Chapter 3 #2
A child, a small Nymph girl, my first friend, out exploring a field when hunger rumbled her stomach, made her ache for a nearby patch of berries.
At the time we hadn’t known their name or the rhyme later composed for them—dreamberries.
Perhaps if we had known what they were called, we might have stopped to question it, or maybe it would have made them all the more enticing.
At that time in my life, all my dreams had been sweet.
My friend lifted one to her mouth, taking a tentative bite before smiling and shoving more past her lips.
I’d grown excited, too, and started to pick berry after berry, dropping it in my basket to bring home as a sweet treat for Móeir and my three older sisters.
But then the girl let out a startled groan and clutched her stomach, eyes fluttering, and she fell to the meadow floor.
The basket slipped from my fingers and I ran to her.
She was breathing, but shallowly. I shook her and she didn’t stir, as though trapped in deep slumber.
Her lips were set and stained ink black, like the gleaming flesh of the berry skin.
I ran back to the gathering circle, screaming for help. The elders answered.
'The berries haven't grown here in a millennia. This,' they'd scolded my Móeir afterwards, 'is why Avalon must be separated from the others, from the children, or these misfortunes will only get worse. It's been written in the stars.'
I blink away from the memory and stare at the berries.
I’ve never seen them growing anywhere but on Aurorae Island.
The bush opposite the fall is also riddled with dark, round berries, almost identical to the first save for the most subtle variation in shade.
Sanaberries, a fraction lighter in color, and most wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, but I’ll never forget it, as these are what the elders shoved into the girl's mouth to revive her.
Just in time, too, they claimed. A few moments longer and she never would have woken again.
But what does this mean? Is this part of the puzzle?
I suppose it’s best to find out what exactly the water does when touched, but I’m not about to use my body.
Carefully, I kneel to pluck one of the leaves that grow off the sanaberry bush.
I twist away the longest one I can find and hold it steady as I bring it to the falling stream.
On contact with the tip, there’s a sharp hiss and the dark green leaf begins to crumble apart like ash.
Quickly, I let the stem go and it drifts into the pelting water, dissolving completely.
Heart slamming, I reach for a dreamberry leaf, mindful of the thorns riddling the stalks, their poke just as deadly as the berries themselves.
The leaf is the same color and shape as the first. I hold it out towards the water, more tentative now that I've seen what it can do.
The tip splits the flow, and while I expect it to shrivel and dissolve like the first, I'm surprised to see it glance off the leaf completely as though repelled by its smooth edges. Shocked, I pull it back to stare at it, holding it up to the light filtering in from the ceiling. Dry. It’s completely dry.
Some to save and some to eat.
Gears in my mind begin their slow turn, ruminating on what I’ve discovered.
Someone has set a clever trap here. But who?
To my knowledge, these plants only grow in Aurorae, and perhaps in the realm of the gods, though I’ve never been.
So what mortal would recognize them for what they were?
Few. If any. Whoever set this was anticipating a god or godling—or perhaps even a Nymph—to solve their riddle and claim the crown fragment.
I reach for a dreamberry, pluck it free, and roll it gently between my fingertips. So, I must eat them to pass.
And then eat the sanaberry to save myself before succumbing to the sleeping death. But how many? Too much and I’m dead before I reach the other side. Too few and who knows if the water from the fall wouldn’t eat my flesh down to the bone.
Pluck, pluck. Two more join the other in my palm, and then three in my other hand, harvested from the sanaberry bush. Three pieces of the crown that the Triple God wore. Three sons who fought over and shattered it. Three berries swallowed and three more to balance the cost.
It’s a guess at best and a prayer at worst. I can’t remember how many berries my friend ate before falling into her stupor.
And I’ve no clue how many it will take to protect me.
But someone has set this up, intending the seeker to pass.
The fall could be enchanted—one must be close to death to evade it, is that their cryptic message?
From my bag, I remove a fresh pair of socks I've brought with me, thankful, for once, that they don’t match.
Three dreamberries go inside the darker one, three sanaberries into the lighter before I tie them off and nestle them safely inside, next to the rest of my belongings.
I’ll likely need them to get back across.
Who knows if there’s more bushes or a way out on the other side?
Quickly, I pick three more of each kind, just in case.
Before I can think too much harder and stop myself, I tip the three dreamberries into my mouth, chewing.
Their sweet flavor envelopes my tongue, better than anything I’ve tasted in a long time.
Despite knowing they could kill me, it's an effort not to reach for another. Instead, I grit my teeth. I need to move quickly, but fear is a wild, primal, writhing thing inside of me. I’m knocking at the door of the gods to Daìnheim, the realm of death that sits just below Skoyr.
I take in what could be my last breath and hold it, then dip my head and close my eyes, hugging my satchel close to my stomach to protect it from the water I should feel pouring down over my back as I step through the deadly veil.