The Sorceress of the Bone Grove

Deep in the ancient Moonwood, there was a grove where the trees jutted out of the earth like the bones of a long-dead god. Blood-red sap seeped from cracks in pristine white bark, and black moss crept up to feed on the remnants of organic magic. Many people feared the Bone Grove, but not Zouria.

As she drifted through the long shadows cast by the trunks, the air crackled with the dregs of raw, unbridled power. Beneath her feet, fallen sticks crunched like brittle bones. The sharp bows leaned down, reaching for her. Zouria ran a finger across a trunk, gathering some of the sticky sap. As she sucked it from her finger, she inhaled the rich, loamy scent of the grove.

Zouria reached the clearing at the heart of the Bone Grove. Bone trees lined the clearing, curving like a giant rib cage. The soil here was black, rich, and heady. Zouria knelt and dug her nails into the earth, scraping up the soft dirt handful by handful. After several minutes of digging, she found it. Her heart. Deep red and pulsating, nestled in the earth. White roots wound around it and spider-webbed across it, connecting her to the grove, channeling its power into her.

Her head tilted to the side as she examined her heart. She was still not used to seeing it laid so bare, even though it was near a hundred years ago she carved it out and gave it to this grove.

A sharp, piercing pain hit her lower back and radiated up her spine. Her head fell back, and she screamed. The sharp blast of pain was followed by another and another. Zouria’s eyes rolled back, and she saw a man with an axe chopping into one of the bone trees at the edge of the grove.

Taking several deep breaths, Zouria came back to herself. The sharp, radiating pain in her back ebbed into a dull ache. Her nails dug into the soft earth. Then she scooped dirt over her heart, burying it once more. Once that was done, she rose. She walked over to the edge, straight into and through a tree.

When she emerged from the tree’s twin, she found herself near the man with the axe. She could hear the dull thwack as the axe embedded in the trunk. A grunt as the man tore it free. She stepped out of the treeline and approached him. His back was turned to her. The linen shirt he wore stuck to him, damp with sweat. His shoulder-length hair was pulled into a knot at the base of his skull, several loose strands rose with the wind.

Zouria watched the man chop into the bone tree. Red sap oozed from the cut in the trunk and stuck to his axe blade. He grabbed a rag slung in his belt loop and tried to wipe it off, but it had hardened around the blade. The man cursed under his breath as he tilted the axe, examining the red, crystallized blade.

“Are you not aware of the penalty for attempting to harvest a bone tree?” Zouria said.

The man startled, and he turned, his gaze snapping to her. His nostrils flared, and he straightened, holding the axe handle with two hands. “I am. I’ll take it you are the sorceress?”

Zouria glanced down at her dark robes. Her tangle of blood red hair down to her waist, her fingers with their long black nails covered in dirt. She smiled at him, knowing her eyes were red as the sap. “What gave it away?”

The man remained still, but Zouria caught the slight flex of his fingers around the wooden shaft of the axe. “I require your attention.”

“You certainly have a violent way of asking for it.”

“I needed you to know I am serious.” The man withdrew a chisel from his belt and tapped the hardened sap. It burst apart and showered to the ground in glittering red droplets.

Zouria barred her teeth. “Impossible.”

“Sorcerer Yin enchanted this blade,” the man said in a matter-of-fact tone, but Zouria noticed there was a hesitance in his gaze, an underlying sadness in his eyes and the set of his shoulders.

Sorcerer Yin had always envied Zouria’s power. Though it would seem his own had grown sine she’d last seen him. Zouria assessed this man, this new threat. Then she straightened to her full, towering height. “You may have a blade that can cut through my trees, but I can still cut through you.”

A sharpened branch behind the man whipped out and struck, but it glanced off his skin as though it were stone.

The man sighed. “And he provided a protection charm.”

Zouria hissed. It had been many decades since anyone had truly threatened her grove, she forgot what fear felt like clutching at her spine leaving an acrid taste in her mouth.

“I’ve come here to bargain with you,” the man said and for the first time, he shifted his stance, lowering his axe ever so slightly.

Zouria narrowed her eyes as him. “What would you bargain for?”

“My son. He was a foolish youth. He came to you nearly three years ago and tried to harvest some sap. His friends goaded him into it.”

“And you want him back?” Zouria sneered.

“I’ll trade places with him,” the man said with a quick glance at the nearby tree still oozing sap. “All I ask is that you let him go free.”

Zouria ran the tip of her tongue along the back of her teeth. “What of the protection charm?”

“You cannot make me into one of your trees, but you can still bind me to your grove. And I promise to willingly do your biding for the rest of my days, only let my son go,” the man swallowed then added, “please.”

