Page 119 of A Grave Not Made For Mourning
Queen Takes Queen
I
’m watching Desdemona; she’s watching the monster drift toward us. A giant creature with four elongated limbs and a tail dragging along the ground. Its body billows like smoke, flickering between transparency and solidity—unreal, then real. It towers over Desdemona by at least two heads, staring down at her with unreadable intent.
If there was somebody Icouldtell this to, they’d never believe me. Because I swear to the gods, Desdemona is communicating with the monster. Her eyes are locked with its hollow, swirling gaze—somewhere beneath the darkness it’s shrouded in—as though she’s listening to some silent, unspeakable sound.
The kapha reaches for her, its movements slow, almost tender, like it’s afraid to startle her.
Like they’re on the same team.
There’s no way I can fight both a Fire Folkanda kapha.
I take a deep breath, calling to the nearest tree. I feel the thorns pricking through my skin; the very possibility of them haunts me. I push past the sharp sting of fear, reaching for the tree with an arm that exists only in my mind—and stretching it far beyond my shoulder would ever let it go.
The air hums, wrapping itself around my senses as my feet solidify beneath me. The power is overwhelming, grounding me, rooting me so deep into the world. I’ve become part of the very trunk itself. With a heavy sweep of my arm, the branches surge forward, curling tightly around the kapha’s four arms.
With a tired heart, I summon another tree, its bark groaning as it twists upward from the ground. It’s a lethargic thing, the branches stretching wide after being rooted down for so long—like it’s no different than a child waking from a long night’s rest. My limbs feel nimble, as ifI, too, have been stationary for centuries. But despite its groans of protest, the tree heeds my commands. Branches wind around the monster’s torso, pulling tighter than the last, holding the kapha still.
Then, almost instinctively, another one of my trees begins to stretch toward Desdemona. I hesitate—I haven’t decided what I’ll do with her yet.
Before I can, Desdemona turns to face me.
“Thanks,” she mutters, breathing heavily as the kapha wails behind her. Its loose limbs yank and twist against the bark of my tree, but they don’t break. Not yet. The tree holds steadily onto life.
Though I fear the monster is getting close. The breakage brews in my bones. The carnage curls in my stomach.
The pain of the tree I brought to life.
“We need to drain its blood,” I say, hoping—praying—that killing the kapha is truly what Desdemona intends.
To my relief, she nods. I can’t shake the worry that it’s just for show.
“Go to Leiholan,” she tells me.
For a moment, my worries fade, replaced by a rush of excitement at the thought of stepping into the combat room.
But that excitement is fleeting.
Behind Desdemona, I hear it—the sickening crack. The kapha breaks through the barrier of bark, its smoke-like limbs tearing free. I feel the tree’s agony as if it’s my own, a sharp, jagged pain ripping me apart.
Like a knife plunging in my stomach and yanking down, tearing my torso in two.
The kapha charges, legs dangling above the ground as four arms reach toward me. Its movements are faster now, more focused, and yet again I wonder: what does it want?
Because it didn’t attack Desdemona. It talked to her.
“Go!” she shouts.
I run, nearly tripping on overgrown roots. The pain of the tree buds in my torso. But my curiosity for Desdemona is more ferocious than any ache.
Once I turn the corner, I lean against the academy wall, waiting for the pain to pass, but more importantly, searching for an answer.
I close my eyes, my gaze swiveling behind my eyelids. There are so many emotions, materializing as spots of light, overtaking the darkness. But one is certain: Desdemona feels a familiarity with this creature—an interest in the monster.
When I open my eyes, I stare into the garden before me. The kapha has no intention to hunt me—it hardly remembers my existence. The only question now is: do Iwantto go back there? If the kapha isn’t going to hurt Desdemona, then she doesn’t need me.
But I don’tknowit isn’t going to hurt her.
