Page 61 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

Knights

Hattie

T ears blurred my vision as the abomination crept closer, its red eyes fixated on me.

I swallowed a horrified cry, shaking with true terror; my limbs were weak and wobbly, as if my joints weren’t my own.

An animal part of my brain became certain that this was it , this was the end.

I would die in this unknown forest, far away from everyone I loved, and no one would know what happened to me.

I would die anonymously before I got to live as my authentic self.

No.

Absolutely not . I would not allow it. I’d faced my fears before. I could do this. I had to do this. Think, Hattie, think .

With my captors approaching from behind and the creature stalking me from straight ahead, I had nowhere to go.

Clearly, I couldn’t hide or outrun what had already caught up to me—but perhaps higher ground was a good idea, after all?

All I had to do was get myself out of reach of the abomination long enough for it to forget me and set its terrifying sights on my pursuers—then, in the chaos, I could escape.

I scrambled against the boulder, searching for a leg up. The face of it was steep, the moss slippery. Bracing against a nearby tree trunk, I finally found purchase, clambering between tree and stone. Small branches caught at my clothes, my hair, but it wasn’t long before I hoisted myself up.

Among the ferns and lichen that crowned the boulder, I had a vantage of the surrounding forest: five kidnappers to the south, abomination to the north, a racket of sound all around.

For a few moments, I caught my breath in the relative safety of my perch.

Any second now, the creature would change course toward the others…

Except…as it neared, I realized I’d underestimated its height. When it wasn’t hunched, it stood well over the height of a man. Ten feet, at least. Which meant that when it reached the boulder and stretched up on its hind legs, it was almost eye-level with me.

A cold panic clutched my throat, choking me.

The creature had a human-like face, gaunt and skinless, with gray tissue and bone showing.

Veins lined the sides of its neck muscles, pulsing with black.

Gnarled antlers twisted out of its skull, branching at deformed angles.

When it opened its mouth, a black tongue wriggled like a leech behind pointed teeth.

A guttural hiss emanated from its throat, gusting rancid breath across my face.

The cloying, rotten-carcass scent was so viscerally awful that I could taste it; I gagged with nausea and terror.

This must’ve been what had infected the diseased bobcat I’d seen back at the Possum.

This was what had bitten Idris the night he first came to Waldron, what he and Anya had faced in the Western Wood.

This was what Mariana fought for her Order—and had to kill to deliver to me the black blood.

This was the curse I’d been trying to undo.

This was what Noble would become if—

Don’t go there, Hattie.

It was so close , and I didn’t even have a weapon. I’d grabbed my satchel but had dropped my dagger in the grass as soon as I’d cut myself free. Could such a simple mistake seal my Fate?

“ Nooo ,” I whimpered, kicking my feet as I crab-walked backward through the tangle of ferns and moss atop the boulder. “ No, no, no .”

Shouts pierced the night at my back, yet the abomination was singular in its focus.

It raised a bony hand, the tendons stretching as it flexed its claw-tipped fingers.

It snarled again, snapping its teeth, tongue lolling out hungrily.

Then it struck, snatching at my legs. I shrieked , my scream shredding my throat as the creature caught the side of my shoe, slicing through the leather—but thankfully not my skin.

I kicked out with my other foot, clipping it in the jaw. The creature wailed, angered, but its second strike was interrupted by a commotion to the south: my pursuers arriving on the scene.

“ MORTA!!! ” someone screamed.

Fates , did these Maronans recognize the monster? How far east had the cursed things spread?

The abomination—the Morta—was not deterred by the arrival of my pursuers, nor the ringing of their steel as they brandished their weapons. I had no time to wonder what would compel them to fight the creature instead of running in the opposite direction, leaving me to die in its clutches, because—

Claws scraped against stone, emitting a metallic sound as the creature climbed up the boulder. Black saliva dripped from its maw and sizzled on the vegetation. It burns , Mariana had said, and I was going to take her word for it. I scrambled backward, feet kicking and slipping on the damp moss.

The Morta lunged , teeth snapping a hair’s breadth from my face.

A hoarse, high-pitched squeal tore out of me as I threw my hand out, bracing a palm on the creature’s disgustingly slick face.

Its breath reeked of venom and rot, a sour and sickening stench that stung the back of my throat.

