16. Chapter 16
The Hreth Mountains, the longest mountain range in Izmari, extended from the Air Court’s innermost point to the Sea of Reiwen.
Jagged peaks fragmented the sky, slate-gray stone erupted from the ground like the sharp teeth of a wolf, and the thick, obsidian trunks of its forests painted an impressive, albeit eerie, picture.
Amongst the giants, Mount Fuhreth dwarfed the rest, its rounded summit lost to the soft clouds in the sky.
The ancient creature Yareli sought was imprisoned inside one of its caves.
In the bygone days when Fae lived amongst humans, the Curse Eater had preyed upon both.
A terrifying, seemingly immortal hunter—its name long lost to history—was obsessive in its pursuit, hunting its victim across land and sea.
Fae of old had attempted and failed to eradicate it, ultimately sealing the Curse Eater on Mount Fuhreth.
In more recent centuries, it was sought out for breaking unwanted, difficult curses, adopting its current moniker—Curse Eater.
However, making the trek was arduous, lending to its reputation—only the desperate and powerful would pay a visit to the spine-chilling creature in the tales told to Fae children.
Despite August shadowstepping them to Fuhreth's ward boundaries, it was still a four-hour trip one-way by foot. Two hours into the hike, Yareli had half the mind to ask him to give her a piggyback ride for the remaining stretch. It didn’t help that her head throbbed worse than usual.
Recovery wasn’t always painless, she reminded herself.
She pushed through the burning in her upper quads one step at a time while she listened to August’s lecture.
He explained, “The Curse Eater will want something in return for its services. Do not bargain with it. It will tell you what it wants, but do not accept any terms that involve future fulfillments or vague payments with body parts.”
“So, if I can’t bargain with it, what kind of payments are acceptable?”
“Good question. I don’t know. Its whims are not understood.”
Yareli stopped, glaring daggers at his back as her mood worsened. She rubbed her temple; her head felt like it was being assaulted with an iron pan.
“Okay, this seems a little stupid now. I’m supposed to enter the cave alone—a cave with an ancient, magical creature who happens to love human flesh—and trust it won’t kill me right away?”
“When you put it that way, the odds do seem terrible.”
“Then, why are we doing this!”
He looked at her over his shoulder and squatted, surprising her. He motioned her toward his back. “Well, partly because we need its expertise to figure out Tuom’s curse, and partly because it won’t be able to kill you.”
She didn’t move, unconvinced. “Why?”
“It’s woven into the wards. It cannot kill any Fae or human that enters its cave.”
Yareli raised her head to the clear, blue sky and sighed. She walked up to August’s back. “Don’t drop me.”
“Never.”
It crossed her tired brain that she was going to touch him again, and a traitorous thrill elicited a shiver.
She placed her hand on August’s shoulder; his warmth sent a flurry of tingles up her arm.
She thought of Leo, but they weren’t exclusive; in fact, they were more akin to an unofficial situationship.
Ya vez cuando te metes con muchachos.
The strange but familiar voice reverberated through her skull.
The throbs intensified, and she stumbled, but August was there, catching her arms and holding her up.
She pressed her forehead into his chest and moaned in pain.
It was a memory wrenching itself back into shape.
A woman’s face, not unlike her own, stitched itself to the forefront of her mind.
She had a spatula in her hand, pointing it at her, and she repeated herself.
Don’t you see how getting involved with boys leads to trouble?
Yareli didn’t agree. She wanted to argue, but her tongue was like lead, heavy.
Mamá.
The woman’s identity clicked into place, and an abyss of longing ripped through her.
She knew she had forgotten her family, but until then, she had been able to skim over this fact.
It was better not to think about it lest she succumbed to despair.
How awful was she to forget her family? No, it had been better to ignore it, but now, with her mother’s face in front of her, she couldn’t deny it.
It hurt. Every missing piece of her… hurt.
It rattled in her chest, raging against its binds.
With trembling hands, she tightened the knots on it until it no longer shook.
Pain such as this would only be a hindrance to her task—breaking the curse.
Her eyes fluttered. Lightheadedness came over her, and she passed out.
When she came to, August held her in his arms. He looked straight ahead, and her body jostled as they moved. He was still marching them forward, and her heart clenched.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
He glanced down at her, a bead of sweat on his forehead. “I’m not sure. You passed out after complaining of pain. Are you okay? Is it your memories?”
