CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR #2
The seer ripped it from my hands as soon as I was within reach and slammed it onto the table. She seized a nearly burnt-down candle and pressed it deep into the bed of dried petals.
Her lips began to move, chanting something low and guttural, and every word made my skin crawl.
Then she screamed.
“Show me the girl!”
The petals ignited. Not slowly. Not softly.
They erupted, a flash of searing pink flame that tore through the bowl like it had been waiting to burn.
I staggered back, choking on the smoke, and my hand flew to my mouth.
The seer’s chair shot backward as her whole body jerked like something had yanked her spine, and her head snapped backward with a crack.
“Gods—!” I lurched forward instinctively, reaching out for her. ”Are you—”
But before I could touch her something else spoke through her.
Low. Rumbling. Deep. Not a woman’s voice. Not a human voice.
“Golden buildings.” It said. ”A serpent. Paintings.”
The words rolled across the walls like thunder in a cave.
“She is waiting for you.”
Every hair on my body stood upright and something inside me recoiled. My body begged me to run, but I was locked in place. Staring. I needed answers. Then her body lurched again.
She gasped and tore the mask from her face with shaking hands. Her lips were pale. Her eyes, unreadable, wide.
“Something’s wrong,” she mumbled. Her voice was her own again.
Before I could ask, she was moving. Fast. Disoriented.
She shoved the chair aside and nearly tripped over it as she reached for a bundle of dried sage.
Her hands fumbled for a match and the edge of the sage flared orange, then flared white with smoke.
She didn’t explain. She didn’t look at me.
She started pacing the room, sweeping the bundle through the air with frantic movements.
The smoke poured out in thick coils, trailing behind her as she muttered beneath her breath.
The words were jagged. Hushed. Desperate. I only caught pieces.
Something about protection. Warding. Sealing.. She circled the table, then she circled me. The smoke clung to my skin like it was trying to hold me still.
“What was that?” I asked, forcing the words out. “What did you see?”
Her arm dropped to her side, the sage still smoldered, trailing smoke in ribbons toward the floor.
“It’s not her,” she said.
The words barely registered. My mind was still caught in the voice, in the fire, in the bowl that had blackened and cracked down the center.
“What?”
She looked at me. And I swear, she looked through me. Or worse, into me.
“It’s you.” she said.
The air dropped ten degrees. A cold, invisible hand wrapped around the back of my neck and stayed there.
“What do you mean?” I could only stare at her.
Shadows swelled at the corners of the room, thick and clinging. The candles sputtered low, their flames choking on something in the air.
“Give me your hands,” she said, stepping forward with sudden urgency. Her grip was ice. It crawled up my arms like frostbite laced with teeth, Burrowing into the nerves beneath my skin.
“What is it?” I gasped.
“I’m not sure,” she breathed. “But the gods are… louder around you.”
Then, without warning, she reached into her robes and pulled out the curved blade. Silver. Small. Thin. The candlelight kissed its edge for a single second, then she slashed it across my palm, and pain cut through me, sharp, clean, hot.
A strangled sound caught in my throat as blood surged up and spilled over, dripping freely into the black bowl below. The white crystals inside shimmered, and my blood sank into them, almost like they were drinking my blood.
The seer grabbed two of the blood-drenched crystals and clutched them, in her hands. Her eyes fell shut as her lips began to move again. The same language as before. Old. Raw. Not made for human mouths. The sound grated against the air.
The room leaned inward. The walls. The floor. The ceiling. All of it bent toward the bowl. She stirred once. Flinched. Like she was waking something that didn’t want to be woken.
Then she froze.
Her shoulders stiffened and her face twisted, not in confusion. In refusal.
“I can’t,” she whispered. Her voice cracked on the edges. “She’s so young.” A pause. She? Was she she talking about me? Licia? “I won’t.”
Her eyes snapped open.
“You need to leave,” she said. Her voice was frayed, unraveling at the seams.
“What?” I mouthed.
Her eyes dropped to the blood. To the bowl. To the faint pink glow now seeping through the cracks of the table beneath it.
“I can’t help you,” she said, backing away from me. “You need to go. Now.”
