Page 68 of Wilds of Wonder
Questions burned through me. So many spirits-damned questions, but neither Aron nor El seemed to notice. Aron had tended to Maverick’s wound, properly dressing it, the tattered scarf I’d used now shoved in Maverick’s satchel. Then we’d eaten and he’d asked us what we’d encountered so far in the Wilds. We told him everything, none of it appearing to shock or surprise him. El said nothing, her brown eyes, so dark they were almost black, watching us as she chewed on the rabbit meat, spitting out bones and flicking them behind her into the forest. She looked like she might very well belong in the Wilds, like she’d beenborn from it, her hair curly and disheveled, black dust coating her cheeks, her eyes with a feral glint to them.
I shifted, crossing my legs underneath me. “We need to talk,” I said.
El lifted her hands and formed a series of shapes with her fingers. I tilted my head, studying her as she lifted her pointer finger, then bent it and slashed her hand in a vertical line down her stomach.
“El agrees,” Aron said.
So she couldn’t speak, but she could hear us? Just another question to add to the growing mountain of them. This was not the most pressing one, though, not by a long shot.
“What is this place? How is it possible?” I looked at Aron. “How are you possible?” I winced. “No offense.”
Aron didn’t look remotely offended. More like he was pondering the question along with me. He might have been the most even-keeled person I’d ever met.
Maverick leaned closer, and the fire illuminated the sharp edges of his stubbled jaw, the straight line of his nose, his copper-brown eyes that swirled with questions. I quickly looked away when I realized I was staring.
There would be none of that. I hated the way my gaze kept darting to him, that I was constantly looking to see how he reacted to something new, constantly wanting to ask his opinion, constantly wanting to banter back and forth like we always had. I’d revealed far more of myself than I’d intended to in that crypt.
“What do you know of the spirits?” Aron asked in response to my rapid-fire questions.
Driscoll, Maverick, and I shot each other loaded stares. I heaved a sigh. To get answers, we were going to have to give a few ourselves. “We believe the Seven Spirits were trapped long ago. That they didn’t leave the Old World of their own volition like we’ve always been told. We know that Spirit Shadow was freed from his tomb sixty years ago and resides in the shadow court, where he’s trapped. We know he wants to free all the spirits, that that’s the only way he can be free himself.” I took another deep inhale. “We also know that he’s using his shadows to search for all the weapons needed to free the other six spirits.”
I waited for any flicker of surprise on their faces, for shock,bewilderment, fear. None of that came. Instead, El gave a grim nod and flipped her long, black hair over her shoulder.
“This place is cursed,” Aron said. “Everything here was born of that curse.”
We all stayed silent, listening intently, but my mind worked through what he was saying.
El signed. Aron’s eyes flicked between her hands and us while he translated. “When Spirit Shadow was freed, he tore through the star court, destroying everything in his path. He tore shadows from bodies, taking the shadows with him to the shadow court.” Aron tilted his head. “Many, many elementals died because of Spirit Shadow, the way he so viciously ripped through Shiraeth. Most of the star court, in fact, and anyone else who was here fighting in the war. But a few of us didn’t, by pure luck. Right place. Right time. Survival involved many factors.”
“Okay.” Maverick scratched his head. “So after the Shadow War, a few survivors remained, including you two. What in the fucking spirits below made everything into this?” He gestured around his head.
Aron spread his hands out. “A curse. That’s what we call it. It warped everything. We don’t know who cast it or how, but it had to be powerful magic.”
El began signing again, and Aron glanced at her, then translated, “Within days after Spirit Shadow’s rampage, the transformations began. Trees that started to shrink. Flowers that grew as tall as mountains. Bark that formed eyes. And the elementals who remained, turning into monstrous creatures.” El paused and placed a hand on Aron’s arm, giving it a soft squeeze.
Aron looked at us. “She’s worried she has offended me, but I am what I am. I accept I am a monster of sorts. I also accept that part of my past self remains, a semblance of humanity.”
“Do you remember your human life?” I asked. “Do you remember anything of yourself before you became this wolf? Can you still use your frost magic?”
Aron tipped his head to the side. “Yes, yes, and yes. It took time. Years. And not everyone is so lucky. Some creatures here don’t remember anything of their former lives, can’t access their elemental magic. Some can. I still can’t control when I shift.”
This was so hard for me to wrap my head around.
“At first, I was more beast than man.” He tipped his head. “But I met El and she took me in, took a lot of us in. Slowly my humanity returned, as did my frost magic, though it doesn’t work well here. Elemental magic tends to be repelled by this world. You can use it, but it probably won’t save you if your life is being threatened.”
We’d definitely experienced that.
Aron leaned forward, steepling his fingers together. “El gave us a safe haven, a place to just be monstrous. Slowly, my memories began to return. I lived in Fyriad, came to Shiraeth to fight in the Shadow War. But I am not that same person. Not anymore.”
I studied El. “What about you?” I asked her. “You don’t seem... monstrous.”
She returned my gaze, her own brown eyes hard and cold as she signed, Aron translating, “That’s because I was born shortly after the curse was cast.”
Maverick studied her, and I followed his gaze, realizing her shadow stretched over the ground. That was why she had her shadow. She’d been born after all the tragedy that had struck Shiraeth. Likely born from one of these creatures. I wasn’t even sure I could process the logistics of that. Who her father was. Who her mother was. I didn’t know if it would be rude, painful, even, for her to talk about her parents, so I asked a different question instead.
“What magic do you have?” I asked. “What court are you from?”
“You’re looking at it,” Aron said.
