Chapter 38
100 YEARS AGO
THE NIGHT WAS pitch black as Amelia tore through darkness. She could hardly breathe through ragged sobs, the lump in her throat a burning coal. The sweeping curve of trees was her only semblance of a trail, though she knew Ezran would catch up to her if she stopped. She let the forest eat her whole, hoping the woods would swallow her into darkness and leave no trace of her behind. Thunder boomed from skies as if the clouds lamented with her. The blur of tears delayed her realization that rain had started pouring.
She could hardly feel the pinpricks of ice while running until she collided against a tree. Her body hunched over a gnarled root and vomited in dirt. Rainwater swirled the bile, sticky and rancid. Beneath her enchanted beauty and golden blood, perhaps this ugly mess was truly what she was made of. She no longer wanted to pretend.
She just wanted to disappear.
Bile burned her throat as she turned over her stomach with a low moan. Twigs dug into her skin, scraping to pry flesh open. Rain pounded against her deflated dress, where mud streaked the torn fabric, now a dirty champagne. She could not will herself to move. Her bones weighed too heavy, her heart too fractured. She hoped the rain would pour hard enough to drown her.
There was no way to tell time in the fog of her mind. By the time Malicine found her, she had already been half asleep. She woke to the demon shaking her by the shoulders.
“Amelia,” they yelled over the rain, “what are you doing here?”
It was strange how seeing a familiar pair of horns and red-eyed raven brought a small sense of comfort. As Malicine examined her injuries, Amelia realized they must have sensed she was nearby and came for her. She thought she’d been running aimlessly, but this was no coincidence. Subconsciously, she had searched for Malicine, the only creature who’d seen the darkness inside her, because they shared it as well.
She whispered, “I don’t want to be here.”
“Of course not,” they snapped. “You’d barely survive these woods.”
Amelia shook her head. Exhaustion ate away her bones. She would have collapsed farther into the ground if she could, sink so deep her blood would water the roots of trees. “I don’t want to be here.”
Understanding slowly dawned on Malicine’s face. Before they could reply, a rustle of leaves snapped their attention to the trees. In the distance, the sound of hooves hitting the ground echoed, the neigh of a frantic horse. A torch’s flame burned past the thicket, the fiery eyes of a prince with a bloodthirst for vengeance.
Amelia didn’t mention Ezran was after her, yet somehow Malicine knew to hide them both. They draped their cape over her like a shield made of darkness. She shrunk into the fabric and watched a sky full of foliage envelop them. The floor shifted from wet mud to bark, as if she were inside a tree. A wall of vines covered her vision as Malicine waved their arm to cast light inside. The dimensions of their cocoon expanded with an orange glow, and she landed on a carpet of moss.
Amelia scanned their new surroundings, where each corner felt less like a dangerous forest and more like a makeshift home. Fire blazed from a hearth made of stone. A driftwood mirror slanted itself to a wall. Across from it was a spinning wheel.
“Where are we?” she asked, watching Talon nestle inside a bed of twigs below the lamp.
“A witch’s cottage. I set up this place the night I cursed you. You were to be lured here the eve you turned eighteen, pricking your finger on a spindle I’d sharpened just for you.”
Moss had grown over the bobbin like green thread, yet the spindle glinted with a sharp smile as it pointed in Amelia’s direction.
“The place has no use anymore since I revoked the curse. But it keeps us hidden, so at least my petty grudge provided some benefit. You left this behind, by the way.”
They pointed to The Book of Samael nestled between the vines. The relic hardly mattered to Amelia after their failed venture into the Otherworld. Instead, the spinning wheel beckoned for her attention, even though no curse should have compelled her otherwise. She’d never seen the actual contraption before. Her father had banished it across the kingdom. Watching it now, she could understand how the sight was alluring. There was a repetitive motion in the wood spinning, the blurriness of the wheel, the needle dangling.
She didn’t notice she was freezing until the warmth of Malicine’s staff brought her gaze to the amulet. A scarlet fog spun inside the gem, bright as she’d remembered it from the Otherworld. Malicine appeared familiar with their newfound powers already, pointing the staff at the bark floor and raising a flattened trunk from the ground. They hauled Amelia over the makeshift stool while their staff sputtered magic sparks onto the floor, wiping clean the mud she’d left behind.
