23. D（ire） Bears #3
A sheen of emerald light materialized. Barren’s long, feminine fingers reached down and stroked the ruby petals.
“The forest tastes your potential,” they said.
“Goodness lives in your blood—and you have been selected for my trials, just like your kin before. You come from a strong lineage of sacrifice. However, age corrupts the lesser creatures. You must prove yourself worthy of a higher righteousness, not fleeting, but true.”
I gasped.
“I will be watching,” Barren said. “If you fail, my blessing will be removed. If you succeed, it will be granted—forever.”
I will not fail, I thought fiercely, knowing I could be a good person.
Barren shook their head. “It does not matter what you want now. These memories will be gone. It is not your mind but your soul I judge.”
* * *
My eyes shot open. I was floating underwater. A man hung suspended nearby, my dagger hilt protruding from his exposed heart. Only one of us was still alive.
Luck? Something far worse.
Kicking, I surfaced with a ragged gasp. I threw myself out of the pool, scrambling, knees and ankles banging as I clambered out as fast as possible. A gross squelching sound followed as my hand hit a bear heart. On all fours, I looked around the empty bathhouse.
Pools bubbled.
The boy was gone.
Blood was streaked across the tiles, everywhere. I grasped at my throat, fingers shaking horribly. The ridge of a single scar sliced across smooth—whole—skin.
It was real.
Keeling over, I threw up water and bile. I dragged my hands across my face, fingers lingering on my longest scar.
Reflected back in a puddle of bloody water, it glowed metallic.
Thick and raised.
Magical.
The fairy tale was real; I was one of the fabled Keepers of the forest. “You must fight for those who cannot help themselves,” I repeated hoarsely as I violently coughed up more water. “Easy. A simple directive.” Digging my palms into my eyes, I tried to physically push back the tears.
Not like I don’t have enough on my plate right now.
A body with long, dark hair floated in the red pool. I stared down at it, numb all over. Holding my breath, I staggered to my feet, knees shaking.
Am I blessed or cursed?
I turned in an unsteady circle, waiting for something to make sense.
Nothing did. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure of a single thing in the world.
Is anything real? The bear heart stared up at me, and I refused to think about who the man in the pool was.
They were the same. Or what it meant for the state of Antichthon.
Fairy-tale creatures can’t be real? Obviously not.
Right.
Right?
I looked up to see the hole in the wall of the back room. In a fugue, I stumbled back through it. Inside, Tarantula lay slumped against the woodwork with his eyes closed. Across from him, the twins were also unconscious. I need to help them. I need to . . . I need to . . . I still couldn’t think.
Hand on my pounding chest, I clawed at myself, desperate for air. It felt like I was still underwater. Is anything real? There was no order or sense to the world. I was having a metaphysical meltdown.
Too much had happened too fast.
Footsteps squelched. Baring my teeth with a growl, I whirled and raised a glowing hand.
“Here.” The woman from before stood in the doorway, holding a vial of liquid in her trembling fingers. “I f-found the antidote in his office. Like you asked.”
She blanched as she stared at the missing portion of the wall. Then at the man floating in the water and the oversized dire bear heart.
“I . . . I . . . I . . .” She backed away from me.
“Stop.” My voice came out deep and harsh. She froze. “Give it to them, now. Ella first.” I gestured over my shoulder at her.
“Yes, Knight.” Half bowing, half curtsying, she scurried across the room, pressing the vial to Ella’s lips and then Axel’s. Long seconds passed. Finally the twins gasped, spitting up green fluid as they coughed violently. Axel immediately grabbed Ella, checking her for injuries.
The woman walked hesitantly toward Tarantula, looking at me and then back at him, waiting for me to tell her to stop. That he didn’t need saving. The words burned on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t make myself say them. It’s just because of the quest. That’s all.
Still staring at me, she tipped the vial into his mouth, then backed away.
“You did well,” I said, still speaking in a baritone unfamiliar to my ears. “The Commonwealth thanks you for your service.”
Shaking, she bowed to me. “Thank y-you, Bear of the North.”
Tarantula made a harsh rattling sound.
He inhaled roughly.
The girl ran, disappearing through what was left of the door.
Tarantula’s eyes shot open. “How . . . dare . . . thou . . . put . . . yourself . . . in . . . danger.”
“Typical,” I muttered, too shaken to come up with anything witty.
Barren touched my forehead.
I died at ten years old and then again just now.
A single rose bloomed. It was on fire.
All this time, I’d been in grave peril. Every time I’d almost committed cold-blooded murder, the forest had watched me, ready to take my second chance at life away.
I’d been so close so many times, and yet I’d survived against all odds.
So lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky. Shaking, vision blurring, I staggered toward Ella.
“Where is Arcturus?” Tarantula demanded.
“Dead.”
“How can thou be sure thou killed . . .” His voice trailed off as he turned to look where I was pointing—through the gaping hole where the wall used to be.
A bubble popped loudly in the steaming pool, and I jolted, stifling a scream. My nerves were shot. I was strung out. My head was frazzled.
“Is that his . . . severed heart?” Tarantula asked slowly. “Ravenal—did thou fell the beast . . . by yourself?”
I shrugged.
Tarantula brought his hand up to his chest, fingers clenching. “It cannot be.” His eyes devoured me, burning with a wild obsession.
I opened and closed my mouth, but no sound came out. Antichthon was not what it seemed, and perhaps neither was I.