Chapter 30 - Marella #2
And I watched as Garrett’s blue eyes glazed over into gray, watched as his full lips froze in the shape of words he’d never be able to say.
For a few long, agonizing seconds, I stared at him.
The only thing I could think was that I hated the expression plastered across his face.
Garrett was too kind to be immortalized in fury.
The world moved so slowly that everything blurred around me. There was only Garrett—his frozen expression, his cold, stone skin, and my growing fury.
Then, all at once, the world snapped back into focus.
Garrett's knife dropped to the ground with a metallic thud.
And that’s when I lost my mind.
Pain forgotten, I spun around to face Petra, picking up Garrett’s knife as I ran towards her. I wanted to wipe the smug smile off her face. I wanted to crumble her into a million pieces and scatter her into the sea.
I wanted to rip. I wanted to tear. I wanted to hurt her.
But as I slashed and struck and clawed at every piece of her, all she did was laugh. She was playing with me. With every desperate strike I made, it seemed as though I was making it easier for her.
"Silly girl," she said with a wicked grin after once again knocking me to the ground. "No one who wants to kill me can do so. Your desire only makes me stronger."
I stood, shoulders heaving, feeling Garrett’s presence nearby but unable to look at him. If what she said was true, then I’d already lost. The desperation I felt, the need I felt to rid the world of her presence, wasn’t something I knew how to relinquish.
Lucas had been right. It had never been about drought. Or famine. Those were only some of the many tools in her arsenal of desperation.
The thirst was a tool. My family's curse was a tool. Even the bargain she'd offered me had been another fucking tool.
She gave us something to want and then waited for the wanting to consume us.
And I had spent the last week feeding her until she was full.
I looked across the room to where Ordina was crouched over Lucas’s still-prone form. She lifted her gaze, and we locked eyes. I’m sorry, she seemed to say.
I let my gaze travel to the statue that had once been Garrett. And I had to bite my lip to ward off a rush of angry tears. Because I understood how to beat her.
I just couldn't do it.
Because Garrett stood three feet away from me, trapped inside stone, and there was nothing in this world I wanted more than to get him back.
My mouth formed a hard line as I gripped the knife tighter.
It might be futile, but I refused to let myself crumble without a fight.
As I stood, Petra stared at me, that bored expression still written across her face.
Slowly, she began to raise her hand, thumb and forefinger poised to snap, just as they had when she sealed Garrett into stone.
But before she was able to complete the gesture, long, pale fingers wrapped around her throat from behind. "Face me then, witch," Ordina whispered, low and deadly. "I don't care if you survive this."
And this time, she looked… scared.
"What do you want?" Petra's voice was thin, laced with desperation that shocked me.
Ordina’s face appeared behind her, teeth bared, eyes blazing as she dug her nails further into the witch’s jugular.
Everywhere my sister touched, Petra’s hard, cracked skin turned to soft, wrinkled flesh.
And as her fingers sank deeper, blood began to pour from the wound, dripping down onto the witch’s shoulders and chest.
"That's the thing." Ordina's teeth sparkled in the low light. "I don't want anything from you. You've already taken enough."
Eyes wide with existential terror, the witch tried to turn her head to look at my sister. Her movements were stilted, like every millimeter caused her immense pain. And as she did, that crepey, pale skin continued to spread out from the place where Ordina’s fingers gripped her throat.
"Your family," Petra rasped. "I can still save them."
Ordina kept tightening her grip.
"I can make Lucas young again! Give you back the time you lost!"
My sister's face remained immovable, as though she were sealing herself into stone.
When she realized that Ordina would not be moved, Petra tried to scream. She tried to struggle. For the first time, I saw something beyond anger in her eyes.
Panic.
Her mouth opened wide, revealing that broken maw of jagged teeth. But no more sound escaped her lips. Her eyes shone brightly with fear and fury as Ordina dug deeper and deeper.
And then, with a final twist of her wrists, my sister tore a hole through the witch’s throat.
Petra hit the dirt floor with an anticlimactic thud, blood pooling out in slow rivulets from her prone form.
Ordina stood frozen for several long seconds, staring down at her own hands, slack-jawed.
I did the same. For just a moment, our eyes met.
Then, from beneath the rubble where Lucas had fallen, there came a soft moan.
Ordina immediately rushed over to remove the stones that covered him, and he emerged, bleeding, coughing, and covered in dust, but breathing and alive.
I swallowed.
Nothing hurt.
I swallowed again.
Still nothing.
A quick pass with my tongue told me that my teeth were also gone, and that ever-present ache at the back of my throat had disappeared as well.
The curse was broken.
I could feel a tingling sensation in my legs, the long-forgotten but still familiar ache to return to water and reclaim my fins.
I was whole again. And somehow, without knowing why, I knew that my family was out there as well, waking up, finding themselves free and sated for the first time in centuries.
I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I let myself look at Garrett.
His statue was still here. He was still encased in stone, eyes wide and mouth open, ready to speak words he’d never get to say.
I approached him slowly. And when I was close enough, I reached out a hand to cup his cheek. Even frozen as he was, I could see the kindness in his face. I wished that I hadn’t taken advantage of that kindness. I wished that I’d simply accepted my fate and left him alone.
I might no longer have eternity laid out ahead of me, but I would regret losing him until the day my bones rested on the floor of the ocean.
Behind me, Ordina cleared her throat. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, thin, and apologetic. "I have to bring Lucas to the hospital," she said gingerly. She was closer than I thought, and when her fingers rested on my shoulder, I flinched.
"I’m fine here," I replied.
"Marella," she whispered. "There’s no point. Come with us."
I shook my head.
"Please," she said. "Father will be waiting for us. And our sisters. We’re free, Marella. Let’s go home."
I swallowed heavily, then stood. Everything on my body hurt with each inch I moved. But nothing compared to the pain I felt when I looked at Garrett one last time. I stood on the tips of my toes, leaned forward, and kissed his stone lips.
"I’m sorry," I whispered, staring into his empty eyes. "I’m so, so sorry."
And then, supporting Lucas alongside my sister, I left Garrett behind and climbed the stairs towards freedom.