“In order to save your wife,” the crones say, interrupting my racing thoughts, “she must remember who shereallyis. She must remember.”
I scramble backward before standing, straightening my shirt. “And what do you seek in return?”
“Like we said,” they say together, “we are also looking for something that has been lost.”
As I watch them, I notice more and more about them. The shape of their pointed teeth. The sallow color of their skin and hair long enough to reach their waists. I can see the beautiful women still lurking beneath, just as they lurked beneath the water.
There are only two of them and there must be three.
The cloud in my mind clears and everything makes so much sense. Why the Fates have been quiet, why there is one missing. Confidence squares my shoulders as I take a step toward the women.
“Grawgeth.” I spit the name out of my mouth like poison.
The crones freeze, their limbs tangled together, their clouded eyes blown wide.
“Grawgeth is…” I step forward again and the crones dart back. “Is your sister? The third Fate?”
Their eyes narrow, dark brows cinched together above milky white irises.
“Perhaps she is,” one of the crones says. “She has forgotten, like you.” Their eyes narrow as they turn to each other. “Like your wife.” They link their arms together. “Find our sister,return her to us by destroying the Wicked Wood, and your debt will be considered even.”
They turn to head back to the pool, their silver hair like wisps of a spider's web swaying in the wind. All the confidence I had moments ago fades as my chest tightens and breathing falters.
“How will I find her?”
They turn, and before I can blink, they’re inches from my face. I hold my breath, hoping the stench of decay is from the pool behind us and not from their mouths.
“It has been a long time since we have been united,” the first crone says. “That wicked wood she created has been a poisonous vat to the forest. And all out of spite.” The second nods, her mouth tilting upward. “Free your wife, destroy the wood, and Grawgeth will never be tied there again.”
“Tell me how to destroy the wood and I’ll do it.”
The crones smile, their pointed teeth dripping black. “You must give it something. Something to take with it.”
I open my mouth to beg for more clarity, but the crones hold up their hands. “Destroy the wood so our sister may never find her way back there.”
I nod, my lungs burning from the pent-up breath. “To break your queen from the curse of the Wicked Wood, Soleil must remember who she was.”
My fingers run through my hair, pulling slightly on the ends, frustrated at the time I’ve wasted here. “So that’s it? Just…tell her who she is?”
The crones laugh, but this time it’s not shrill like before. It’s low, rumbling like an oncoming storm.
“That isn’t what we said, King.” They shake their heads, their voices mulling together. “She mustrememberwho she was, and she shall be set free, but the wood must be destroyed. Otherwise, it will pull her back, Bastian. It will pull and pull and take and take and your wife, and our sister, will never truly be free.” Theyturn for the pool again, their hands clasped together. “Destroy it.” They say over their shoulders.
“Grawgeth will return,” one whispers. “We’ll finally be whole.”
“I’ll never make it in time!” I shout to their backs.
They cackle again, loud enough to startle a murder of crows in a nearby tree. “Use the magick, Bastian.” Without a glance backward, they plunge into the pool and out of sight.
Sinking back to my knees, the bitter air fills my chest as I welcome it into my lungs.
Ruse and Alaric nudge my sides, the puppies running forth as well.
“We need to go.” I stand on unsteady legs, leaning on Alaric for support. “Back to the Wicked Wood, I’m afraid.”
Alaric whines and it’s enough to make me smile.
“The feeling is mutual.”
