by Sarah Chorn
“You have stars under your skin and infinity in your eyes,” Seraphina said to Mouse in a voice that sounded like fire, crackling and hungry. Just what could this woman see? She felt naked before her, stripped bare, her soul exposed. “Sometime during the past night, you have turned from girl to goddess. Help me get up, Neryan; your daughter should like to speak with you, I think.”
She grabbed the cane Vadden had made her, that beautiful work of art, and with grunts and some cursing, got to her feet; back bowed, legs shaking, her right one dragging behind her. She was pain encased in scarred flesh. It hurt Mouse just to look at her.
“I’ll stay close if you have need of me, but far enough away that I can’t hear you.”
She knelt again by the side of the cabin, then curled up on her side and closed her eyes, feigning sleep. She was beautiful, Mouse realized, if pale people could be considered such. Her hair was red as flame; her face heart-shaped; full lips; big, expressive eyes. She was tall and willowy, too, or she would have been if she hadn’t been bent by abuse. The masters at whatever slave camp had raised them had bred their parents true, that was certain.
“Mouse?” Neryan asked, his voice soft and low. His hand landed on her shoulder, gripping it gently. “What’s wrong?”
“I am leaving,” she said, the words tumbling past her lips in a mad rush.
“You’re leaving,” he said, repeating her words in a flat, cold voice. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging on it. A nervous gesture. He looked at his sister and sighed, strain lining his handsome features. “No, you aren’t.”
“Neryan, this isn’t up for negotiation. I’m leaving. You can’t keep me here. You can’t stop me from going. I have to do this, and you can’t come with me. Not where I’m going.”
“Mouse, you’re…” his voice trailed off. He swallowed hard. “You are my daughter. What do you expect me to do here? Should I be okay with this? I’m not. I’m terrified, and I’m angry, and I can’t let you just walk away. Everything is falling apart. You are the only constant in my life. You belong here, with me. With us. We are your family. Whatever you’re going through, we can go through it together.”
Together. There would never be another together for them again, not after this. She was cutting her only remaining tie. She had no idea that it would hurt this bad, this final slice into the last fragment of her untouched soul.
She looked at Neryan and saw that he was bursting, water beading on his skin, wetting his hair, and then, suddenly, Seraphina was there, her hand on his arm, steam hissing in the air between them. “My brother,” she said softly, her eyes pinned to Mouse. “She is changing. Can’t you see it in her? She’s not really Mouse anymore. She’s not your daughter, and she’s not the girl who found me under a bush. She’s something else now, a woman grown. She needs to walk this road alone for a time. We have to trust that she will be okay. You need to let her go. Keeping her here will suffocate her. She’s changing. Her soul, Neryan, is being choked.”
Neryan listened to her, seemed to hear her words, and then turned his full attention back to Mouse. “I knew it was coming. You’ve been so… distant recently. I just didn’t want it to be now. I didn’t want it to ever happen. You’re my daughter, Mouse. I’m your father. Whatever you’re going through, I should be there to help you and protect you. You can’t just cut me off like this, not without an explanation. I have to know you’ll be alright.”
This was killing her. She was dying right in front of him and he didn’t even realize it. This was the kind of death that went on and on, one slice at a time until there was nothing left of her but a keening wail, a dirge so eternal it would take its place among the stars, filling the heavens with its mournful song.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and she was. She hadn’t meant to hurt him, hadn’t meant to close herself off when he probably needed her comfort, but she couldn’t stay here. She was so damn hungry. She was nothing but skin and that infernal yearning deep inside, that nagging, constant need for something to fill her up. She was a broken jug, and a broken jug couldn’t be mended by regret. It was now or never. “I have to, Neryan. Something is calling me to move on.”
He sniffled, and she realized with shock that he was crying. She hadn’t ever actually seen him cry before. He wiped at his eyes and stared off into the middle distance.
