I sat before the crackling fire, the book of myths and legends spread upon my lap as I thumbed mindlessly through the pages.
“Read one aloud?” The request came from Roan, his knee brushing mine as Bran stirred a pot swinging above the open flame. He may not have had an affinity for potions, but growing up with a Potions Master for a mother, the man knew how to make fabulous tea. The scent of chamomile and lavender was carried on the breeze as my lips twisted in my attempt to find which story to tell.
Finally settling on a page, my throat cleared. Roan leaned back, his eyes closing and Rena sat forward, eager for the tale. Even Kairen, whohad returned not long ago with a sullen look and had sat before the fire without a word, glanced towards me.
“The story of Âme and Mireya is one that can be so easily disillusioned when one puts their pen to paper, for there are no words in our human language to encompass the gravity of their tale.” I began, lips curving with a small smile. Yasmine’s father was certainly a storyteller, a rather fine one at that. “Âme was born to the Sun and Mireya, well, she belonged to the Moon. They lived in a small northern village where the snow never melted, but the birds still sang their cheery morning tune. The girls grew to be beautiful, the ‘flowers of the northern winter’ they were called. They were friends so close that if you saw one, the other would never be far behind.”
“But you see, dear listener, this story is not one of simple love.” My voice dropped, taking on a soft and lilting tone. “It is one of the fiercest of friendships. The most precious form love can take. For a wicked nobleman heard of the beautiful Âme, with her silken waves dark as the wings of a raven and her eyes green as a summer meadow. He wished for a wife born to the Sun that could rival Soli herself in beauty and grace.”
“And when he laid eyes upon the woman the tales had spun, his greed knew no bounds. Âme refused him day and night, vowed before her Goddess that she would never marry a man such as him. For riches and ambition were not what she sought. She loved her little northern village, loved the life she lived in the quiet and cold with her dearest friend. But the nobleman who had never been able to take a refusal continued his advances.”
“What a prick,” Rena murmured, sipping the tea Bran had passed around the fire. I hummed my agreement.
“One fateful night, the man stole poor Âme away into the wild wood of the north. But hear this dear listener, the Moon always knows. It seesand hears in the shadows that roam this earth and it knew that her friend, a child of its own, would miss her dearly. For the girls were two halves of one soul—never could they stray far from one another.”
“So they spoke to Mireya in the dark of the night, whispering of the thief who had stolen the woman of Earth and Sun. Mireya made haste to the wild wood, her only wish to save Âme.” I took a sip of the tea, my throat going dry as I continued to read.
“Mireya, who had never before stepped foot into the wild wood grew lost among its gnarled branches and dense foliage. For it is a place older than the Goddesses themselves, full of creatures and magic unknown. Scared and alone, the girl curled upon the dark of the forest floor and cried her sorrow, her tears sinking deep and deep past the snow and into the dirt beneath.”
“And that magic that runs through the roots, the trees, and everything in between felt her sorrow, fed upon it as it drank her tears. Moved by the girl's desperation to aid her friend, the wild wood chose to help, to lead her where she needed to venture. It's said that light appeared before Mireya, silver little wisps that led her through the confusing bramble.”
“And there on the forest floor, laid Âme, her skin and clothing covered in crimson. You see, Âme, a girl gentle of heart and soul, had killed the wicked nobleman. Torn his eyes from his head and his tongue from his mouth. The beautiful flower of the north had grown thorns and had fought for her very survival.”
“And so, Mireya had settled upon the ground beside her and together they dug deep into the earth until their nails cracked and their skin tore. When they finished, they pushed the wicked nobleman into the grave they had dug and the wild wood swallowed him whole. Vines and roots grew over his body and the women swore to never speak to another of what they had done.”
“You might ask how, if they had promised to never tell another, I am telling you this tale. That is a simple answer, dear listener. For just as magic can be helpful, it too can be cunning and cruel. The trees whispered of the death that clung to the beautiful flowers of the north, to the blood that stained and wilted their blossoming petals.”
“And soon all knew and whispered of the nobleman who had not returned home, who had come for the hand of the woman of Sun and Earth and vanished.”
“Their end is not known, that of Âme and Mireya. Some say they were tied to the stake and burned for the crime. Others claim they disappeared into the wild wood never to be seen again, their souls claimed by the roots and dirt of the dark, magic-infested woods. Regardless of which version you wish to believe, they all say the same. To the very end, wherever their souls rest—they rest together.”
I let out a breath, closing the book and glanced around at the others.
“I don’t know whether to love it or hate it,” Rena murmured, her hands rubbing up and down her arms. “It was beautiful, but haunting.”
“The man has a penchant for storytelling,” Bran agreed, his lips twisting. I felt Roan's thoughtful gaze assessing me.
“The wild wood helped them only to betray them after, that doesn’t make sense?”
“Perhaps it wished for them to return,” Kairen answered, eyes finding his friend. “Maybe it wished to keep them within the forest. Even the blessed magic we have is fickle, I can imagine the magic of these woods is even more so.”
My hands clutched tightly around the journal. “If that’s the true version,” I mused, “the other says they burned upon the stake.”
“Whatever their fate held,” Rena spoke around a yawn, her hand waving, “they seem more like lovers than friends. I hope they lived happily in the wild wood and made a home of it.”
I smiled, closing the journal as I ran a hand gently over the cover.
“Who has first watch tonight, then?” Bran asked, popping his knuckles as he fought off his own yawn.
My watch was third, sleep clinging to me as Rena shook me awake. The chill was biting as I sat with my back to the fire, looking out into the dark woods. Even now, with the eerie feeling of this place, my heart still yearned for the night. When the moon was high and the shadows were long and winding.
I listened and watched, hugging my knees close to my body. We’d all been more alert on our shifts since the dread feeders had attacked, but the woods remained quiet and still. My gaze shifted, eyes growing heavy once more until—
There. Something moved.
I stood, slowly and carefully, gaze narrowing where I swear I had just seen—
Again. In the trees, a light danced around the gnarled branches. Stepping closer, the shadows stirred within me, practically purring their content.
