Page 13 of Maneater

The world was bathed in silver light.

I rose slowly, taking in the forest around me, stunned by its beauty. How had I never seen Brier Len like this? I’d wandered these woods all my life, thought I knew every tree and turn, but I was wrong. If this was the forest’s true form, I never wanted to look away.

The silence was heavy, but not empty. Something strange lingered in the air. The kind of stillness that felt like a breath held just beneath the surface.

Only the sound of my heartbeat kept me company as I stepped forward, drawn by a soft pull I couldn’t name. Along the edge of the path, wildflowers were just beginning to bloom, petals still curled in sleep. I knelt and picked one, turning it gently between my fingers.

When I brought it to my nose, a soft, sweet scent bloomed in the air around me.

The aroma was so inviting I couldn’t resist plucking a pink petal and placing it on my tongue. Its flavor was soft, barely there, and it melted almost instantly. I laughed quietly and picked a few more as I wandered further down the path .

Soon, I reached the stream.

It struck me as strange that I couldn’t hear the water, but I brushed the thought aside. As I stepped closer, I stopped short, nearly stumbling. The surface of the stream shimmered like glass, sparkling like a thousand crystals flowing in endless ribbons.

I froze, mouth parted, the sticky stems of wildflowers slipping from my fingers. My lips, still dusted with petal sugar, tingled with sudden thirst.

I dropped to my knees and plunged my hands into the stream, scooping water to my mouth. I drank quickly, slurping in greedy mouthfuls, feeling the cold rush down my throat.

In that moment, it hit me that everything I’d been searching for was right here. A strange, sudden need for more washed over me. Before I could stop myself, I stepped into the stream.

My legs, short but steady, found the rocks beneath the surface and held firm against the current. The water climbed to my waist, cool as it brushed along my sides. I smiled and glanced down at my reflection, but the smile didn’t last.

The silver light around me seemed to grow brighter, casting a pale glow across the stream. My reflection shimmered on the surface, and I noticed dark streaks trailing down my cheeks.

I leaned in slowly, squinting.

The reflection slowly took shape, and something in my chest tightened as a chill crept down my spine.

I didn’t recognize the face looking back.

It had my features, my mouth, my eyes, my nose, but it wasn’t me. It didn’t look human, it looked like a monster. I stared at it, frozen in place. The reflection mirrored my expression as I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My lips parted in silence, and the face in the water did the same.

Then the water stilled, the current fading to a stop. Now the image before me was unmistakable .

A woman stared back.

Her eyes were cloaked in darkness, her mouth curled into a harsh frown. Dark streaks ran down her face, and as she blinked, onyx tears slid along her cheeks. She looked like something out of a nightmare. I wanted to pull away, but something held me there, drawn to her.

As the shock wore off, I studied her more closely.

Beneath the sharpness of her features, there was something else.

She seemed to carry a deep pain, almost sadness.

I raised a hand to my face, and the reflection mirrored me.

When my finger brushed my cheek, I watched her wipe away one of her own black tears.

I felt a strange sympathy for the woman, though I couldn’t explain why.

Part of me wanted to reach out, to tell her everything would be all right.

I opened my mouth to speak, hoping to ask who she was, but the silver light around me began to dim.

The water rippled, and the air crackled with energy.

I searched the surface, but her image was already fading.

I reached out. She reached too, but in the next instant, she was gone.

The water stirred, slow at first, then spinning with force. I tried to move toward the shore, but thick undergrowth had wrapped around my ankles. I struggled to break free, pulling hard, but the vines clung tighter with every movement.

A shallow whirlpool formed at my feet, swirling faster.

Wind lashed through my hair, dark strands flying across my face.

I cupped my hands over my temples to shield myself, but the wind only howled louder.

My body pitched against the current, the water climbing steadily past my waist, then to my collarbones.

It felt as though the stream had come alive, and it didn’t want to let me go.

In the chaos, a sudden memory surfaced: The waters had spoken to Mother before. Were they trying to reach me now?

I knew I should’ve feared the rising tide, but I didn’t. Instead, I felt something stir within me, a strange connection to the current. I stopped resisting, and almost instantly, the struggle eased.

The stream crept up to my throat as I let the silence take hold of my mind. The silver light returned, threading through the current. The quiet no longer frightened me, it felt familiar, like an old friend. I welcomed it, letting it settle into my bones.

I closed my eyes and furrowed my brow, trying to focus. Time slipped away. And then, through the stillness, I heard it.

A voice.

It began as a faint murmur, then clearer. It was calling my name.

It reached me on a whispering wind. From my right ear, the voice breathed gently, like a soft caress: Odessa . Then the wind shifted, brushing my left cheek as it murmured again: Odessa .

I felt its warmth press lightly against my brow: Odessa.

