13. Chapter 13
Snow began to fall in soft sheets once again the next morning, not enough to make traveling impossible, but enough to cast the world in moody hues of blue and gray as we awoke.
We were quiet as we left the village, with nothing but the crunch of the snow beneath our feet filling the air as the sun rose behind us. Malik didn't push me to talk, letting me move at my own pace, letting me process what had happened last night as the sun rose above us.
While my relationship with the roots had been turbulent ever since the Shroud, I now walked with even more hesitation, weary that they would turn on me once more.
I still couldn't make sense of what I had seen in my dream, of the revelers and how the roots had reacted to them. No one but the Mother Blessed should have been able to control the roots, and my head throbbed with questions as we continued south.
If the revelers could manipulate the roots the way they did in my dream, what would that mean for the Mother Blessed?
Was our already turbulent position on Yllsora even more at risk than we knew?
Were we now in competition with the revelers for our power?
Our connection with Yllsora was supposed to be a gift from the Mother, with nothing coming in the way of it.
Something for the Mother Blessed and the Mother Blessed only.
Even if the revelers did have some sort of hold over the roots, I had to remind myself that they could only destroy. That only the Mother Blessed could bring prosperity and peace. That we coaxed, not controlled, as they did.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Malik asked as he walked beside me.
I took a shuddering breath, wondering how to tell him about what I had seen in my dream, how I could not make sense of it.
But all I found was the same dread I felt last night, that same panic taking root in my soul with no way out.
Malik answered for me when I could not. "I understand what it's like to wake up in a panic. The cold fear, the way it steals your breath, taking every bit of you with it. It's gotten better over time, but I've experienced the same thing since the Shroud, too."
I released a breath as Malik described exactly what I had felt the night before.
I always knew the Shroud had affected him deeply, as in those few hours before he left, Malik transformed into someone I didn't recognize.
Gone was the boisterous boy I had grown up with, replaced by a stoic version that I didn't know what to do with.
Part of me was fearful that same version of him would return, but the Malik that stood before me was not the same one who had left.
A part of me had been relieved Malik was okay when he first returned, that he wasn't suffering like I was, but hearing those words from him made me realize that what was on the surface was not always a true reflection of within.
Whatever had happened during the Shroud, he had learned to mask it well in the time he was gone, as I could scarcely see the struggle he spoke of in these last few days with him on the road.
"But it's gotten better over time?" I asked.
"Maybe it's better, maybe I'm just used to it," he said, his voice laced with fatigue. "You learn to live with it. To not give in to it."
"It's tiring, though," I said, echoing the same fatigue back to him. "Constantly fighting against something you can't seem to escape."
I could feel Malik's stare at my words. "This is about the roots," he stated.
I nodded.
"Have the roots been acting like that for a while?"
I nodded again and took a deep breath, knowing I could no longer keep the truth from him. He had seen the roots in Sorrel, but I never explained what had been happening ever since the Shroud. And the more we traveled, the more he would see what was happening in Wellea, and what our home had become.
"Ever since the Shroud, something has been wrong with the roots. Something is spreading, something dark and cold, killing almost everything it comes into contact with. It's only gotten worse as time goes on."
"What do you think it is?" he asked.
I looked down at the roots once more. I had wondered for so long what was crawling along them, had wanted answers for so long. Now that I had them, I could not wrap my head around it.
I began this journey to Rida knowing that I would have to face the mainland men when I got there, but they were just men.
And the rot I could deal with. But now, after my dream and what the Divine had shown me, I would have to face something unknown, something that I never thought was a possibility.
The chant of the revelers echoed in my head. My…ael…la. My…ael…la…they said, celebrating and worshiping something that was out of my reach. Something I could not yet make sense of. Something I was not sure I stood a chance against on my own.
"Something bigger than you and I," I said. "I've always been able to feel whatever it is spreading among the roots, ever since the Shroud, and over time, I've learned to tune it out. But recently, it's been different."
Malik looked at me before studying the roots again. I could see him turning over every possibility in order to find a solution. He was always a problem solver in that way, trying his best to help everyone however he could, even to his detriment.
"How recent?" Malik asked.
“Everything came to a head the night you returned to Sorrel. I don’t know what sparked it—maybe it was our fathers fighting, or Rida knowing that the mainland men were on their way—but I fear for Sorrel, Malik.
