Epilogue
SELENA
Iunpeel the thick bandages from around my cracked chest. There’s ooze dripping from the curse, as I dip into the depths of the cool lake. Cold puffs of air pass through my lips as my teeth chatter. It only ever offers a few moments of relief, even when the cold nights annoy my festering wounds.
It’s the early hours in the morning, and for the most part, everyone is still asleep. The moment I flick the cool water over my breasts, they flare like fire, stretching out over every ingrained fracture. I hiss, biting down on my lip to keep the gurgling scream in.
Three.
Two.
One.
I drop into the water, so the cold engulfs my entire body. It ignites with searing pain, and I scream into the water, caught in this forever hell.
Once I’m done tending to my wounds, I walk to the water’s bank, quickly drying myself before pulling out the balm from my pants pocket.
I curve my fingers into the green salve and rub them over my breasts.
I then wrap my chest with a fresh bandage so my dress won’t irritate or rub against the wound.
The curse is worsening. I throw on my loose pants and shirt, then begin squeezing the water from my hair.
I tie my leather boots and gather my satchel of bones, folding them tightly into my chest. Recently, I’ve been hearing the urgency to carry them with me, the whispers of the Fates revolving around Esther, who, it has been said, killed the king three moon cycles ago.
Ever since, girls who work in the castle have been slowly disappearing.
Which is why I’ve chosen to bathe on the outskirts of the city, as opposed to the castle’s bathhouse, where the disappearances originated.
I try to gather as much intel as I can, my bones rattling for me to run.
But it isn’t yet time. Somehow, all of it revolves around the omni greer.
A gentle snap of a nearby twig has my hand reaching for the concealed knife I always carry at my hip. With the lake to my back, something sinister creeps out from the apple trees. Three men walk toward me, not even trying to hide their shadowy figures any longer.
Dahlia’s soldiers. They’ve grown strange in the past month, some seemingly possessed, but not in the same way Blaze has, leaving only a week after King Kain’s fall. No, something else is unsettling about them. Then there are those who are clearly just assholes among her ranks, such as these.
“A little past your bedtime, wouldn’t you say, boys?” I boldly declare, shaken as they walk toward me. Although I’m good with a knife, confronting three men with swords isn’t in my favor. But I certainly won’t go down without a fight.
“We warned you that your smart mouth would get you into trouble. And finally, without Dahlia here, I’m sure she won’t notice if a hand maiden or two go missing,” the lanky man with a black eye and yellow teeth says as he smiles.
Dahlia took half the army with her. Wherever it was, it required ships, and staggers of soldiers have continued rolling out since the last full moon.
I hide the small knife behind my back, dependent on the element of surprise.
“Perhaps we should have some fun firs—” The whistle of an arrow hits him in the side of the neck and he falls to the ground. The other two turn, disoriented, and I take my opportunity to pounce.
I jump onto the back of the closest soldier, wrapping my legs around his waist and stabbing the man multiple times in the chest until he collapses beneath my weight. By the time I drop to the ground, the other man is on the ground with an arrow protruding from his chest.
Barbados walks out of the trees, a small relief washing away the shot of adrenaline.
I release a relieved sigh and pick up one of the swords because I steal whatever I can, including a small satchel of powder and food rations.
I look past him and see two sets of wolf eyes, guarding from the dark. His contracted beasts.
“We need to get you out of the city. Now,” Barbados says, looking over his shoulder to ensure he hasn’t been followed.
“What? Why?” I demand, my legs already moving behind him swiftly, having known this day would come. But I didn’t think it would be today.
“The girls that are being taken, Dahlia’s using in blood rituals,” Barbados says.
“She’s using weird magic and mutated-like beasts named Killas to control half our men.
The only thing that’s keeping me protected is this.
” He points to the talisman at his throat.
“Surely you can feel it, how everything is changing.”
Barbados and I have only had a few interactions since King Kain’s passing. The city fell into a somber existence with his death and most hide in their homes since Dahlia has taken over. She leaves her husband to run their own kingdom further south.
I follow him without question because I know that there is nothing here for me, and intuitively everything he says is true.
Barbados keeps us to the outskirts of the city, skeptically looking over every corner and stopping as soldiers make their rounds.
They move stiffly, their expressions distant, as if their soul has already been devoured by whatever this Killa is.
An ominous owl hoots from an alleyway that Barbados turns toward, squeezing down the small, stench-riddled space. My heart thumps as I follow him. He’s right, except for the few girls that I’ve tried to save while suspecting something dark happening within the castle, they’re falling one by one.
I would rather stay to save them, but the bones in the satchel rattle, demanding my attention.
Barbados comes to a stop, peering around a shoulder as we wait for a soldier on patrol to walk by.
“Where are you taking me?” I whisper.
He presses his finger to his lips before looking around the corner again, then he leads me out. “I’m getting you out of here.”
A bell begins to ring, and we both glance up in alarm, most likely from where the three dead soldiers have been found.
Soldiers shout from close by, and then I hear another ominous owl hooting as we walk toward the cliff edges.
Some of the homes closest are still affected by the water beast’s attacks three moons ago, all of them abandoned now.
We hide among the rubble, Barbados’s steady gaze looking over another corner and up at the watchtower of the castle.
“A rope hangs over the cliff edge. You’ll have to scale down and follow the owl call. The person there will help you leave this land.”
“Why are you helping me?” He was risking his life and that of his family’s if it were known he’d aided my escape.
