Page 64 of Anathema

Another flash of black, and I followed the path of it to where it landed on a branch overhead. Raivox sat perched with two of the wickens trapped in its front, clawed talons. Their tiny arms flailed just like mine had moments ago, and they screamed as the raptor lifted them to his salivating maw and tore away their heads, chomping on them like a snack, the bones crackling in the bird’s mouth.

The other wickens buzzed off, squealing.

I reached out to Raivox, flicking my fingers. “C’mon, Raivox! Come here!”

He popped the last of the second wicken into his mouth and tipped his head, staring down at me.

“Come, Raivox. Come with me.”

Another wicken shot past, and the bird took off after it, leaving me standing there in what I just then realized was a small clearing of the woods. I twisted around, found only a wall of trees everywhere I looked. The forest seemed never ending. A labyrinth of frost and moonlight. I’d lost sight of Aleysia so long ago, I didn’t even know where to begin again.

Dizziness swept over me, my vision wide and blurry, and blinking hard, I shook my head. A burning sensation wormed beneath my skin like venomous snakes, and I frantically scratched at my arm where I’d been bitten. “Aleysia!” I called out, clawing at my skin. “Aleysia!” My surroundings bounced in and out of focus, as if something poisonous had worked its way into my blood.

Leaves crackled at my back, and I spun around.

A hand gripped my throat.

Moros stood before me, sharpening and blurring with my faulty vision, but I could see a blazing fury smoldering in his eyes. “Did you think I’d let you escape so freely?” He drew me in. “Tell me, how did you manage that little parlor trick back there, hmmm?”

“Let me go!”

“Let you go? You are mine! You will produce an heir for me, and I will add you to my curious little collection of freaks when I’ve no longer any use for you!”

“I will never give you an heir!”

A whack across my cheek left a bone-numbing sting, and I shook my head, my vision doubling and slinking back to a single image.

A low growl from my right caught my attention, and both of us turned toward a tall, shadowy figure in the distance, whose form wavered after that smack and whatever dizziness still persisted from earlier. Long, curled horns stuck up from its head, its body crooked where it stood on cloven feet. It reminded me of pictures I’d seen in the dark fairytales my grandfather had sometimes read to Aleysia and me about the wrathavor.

Moros’s hand fell away from my throat. “What in God’s name …” The awe in his voice matched my own.

The figure hobbled closer, and while I couldn’t summon a single muscle movement in my body, Moros turned to run in the opposite direction. The creature dropped to all fours and chased after him, swiping him up by his throat only a few yards from where I stood, paralyzed.

Was this the creature that hunted the woods? The one that stripped bodies of skin and devoured them? The one The Crone Witch had seen as a young girl?

Dangling in the air, Moros kicked his feet, while the beast sniffed him.

I quietly backed myself away, small steps at a time, so as to not rouse its attention.

With a grotesquely mutilated hand, the fingers of which reminded me of small branches, the creature reached into Moros’s pocket and tore out the vial that held the white stone he’d given to the captain. As if mesmerized, its eyes widened, and it dropped Moros, who rolled and coughed on the ground. After popping the vial open, the creature dumped one of the stones into his palm and sniffed it again.

I’d finally hidden myself behind the twisted trunk of a thick tree, and something covered my mouth. A scream ripped through my throat, muffled by my captor’s hand.

“Shhhh,” Uncle Riftyn said, and I turned to see his eyes fixed on the creature that paused to scan the surroundings before setting its attention back on the stone in its palm.

“Where’s Aleysia?” I whispered.

“I don’t know.”

The creature tossed the stone into its mouth, gulping it down, and let out a gravely moan that echoed through the woods. It tapped the vial against its palm, clearly wanting more.

Still on the ground, Moros stared up at it. “I … I know where to find more of it. I-i-if you want more … I can get it for you.”

The creature tipped its head, as if it understood him.

“There’s an entire chasm just outside of Sawtooth Mountain. I can take you there.”

My heart hammered inside my chest, as I watched the creature hobble closer to Moros. Seconds ticked off in my head, wondering if it’d strip him of flesh. Instead, it opened its mouth. Wide. Wider—expanding its jaw to a cavern of sharp teeth, so impossibly stretched, it appeared unhinged. In one swift move, it clamped its mouth over Moros’s head, while the man screamed and clawed at it.

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