“But you said the gods told you to help me—”
“Not all gods are good,” she snapped. “And I’ve learned when not to obey them.” I could feel what she felt, an overwhelming sensation of fear. Of terror.
“What did you see?” I pushed. “You saw something—tell me what it was!”
“You need to leave,” she begged. She didn’t raise her voice, but it hit me like a slap. Her hands were trembling.
She was afraid.
Of me.
“No.” I stepped forward, the desperation cracking through me like lightning. “You don’t get to look at me like that and then say nothing!”
She moved for the door, and I grabbed her arm.
“What did you see?! What’s wrong with me?!” I screamed. Loud enough that the boys outside must have heard. “TELL ME!”
She spun around. Her hand moved faster than thought, the dagger flashing in the candlelight—pointed straight at my chest.
Her grip trembled. Her face was bloodless. Lips parted. Eyes wide with something that wasn’t just fear—something deeper.
“You’re not human.” The words tore out of her as she pulled her arm back.
“What…?” I stumbled back a step. “What does that mean?”
Her eyes didn’t blink. Didn’t soften.
“There are old things in this world. Things I don’t speak of. Things I don’t touch.” she breathed, hollow and shaking. ”And what is in you... does not belong in this world.”
She looked at me. But it was clear that she didn’t see a girl anymore.
She saw a monster.
“You said the gods told you to help me,” I pleaded. “You weren’t afraid of me before. Why now?”
“It’s not about what you’ve done,” she explained, her eyes glassy. “It’s about what you will do.”
Her words stopped me cold. What the fuck?
“The gods don’t agree what to do with you,” she went on, her voice starting to fray. “Some are begging me to protect you. To save you.”
She sucked in a breath.
“And others… are ordering me to kill you. To protect everyone else.”
She staggered back a step, then doubled over, clutching her head with both hands. A scream of agony ripped out of her throat and she collapsed to her knees.
“I don’t understand.”
“You must leave,” she roared. “I don’t want to hurt you. But they will.”
I took a step closer, and my voice cracked in my throat. “Please. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t choose this. You have to help me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She closed her eyes. Just for a second. Then her spine bent with a crack like splintering wood.
Her body jerked back violently, like she’d been yanked by invisible chains, and crashed to the ground.
Her limbs twisted as she hit, elbows slamming into the floor with a dull thud, and something shifted under her skin.
When her eyes rolled back into view, they weren’t hers anymore.
They were black. Ink, pouring into the whites. Pooling in her skull. Drowning what was left of her.
I wanted to run.
I begged my body to move.
But my feet stayed rooted as she stared at me with those eyes like bottomless pits. Red tears began to spill from them, thick and slow, trailing down her face in twin rivers. Then her arm jerked, stiff and unnatural, like a marionette pulled by invisible strings.
The dagger in her hand twisted.
Not toward me.
Toward herself.
And she drove it into her throat.
Once.
Then again.
And again.
The blade sank deep each time, fast and smooth, slicing through flesh like it was nothing. Blood erupted from the wound in hot, gushing waves, pouring down her chest, soaking her robe. Her body tipped forward and crumpled. The black bled from her eyes like smoke peeling off a dying fire.
Her real eyes flickered back.
Blue. Wide. Terrified.
They locked on mine.
“Run.”
She rasped it through a throat full of blood.
But I didn’t just hear it in her voice. I heard it in my father’s. In Einar’s. They’d all told me to run—and I couldn’t. Couldn’t even move. How could I ever hope to control whatever lived inside me, if I couldn’t even control my own limbs?
The seer’s mouth went slack along with her body, and something moved behind her. A shadow that wasn’t hers. A shape that had no body.
And finally—finally—my legs moved.
I ran.
Will’s voice hit me like a splash of cold water, sharp, jarring, exactly what I needed. But it wasn’t enough.
“Kera?”
I couldn’t think.
That tea hadn’t helped. Nothing could’ve helped me understand what I’d just seen.
She was dead.
The seer was dead. I didn’t even know her name, and she was gone. Did she do it to protect me? Was her life on me too? The gods wanted me dead?