“We’re being ripped apart, aren’t we?” he whispered. “I can’t keep you here. I can’t chain you up the way I was chained. I want you to stay with me, Mouse, where I can keep you safe, but I see how it’s killing you and…” his voice shuddered, and he cleared his throat to stifle a sob. “I feel myself changing along with you. I feel it inside. I understand, in my own way, what you are going through. I am tied to Seraphina. I will not force you.”
She felt like feathers caught in a breeze, weightless and insubstantial. Neryan was looking at her like she was already gone, and part of her was already dying. She felt herself crack like a porcelain vase, felt hot, still air creep over her skin like a curse. The fragile shell of her heart exploded. This moment would be frozen inside of her, echoing through her like a bell that would never stop ringing. She’d always remember the sight of him helplessly, hopelessly, watching her leave.
She threw herself into his arms and they clung to each other. “I love you,” she whispered into his chest. “No matter what happens, we’ll find our way back to each other.”
“You are my heart, Mouse. I will not leave the Sunset Lands unless you are beside me.” His words were edged in bitterness and finality.
They held on to each other as though the world would split apart if they let go and she knew this would be Mouse’s last embrace. She’d carry it with her when she left. It would be this moment, tucked away safe in her soul, that would remain whole when she broke. This was her exquisite end. Mouse was shredding, fraying around the edges. Soon the fragments would blow away and she’d become just another echo, another life scattering on the wind, another story left untold.
Neryan had given her so much. Family. Home. Safety. Love. Now she was leaving him to become…what? She was terrified. She was exhilarated. She was standing on the cusp of something huge. Soon she’d fling herself off this cliff and become whatever she was yearning to become.
“What will we be when we find each other again?” he asked, cupping her face in his hands.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “You won’t be Neryan, and I won’t be Mouse.”
It was the truth. She wasn’t sure how the rest of them hadn’t seen it. She wasn’t the only one changing, locked in this painful half-life. All of them were. When they met next, none of them would be who they currently were. They weren’t just saying goodbye for now. They were saying goodbye, in a sense, forever.
“We will find each other again.” It wasn’t a plea or a hope, but a promise.
“I don’t like this. Any of it.” He licked his lips. “Just be safe, my little Mouse,” Neryan said, pressing his lips to her forehead. Then he pulled her into his arms again. “You gave me purpose when I was floundering, and direction when I was lost. You are my North Star, daughter of my heart. Find me in Lord’s Reach.”
She’d try, but she wasn’t sure that was something she could promise. Instead, she fisted away tears, and sniffled. She had to go. The weight of this moment was choking her, and Hunger was down deep in her soul, churning and turning, yearning to break free. It was time.
“I have to go.” It was time to end this long goodbye, time to see the last of the man who had become her father. Time to say goodbye to whoever she had been.
“Mouse,” he called when she turned to leave.
“Yeah?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Nothing,” he said with a grim smile. “I just wanted to look at you one last time.”
He stood there, outlined by light, his red hair glowing, his shoulders tense. The sun was behind him, and he looked like a planet on fire. He wore his tears like trophies, jewels bedecking his cheeks. Beautiful, and so very
, very broken. She took him in, memorized his shape, remembered the feel of him, this father who had imprinted himself on her heart. She tucked the image away, promised to carry it with her through whatever came next, and left.
She ran then, tearing into the forest, breaking more with each step. When she got far enough away, she let out a howl that was so raw and powerful she felt like it could cut a star in half. Pain, a lifetime’s worth of it, coursed through her, cascading out of her mouth in a potent, messy rush.
She cried her shattered soul and screamed her wrecked heart. She planted her feet in the soil as though she’d grown roots and poured her anguish into the earth. This was how it felt to unravel, this long, slow tear. A shattered work of art. A scream that came from the heart of infinity, and nothing to hold on to.
She felt herself rupture, rip and shred.
She felt Mouse die.
