Page 15 of Up from the Earth

What choice did I truly have? There was nothing to be done about losing myself to these murky depths. Still, perhaps the embrace of the waters would shepherd me into a better place. Of all things in this world, it was the green things, the changing things, the things that poked up through the snow to prove the changing of the seasons that I loved most.

So…I let go. I stopped fighting against the waves that sought to pull me to the bottom of this never-ending lake. I stopped resisting the burn in my lungs and merely accepted it. If this was my time, my steps on the path, then so be it.

The world dripped away, everything going still and quiet. After several long moments—or perhaps eternities—I opened my eyes.

At once, I realized that a hard marble floor lay beneath my feet. I was standing. The water was gone. There was no trace of it: no puddle on the ground, no tangled, water-logged strands of hair clinging to my face and arms.

“Where…”

But the questions slipped away, lost to the depths of my surroundings. I stood in the castle, the black columns and arched stained glass windows proof of it, though this room was not familiar to me. I was also clothed in a slim, featherlight white dress draped over my shoulders, nearly identical to the one I’d worn before.

This gown, however, was clearly not a night dress. It was sewn to sit flush with my ribs, corseting me somewhat. The low neckline almost revealed my breasts entirely, and the ruffles ran across the sensitive skin just above my nipples. The gown reached the floor, trailing after me as I turned in a circle.

My perception was like being in a dream. I could not remember how I’d gotten to the room, and as I looked up, more of it came into existence as if it was waiting for my eyes to find it, my awareness of the castle beyond myself to be acknowledged. As I did, I realized that I stood in a massive dining room, a long table in the center stretching off into infinity if I tried to glance down to the other end.

When I stepped forward, looking directly at the center of the table, all I could really see were the numerous plates containing mounds and mounds of food. An immense banquet had been set up on the table—fruits, meats, greens, and wine all tumbling over each other as they consumed the surface they were placed on.

“Eat.”

I spun around, finding the ominous form of The Beast King standing there in the shadows. I still couldn’t quite make out his shape, this shape at least. And then it hit me what he had said.

Imperceptible but felt, The King’s stare focused on me and then on the feast. I turned toward it once more, running my eyes over the food that looked so incredibly appetizing. Hunger roared through me like a sickness, and my mouth filled with saliva. I was famished beyond reason, as if I was truly on the edge of starvation.

But I was also still me. And I remembered the warning whispered in the most ancient of tomes.

Not bothering to ask anything of The King, I merely walked closer still to the table. The glistening fruit looked ripe and plump, the bread hearty, and the wine indulgent and as red as blood. It was all so beautiful, but none so much as the broken open pomegranate that sat directly before me, nestled between a bunch of grapes and a long shank of some sort.

Eating the food of the dead binds you to their realm. Eating the food of the fae binds you to their realm.

Wherever and whatever I was encountering, taking even a single bite of this feast would ensure that The King’s hooks were always within me. I knew it in my bones as surely as I did my own spirit.

“Eat, Cerridwen.”

The command was as soft as silk and as hard as iron steel. I shifted forward as if propelled by the words. My hand began to reach out shakily as if I had no control over the appendage. But the ancient words had also promised something else—that this choice must always be mine.

I could not be forced to consume this feast, but I could be tempted. And gods above and below, I was so very,verytempted.

The hungry roiling in my belly was profound, and stranger still was the desire and need that coursed through my veins in equal measure with it. Since the moment I’d run into the wolf, I had felt…drawn. I’d not experienced that part of life. I had never thought to avoid it; it had simply not come up. I never felt compelled.

I was compelled now.

The Beast King of the World of Below was a part of my story, a permanent figure along my path. There was no escaping it. And the longer I examined that, the more I realized that I didn’t truly want to. I would miss my mother, of course; that separation, as necessary as it was, still cut like a knife. But at the heart of my being was the connection to this ancient figure that I had never been able to deny.

As a young child and even teenager, I could not put words to it. But now, presented with the appearance of The Wolf, The Queen, and The King, I understood that this was indeed fate coming to pass.

This had always been where I would end up. Yet still, it was my choice.

My stomach pinched, growling like a wild beast, and suddenly, The King was at my back. I could feel his presence even as I dared not turn around. Warm breath tickled over the back of my neck, as much a shock as the cold had been. And there, in the darkness of the eternal feast of the dead, he spoke to me.

“What do you want, Cerri? What have you always wanted but been too afraid to seek out?”

Thoughts churned in my mind like choppy waves in the ocean. I didn’t speak, but somehow knew The King could sense them all the same.

“What would you take, my little beast? Whatwillyou use to start your life anew?”

It was as if the decision had already been made, and indeed, though I may have tried to deny it, it had. I knew precisely what I would do. I’d seen it in my dreams, and The King was right. I had been too afraid to seize it.

No more.

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