Page 121 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
There’s a hum of sound—Desdemona and Leiholan speak. My tree keeps the kapha from killing them.
Desdemona couldn’t be the monster—not unless this entire fight is a show.
Each time I push against the kapha, it feels like I’m betraying myself, as if its motives are replacing mine.
Put down your hands, Wendy.
Reach with me, Wendy.
The monster speaks to me through emotion.
The humming in my brain blurs my mind, making it impossible to hear Desdemona and Leiholan. They’re planning something. Leiholan will fight, and Desdemona will not, I’m guessing, by the way they feel.
Leiholan brandishes the sword.
No!I nearly shout.Don’t kill me! I need something.
I try to fight, to pull myself into reality. To release the kapha and read Desdemona. What is she doing here? The monster?
Why is her prophecy the one that will end us all?
But someone is ripping my organs out. First my lungs—I can’t breathe. Next my kidney—I’m going to puke.
Finally my heart—I fall to the floor.
Glancing down, I see my body fully intact.
But my tree has died.
Iam dying.
I claw at the floor, my nails digging past the grass and seeping into the cool soil. The sensation wakes me up, but not nearly enough. I push further into the world, begging for something else—any other feeling to hold onto. There is only failure and fear.
From the ground, I watch helplessly as the kapha strangles Leiholan in its arms. Desdemona throws knives at its limbs. When she manages to cut one off, another wraps around Leiholan’s leg.I reach for mine, feeling his breaking bones.
The kapha drags Leiholan across the ground and into its chest. Limbs wrapping him like a blanket, before the Combat teacher disappears entirely.
Devastation weakens my heart.
Desdemona fears he will die.
Soil sinks deeper under my nails. Then, the monster wraps two long arms around Desdemona, coiling her within its body until she’s completely disappeared, like prey being swallowed by a snake.
I take a deep breath, fighting myself to rise. Begging myself to resist before the monster captures me, too.
And suddenly, I feel bliss. Oh, sweet, glorious bliss.
For a moment, I breathe deeply, sinking into the sensation, letting it wash over me. I lie on my back and stare up at the sky, a smile tugging at my lips, as if the world itself has paused to gift me this moment.
I smile while Desdemona suffocates. I’m ready to leave, to give in, to go out. This is bliss—to be able to die.
But I’m not the one dying.
I’m not the one surrendering.
Desdemona is.
The kapha subdues its prey, weaving its will over Desdemona, coaxing her into a false peace, so she doesn’t struggle in her final moments.