His gaze softens. “Because the late king told me a day would come when you must be sent away to find her.” He seems bemused as he adds, “He said something about the Fates. I thought he was becoming senile, but I never thought his judgment was clouded. Everything he prophesized would happen did. Dahlia betrayed him, and he sent the one thing he cared about most away. You must find Esther and help her. That is what he told me.”
“But wouldn’t it make more sense for you to go?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m needed here, but you need to bring Esther back to help the women who will only continue to suffer.
Everyone is trapped here, and it’s only a matter of time until Dahlia’s return.
Under King Saldom’s influence, who knows what rot will spread through this kingdom.
But King Kain trusted in his daughter. So do I. And I also trust in you.”
My chest expands, my heart racing. The issue with the Fates putting things into motion is that there is no warning, but absolute urgency when pieces get pushed into place.
Knowing this, I still falter. I’ve never considered this place home, but I also know what lies beyond the walls and the darkness that spreads through it.
I also know a cage when I’m in one.
I grab his thick forearm, surprised by my desperation. “Come with me, Barbados. It’s a death sentence here.”
An uncharacteristic sad smile passes over him. “Someone needs to help our people for as long as possible. Whether that only gives me a day or a week. My place is to remain here, and I have someone important to me waiting for you and your help, so please go.”
He shoves me out into the open, pushing my survival instincts into overdrive as the open sea breeze whips around my body. I immediately glance over at the watchtower and back to where Barbados once stood. He darts into the rubble, running toward the city.
I give myself only a moment, reeling in everything that is about to happen and the uncertainty as to whether I’m simply running into my own demise. But so be it, better a free woman than a caged one.
I run toward the cliff edge, and when I look over the defying drop, nausea swells in my stomach. The feeble piece of rope flaps against the wind. Does he really expect me to descend that? Fuck me, I might not even make it to the shore if I fall to my death.
Another owl hoot from the sea line, and I barely make out a shadow on a boat.
I bite down on my bottom lip, cursing the fucking Fates, as I nervously sweep my hands over myself to make sure the bones are secure.
Then I quickly pray to make sure I don’t fall to my death. It’s awkward to hold onto the top of the rope as I try to hang my weight over the cliff edge. I stagger after a few attempts, cursing at my cowardice, having to remind myself that I’ve survived worse.
It doesn’t lessen my disgruntlement as I curse Barbados’s name but awkwardly bend over the rope. My hands hold onto it so tightly I freeze partway from fear as I look down.
A shout from the shoreline pushes me into action. My feet and knees scrape along the edge, and my arms burn from holding my own weight as I grip for my life.
“Just don’t look down,” I encourage. “Just don’t look—” I look down at the crashing waves and the very narrow strip of sand.
Below, a figure waves at me, the owl hoots now seemingly more taunting as if to tell me to hurry the fuck up. I can’t see their face, but I already know whoever it is, I don’t like them.
I take one shaky step at a time as I descend the wall.
How convenient of the bones not to tell me I’d soon have to scale a fucking cliff.
A howling burst of wind catches me off guard as if a consequence of thinking unfavorably of my bones.
My grip slips, the rope falling away as I drop backward.
A small shriek escaping as I hit the ground, except the fall isn’t steep enough to knock the wind out of me; the earth closer than I realized.
My heart is still catching up with the fact that I survived the fall, skin peeling away on my palms from rope burn.
I’m yanked up by the elbow. “We need to go now,” the person says as they drag me toward a small paddle boat. Their blue robe flaps relentlessly in the night as they throw me a faded red one. “Put this on, now.”
I stop. “And who the fuck are you?”
The figure turns. He’s a young man in his early twenties, his blue eyes and mop of curly blond hair reminding me of someone, but I can’t quite put my finger on who.
“I’m Cole. Now, can you please hurry the fuck up before we’re caught.”
He steps into the small boat with oars, two bags in the center of what I’m assuming to be supplies.
I follow him, looking back up at the hill, noticing flames light up along the wall. “Where are you taking me?” I ask, noticing the two valuable, yellow-studded gems pierced in both ears. He quickly rows us out to sea, seemingly effortless considering his slender build.
Cole looks at me blankly. “Barbados said you would tell us where we’re going.”
I blanch. “How the fuck would I know?”
“Aren’t you some foreseer or something?”
My gaze narrows on him. No one knows about my bones except the few I’ve been called to help, and the last person was Esther, who would appear to have gotten me in this shitty situation.
But I have suspicions the old king always knew.
I swallow, looking up at the full moon thoughtfully.
I don’t know why the thought comes to mind, but I’ve learned better than to judge when whispers run along my magic, no matter how much I try to shove it down.
I pull out my satchel of bones and ask them for guidance.
“Ew, what the fuck is that?”
“Can you please shut the fuck up?” I bite, already knowing whoever this asshole is, I can’t stand him, and if I have to stab and throw him overboard, I will feel nothing when I do it.
He smiles. “A bit vulgar for a lady, wouldn’t you say?”
“Who are you calling a lady?” I snap as I throw my bones onto the floorboards of the boat, the moonlight barely enough to see the message, but it’s clear, and my mouth becomes dry.
“Where am I taking us?”
The Fates truly have gone mad. But when I look back to the city now in the distance, I question the Fates’ entitlement, and why of all the places we need to go, it’s there.
But if the Fates say this is where we need to be, then how do I argue with the Fates... or the bones.
I look to Cole and say two words, “Boey Jungle.”
THANK YOU FOR READING, IF YOU LOVE THE ADVENTURE SO FAR I WOULD