For all of Wellea. We are lucky to be so close and connected to Rida, but ever since the Shroud, there hasn’t been a day where I don’t worry that it will also be our demise.
I’ve been doing everything I can to stop it, but—”
"Has anyone been helping you?" he asked, cutting me off before I could finish.
"The other Mother Blessed try, but no one can feel the roots like I do. And everything is different now. The Mother Blessed can't use their powers like we once could. The roots fight back, Malik, they hurt us if we try to use our power too much. Some Mother Blessed have died and I—"
"I should have been here," Malik said. "Helping you and your family and the village survive—"
"Yet duty called," I finished for him.
It was what he said the night before I woke up and found him gone. The reason why he left me in my state of despair, telling me he would be back, that he was only going to help the village carpenters and carvers repair the buildings decimated by the Shroud. Only he never returned.
"Duty called, and then I never saw you again," I whispered.
I had always wondered what happened that night, why he never came back.
I feared maybe he had gone into the Alesi and gotten lost, or maybe went to a nearby village to help with their repairs, but no.
The men he had worked with said he just left, and they assumed he went to be with me.
And that next morning, we were all shocked when the Dures were nowhere to be found, as if they had never been there in the first place.
"At least you had Therian," Malik said, contempt lacing his tone.
I scoffed. "Therian was rarely home. I've spent most of my nights alone. Last night was the first time in years I slept deeply, which is probably why I had the dream I did."
Malik's eyes crinkled as he looked at me.
"Why would he leave you alone?"
"Our marriage was purely a political one," I said to him. "His family wanted to gain status from ours, and I was still unwed, and Sorrel was unstable, and he was from the mainland, so it all . . . worked out for everyone."
"Even you?" he asked.
"What?" His question perturbed me, setting me on edge by what he could possibly mean.
"Did it work out for you too? Marrying Therian."
I was taken aback by his question, because in truth, no one, not once, had asked me such a thing. I'm not even sure if I ever asked myself, because the answer was so obvious, yet something I couldn't bring myself to say out loud.
"It's what Sorrel needed," I replied.
"But not what Lyra needed," he shot back.
I looked away, frustrated by his words and the truth in them that I wasn't willing to admit.
"What do you need, Lyra?" Malik asked.
I closed my eyes, doing my best to steady my pounding heart. There was so much I could say, so much I could admit to him at that moment, but it was all too much. Even if I could tell him everything, none of this would matter if we weren't able to save Rida.
"All I need to know," I said,"is if there's any hope that we will actually stop the king and the mainland men, or if we are just fighting a losing battle."
Malik was silent for a beat before he answered.
"Let me tell you something that I overheard when the king's men were in Uscal, why the king is so determined to take down the Mother Blessed.
He crowned himself after the Shroud, but people did not take to him so easily.
His people were questioning him and his rule, asking why he should be the one in charge.
And one day, when the king was holding court, people had just started leaving, following rumors that a woman was making the trees dance with a wave of her hand. "
A stuttered breath left me, the smallest glimpse of hope beginning to bloom in my chest.
"People poured out of the king's hall to watch the woman, to hear what she had to say, to spread the word of what it is you all actually do and how you all are doing everything you can to help people, to help Yllsora.
So, there are Mother Blessed still fighting, despite the pain the roots now bring them, despite the terrible things that the mainland men are doing to them. This is not a losing battle."
"But that is on the mainland," I said. "It is much bigger than Wellea, more places for the Mother Blessed to take refuge if things go wrong. I just…I don't know how we are going to survive this, if we even make it down to Rida."
Malik frowned before tilting his head as he looked at me.
"And when did you start doubting yourself?"
His question stopped me in my tracks, because, in truth, I didn't know.
So much about the last ten years had challenged and changed me, and while I had always made it through, it wasn't without struggle or doubt, whether it be from outside sources or from within.
It was something I continuously struggled with, a part of me that I had come to accept as everlasting.
When I didn't answer, Malik spoke again, always knowing when to fill the silence when I couldn't.
"The king is power-hungry and desperate. But if there's anything I've learned while I was gone, it's that men who reach for power are the weakest."
The tension I had been holding in my body unfurled at his words and I smiled, because at least in that, I knew he was right. And it gave me a bit of hope.