A heavy hand landed on my shoulder. David leaned in, a shadow of a grin dancing at his mouth. “That’s a rare gift, Carwynn. Ancient, even,” he said. “Only ever spoken in legends.”
My cheeks pulled up, something beyond a smile.
I’d only ever felt anxiety and dread around my abilities. But today I was surrounded by something else entirely.Love. Unconditional, grounding, unshakeable love. And for the first time, I felt a flicker of pride in myself too. I’d done it. I was the one to will it, to take control of it, to finally embrace it.
Their love curled around me like a gentle hand, lulling that dark part of me back to sleep. A strange, new confidence took hold in me, knowing that next time, I’d be able to wake it up on my own.
My entire life, I’d longed for the feeling of being safe, protected behind trusted arms. But it hadn’t dawned on me until now—that maybe the trust and security I really needed, was from myself.
37
CARWYNN
I thinkgod might be a pillow. Specifically, the one on my bed. And I met him face-first the moment I stepped through my bedroom door.
I’d spent the rest of the day at David and Wyatt’s trying to get a grip on my Floramancy while also soaking up every unhinged Fecunditas fun fact Wyatt flung at me. His eyes twinkled like he was back in his glory days, reliving the thrill of the competition, one demented story at a time.
“Wait, he wasburied alivein the burlap sack?” I’d blurted, swallowing hard.
Apparently, the Eostre Trials had their own barbaric version of the classic potato-sack races. Because nothing says family-fun like being planted in the ground like a sacrificial spring seedling.
Wyatt painted a beautifully grotesque picture of just how deranged the Trials could be, while David handled the prep work on local culture and politics.
“Are you listening, Carwynn?” David asked expectantly.
I nodded, but my mind was busy triggering my palms to sweat at the thought of being six feet under . . .alive.
“Here’s the rundown,” he began. “Fecunditas?—”
“Can we call it Feck Fest for short?” I said, interrupting. “It sounds like a blessing you’d give after someone sneezes. Plus, Feck Fest seems more fitting for theirquestionableactivities.” I huffed a laugh.
“That’s actually pretty accurate,” Wyatt said, chuckling.
David glared at us both, letting out a resigned breath.
“TheFeck Festcelebrations,” he continued. “Last an entire month and are held once every fifty years. The main event—the Eostre Trials—will take place during the final week. Each land sends a team of representative players. Loveland, of course, is excluded from this.” David briefly chewed on his lip, then cleared his throat. “Still, the Eostre Queen granted Wyatt and I a rare honor of being advisors for Luckland. Probably for diplomacy.”
“Or for drama,” Wyatt scoffed under his breath.
“I believe Vinterland has declined to participate this time around. So there’ll only be Luckland, Hallow Land, and Eostre Land.” David dipped his head slightly, a gesture to signal my focus. “You can expect to see feasts, small-scale games, and fertilityritualsthe first three weeks. For the Trials themselves—there’ll be three events in total. The winning player will receive a magical stone from the Ovum Tree. And lastly, all participants should be aware and formally acknowledge the risk of?—”
“Injury, trauma, death, humiliation, magical decapitation, blah, blah, blah . . .” I cut in, not-so-stealthily sneaking towards Huck to hitch a ride. “Got it—Satan’s Spring Break!” As my mouth went up in a smile, David’s flatlined, right before I rifted away.
My body was withering too fast to bother showering. Mylegs couldn’t be trusted to get me there anyway, and my face was already melding to the pillow.
Just as the warm haze of sleep was dragging me under, I heard something.
A faint squeak. So small I almost mistook it for the ringing in my ears.I really needed to drink more water.
But then—buzzing. Sharp, angry, and panicked.
A tiny, translucent Brownie launched itself from the hider-hole like a bat out of hell. It swarmed around me in frantic loops, spitting high-pitched sounds that made the muscles in my neck twitch. A sound only dogs should be able to hear.
“What the—” I muttered, propping myself up on one elbow, the other hand corking my ear.
The tiny beast was crazed, doing laps around the room like a distressed fire alarm. But then it froze, hovering inches from my face. Tiny arms waved wildly, as if trying to signal something. Did it need help? A warning, maybe?
A signal I was clearly too slow to catch as a mass of shadow poured through the cracks of my windowpane. Dark and thick, like a fountain of ink. It cascaded down the wall, pooling across the floor, slithering forward. I cringed, crawling backwards on the bed as if it were a serpent on the hunt.
