Page 100 of Into the Heartless Wood

A voice says: “Easy. You must take it easy, at first.”

Hands grasp my arms, help me sit up.

I focus on three craggy faces, one hung heavy with a mossy beard.

Criafol says: “Look into the pool. See what you have become.”

I drag myself to the water’s edge. I do not have the strength to stand, to walk.

I am strange and uncertain.

I feel heavy and light all at once, and I do not recognize the weight of my limbs, of my head, of my body.

Hair blows about my shoulders, unencumbered by leaves.

There is no scent of violets.

I look into the water, waiting for the ripples to dissipate, for the pool to grow still.

But when it does—

When it does, I do not recognize the face looking back at me.

It is a pale, round face, set with green eyes and framed by yellow hair. I hold up my hands, staring at them in turn: human hands, human fingers. My skin is strange and smooth. All of me is unfamiliar.

I turn to my brothers with tears on my cheeks.

Criafol says: “Why are you crying, little one?” He looks as though his heart might break. “We thought this is what you wanted.”

“I do not want to go back.” My voice is strange and high. “I do not ever want to go back to being her monster.”

Droplets of water catch in Pren’s beard. “This form is only temporary. We thought you understood.”

“There has to be a way.” I tremble. This body feels the cool touch of the wind in a way my other body never did. “I want a soul. I want to be mortal. To be truly human. I will do anything.”

“Dear one.” Cangen peers at me with sad eyes. “We do not have that power.”

“There has to be a way.” My vision blurs as the tears keep coming, more and more, like I am a spring that cannot be quenched.

Pren sighs. “There is one way, but dear one, you will not like it.”

“Tell me. I will do anything.”

Pren looks at Criafol, at Cangen. Both of them shake their heads.

“Please.”

Criafol waves his hand. A dress of leaves folds over me, bringing a little warmth back into this frail body.

Pren says: “To become wholly as you are, you must give up the thing you hold most dear: You must carve out your heart, and bury it in the green earth. Then, and only then, do you have a chance to become human. To become mortal. To be given a soul that will endure even when your body is gone.”

Anger sprouts vicious thorns inside of me. “If I carve out my heart, I willdie!”

Pren shakes his head. “That is the only way that we have ever heard of. I am sorry, little one.”

“How long do I have in this form?”

Criafol says: “We do not know. We hope for as long as you need.”

---