I ran through the Murkwoods, feet tearing through the underbrush, heading toward the river, toward the hut.
I just wanted to go home. And that was the closest thing I had to home.
I had to get away. From the house. From that room. From her— From the voice that wasn’t hers. From the blood. From what she said.
Will caught up first.
I tore away from him and kept running, faster, harder, my lungs burning.
“KERA, STOP!” Aran shouted from behind.
“What happened?” Will shouted, breathless.
I couldn’t answer.
Couldn’t stop.
If I stopped, the panic would catch me.
And if it caught me, it would drown me.
You’re not human.
The words tore through me again.
Over and over.
I could still see her eyes. Feel the cold in her grip. Hear the sound of her neck cracking.
And that voice. What the hel was that? It shook me in a way nothing else ever had. Not even Arche’s voice came close.
And it spoke to me.
Told me how to find Licia. What if it was a trap? What if it wanted me dead? How could I trust it—trust anything—after what I’d seen? And the way the seer looked at me, like I didn’t belong in this world…
I wasn’t so sure she was wrong.
Eventually, I slowed.
I didn’t want to, but my legs gave out beneath me.
“Now,” Will panted, coming up behind me. “She stops.”
“What the fuck was that?” Aran snapped.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Will stepped in front of me, scanning me quickly. “Did she hurt you?”
“No.”
Aran muttered something behind him, just loud enough to hear.
“Maybe she killed the hag.”
Will spun toward him. “Not funny.”
“Not joking. Could’ve happened.” Aran shrugged, unfazed.
The words landed like a punch to the ribs. My chest locked and my stomach turned. I had to say something—anything—before they forced the rest out of me.
“She killed herself,” I managed, the words scraping up my throat like broken glass.
Will’s expression shifted. He blinked, like he hadn’t quite heard me right. “What are you talking about?”
“She saw something,” I gasped. The sob hit mid-sentence. “Something bad. And she—” My chest cracked open. “She stabbed herself with a dagger.”
“What?” Aran gasped.
Will’s face fell. “Wait... for real?”
Aran turned on him, voice sharper. “Does it look like she’s fucking joking?”
Will dropped to the ground beside me and pulled me into his arms. I collapsed against him, the sobs tearing out raw, messy and loud. His hands were warm on my back as his heartbeat pounded against mine. He just held me, and let me fall apart.
“Shit,” Aran breathed. “Shit. What do we do? What did she see?”
“I don’t know,” I choked. “She wouldn’t tell me.”
My tears had started to dry, but my body still trembled. The panic hadn’t left, it had just settled beneath my skin, like it was planning to stay.
“What about the moonwater stuff?” Will asked, glancing toward the path. “Should I go back? Get it for you?”
“No!” I shouted, too sharp, too loud.
Will flinched.
I grabbed his wrist, my grip tighter than I meant it to be. “Don’t go back there. Please.”
He nodded, slowly. ”But what about—”
Behind him, Aran dropped his pack to the ground with a dramatic sigh.
“Relax,” he said, already unbuckling it. “We don’t have to.”
He pulled out a crumpled paper bag, followed by a weathered book with brittle, curling pages. Grimoire of Herbs and Healing.
“Recipe’s in here,” he added, holding it up like a trophy. “Took the ingredients too.”
Will stared. “You couldn’t not steal from her?”
“I was bored, and it seemed like it could be useful,” Aran said, completely unbothered. “And back in the day, you’d have been right beside me, stuffing your boots.”
Will didn’t respond.
”You don’t have to thank me for anything,” Aran sneered, glancing toward the darkened path behind us. “But it’s not like we were planning to go back after… whatever the hel that was.”
They’re no good, Kera. They’re pickpockets. Thieves.
That’s what Einar had said. He would’ve scoffed if he saw me, would’ve crossed his arms and muttered I told you so.
And yet… there I was. Trusting them. Running with them. I even found myself appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the crime. Maybe Einar had been wrong. Maybe people could change.
All I knew was, they hadn’t run.
Not yet.
And some fragile part of me was starting to believe that maybe they wouldn’t.