After a moment of considering his offer, Zouria said, “You must swear to never harm me nor my trees, and pledge fealty to me for the remainder of your life.”

“If I do that, my bind with Sorcerer Yin will be broken,” the man hedged.

“I in turn, swear to bring you no harm and leave you,” she glanced him up and down. “In this form. Those are all the terms of my binding. Do you accept?”

The man bowed his head. “Yes.”

“Then make your offering to me,” she said as she ran a sharp nail down the center of her dirt crusted palm opening a gash.

The man ran his own palm along the blade of his axe and stepped forward, closing the distance between them he grasped her hand. As their blood mingled, the binding snapped into place. Several yards away, one of the trees transformed. The bark sloughed away, revealing human skin, and it shrank down, widening until it became a person crouched on the ground.

The boy raised a hand to shield against the bright midday sun. When he noticed them, a choked sob escaped. “Da?”

He pushed to his feet and ran to his father, but branches folded around his father and the Sorceress, forming a barrier between them.

“You are free son,” the man said, his voice rough with emotion. “Go, take care of your sister, she is with the Shaws.”

“Not without you,” he said, sobbing.

“You must. I’ll be fine, but you must forget me son. Go. Live. I love you.”

As the boy left, the Sorceress did too. The man remained, watching his son disappear over the hill on the horizon. Eventually, as the sun dropped, taking the warmth with it, the man found her cabin. He stumbled inside and glanced around. It was a humble place, built for one person, Zouria sat at the table eating some stew.

She gestured to the seat opposite her and the still steaming bowl. The man sank into the chair and ate the entire bowl without so much as glancing at Zouria.

As he scraped the last mushroom and broth out, she asked, “Why did you do it? Why take his place?”

The man looked up at her with soft brown eyes. “Love.”

Zouria frowned. Love only betrayed you. Cut so deep it carved you out and left you nothing but a husk. If anyone knew that she did, but she kept her knowledge to herself.

“My name is Glen. What shall I call you?”

Zouria furrowed her brow. “Sorceress Zouria.”

“How about just Zouria? If we are to spend the rest of my life together, it might be nice to drop the formalities.”

“Fine,” Zouria stood and gestured to the sink. “You’ll clean the dishes. You may sleep by the fireplace, I’ll lay out an extra blanket.”

Zouria strode over to an armchair and picked up a book, and started reading. Once Glen finished with the dishes, he knelt before the fireplace. “There’s no starter,” he said.

Zouria snapped her fingers and fire blazed to life in the hearth.

“Useful,” Glen muttered. Zouria heard him rub his hands together in front of the fire.

As Zouria stood to retreat to the seclusion of her room, Glen glanced up at her. “I suppose I’ll see you in the morning.”

Zouria sniffed. She would have to see about crafting another cabin for Glen, she didn’t like sharing her space. “I’ll let you know when your assistance is needed, otherwise, make yourself scarce.”

Glen swallowed and nodded before he laid down, pulling the blanket over his shoulders.

__

It took time, as these things do, but eventually, the two fell into a life together. Glen assisted Zouria with the care of the Bone Grove and the surrounding ancient Moonwood. As much as Zouria fought against it, she came to know Glen. He had married young to the love of his life, but she had died of the wasting sickness, leaving him with two children, the youngest barely old enough to walk. He’d been a carpenter who specialized in sturdy, dependable furniture. Glen had always wanted to learn to garden, but he’d never had the time, so he took to tending to the forest with a fervor that impressed Zouria, though she’d never admit it.

Glen tried to learn about Zouria’s past, but she evaded his probing questions and guarded her past with hardened bark. Even so, he managed to chip away at her exterior, revealing things even Zouria had forgotten she’d buried, such as the fact that she used to love to bake scones, swim in the river, and dance. Oh, how she missed music.

One day, Zouria returned from tending to a blight that had killed off a bunch of pecan trees. She collapsed into the chair by the fire, spent from the magic she’d expended.

“I have a surprise for you,” Glen said. He brought her a long parcel wrapped in large green leaves. As she unfurled the leaves, she revealed a long stick with holes in it.

Glen grinned at her.

“What is it?” She asked.

“Here, let me,” he said. Their hands brushed as he reached for the stick.

Glen lifted the stick to his mouth and placed his fingers over several holes. He blew into one end, and a soft note hung in the air. Then he played a song. When he finished and lowered the stick, Zouria reached up to find tears had trailed down her cheeks.

“I’m still not very good. I’ve been practicing, but I couldn’t wait any longer to show you.”

“It was beautiful,” Zouria said, and Glen reached over to wipe a tear from her cheek. His hand remained warm against her cool skin. And Zouria found she didn’t mind the touch at all.