The girl she’d been fell away to dust, and Hunger emerged like a phoenix from the ashes, wings spread wide, ready to devour. You must break to Become, isn’t that what the Bone Lord had said? Time and time again, his words echoing in her mind, finding fertile ground, planting roots and growing deep. Yes, she had broken. Leaving Neryan was the last thing the girl named Mouse could handle, and she’d done it, knowing it would kill her. Now Mouse was dead.
A goddess was born.
Hunger was hungry, and there was no time to stand around. She had work to do, places to go, and people to unmake.
Welcome, Hunger, the Bone Lord purred into her mind. He was louder now, far more real. She could see through the veil of bones, the fleshless form he wore, to the being underneath. I am approaching the Reach. I will be there in a few days.
I will meet you there. She blinked, looked around herself, and realized that the voice she’d heard before was louder now. No longer a whispered nagging at the edges of her senses. It felt like it came through the earth itself, shouting out her name with a longing that made her heart hurt.
She smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It wasn’t the kind of smile that would welcome you home and put you at ease. Hunger’s smile was an attack. It was a cold threat and a calculated promise. It was violence with pink lips, and cruel intent’s sharp teeth.
She felt the magic of the world flow through her, filling her up and spilling out of her in a mad, chaotic rush and knew what it was to be truly alive. Why had she been so afraid of this? Why had she waited so long on the cusp of transformation, with Mouse and Hunger at war, pitted against each other, a soul devouring itself? Now, here she was, who she’d always meant to be, standing on a landscape that was rapidly turning black under her feet as she sucked its life up into her, and knew power.
She hadn’t understood before. She had only been able to see a bare fraction of what life truly was. Now, she was life. She was soul. She was the great unmaker, and power flooded her veins in place of blood.
She had to move. There was a lot to get done before she and the Bone Lord crashed together on the fertile soil of Lord’s Reach. She could feel the pull, something under that city was calling to her, needing her, needing them. All of them, even the ones who were still fighting their transformations. She turned her mind to Neryan, Seraphina, and Vadden. When they Became, the world would shake. It would quake, and then…
It would be amazing.
She turned northeast, toward the nearest village, and ran.
Neryan
They left the cabin three nights ago, embarking on a journey that would usually take them a day; but with Seraphina’s slow, painful progress and her frequent need to rest, it was taking them so much longer. He couldn’t help but chafe at their slow pace. It wasn’t her fault, not like she could help it, but he hated this walk; this journey between what had been and what would be, with this narrow dirt track a seemingly endless causeway between the two.
He didn’t want to be doing this, any of it. Every part of him wanted to run in the other direction, but Seraphina had her mind set, and more than that—Mouse was out there somewhere, and he wouldn’t leave without her. He was stuck.
This was his own kind of hell, being stretched thin as a spider’s web between two poles, his soul straining, churning, and turning inside him. Water puddled at his feet with every step, surging up from somewhere deep within the earth, and he was powerless to stop it. He was bursting, each waterlogged step just another reminder of how torn he was.
What was happening to him? He wasn’t himself. He wasn’t sure who he was, or what he was becoming. What happened next? What happened after he stopped changing? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
He had to know.
He felt like he was boiling.
He kept his thoughts to himself, and walked. They didn’t speak; none of them had any words to share. Vadden wore his silence the same way he wore his skin, it had become part of him. Seraphina had cloaked herself in darkness and courage, grim determination in the set of her lips and her narrowed eyes, and he… he was just breaking. He felt like a butterfly caught in a thunderstorm, his wings shredding in the wind, and wondered when his companions would hear that long, slow tear as they were ripped off. He wondered how long he could be split down the middle before he fell into madness.
Mouse was gone and he suddenly couldn’t escape the thought that they were all being ripped apart. Torn. Sundered. It was eating him alive.
