9
THE MONSTER I MADE
Marina
She asksfor you all the time, you know.
Malik’s words echoed in the back of Marina’s mind. It’d been a week since his visit. A week of answering the prayers of her followers to rebuild Tenebris, heal the wounded, and protect their village from future Chaos.
While she couldn’t mend their mortal bones, she could at least clean up the debris and help ease their anxieties. During the mortals’ hours of sleep, with the help of Mansi and Viviana, they cleared the charred mess. The next day, the villagers praised Marina with newfound hope and dived straight into repairing the broken structures.
The image of Mother, weak and suffering in her cell, tormented her through it all. Malik’s guilt trip had succeeded. It was all Marina could think about—how to save her from a situation that she created all on her own.
“You need to go see her,” Viviana told her one night, after calling attention to Marina spacing out during their conversation yet again.
Mansi tossed her cards down on Marina’s kitchen table and sat up in her chair to top off their glasses of wine. “It’s going to eat at you until you do.”
Marina said nothing, reaching over to grab Viviana’s cigar. They were right, and she loathed that.
It’d been nearly five months since she’d seen her matriarch. The longest that she’d gone in her whole life without Mother. Throughout the centuries, it grew habitual for Mira to summon Marina back to Kaimana for a task. The silence and space from such things were refreshing, which only stacked another brick of guilt onto her.
But it was time. She couldn’t prolong the confrontation any longer.
Her stomach knotted with dread as she stepped out of onyx smoke, the fresh smell of the sea greeting her. The Kaimana air hung heavy with moisture against her skin, curling the ends of her hair.
Under an umbrella of palm trees was the entrance to the underground prison, a hand-crafted set of doors framed by sandstone. Hibiscus flourished off to the side.
The stationed guards swung the doors open and stepped aside for Marina to enter. No acknowledgement, no respectful bow. It was the first time in her life they did not treat her like royalty. Though, she counted herself lucky that they allowed her inside. Freya, the new High Goddess of the Sea, was gracious enough to let Mira’s children visit, at the very least.
Marina huffed under her breath, slightly amused at the thought of the guards regarding the triplets in the same manner. Malik probably attempted to butcher them with one of his serrated knives while Astrid and Vex threw an overdramatic tantrum off to the side.
Marina carried herself to the threshold and paused, hesitating.
She flicked her fingernails in a repetitive rhythm, staring into the dark corridor.
Mother awaited her with expectations and a haughty reaction.
Marina’s feet refused to move.
For some reason, she recalled herself, five years old, balancing a dragonfly in her palm and staring in fascination at the insect. One of its glass-like wings was bent at the end, unable to fly away, but it did not attempt to flee her the way most did.
“You are the first thing that is not afraid of me,” she whispered to it. “I will save you.”
Marina observed the fear in her servants’ eyes, that twinge of doubt when they reached for her hand to lead her to the great hall. During feasts, the other children kept their distance and never invited her to play.
She held the insect in her cupped hands against her stomach as she traveled across the courtyard and into the kitchens. One of the maids gave her a jar, and she stored the dragonfly inside of it. To make it more comfortable, she added curls of grass and water at the bottom.
She left it safely on her bedside table to attend her training.
When she returned, it lay on its back, shriveled, unmoving.
Tears spilling down her face, she embraced the jar, frantically searching for one of her parents.
“Mother! Please help me!” Marina skidded across the moonstone floor of the corridor, catching the High Goddess as she traveled in the direction of her throne room.
Mother’s pale eyes flitted down to the jar in Marina’s grasp.
The servants at her side exchanged uncomfortable glances with one another.