It rushed back to her then.
“I remembered my mom.”
“The tea is working.” He met her eyes, an inscrutable emotion passing through them.
The magnitude of recovery was upon her, and fear stirred in her. Her excitement paled in comparison to the growing pit in her stomach that she had forgotten something urgent. Having forgotten her family had been one painful matter, but whatever else she had forgotten seemed to loom over even that.
Troubled, she said, “It seems so. You can put me down, thanks.”
“We’ve just about made it. You might as well keep resting.”
She gaped at him. “You’ve been carrying me for two hours?”
“It’s not much more different than carrying you on my back.”
He had a point.
“At least let me switch to being on your back.”
“Sure.”
He set her down, and her legs shook like jelly. His proximity, although still new and exciting, was akin to entering a hot bath after a long day—relaxing. She settled into his back, nestling her head on his shoulder.
“You’re warm, you know,” she murmured and promptly fell asleep, missing his response. It didn’t matter. All she wanted was for him to know—his distance didn’t mask his kindness.
A biting wind blew from the cave’s dark entrance, raising goose bumps along Yareli’s arms. Although they had set up camp to the right of the cave, away from the constant howling, she had been drawn to it more than once.
There was a pull in her lower abdomen, beckoning her to go inside, but still, she waited.
She knew they were stalling. At first, it was to regain their strength from the hike.
Then, it was to set up camp and eat lunch.
Now, no more excuses were left. She had to go.
August stood next to her. “Keep your wits about you.”
The wind blew his black hair away from his face, revealing his furrowed eyebrows. Hazel met brown before he nodded and mouthed, Go.
“I’ll be back,” she said, taking a deep breath.
“I’ll be here.”
She took her first step toward the cave; the rest came easier after that, and she found herself at the entrance in no time. She wouldn’t glance back, afraid that if she did, her resolve would break, and she would run back to August—to safety. But she stopped to listen when he spoke.
“Remember, it can’t kill you.”
She pressed forward, knowing cowardice was right on her heels. She faced the gaping maw of darkness, determined to walk out with the answer to returning home.
Warm air greeted Yareli as she stepped into her family’s living room. She dropped her bag at the entrance, kicked off her shoes, and dodged her younger brother’s toys littering the ground. She tried to sneak to her room, but her mom had already heard the door close and called out to her.
“Mija, ven ayúdame en la cocina.”
Yareli groaned, rolling her eyes, but she went to the kitchen.
Being the eldest daughter meant she was always helping in the kitchen, no matter that she hated cooking.
Even when she had burned the tortillas on purpose, her mom had doubled down and forced her to practice by putting her on tortilla duty for two weeks straight.
After years of resistance, she had finally resigned herself to her fate.
Upon entering the kitchen, her nose was greeted by the rich smell of chocolate and the savory smell of onion and garlic.
“Stir the chocolate.”
Her mom pointed her chin at the wooden spoon in her hand, and Yareli took it.
Her mouth watered at the promised chocolate con bolillo later.
There was a click, and the boisterous voices of her mom’s favorite radio hosts filled the room.
The steady sound of chopping joined the noise.
For a while, they existed in silent companionship, enjoying the music.
When Pepe Aguilar came on, her mom started singing.
“I thought you didn’t like this song,” Yareli commented, glancing at her.
Her mom didn’t look up from the cutting board, singing off-tune.
Yareli smiled. Her mom sang all the time without care for her skill, or lack thereof, because she loved it.
She admired that about her mom. Just as Yareli had her own passion, except she kept it hidden, ashamed.
The summer creative writing workshop application tugged at her, begging to be revealed to her mom.
Stored in her backpack, it burned a mark on her back.
She paused mid-stir. It was now or never.
But her mom beat her to it. “I’m leaving your dad.”
The words dripped dread down the back of her throat. Yareli said nothing, stirring again, and any ideas about her writing workshop were discarded. Pressure built behind her eyes, making it hard to see the chocolate in front of her. She stirred faster, scraping the bottom of the pot.
“Ya no lo puedo soportar,” her mom continued, resentment making her tone bitter and short, so unlike the sweet chocolate in front of Yareli.