Chapter 67
Mora
Mora lay curled in the grass long after Castellan carried Imani’s body away, Jade weeping by his side.
Clinging to Imani’s limp hand. Muttering her name over and over again, like a plea to the Gods.
Each whisper burrowed into Mora’s heart, tearing at her innards until she was certain whatever remained of her soul would bleed out and sink into the dirt alongside Imani’s blood.
Now, it was quiet. Too quiet. The deafening blare of her thoughts impossible to ignore.
In her mind, she was screaming. Wailing.
Cursing the Gods, and Dother, and... herself most of all.
As night clawed its way through the sky, usurping the dying sun, Mora didn’t notice the cooling air.
Goosebumps rose on her flesh, her body trembling while she hugged herself tighter, but she was hardly aware of it. Hardly aware of anything at all.
At least she had the specks of stars scattered above as company. It made her think of the Fae from her dreams with endless black eyes that glittered like the heavens. The meadow was where Mora wished to be. Where she wished she could stay eternally.
As she shifted, cracks skittered through the dried gore painting her skin.
It didn’t make her feel powerful.
Mora was weak.
A failure.
Her stubbornness and her fractured sanity—imaginings of him—cost her too much. She’d abandoned...
Her friend.
Mora could hear Imani’s voice as if she stood in front of her now, her hand out in offering.
“You deserved better than me,” she said... to no one.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Eris’s tone was tentative. Soft. The way one spoke to a creature they feared would run at the sound of their voice.
Part of her wanted to run.
The rest of her couldn’t bother to move.
As he approached, Mora closed her eyes, hating the tears sliding down her cheeks. What right did she have to cry?
Eris’s bag slipped from his shoulder, plunking on the ground beside her. “Look at me, Vicious Thing.”
Peeling her eyes open, Mora didn’t meet his gaze, opting instead to take in the carnage around her.
Branches dipped low, flesh hanging from their boughs, blood dripping onto the archers she’d left to rot on the ground.
She could have sworn their glazed eyes were locked onto her. Their spirits watching.
She’d done this... Her one regret that it wasn’t enough.
When she looked at the broken arrows wedged in the dirt, cuddled by a thickening puddle of blood, the air grew thin, a vice-like grip crushing her ribs and spearing her lungs. The bitter taste of smoke was too thick on her tongue. An unending burning festering in her eyes.
Suddenly, she was overly aware of the spindly branches scraping her back.
They were too gods damned close.
The blood was too gods damned close.
Bits of Imani’s death had trickled near, coaxed by Jade’s power. Settling on Mora’s skin. It joined the rest of the crimson clinging to her body, painting her in shame rather than glory. A stark reminder she’d failed. That she was poison, and everyone who dared to love her would die.
“Leave me, Eris,” Mora muttered, though there was no bite to her words.
He knelt by her side, some of that blood soaking into his trousers, the bag he’d dropped already stained. “Vicious Thing.”
Mora didn’t flinch when he reached out and brushed a curl away from her face. It was as if her body were made of stone, a fixture of the forest. Immobile. Trapped in mud and cursed to bear witness to the rise and the fall of the natural world. Powerless to stay the hands of Death.
Every part of her was numb, but for the pleasant throb on her inner thigh, as if the echo of the Fae’s—no Eris’s—bite remained.
It clung to her despite her smoke weaving and unweaving her body over and over again on the battlefield, refusing to abandon her.
Pulsing pleasantly—a distant echo of something.
A tether she could focus on, stopping her from slamming her fists into the tree trunks until her flesh split and her bones poked through.
Mora took a shaky breath, holding on to that feeling and staring at the blood on Eris’s pants. “I said leave,” she hissed, hating that he knelt where Imani died, disturbing the parts of her attempting to seep into the earth.
Would the Naturalist be happy to know her lifeblood was safely held in nature’s bosom? Would a tree grow in the wake of her end, pieces of Imani tethered to the wood, living on in her name?
Did any of it matter?
“I’m willing to beg, Mora. Please, look at me.” Eris cupped her cheek, gently guiding her eyes to his. The skin on his cheekbone was split, tender flesh swollen and red. He needed healing. Jade did as well, and likely so many others... Why hadn’t Castellan returned to ask for her help?
Was that why Eris was here?
Mora forced herself to hold his stare, anguish stirring in her gut at the sight of his pity. “What do you want from me?”
There was a pleading in those soft, brown eyes, devastation painting his beautiful face. Eris looked away, swallowing before he said, “Castellan plans to lead everyone to Cannamar.”
“No.” Mora squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the feel of Eris’s thumb swiping her tears away.
In Mora’s mind, Imani screamed like a ghost thrashing in Death’s grip, wishing she could claw her way back to the living, if only to stop this.
The Halflings couldn’t go to Cannamar. No matter what came...
Castellan couldn’t do this. She couldn’t allow him to do this.
“He will, Mora,” Eris said, his voice far away, as if she’d slipped into a different realm. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t fucking breathe. Eris frowned, searching her face for something he’d never find. “Look around; this is the only way he can keep everyone safe.”
What Eris didn’t say was Mora would be made to do it. The moment Castellan spoke the words aloud in her presence, she’d be bound to listen, his wish twisting around her bones until she had no choice but to obey.
No matter what Imani would have wanted...
Fuck! Mora screamed in her mind, her soul cracking while her body remained stiff.
I can’t do this.