Seraphina’s slow step-drag-stepping behind him, her occasional grunts of pain that she couldn’t quite muffle, seemed to underscore the darkness of his thoughts. She refused to ask for help, and after she had snarled at him once for offering it, he’d stopped going near her. There was a wall between them, erected by silence, years apart, and their last argument, a discomfort that chafed at his soul. They needed to stay close together, her fire balanced his water; but being close to her was uncomfortable in the extreme, their relationship had never been a struggle before. Recently they were more like strangers.
Now, on the third night, she was falling far behind them, her grunts not so muffled anymore, her back bowed and legs bent, pain radiating off her, smothering all her determination.
“There’s a farmhouse up here, if I remember right,” Vadden said. “We can stay the night. Tomorrow we should reach Lord’s Reach.”
They paused on the dirt track. This wasn’t a path Neryan had ever taken to the Reach before, off the main roads, well back in the fields and on the paths that connected them. Residential thoroughfares, most likely.
“Have you noticed how empty the countryside has been?” Vadden whispered, eyeing Seraphina’s slow, jolting progress over Neryan’s shoulder.
He had, though he hadn’t said anything about it. They hadn’t seen another person, another animal, another sign of life. No fires, no smoke, no smell of cooking food or children running about. There were villages off in the distance, but they all seemed as quiet as a tomb and they had avoided them.
“It’s like we’re the last people alive,” Neryan replied, eyeing Seraphina. She was hurting, her face white as bone, her lips pulled in a tight line. Pain, clenched. A soul, screaming.
“There is a cabin ahead,” Vadden said to her. “We’ll stay there for the night.”
“Thank the Mother,” Seraphina replied on a tortured sigh.
“You should let me carry you, sister,” Neryan said. “You should let me help.” He was aching to be of use, to be a brother, rather than a stranger held at arm’s length. He longed to put their angry words behind them, to bridge the gulf between them.
She glared at him and showed her teeth. “You will not carry me. I will learn how to use my body.” There was no other option in her words. She’d learn how to use her body, full stop. That didn’t include him. He felt part of himself die. She fixed her eyes on him. “You are so good at drowning quietly, you have turned it into an art.”
That’s exactly what he was doing. He was suffocating under a river of guilt. He’d been liberated, freed, survived, and every time he looked at her he remembered what his freedom had cost. Its ultimate pri
ce was carved on her bent body. Then, when she’d needed his support, instead of offering it, he’d argued with her.
“You don’t have to do this alone, Seraphina. I won’t judge you, neither will Vadden. We can help you. You don’t need to suffer—”
“I am a mass of rage and scar tissue, Neryan. My body feels like new leather, hard and untried. I have to break myself in the same way you’d break in a glove. You cannot help me. Neither of you can, though I thank you for the offer.” She pushed ahead of them, dragging herself down the narrow path between dried, dead bramble bushes that had probably once held berries. Now they looked dry and naked. Even the bark had been stripped from them. Their pale wood gleamed like bare bones in the moon’s light. He made to go after her, but Vadden grabbed his arm with a firm hand.
“Wait a spell,” he said.
“But—”
“We might well be the last people alive, Neryan, and she moves slow. We will know if there is any danger. She has fire, my brother. Do not make the mistake of thinking that she is helpless.” Vadden’s face was a dark slash in a darker night. His eyes flashed with lightning, and he quickly pulled his hand back, as though afraid his touch would hurt Neryan. Maybe it would. They were all changing, weren’t they? Turning more elemental and far less human. The why of it was still a mystery. “We need to talk, just the two of us, for a moment.”
“Okay,” Neryan grunted, eyeing his sister’s hunched form, the way her right leg wasn’t even moving anymore, just dragging behind her like dead flesh while she pulled herself forward with the cane Vadden had carved her.
His sister. She had been so tall, regal, and beautiful before. So full of life and hope, such vitality. Now she was twisted, both in body and soul, and a stranger to him. It hurt his heart. A puddle of water seeped out of the earth, kissing his boots. Even the world was weeping for her. For him. For all of them, these broken, shattered souls, all sharp edges and gaping wounds, unhealed children leaving trails of blood behind them.
