Page 14 of Beast and Remedy
Wandering down the wing, I struggle to remove her warning from my mind, knowing it was voiced because Mama’s demise was met when she, too, went into the woods alone.
Exactly seven years ago.
Sorrow hangs my head low as I sneak into the forest, remembering the chain of events leading to Mama’s death.
I wasn’t there when her body was returned to our castle steps in the middle of a hunting trip. And I wasn’t there for my family or my kingdom in their time of grieving.
All because an unknown force scorched underneath my skin and pulled me from my room, dragging me into the wild.
Magic forced its way into my veins, tears streamed down my cheeks from the pain, and Mama’s ethereal voice murmured repeated apologies. And the forlorn anguish taking over my soul knew it was because she wasgone.
I was blindsided and utterly alone as my body shredded and ripped apart every crevice of myself and my grief, snuffing it out until only a beast roaring and fighting the forceful tether of power remained.
The pit in my stomach deepens from the memory, and I inhale the crisp autumn breeze as each step inches me closer to the tree line. That same foreboding sensation creeping forth.
A deep onyx night reigns over the starless sky while fog, cultivated from the changing seasons, disperses at the edges of the wild. The worn-down path of grass cushions my strides as I clutch my dagger.
I swallow thickly through my exertion, refraining from imagining the agony of shifting as a bead of sweat trickles along my face. The hair on the back of my neck rises, aware of the familiar and dangerous sounds of the forest.
I peel back the branches and come to a clearing of trees, remembering the area from this morning.
The wind billows and loose waves drift along my vision as I remove my frock, shivering from the chill. I wage war in my mind as I peel off my gown, nestling it into my cloak and tucking my tresses behind my ears before lowering to the cold, damp dirt.
My teeth chatter as I lift my head to the full moon, sighing at the other aspect affecting my magic.
Full moons in the autumn months keep me as a beast for three days. And the new moon in the winter month does the same. And every fortnight in the spring and summer, when the waxingand waning moons light the night skies, I am trapped as a bear overnight.
I study the pale moon, attempting to clear my thoughts and brace for the pain.
I’ve never sought out a shift, only dealt with it when the surge of energy rippled through me, shattering me. All to fulfill a role I hadn’t thought I’d inherit.
We hadalwaysbeen taught our magic would be different from our predecessor. And here I lie now, an anomaly.
Constantly, I wonder why I couldn’t share these abilities with my twin and if, somehow, what we’ve been told our entire lives isn’t the truth.
And if we are being lied to, is it of the Maker’s doing?
The silence of Haliver Woods engulfs me despite my racing thoughts and heart. I try to ignite the beacon of power, the urge of protectiveness—the rage I fight to keep in.
A prickling along my skin forces me to halt.
Tremors seize control, and my mind is all I have as I fight through this. But my pulse thrums in my ears, a drum banging as the suspension builds of what bones will break first.
Tendons stretch, turmoil increasing the shakiness clinging to my limbs. I struggle to remain upright as pressure bears down, the phantom pain growing as if to prepare me.
But I’mterrified—
CRACK!
In a flash, I arch back. Small twinges of pressure interlace with spasms spreading through my muscles.
POP!
I shriek as my body contorts of its own volition, and I shudder through strained gasps with my broken ankle and dislodged shoulder.
The magic injects into my nerves, my head buzzing and my vision blurry.
I clench my jaw, my throat closing from air I’m incapable of breathing. Another whoosh of energy thrashes, overwhelms me, pulsing as fissures writhe in my bones.