I can’t...
“Leave with me,” Eris breathed, his fingers grazing her blood-crusted cheek.
Leave with him? Mora’s breath caught, lusterless amber eyes narrowing. Had he lost his mind? Or...
“To find Castellan’s sister?” she asked, pulling away from his touch.
His eyes widened, hand dropping to his side. “You know about that?”
“I know Castellan’s worried.” Mud and sanguine gathered beneath her nails, her fingers curling in the dirt. “And I know he’s sending you to search for her.”
“I’m to find her and meet you in Moldenna so Cas can end this, but...” Eris bowed his head. “You deserve more than this, Mora, please... run away with me.”
Mora’s jaw ticked. What did Eris expect? That they’d ride off in the sunset together and live happily ever after? “You barely know me.”
There was an edge to her tone, but Eris didn’t notice—he smirked down at her, his disheveled black hair falling over his forehead. “I like the things I do know.”
“You’d abandon Castellan?”
“I...” He scrubbed a hand down his face.
“Damn the gods, Mora.” Standing swiftly, he knocked his pack down and began to pace, gods knew what squishing beneath his boots every other step.
“I never asked for any of this! Neither of us did. I...” He stopped, looking back at her, the strong columns of his throat working.
“Cas will understand one day, even if he hates me for it.”
A single, harsh laugh was all Mora had to offer. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”
“I know you’re bound to that bottle.” Eris wandered closer, his attention lifting to the trees at Mora’s back, toward Castellan’s tent. “He’s distracted enough at the moment; if you help me, I could take it.”
She shrugged. “It wouldn’t matter.”
“Bullshit.”
“He made a wish, Eris.” Mora stretched out her fingers, allowing some of her dark power free.
It slithered over her skin, bits of obsidian dripping into her lap.
“I’m bound to it until it’s done, no matter who holds my flask.
If I discover a Halfling who needs saving, I’ll need to take them here...
or wherever Castellan deems safe after today.
I’ll return to him, one way or another.”
Throwing his hands in the air, Eris returned to his pacing, wearing a path in the forest floor. “You won’t even try!”
Those words burrowed into her flesh until they swam in her blood, stoking the fire within. Gone was the suffocating grip of apathy in the wake of Imani’s end. The weight of the emotions rushing through her was crushing—she pressed her palm to her chest, as if she could somehow hold them in.
“You think I haven’t fucking tried?” Mora snarled.
“That I didn’t say no every gods damned time Dother used this curse to force me to...
” Her nails pushed through soiled fabric to slice at her skin, fingers curling into a tight fist. “I have done nothing but try for so long I hardly remember anything else. Try to endure. Try to survive. Try to hold myself together while I’m used in ways I can hardly bear to remember. ”
Every touch, every bruise, every lingering stroke rushed to the surface until she could feel Dother everywhere, his rapacious hands burned into her being. She clawed at her chest, her breath sawing in and out of her lungs until she could hardly stand it.
Onyx laced with glints of gold slid over Mora’s shoulders and down her back, enveloping her in its frigid arms. Its embrace emboldened her, granting her the strength to stand.
“When my Keeper says I wish, I cannot deny them, Eris. Not until I’ve fulfilled their demand.
” Stalking closer, Mora bared her teeth, tremors racking her body—she barely held herself together.
“So unless you want to steal my flask and utter a few wishes of your own, I suggest you forget whatever fantasy you’ve concocted. ”
He flinched as if she’d struck him. Then, Eris placed a hand on her shoulder, voice pleading. “What if we—”
“I am not yours!” Mora shoved him away. There was a sharp pang in her heart when his brows knit, hurt shadowing his soft stare.
It was easy, hating herself while she watched his face crumble.
Part of her wished what they had was real, that this fantasy of his was something she could safely fall into.
That he could hold her close and whisper pretty promises about a future she knew she’d never have.
The rest of her was furious with him for making such assumptions. How dare he say this to her now? The blood of their people was still thick in the air, bodies littering the ground. What kind of person left after everything that had happened? After Imani...
Mora trembled, imagining Eris running toward her, arrows protruding from his chest. Falling to his knees while the light drained from his eyes.
She couldn’t stand it.
“I have no desire to be yours,” she breathed, her head dipping, her focus trained on her feet. “We tried and I couldn’t bear it.”
“We can take our time.” He reached for her once more, fingers grazing the stiff, sullied edge of her cloak. Unflinching when onyx wisps slid over his hand. “I don’t need all of you, I just...”
“It doesn’t matter.” Mora moved away until her cloak slid from his grip. “I have nothing more to offer you, except death. That’s what happens to the people who love me. Is that what you want?”
He shook his head. “I want to make things right.”
“Then find Castellan’s sister and help us put an end to this.” She gave him her back and returned to her spot on the ground, blood-soaked bits of rotten grass flattened by her weight—a decent enough place to rest for the night.
Eris followed silently, hesitating before he flung his bag over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mora. For everything.”
Glittering vapors billowed around her like an otherworldly blanket, cocooning her, hiding most of her from sight. Mora didn’t bother looking up at him. Didn’t bother saying another word.
Still, Eris lingered, the light of the full moon casting an eerie glow, cooling his sun-kissed skin as if he were already a ghost. Gone from Mora’s world.
With a heavy sigh, he turned away, trekking back toward camp and onward to Esper. Though, Mora thought she heard him whisper, “I should have told her sooner.”