I shoved against its jagged cheekbone, but the abomination was strong.

It leaned tauntingly into my hand, dribbling caustic drool onto my dress.

I dug my nails into its cheek, pressing my thumb into the outer corner of one red eye.

It pushed harder against my hand, snarling and biting the air, forcing me to inch backward on my bum, until—

The boulder was no longer underneath me, the Morta shrinking from view. I was tumbling backward, falling , the world flipping upside-down.

I landed hard on my left forearm—a sharp crack of bone with an even sharper burst of pain.

White-hot shock streaked across my vision.

Bile rose up my throat, but I swallowed it back down, coughing and dazed.

I didn’t see any blood, but there was a distinct bend between my wrist and elbow that made my vision swim.

Hands gripped me underneath my armpits, lifting me and dragging me backward.

“Stay hidden,” Breen hissed in my ear, depositing me behind the wide trunk of a fallen tree.

Then she was racing into the melee, where her compatriots were— Fates —they were rushing toward the creature with blades engulfed in green fire. Oath magic.

The Morta leapt down from the boulder, landing on all fours and snarling at the circle of glowing swords and axes. In the ethereal light, its gray pallor took on a sickly hue, making it appear all the more grotesque.

It didn’t hesitate. It swiped wildly at the five fighters.

Henren jumped out of its reach; Corla deflected it with her sword, cutting a black streak into its forearm; Sid stumbled backward, falling on his ass.

Then Jord was charging at the creature, sword blazing with otherworldly flame.

He managed to sever two of the many short, insect-like appendages on the Morta’s torso.

It spun, snatching at him. Breen defended Jord by blocking the attack with her axe, but as she did, the creature’s claws wrenched her weapon out of her hands, flinging it into the underbrush.

I knew I should run. I knew I should use the chaos to get far away from here, to escape into the night.

But I couldn’t force myself to stand—not when there could be more monsters lurking in this forest. I remained crouched behind the fallen log, frozen with shock, exhaustion, and terror.

My broken arm dangled limply at my side, and I tried not to look at it, afraid it would make me woozy .

Five Maronan knights of some kind, barely keeping one cursed monster at bay. They came at it in waves, striking and evading, losing their footing or weapons only to regain them, relentless in their bravery—but ineffectual against the Morta’s viciousness.

Sid sliced the abomination’s hind leg with a spray of black blood, screaming when the poisonous ichor splattered his bare skin.

Enraged, the Morta spun on him; Sid ducked, causing the monster to smack Henren with the back of its long forearm instead, flinging him into the trunk of a tree, where he landed with a hard thud and did not stir.

Corla and Breen advanced—and then retreated as the Morta snapped and snarled at them.

Jord took the moment of distraction to rush the creature again, stabbing upward into the side of its body; it screeched , wheeling on him.

Jord hung onto the hilt of his weapon, moving with it, trying frantically to yank it free of the abomination’s flesh, but the blade wouldn’t budge, it was stuck .

The Morta bent, sinking its teeth into his shoulder with a wet crunch.

His shout was ear-splitting, filled with so much agony and terror that I immediately knew the sound would haunt my sleep for years to come.

Sid appeared, hacking his weapon into the side of the Morta’s neck. It released its bite on Jord to open Sid’s stomach with a long claw. There was a gush of crimson, a spillage of gore, a gurgle in the back of Sid’s throat. Both men slumped, mortally wounded.

Unable to bear the sight, I forced my eyes closed, trying not to wretch. When I opened them again, I saw the Morta turn away from a half-eaten Jord—maw dripping red—and snarl in the direction of Corla and Breen.

Fuck .

The women’s weapons were still alight, glowing in the darkness. They stood shoulder to shoulder, legs braced wide, their dark clothing and leather armor encircled in a green glow .

But their weapons were no longer the only source of radiance in this clearing. Another light splashed across the underbrush—not green, but blue . It was coming from behind me, illuminating the log I hid behind and the surrounding vegetation.

I turned, and—

It couldn’t be.

Her features were unmistakable—angular face, dark hair, a white scar on her upper lip—and yet I stared at her in disbelief. Mariana was traipsing out of the trees, her sword ignited with blue Oath magic.

Had my fall knocked me out? Was the terror making me hallucinate?