Feed the Beast

It’s all a blur of smoke and salt—my tears falling in waves as my chest clenches. Her body lay sprawled against the snow; a soft, cold cradle for a body that now seemed too small for how large her spirit had been. I watch the final traces of vermillion and silver fade into the starlit sky, her aura returning to the heavens from whence it came.

I watch through teary eyes, counting every sparkle of her swirling into the endless night.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye…” I choke on the words, my lungs burning from the onslaught of sobs welling in my throat.

A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, grounding me back into this reality instead of the one I dared to imagine—a world where I followed her.

“Come, morning nears,” the commander says, and I catch the faintest thread of sorrow in his gruff voice. I gaze up into his onyx eyes, lit with the final traces of Andra’s essence as they dance like flames against the white of the snow.

I knew the Eurycleon would cost us, but it was the only way to win the war. Yet now, as I look at the lifeless body of the woman I loved, I feel no war could have been worth her. I stifle the beginnings of a sob that will surely leave me winded and force myself to rise from the snow. I don’t even feel the cold as it bites into my flesh like a snake sinking its teeth into frail limbs. The Winter Castlites had descended us into an early snowfall, destroying everything in an icy tempest. Food, water, shelter—gone.

All to stop us from advancing.

All to stop us from protecting our homes.

But this was my home.

My home was lightly freckled skin and chestnut-colored hair.

My home was honeyed skin and soft laughter—silver-stringed bows and osmanthus tea. All the things that would remind me of her in the years to come. Every reminder of what we were and what we could have been. My past and future collided violently in the back of my mind, as if her absence from one could erase the other. My thoughts were a jumbled mess as I tried to picture her smile, hear her laughter.

It had all faded, just as she had.

“We must go,” the commander says again, and I shift my weight onto my hands, pushing myself up from the freezing ground. My legs wobble beneath me like a newborn deer. I cower beside the commander, who has somehow maintained all his harsh edges, as if this loss had not carved him in two the way it had me.

Though I suppose it wouldn’t.

Andra was my lover, not his.

I inhale deeply, letting my lungs expand as far as they can before collapsing with my exhale. I make my first effort to tear my gaze away from where her arms fold inward, as if she’s trying to keep herself warm. My nose wrinkles as I finally turn away, and my heart strains against my ribs knowing I am turning my back on her forever.

This is it.

I tell myself.

Again and again until the reality settles in that everything I had ever cherished is gone. Taken by a bristlecone tree known for devouring souls in exchange for favors. I thought we would offer the ancient God an animal—not her.

But she had been too ready as we neared the mountain’s peak. Too ready to throw herself at the mercy of the Eurycleon. I try to picture it now—how unnervingly overjoyed she had seemed—and only now do I understand.

She thought she was doing us a service.

But there was no service greater than her being alive.

I stalk through the mounting snow, trudging as though I’m walking through quicksand. The village of Unukuwa is close enough now that I can almost smell fresh bread and oolong tea. The commander walks ahead of me, his body unnaturally stiff.

When we reach the inn, he throws open the doors with unusual haste, ushering me inside before the bite can claim me. Frost had taken many in these mountains, and I was not keen on joining them—I’d rather be struck by pine lightning as Andra was…

The booth creaks beneath my weight as I slide into it. Our other archer and spearman sit across from me while the commander settles at my side.

“Cora—” Yarus starts, but quickly purses his lips. There was no comfort in apologies, and I think he knew it.

I force a terse smile. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay,” I say quickly, and he nods once.

The commander exhales deeply, leaning over the table before straightening again, “It’s not okay. I should have known—should have—”

The rest dies on his tongue like embers drowned in water.

Yarus seizes the chance to be useful, “Stopped her?” he asks solemnly, and the commander nods.

I look away, biting down on my lip to keep the outburst threatening to spill free. I had never been eager for war, but now all I wanted was to swing my blade until I tasted nothing but metal and salt. I wanted to wear the Empire’s blood like paint. I wanted to take from them as they had taken from me.

Because Andra was not the first, and she would not be the last.

I shoot to my feet and shove past the commander. Yarus’s mouth falls open as if to ask something, but it snaps shut before the words can come.

Borick, the spearman, speaks instead. “Goin’ somewhere, Cora?”

The question is sincere, but I’m not sure I have the strength to return the kindness.

“To war,” I reply, marching back out into the snow.

I know the Empire’s battalion lies beyond the peak of Durast, and tonight I feel reckless.

I hadn’t the time to stew in my grief—so what I had been denied in love, I would feed with rage.

I plunge my hand into the snow, pushing down until I feel stone beneath it. Then I push harder, surrendering myself to the power of earth, salt, and rock. I pour every ounce of focus into channeling it.

For a moment, nothing.

Then magic surges upward through my fingers and into my chest, radiating through me like wildfire. It feels like stepping beneath a waterfall—refreshing and brutal all at once as it ripples over my skin.

Power.

Raw, untapped power.

The Gods would see to it that I paid for this. That I would be punished for taking what was never mine. But there had only ever been one thing in this world capable of pulling me back from the brink of madness, and her soul now belonged to the wind and sky.

There was nothing left to punish me with.

So I birthed a killer from the emptiness—from the hunger and rage threatening to consume me.

And instead, I would let it consume them.