5. Esther #5
Tears stream as I try to convey to him silently how much it hurts, but I know the little guy would’ve experienced it while trapped inside me.
I don’t know how to remove our contract, I think, wanting to free him, wanting to let him escape this suffering and imminent demise.
But even if I am to die, if he’s not trapped within me, he will at the very least be set free.
All the strength leaks from my bones, but I put one hand in front of the other, crawling to my knees as I rasp out, “Come on,” and pick him up as I stumble on shaky legs, barely able to stand.
I hold him close to my chest, focusing on him instead of the pain, making sure not to squeeze or hurt Grimace, using him as my anchor.
My next step snags on a vine, but instead of reeling forward, it pulls tight, and I’m flung into the air, caught in a net.
I’m dazed as I groan, immediately focusing on recalling Grimace, much to his protest. If the men have already caught up, then I won’t let them have him, knowing that right now, he won’t leave my side.
When I look down, I notice the clear trap I’d stepped into as the almost full moon breaks through the canopy, and I hang limply in the air.
I reach for my garter but my hand comes away empty.
I must have lost it on the boat. Fuck, I need something to cut the netting.
Selena! I flounder to pick out the hairpiece, my hair pooling around me in wet clumps.
I try to angle myself without much effort as my body depletes and drains.
A branch snaps nearby, and I immediately freeze, trying to at least muster the strength to get on my hands and knees, but my feet keep slipping through the net.
Then another pain of fire explodes over my legs, and I curl into myself, silently screaming into the net as the sensation of being set alight runs over me.
My nails dig deeply into my arms, and I hold myself, doing everything I can to remain conscious.
I roll onto my back, coming to a half-sit with my back against the netting, breathing shallowly as I look out to where my attacker might be coming from.
Fight.
Survive.
My head rolls limply from one side to another, memories of my clan being wiped out and experiencing this pain as my binding came undone on that fateful night. It’s strange how I’d forgotten the fierce torture, but when rebirthed, it returns with a vengeance.
My binding is coming undone and my magic will begin to consume me.
My invisible chains rattle, picking up on a hint of magic, but with an element I’m not accustomed to.
A figure in a black cloak appears between the trees, a leather hood drawn down over their forehead.
Two identical swords cross over their back, and I curse as I bring the hairpiece, my only weapon, to my chest.
“Stay away,” I rasp, my voice as broken as the rest of my body and soul. I immediately lurch over and vomit again. I keep my eyes open, looking for the hooded figure that’s no longer there.
But they’re not gone, I realize when my invisible chains rattle, curious by the new magic.
I look up at eye level, on my hands and knees, unnerved by the pair of copper eyes that hauntingly watch me.
The face is blistered and cracked, distinctly male.
I can hardly decipher where the lips begin and end because of how severely his face twists.
As appealing as if death itself has come to claim me.
But how did he reach me so high? When I look down, I realize a mound of dirt has grown into a pedestal. Earth magic.
“Link,” I whisper tiredly. My invisible chains bind with the magic, and I immediately regret it.
Unlike the flow of water magic that I often feel within my stomach, now my legs feel heavy and like I’m drowning in sinking mud.
Still, I try to command a log nearby. Unlike the ease of water, it barely topples, but still grabs the stranger’s attention.
The greer’s head tilts to the side as he assesses me, and that’s when I sense the amount of magic carved into his face and body, hiding his identity. If this man was going to be the death of me, I would at least know his face so I can haunt him in the afterlife.
“It’s a lie,” I rasp as I stretch out my hand and try to concentrate my chains enough to muster some kind of control over this element and yank, willing the magic to rake down his face like claws.
Relief washes over me as chunks of it crumble to the ground, revealing bronze cheekbones and dark, rough facial hair.
He is heavily built, just like his magic, his black hair messy and dirty, but it bounces with volume.
He smells like earth, pine, and mint. The hue of warmth exudes from him despite his scowling expression.
I almost smile, relieved to have gotten this far. “So, death’s face is charming,” I rasp.
The feel of a blade piercing into my chest keels me over as I scream and look down, expecting to see a knife protruding, but there is none. I splutter blood, the greer not even flinching as it hits his face.
“Are you cursed?” he asks in a gravelly, husky voice.
However, it’s no longer his face that I see as my sight fades in and out.
It’s Master Kain’s, and his warm smile. Tears well in my eyes, and I know in this moment, he is gone, and my binding has come undone as I’m dragged into the depths of my undoing.