Page 6

But no. There are reasons I can’t. Reasons that escape me now. But they feel legitimate enough, and I cling to them.

The man doesn’t see the thorned vine that slithers toward him like a viper. He’s still slicing through my private garden.

With a slash of that vine, his throat yawns open.

He gapes, clawing at his skin, attempting to hold it closed. But my thorns are sharp as blades.

His blood feeds my creation, and the thorns grow stronger, the branches hauling his body high to join the others.

Sixty men and four women have tried their luck. I occasionally wonder at the smaller number of women. I like to think it’s because women are less likely to prey on one of their own, trapped and defenseless. But perhaps I’m merely romanticizing my situation.

The world twists, colors blurring and darkening, and I let my mind take me away. Away to another place, where I’m not trapped. Where I have a purpose. Alife.

The faces have blurred now, and my mind attempts to provide context where there is none. I see a woman with an hourglass on a chain around her neck. Friend or foe? I have no idea. But she turns to look at me, and her eyes hold something like disappointment.

“You were supposed to protect it.”

I pull against my invisible bonds.

“I am,”I want to tell her. I’ve submitted to years of torture for those nameless, occasionally faceless people in my past.

Some small, vulnerable part of me thought they would have searched. Thought they would have found me.

Strangely, it’sthatthought that does the most damage. It sends me spiraling through darkness, until my mind clears once more—perhaps hours later, perhaps days.

I’m all alone.

Calysian

Humans are strange creatures.

I’m unsure if my fascination stems from the fact that I’ve seen so many of their actions over the past centuries, and so many of those were inexplicable.

Perhaps it’s because I’m not human. Although it seems to be a uniquely human trait to be fascinated with theother.

I ride through the town without truly seeing it. After several years of searching this kingdom, one human town looks much like another.

And itisthis kingdom I need to search. I know that much, even as I know little else.

My horse plods along the dirt road, ignoring the deep ruts in the mud created from the wheels of thousands of carts.

The humans here wear clothes that are little more than rags, ripped and mended again and again. But their cheeks are rounded, arms strong and defined. Their health is likely due to their proximity to the forest just a few miles from this town and the animals they hunt within.

A child darts in front of my horse. Fox pauses, lowers his head, and blows air through his nostrils. The child’s father appears, scooping the child into his arms and muttering apologies, even as the boy giggles, kicking his legs.

I nudge Fox back into motion.

Never have I had a thought of my own childhood. No memories rise up and greet me, no dreams throw me back to younger days.

I woke centuries ago, naked and alone in a forest on a strange continent filled with people who wielded varying degrees of magic.

Ishouldhave been as blank as an un-molded piece of clay. Instead, I woke filled with a deep, vicious rage burning within me.

I may not have known much, but I knew something was missing. Something so important, a shock of grief battled with my rage. Someone had taken something from me. Something I desperately needed.

And whoever had cursed me this way was going to be very, very sorry.

Centuries later, I still search for that revenge.