroyed in an act of terrorism by rebel forces.
Four young women, suspected of using Shawafa as a means to work against our realm, are wanted for questioning.
Please report any sighting of them to local authorities immediately so that peace may be quickly restored.
THE ARM OF GOD HAS MIRACLES IN ITS FIST!
—pamphlets dropped from hot-air balloons over all residential neighborhoods in Mekchaouen
The forest no longer frightens Shay. The places she once thought were inhabited by monsters have become her refuge, and the places where she most wanted to belong have been exposed as the seat of the truly monstrous.
There's dark beauty in the pathways between the giant trunks, beneath the sprawling shadows of twisted cedar branches. Unique plants wait to be discovered, and winding caves beg to be explored. Even the half dead creatures that call the heart of this slithering foliage home are growing on her.
It's here, in the quiet shade of a stand of twilight oaks, that the bone-eaters helped her dig her mother's grave.
That was one moon cycle ago. She's come back today to pay her respects before she leaves for the Island.
She does not know when she will return. Just that the Morchidat has told her the move is necessary, both for her safety and so that she, Khawla, Marjan, and Yara can be trained.
Laying her palm upon the flat stone that marks her mother's resting place, Shay closes her eyes. A soft breeze wafts over her, laced with the scents of burnt leaves and damp earth.
With the pillars gone, Al-Mukhtar will soon run out of Snow. Their web of lies will begin to unravel. The girls have scant time. They must harness their own powers so that when the women of Mekchaouen are ready, they can guide them in reclaiming theirs.
But they'll need more than power. They'll need strategy and negotiation skills.
They can't defeat Al-Mukhtar without winning the support of the Naturalists and, though Shay may not like it, the bloodsuckers.
At least the bone-eater clan has aligned themselves with the Sisterhood—or with Shay, as Aidi clarified when the brothers returned from their skirmish with the Naturalists.
“I'll take good care of her, God willing,” she says, in case her mother's spirit lingers near the veil.
She's let go of any bitterness she ever held against Hind.
There's no use in wasting anger on people who are simply fallible when there is true evil in the world to contend with.
“And I'll tell her that you loved her, when she's old enough to understand.”
She looks down at her sister, tied to her chest with a sturdy cloth. The baby's eyes are wide and innocent. Shay makes two small balls out of plant wax and mud and fits them into Najla's ears.
She stands. She opens her mouth. She screams.
A scream to let it all out before she has to go pretend that a few silver streaks in her hair make her something better than she was before. That she would have accepted this responsibility if anyone had given her an actual choice in the matter.
A scream for all the women hurt by men with big egos and tiny hearts.
A scream for the women betrayed by other women who think it will gain them favor with such men.
A scream for the parts of herself she gave away before she knew their worth. For the part that the night hags stole. The something she cannot name but misses just the same.
A scream to remember that injustice is something no one should ever get used to.
Her wails echo through the treetops, quivering branch to branch, stirring throngs of birds to flight.
Quiet.
Then the forest screams back. A shrieking cacophony of hoots, chirps, yelps, caterwauls, and howls sets every leaf to shaking with its collective power.
Power that belongs to her and always has.