__

Zouria sat between Glen’s legs as he rubbed her shoulders. “There’s more pollution in the river. We’ll need to work on cleansing it,” Zouria said, then sighed as Glen’s hands slid down her arms.

Glen hummed, but Zouria got the feeling he wasn’t actually listening. “What is it?” she snapped, annoyed, turning to look at him.

Glen sighed. “I’ve been thinking.” His hands stilled on her arms. “Are there others you might consider releasing?”

Zouria narrowed her eyes. “Others?”

“Bone trees, people who have served their time. Don’t you think… I mean haven’t some surely suffered enough by now?”

An acrid bitter taste coated her tongue. “No, they haven’t.”

“But what is your plan? Will you keep them here forever?”

Zouria stood, the anger rising inside her, demanding she move. “Do not mistake my tolerance of you for any form of benevolence. I am a harbinger of malevolence. No one may cross me and live to speak of it.”

Glen fixed his soft eyes on her. “But that’s not true. You let my son go. You are not evil, Zouria.”

“Then what am I?” she hissed.

“Scared. You are scared to face the outside world. Fearful of being hurt again.”

“You know nothing!” Zouria stormed out of the cabin. She fled through the trees, the sun setting cast long shadows like a funeral shroud. Branches swayed around her, dripping sap that stuck to her skin, her hair. She ran barefoot and wild until she reached the epicenter, where she’d buried her heart.

She crashed to the ground and dug frantically, nails tearing through the soil, but no matter how deep she dug, her heart was gone. The roots were broken as though her heart had been ripped from the earth.

Zouria could hear someone walking up behind her. “What did you do with it?” She snarled.

“What did I do with what?” Glen asked.

Zouria looked back into the hole and there it was, her heart red and beating, tangled in the roots.

“What is that?” Glen asked, peering over her shoulder. “Is that… a heart?”

Zouria’s breathing came rapidly her nails sank into the dirt at the edge of the hole.

“Oh Zouria,” Glen said and knelt down beside her. “What did you do?”

“I did what I had to.” Zouria pushed dirt over her heart, burying it once more.

As they walked back to the cabin, sap continued to drip on them. The trees bowed down, reaching for Zouria. Then she heard them, the voices she’d long ago learned to block out.

Please, I am sorry.

I didn’t mean anything.

Let me go, I’ll do anything.

“You did this!” Zouria yelled, whirling on Glen. She shook, hands balled into fists.

Glen stepped forward palms out. “Zouria, talk to me.”

Zouria collapsed into his arms. He wrapped them around her, his hands tangling in her hair. She sobbed and together they dropped to their knees, sap dripping down all around them. “He betrayed me. He told me he loved me, but he destroyed me, so I did the only thing I could.”

Glen held her. He ran his hands down the back of her head and cupped the base of her skull and he let her cry.

Something woke Zouria in the dead of night. The cabin was dark but for the faint slant of moonlight from the window. She could make out a figure in the doorway. Holding something in his hand. It pulsated rhythmically, and she watched as it quickened. Then she heard it. The steady beating of a heart.

“Glen? Is that you?”

“Yes,” his voice was hoarse, almost apologetic. “I am so sorry, Zouria. I had to do it. I made a deal with Sorcerer Yin. It was the only way to protect my children—to save my son. The only way he would give me the protection charm so I may stand a chance against you. I didn’t expect you, though. You are so much more than I always thought.”

Glen stepped forward and in the moonlight, Zouria caught the glint of steel. Glen held a heart in one hand and a knife in the other. And it all became clear. Sorcerer Yin had sent Glen here to kill her. He’d gifted him the abilities to stand against her, to infiltrate her grove.

Zouria’s fingers dug into the quilt. She needed to act, but she found herself frozen with fear. It spread like ice up her spine and rooted her to the bed. “Please,” she said, and she hated it. Hated that she had allowed herself to become vulnerable again, to face betrayal once more. Had she not learned her lesson the first time?

“Sorcerer Zin is on his way here,” Glen said. “But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take your heart and give it to him.” Glen stumbled forward, now fully illuminated by the shaft of moonlight, Zouria could see a dark red stain on his shirt. The knife he held dripped fresh blood onto the floor.

“I couldn’t do it,” Glen’s voice shook. “So I cut out my own instead.”

It is said that if you venture far enough into the ancient Moonwood, you may find two strange trees. Pristine white bark and tangled together, winding around one another, stretching high into the canopy above. It is also said that if you were to dig directly between those two trees, and dig deep enough, you will find two still beating hearts nestled within the roots. The sound echoes through the grove—steady and true. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.