She didn’t realize how dirty she’d become. Her dress was drenched from the rain, her skin tinged with ice. Malicine’s fingers carefully unbuttoned the back of her dress and peeled off the fabric. Lacy undergarments covered her pale skin, and with the cloth stripped away, goose bumps ran prominently down her limbs. Malicine held their breath the entire time they undressed her, as if they thought the smallest gust of air would topple her over. They squeezed rainwater from the fabric, watering the plants buried beneath. Once the clothing dried, they helped Amelia dress herself again.
“What happened?” The demon’s voice remained calm like stone. Fire crackled from the hearth, slowly bringing warmth back to her bones. Yet no matter which way she looked, Amelia still saw pale skin tinted blue, the color of a woman’s veins left after snake poison.
“Lilith’s dead,” she whispered. “And so is my father.”
Silence filled the air, only disrupted by the muffled sound of rain against the walls.
“What does this mean for you?” Malicine asked.
Blankly, she answered, “I don’t know.”
“Where are your godmothers?” Rage seeped into Malicine’s tone. “They should be helping you.”
“I didn’t come with them. There’s no one I can trust. Except . . .”
She turned silent, feeling foolish for running away and seeking Malicine instead. Of course they could not be her godmother, let alone her friend. When they sent her back to this world, they made it clear they wanted nothing to do with her. And yet, Malicine squeezed her arm gently, an anchor to remind her of their presence. It was a gesture so rare and kind that it made Amelia want to cry again.
“I’ll make something warm to drink,” Malicine muttered, “and we’ll figure it out.”
They crossed over to the hearth, where fire flickered from the wooden logs. Amelia watched Malicine’s finger make swirling motions over a cup, guiding black tea leaves across ripples of water. The offer should have comforted her, not left her skin itching. She didn’t need to deliberate her next steps. She already knew what she needed to do. Take over the throne. Rebuild the royal line. Save the kingdom, like Lilith would have wanted.
But Amelia couldn’t. To be strong meant enduring the shame of her mistakes, the consequences of her flaws. And she did not want to be strong.
Thunder boomed loud enough outside to shake the foliage. The wooden clock hanging above the hearth rang. Both dials pointed to the top, signaling midnight. Light glowed from her head like a halo. For a moment, she thought a magical part of the curse remained, ready to take her life at eighteen. But sweet fragrance wafted from her hair, and she remembered the moonflowers entwined between her locks. They looked like orbs of light in the mirror, their petals unfurling into full moons. This wasn’t a crown, yet it reminded her of royalty somehow. She stared longer into the mirror until she pieced together the answer.
The moonflowers looked like pearls.
Lilith had said they would bloom when Amelia turned eighteen. The flowers would die in a few minutes, while Amelia would keep living, like a cruel miracle.
No, this couldn’t be her fate. She didn’t want to endure the daily wars in her mind or heal the darkness in her heart. Life was not worth fighting those battles. All the sadness she swallowed threatened to burble up to her chest and spew out. She could hardly breathe as her body gravitated toward the spinning wheel. The corners of her vision darkened, the sharp tip of the spindle the only point of clarity.
“Amelia.” Malicine’s voice rang like a warning. “I told you I revoked the curse.”
The demon’s words were like rain, a background noise that muffled her ears. She picked up the spindle and traced her finger over the tip. A trickle of blood slipped down her hand. How easy it was for her thin skin to be sliced open with just a prick.
She turned to her companion, whose face twisted into newfound fear, as if reading her mind.
“I’m sorry, Malicine.”
The demon lunged to stop her, but it was too late. She locked her grip onto the spindle with both hands and thrust the sharp end into herself. Pain bloomed from her chest as her vision turned blurry. Malicine’s scream sounded like a distant echo, their arms a faraway embrace. She didn’t know she had collapsed to the floor until blood stained the moss. There was a soft thump, thump, thump of her heart slowing down, like a hummingbird laid to rest, its wings too tired to fly.
Shrill cries muffled behind walls of vegetation, voices she might have recognized if she had the energy to focus. Sparks of light slashed the vines open. Rain descended from the sky once more, their cocoon disappearing and giving way to clearer noises. There was the whinny of a horse, overlapping voices, and shouting, so much shouting. Amelia could not make sense of the cacophony with her ears pressed against soft, blood-soaked moss. She heard Malicine yelling for their raven, the tear of fabric, their flesh splitting apart. A silhouette of a winged creature transformed before her. A monstrous roar shook the trees. The earth erupted into flames. They warmed her bones and covered her like a blanket.
Her pain started to fade. It hurt to breathe, but Amelia wouldn’t need to do that anymore. She could feel her potential slipping from her lips, and with a final breath, she closed her eyes forever.