Chapter 21 #2
The Aeternalis stirs, his lashes fluttering wildly.
Dread sinks in my stomach like an iron weight as those grass green eyes flick open and he pushes himself upward.
The wound at the center of his chest still gapes wide, but the circular one where the bullet pierced his skull is now little more than a soft red mark.
I try to grab Wendy, try to reach for my magic, for a sword—for anything to slow the hatred burning in his gaze. But Pan is inhumanly quick as he lunges for us, sending us toppling to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
Threads of his magic tighten around me, pulling my arms and legs taut until I can do nothing but watch as the Aeternalis plunges a small dagger into Wendy’s heart.
A cry of horror wedges itself in my throat as her eyes bulge, and her mouth opens and closes without sound; as more tears spill down her cheeks and mingle with her blood.
Pan leans over her, drinking in every bit of her fear; feeding his shadow with Wendy’s pain. “Once again, dear cousin, you’ve allowed your idealism to mislead you.” His shadow grinds on top of her, undulating in her agony. “You do not love me, but I—I have always loved you.”
The words are not a sweet boon in the Aeternalis’ mouth, but a lethal threat. A sob bubbles up from Wendy’s throat and blood trickles from the corner of her lips.
“You have been taught that love feels good, and so you did not recognize it when it hurt.” He twists the knife.
Wendy’s resounding scream rents through the newly fallen night.
I wrestle against the bindings of magic, their white-hot power searing my skin with each touch. The Aeternalis yanks the knife from Wendy’s chest, and more blood spurts from the wound.
I hadn’t truly believed her when she said she shared my curse, but now, I pray for it to be true.
Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.
I whisper it to the forest. I whisper it to my magic. I whisper it to the second star and whatever exists beyond that.
But no matter how I whisper, it does nothing to stop the glassy emptiness in Wendy’s eyes.
Pan rises to his feet. His golden hair is matted with blood, his skin peppered with pieces of his own skull. I go still, tensing in anticipation of what he’ll do next. He cannot kill me as he killed Wendy, but if I cannot escape his chains, he can hurt me far worse.
His eyes lock onto mine as he raises the bloodied blade to run his tongue along the edge. His eyes roll in pleasure at the taste, and my shadow digs its claws beneath my skin. It clatters against my bones as Pan cleans the blade, consuming the last pieces of her.
He runs his tongue over his lips with relish, before releasing me from his magic. But even as the binds loosen, a deep sense of despair tightens.
“Thank you for the beautiful gift,” he says, eyes intense on me.
Perhaps he expects me to run or to fall swooning at his feet, but I only stare at him indifferently. If Pan’s shadow is anything like mine, it thrives on others’ pain. And though I may not be able to defeat him with magic or weapons, I can refuse to give him what he wants.
“She wasn’t a gift. She was our family.” I will my gaze not to stray to where her body lies discarded, bleeding out on the moss; refuse to think about her last heart beats sounding in a land she hated.
Pan’s pale brows furrow, and for a moment, he appears far too childlike. “You are upset with me?” His confusion is palpable as he motions to my shadow writhing above me. It tugs at my hair, pulls painfully at my heart, excited by the pain thick in the air.
“But Willa,” the Aeternalis pleads with surprising earnest. “I ended her for you.”
I lean away from him, shaking my head. “No. You don’t do anything for anyone but yourself.”
His mouth twists in sudden annoyance, and he snaps, “It. Wants.”
My shadow lurches in agreement, twitching toward Wendy. A serpentine smile crawls over Pan’s face.
“It doesn’t,” I grit out, even as the shadow’s teeth begin to snap at my heart.
“It wants, it wants, it wants,” Pan sings ominously, teasing my anxiety to the surface of my skin where it prickles and burns. “Watching her blood spill…It felt good, didn’t it?”
Acid climbs my throat and fills my mouth as Pan’s shadow leaves his side and saunters toward mine. It caresses against it, breathing in its malevolence, echoing of violence and pain and misery. Shame rises to strangle my breath, because as much as I despise him, he isn’t wrong.
The shadow is of my own making—my most horrible inclinations brought to life. And it does want, its starvation a painful echo in my chest every moment since I woke in the Hollows.
“Your shadows call to my own, littlest darling. They are terrible, terrible things that no mere human will ever be able to understand.” His shadow writhes lasciviously against mine.
“This kingdom will only want you so long as you pretend to be one of them. What happens when they discover you are not?”
His eyes glimmer at my flinch; at the way I instinctively tug at my shadow, like it’s still possible to hide it inside my ribs.
“Your father, your mother, your sister...the doctors at the camps…” He steps forward, and for some reason, I don’t measure it, even as his eyes darken and his face flashes skeletal.
“That rotting corpse who calls himself a king. All of them used you up and spit you right back out, because they are mortals. They will never understand the call to power in the blood of gods like us.”
Pan’s inched close enough that I smell the blood on his breath when he leans in and says in a silky caress, “Stop trying to earn the love of those who do not deserve it. We are the creators of the universe, Willa. They bow to us. We shall build our empires on their backs.”
Our shadows wrestle in a frenzied tangle, mirroring the feeling deep in my chest. Like the malevolent hunger isn’t just outside of me, but inside me too.
Shadows slice at my ribs and leak from my tear ducts, just as they had when I met Niko in the Crocodile.
They slip through my fumbling grip and pour into the air around us, until we are both bathed in shades of horror.
Pan lets out a delighted laugh, his eyes shining with avid fervor.
“No,” I whisper, clawing at the shadows; attempting to gather them to me even as more pour from my eyes and mouth. They taste of ash and bitterness—of slick shame and acidic regret—and I gag as more slip up my throat and over my tongue. “No!”
Pan brings the dagger up to my lips, swiping what remains of Wendy’s blood over them. It tastes of iron. It tastes of pain. And I think my sudden hunger for it will swallow me alive.
I thought it was power I’ve always hungered for, but perhaps I was wrong. Maybe the only thing that will satiate the black hole of my soul is drinking the pain of others—making them hurt as I’ve hurt.
Yes, my shadow croons. Destroy them all. Gorge yourself on their hurt.
“Yes, Willa.” Pan’s silky whisper is an echo of my own sins. “No one can love you but a god. No one can love you but me.”
My breath freezes like ice in my lungs, but before I can begin to untangle the emotions snarled in my chest, a loud crack reverberates through the island
Pan whips his head to the sky, watching the fireworks flicker and flare before tumbling down to fall somewhere in the sea.
I have seen the Aeternalis look terrifying, but it is nothing to his expression now. Bestial. Inhuman.
The Aeternalis’ face goes skeletal, his bellow of fury is still echoing through the trees long after he disappears into thin air. Leaving me alone to be strangled by the darkness of my own shadows.