The waters rose around my neck and pulled me under. Just before I slipped beneath the surface, the wind whispered once more:

Odessa, child of pain, woman of wrath.

When I came to, I caught the scent of the forest before I saw it.

I rubbed my temple with a wince as I pushed myself up from the grassy floor.

The woods were dark now, no longer bathed in silver light.

Sounds returned gradually, rustling leaves, humming insects.

I heard the creek behind me and the soft scurrying of small creatures nearby.

But suddenly, heavy footsteps broke through the quiet.

My pulse quickened. Whoever it was didn’t try to keep quiet.

I crouched low, straining to tell where the sounds were coming from. They kept getting closer, but I couldn’t pin them down. A crunch to my left made me turn, but there was nothing. Then a twig snapped behind me. I spun around. Darkness .

I’d always believed I was fearless, but maybe that wasn’t true. Who was coming for me?

The thought hit then. What if this wasn’t human?

A cold shiver slid down my spine. Could it be a devil?

A shadow moved overhead, and I glanced up.

In the branches, a pair of bright yellow eyes stared down at me. They were so piercing I couldn’t move. The eyes belonged to a boy about my age. Like the woman in the water, he looked human, but something was off. He tilted his head, then began to watch me.

Our eyes locked as he climbed to a lower branch, inching closer. It felt like he was either looking past me or straight through me. Either way, I couldn’t turn away.

His presence was so icy, so absolute, that I barely noticed how close he’d gotten until something dark stirred inside me.

Anger hit, sudden and violent, lingering with resentment. The betrayal I felt toward my father flared to life. Of what he’d done to my mother. A bitter taste filled my mouth, and the burn of retribution followed.

The boy smiled slowly, an unsettling grin spreading across his face as my emotions churned.

His expression shifted from curiosity to something more knowing, almost as if he could feel the darkness rising inside me.

I tried to escape the emotions he stirred, but they only grew stronger as he stood a few feet away.

Everything suddenly started to feel too heavy to hold.

I couldn’t stop the anger, the fear, the frustration that threatened to pull me under. Desperate to release it, I found myself crying. At first, the tears came soft, but they quickly turned into furious sobs.

The boy seemed to sense my despair and offered what looked like sympathy. But something was strange about it, like he didn’t fully understand what he was imitating. He placed a hand on my shoulder, as if to comfort me.

The touch was cold .

I shuddered, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he reached up and gently wiped a tear from my cheek.

The action felt hollow, almost threatening. A feeling of danger hung in the air, yet I couldn’t move.

The boy reached out, palm open, like he was asking me to take his hand. A soft, silver light surrounded him, outlining his figure, drawing me in. The fear was still there, lodged deep, but the pull of the light was impossible to resist. I took his hand hesitantly, and we began to walk.

I didn’t know where we were going. We moved deeper into the forest. Step by step, my senses began to dull again.

The silver light grew stronger. What had started as a faint glow now spread around us in a brilliant sheen.

Branches gleamed like polished metal, water flowed with a pale shimmer, and the night sky softened to quiet grays.

We walked in silence as the minutes slipped by.

I kept glancing at the boy, trying to read his face, but he gave nothing away.

Then a large gate emerged from the trees, tall and iron. The boy let go of my hand without a word, his eyes flicking toward me in a signal to stay put. He stepped forward to reach for the latch. But something changed then. He turned sharply, looking past me, and hissed.

I felt the color drain from my face.

The calm boy from moments ago was gone, his face now twisted in fury. I took a step back, only to bump into something solid.

Startled, I turned to see a cloaked elderly woman clutching my shoulder. When I tried to pull away, her nails dug in harder. Upon second look, there was no silver light clinging to her. She was alive with color, earthbound and solid.

A scream tore from the boy, unnatural and unlike anything I’d heard before. The sound snapped me back into focus. I covered my ears and closed my eyes, but the woman behind me pulled me tighter against her.

She reached into her cloak and pulled out a stone no larger than the palm of her hand, brandishing it like a talisman. The silver light surrounding the stone had softened, and mist started to curl from her hand.

The boy’s features warped into a snarl as he rushed in my direction.

The elderly woman’s voice was a low hiss as her presence drew darker. “Return to the shadows, half-blood. Her time has not yet come.”

The woman’s voice carried such force that it sent a ripple through the forest. The mist rising from the stone in her hand swirled upward, parting the trees and forming a divide between us.

On my side, with the elderly woman, the forest bloomed in vibrant color. Beyond the veil, the woods remained silver and shrouded, the boy still standing there. He hissed in outrage from the other side, but he didn’t dare cross the barrier.

An agonizing pain suddenly shot through my chest again. My body felt as though it were being torn in two. I crumpled to the ground, unable to bear it, barely aware of the woman dragging me farther from the silver light.

The last thing I heard before my mind faded was the whisper of the old woman:

“Rest now, child of ravens.”