Page 44 of Of Shadow and Moon

“Come on,” I say, brushing past her. “Let’s just get this over with.”

The walk drags on. The forest seems to close in around us the deeper we go; the air growing colder, and darkness consuming our every step. Strange sounds echo in the distance: growls, whispers, and the sound of something slithering through the underbrush.

Nasarea walks beside me, her steps quick and irritated, but neither of us says anything. I keep my senses sharp, scanning the trees, the sky, the ground, but nothing moves beyond the usual rustle of leaves. Still, the further we go, the more on edge I feel.

I subtly glance over at my archnemesis. She has fire in her that makes her fear nothing, but she’s also not spent a lot of time in the Dark Forest. While I don’t doubt she’s lived through trauma, she reeks of it, she also hasn’t been dropped off in the middle of these woods and expected to find her way back. At least, I doubt she has. And look, I’m genuinely not trying to compare trauma, I just need to know that she’s going to be a liability here.

I lift my face up to the sky, praying to the moon goddess to help me keep both of us safe.

Hours seem to pass as we walk, the path twisting and turning in ways that don’t make sense. At one point, I swear we’ve walked in a circle, but the paper continues to guide us forward, so we keep moving.

The trees begin to thin out, and I hear the sound of running water in the distance. The Mizecca River. We’re getting close.

As we approach, I feel it. A shift in the air. A coldness that has nothing to do with the early morning chill. My steps falter, and I slow to a stop, scanning the area. The river comes into view, winding through the forest like a dark, gleaming serpent. But something feels off.

Beside me, Nasarea stops, too. I glance at her and see the same tension in her posture. She feels it too.

“You feel that?” she asks quietly, her voice serious.

I nod, my hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at my side. “Yeah. Something’s not right.”

And then I see it.

A black river of tar rests in the distance. Definitely not the river we are looking for.

The water bubbles, then ripples, deepening in intensity, spreading outward like it’s driven by an unseen force. Then from the water’s depths, a figure begins to rise. At first, it’s just a silhouette, its shape indistinct and almost fluid. But as it emerges, the moonlight reveals its form. Pale, emaciated, with long, tangled hair clinging to wet, lifeless skin. Her tattered dress hangs in shreds, soaked and clinging to her gaunt frame. Her eyes are black and hollow, as they lock onto mine, and an icy dread creeps over me.

“A Velasha.” I breathe, the words barely audible. My heart pounds against my ribs. A predator of the night. Acreature that consumes all in its path for vengeance. For retribution for all that she has lost.

“Not any Velasha,” Nasarea barely whispers. “It’s La Llorona.”

The Velasha tilts her head, the motion jerky and wrong, like a puppet on strings. Her lips part, and a low, mournful wail begins to rise. It builds, piercing, cutting through the forest like a blade. The sound rattles in my skull, and I fight the urge to cover my ears. My hands tighten around my weapon instead.

Nasarea starts breathing heavily and she quickly glances my way, fear leaking through her icy facade. “Fuck. Why couldn’t it have been something easier? Like a pack of night wolves or a pit of venomous vipers?” She’s terrified, sure, but there’s also a resolution. I see the determination start to build.

I nod my head. Letting her know I am with her on this. “We can do this.”

She narrows her eyes at me before she heaves a deep breath and gives a sharp nod back. “We can.”

Before I can respond, my attention snaps back to the Velasha. Her wailing stops abruptly, the silence almost more unnerving than the sound. Her gaze flicks to Nasarea, then back to me, and I see the calculation in those hollow eyes. She’s not mindless. She’s planning.

“She’s protecting something,” I say, my voice low but urgent. My gaze darts to the far side of the black river, where a glimmer catches my eye. A flag, tucked into a crude nest of broken branches and tangled leaves. The crest of Obsidian Academy is barely visible.

Nasarea follows my gaze, and determination hardens her expression. “I’ll get it. You keep her busy.”

“Are you out of your mind?” I snap. “She’ll rip you apart.”

Before I can stop her, she bolts toward the riverbank, her movements quick. The Velasha lets out a guttural hiss; her form jerking toward Nasarea. Instinct takes over and I lunge forward, my blade flashing as I strike at the creature to draw her attention.

“Over here!” I shout, my voice cutting through the tense air.

The Velasha swivels toward me, her gaunt face contorting with rage. She moves faster than I expect, her claws slashing through the air as she lunges. I barely sidestep her attack, the force of her movement sending a spray of river water into the air. My blade arcs toward her, catching her side. The cut is shallow, the resistance unnervingly soft, as though I’m slicing through mist rather than flesh. She shrieks, a sound that reverberates through my bones, and she strikes again.

I dodge and counter, each movement precise but utterly desperate. The Velasha’s attacks are relentless, her speed unnerving. I focus on her movements, the erratic jerks of her limbs, the glint of her claws in the moonlight. My body moves on instinct, every muscle screaming as I keep her away from Nasarea.

Behind me, I hear Nasarea climbing the riverbank, her breaths quick and labored. The flag is almost within her grasp. I risk a glance over my shoulder, and my stomach drops. The Velasha notices too.

She lets out an ear-piercing scream and surges toward Nasarea with terrifying speed. I move without thinking, pushing my body to its limits. My blade catches the creature mid lunge, slicing through one of her arms. Black tar sprays into the air, the severed limb falling to the groundwith a sickening thud. The Velasha reels back, her wail splitting the air like a storm.

---