Page 41 of Wraithwound

The truth was, she had been a monster long before she had been touched by one. Lost to her own grief, she had failed to see the value of the community that tried to rally around her. Instead, she’d resented them, pushed them away, because no matter how kind they were, how inviting and tender, they weren’t him. Nobody could be him. Her grandfather.

Then, her mother disappeared, and the cycle repeated itself, or rather, she gave herself to it again. And what was more, she had come to resent her mother for going. For risking her life, cutting it short, for Neema who’d already lived a full life. When, in reality, the people Marisee had been protecting were the only reason any of them had any life at all. They’d been protecting the realm with their own lifeforce for nearly fifty years.

She had failed them all. Everyone. She was selfish, a coward and a liar; she deserved every bad thing that had ever befallen her. There, in the quiet abyss of her own mind, she’d sat naked in front of the truths she’d been avoiding, and they stripped her bare.

Yes, she was a monster.

Lena stayed on the near frozen ground unwilling and unable to get back up. The crushing weight of all she had lost and all she had yet to lose was staggering. Hours passed, and she went blissfully numb, the cold unable to seep any deeper into her bones. Exhaustion settled over her, calling her towards the depthless dark. Lena curled into a ball on the forest floor and wished for death. She knew then that if she woke up again, she’d ingest the Bud of Brielle.

Chapter

Thirty

Yet again Lena found herself standing atop a dune, a hot wind stirring her hair. A man stood in front of her dressed in silver-plated armor, long unbound hair snapping in the wind. She shielded her eyes with her arm, but the brilliant glare cast by the sun reflected off the polished metal, obscuring his face. She squinted, trying to get her eyes to cooperate, but soon realized his image undulated with the blowing winds.

“Who are you?” Lena asked.

“You don’t know?” he said in a familiar tone that also hinted at a smirk. “It’s me, Lee.”

Grief struck her like a spear through the heart as she heard the nickname echo in the space between them.

“No,” she said in disbelief, “Henry is dead.”

“I’m not. You know exactly where I am.”

The moment soured quickly as Lena’s memories flashed back to Henry’s limp body. Henry seemed to sense this, and his tone took on a more serious note.

“I know things haven’t been easy, and I’m so sorry to ask more of you, but I must. Get up.”

Lena opened her mouth to speak and closed it again; Henry waited.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice breaking. She wanted so desperately to reach for him.

“You do not walk this path alone. I am here with you,” he said, pointing at his heart.

Tears lined her eyes as she stared at the man who claimed to be her brother. He didn’t look like a boy here; he looked like a man. Like a warrior.

“How do I know it’s really you?” she asked.

He paused for a moment, thinking before he asked bluntly, “Does anyone else know you ate me?”

And then he laughed. The sound rich and deep, full of familiarity.

Stunned, Lena gawked at him and to her own surprise, she laughed too. Actually laughed.

“I didn’t eat you!” she shot back.

The retort flew from her lips with practiced precision. The absurdity of this was unbelievable.

“You kind of did,” he said.

Lena scoffed, and she could tell he was smiling. His loss suddenly felt like an unbearable weight.

“I miss you so much,” she whispered.

“There’s nothing to miss, Lee. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

She tried to step closer, but Henry shook his head.