Page 68 of She Who Was Once the Sea

Garrett's knife dropped to the ground with a metallic thud.

And that’s when I lost my mind.

Pain forgotten, I spun around to face Petra, picking up Garrett’s knife as I ran towards her. I wanted to wipe the smug smile off her face. I wanted to crumble her into a million pieces and scatter her into the sea.

I wanted to rip. I wanted to tear. I wanted to hurt her.

But as I slashed and struck and clawed at every piece of her, all she did was laugh. She was playing with me. With every desperate strike I made, it seemed as though I was making it easier for her.

"Silly girl," she said with a wicked grin after once again knocking me to the ground. "No one who wants to kill me can do so. Your desire only makes me stronger."

I stood, shoulders heaving, feeling Garrett’s presence nearby but unable to look at him. If what she said was true, then I’d already lost. The desperation I felt, the need I felt to rid the world of her presence, wasn’t something I knew how to relinquish.

Lucas had been right. It had never been about drought. Or famine. Those were only some of the many tools in her arsenal of desperation.

The thirst was a tool. My family's curse was a tool. Even the bargain she'd offered me had been another fucking tool.

She gave us something to want and then waited for the wanting to consume us.

And I had spent the last week feeding her until she was full.

I looked across the room to where Ordina was crouched over Lucas’s still-prone form. She lifted her gaze, and we locked eyes. I’m sorry, she seemed to say.

I let my gaze travel to the statue that had once been Garrett. And I had to bite my lip to ward off a rush of angry tears. Because I understood how to beat her.

I just couldn't do it.

Because Garrett stood three feet away from me, trapped inside stone, and there was nothing in this world I wanted more than to get him back.

My mouth formed a hard line as I gripped the knife tighter. It might be futile, but I refused to let myself crumble without a fight. As I stood, Petra stared at me, that bored expression still written across her face. Slowly, she began to raise her hand, thumb and forefinger poised to snap, just as they had when she sealed Garrett into stone.

But before she was able to complete the gesture, long, pale fingers wrapped around her throat from behind. "Face me then, witch," Ordina whispered, low and deadly. "I don't care if you survive this."

And this time, she looked… scared.

"What do you want?" Petra's voice was thin, laced with desperation that shocked me.

Ordina’s face appeared behind her, teeth bared, eyes blazing as she dug her nails further into the witch’s jugular. Everywhere my sister touched, Petra’s hard, cracked skin turned to soft, wrinkled flesh. And as her fingers sank deeper, blood began to pour from the wound, dripping down onto the witch’s shoulders and chest.

"That's the thing." Ordina's teeth sparkled in the low light. "I don't want anything from you. You've already taken enough."

Eyes wide with existential terror, the witch tried to turn her head to look at my sister. Her movements were stilted, like every millimeter caused her immense pain. And as she did, that crepey, pale skin continued to spread out from the place where Ordina’s fingers gripped her throat.

"Your family," Petra rasped. "I can still save them."

Ordina kept tightening her grip.

"I can make Lucas young again! Give you back the time you lost!"

My sister's face remained immovable, as though she were sealing herself into stone.

When she realized that Ordina would not be moved, Petra tried to scream. She tried to struggle. For the first time, I saw something beyond anger in her eyes.

Panic.

Her mouth opened wide, revealing that broken maw of jagged teeth. But no more sound escaped her lips. Her eyes shone brightly with fear and fury as Ordina dug deeper and deeper.

And then, with a final twist of her wrists, my sister tore a hole through the witch’s throat.