Page 43 of Maneater

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the leafy canopy overhead.

In the weave of leaves and limbs, a silver gleam hung in the air.

My senses returned slowly, though something about them changed from before.

I focused on a branch above, noticing each vein winding its own way. No two were the same. It made me smile.

Sunlight slipped through the leaves, warm against my skin, sinking deep into my bones. A cool breeze followed, brushing my face and leaving a faint tingle behind. I felt connected to the world in a way I hadn’t before.

I stretched languidly, still resting on the forest floor. Soft moss cushioned me. The tiny fronds tickled my neck as I moved, and I let out a small laugh. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be this grounded. To feel both earth and sky so near. It seemed obvious now, that I was part of this place.

If it were up to me, I’d stay here forever. The wild, the woods, this was where I belonged.

But I wasn’t alone .

I turned my head, and there, beside me, were a pair of golden eyes locked on mine. Their gilded color was brilliant. They belonged to someone so striking, so achingly beautiful, tears pricked my eyes.

His fair skin seemed to catch the sunlight in a way that made it luster.

His lips were the soft flush of cinnamon, and thick waves of hair, black as midnight, crowned his head beautifully.

But it was his smile that undid me. It made my heart ache with the weight of it and I feared the sight alone might break me.

“Odessa,” the devil whispered. “My light, my heart.”

His voice was sweet, like a melody reaching my ears. It wrapped around me like a song meant only for me. The words made sense, but there was a hidden rhythm to them, a ghost of the same message he’d once hummed, laden with things left unsaid.

The devil turned to me fully, and his beauty was haunting. He gently cradled my face in his hand, and as he did, I couldn’t move or speak. I was held captive beneath the weight of his stare. His touch was light, but his eyes were dark as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine.

I melted into the kiss. He started gentle, full of longing, but that quickly shifted. He began to grow desperate, like a man starved of air. I found myself kissing him back with the same intensity, the hunger inside me just as real. Before long, we were tangled together, bound by desire.

The heat inside me only grew, consuming everything.

It burned hotter than coals, brighter than any flame.

And the next thing I knew, I broke our kiss and straddled his waist to stare down at him.

When I did, I realized he was perfect. His face was powerful and brutally sinister.

But above all, his golden eyes were locked on mine alone.

“You’ve come back to me,” he whispered.

As his words slipped into my ears once more, something snapped in my mind.

A sharp pain lanced through my vision, the same agony I’d felt so many times before.

Sudden and searing, it consumed me. I gasped, blinking hard as the first wave crashed over me.

The sky pulsed silver, then in color, but not like it had in Brier Len or Falhurst.

This time, it was different.

The world wasn’t drained of silver or color.

It wasn’t missing one or the other. I could still see the vibrant green of the trees and moss, the warm brown of the loam and bark, the endless blue of the sky, but the luster was gone.

The brilliance had faded. Clarity slipped from me, blink by blink, as if the world itself was pulling away.

I could no longer feel the forest’s heartbeat.

I could no longer see with the same steady focus.

In its place came something sharp and jarring.

I looked down at the devil, and his eyes shifted between a godly gold and a sharp yellow. His face blurred between ethereal beauty and something fiercely savage. Fear and adoration wrestled inside me, each demanding to be felt more than the other.

His expression darkened with confusion and concern as I pulled away.

I stumbled back, and he called my name, reaching for me.

His voice was soft, yet severe, but I shook my head violently.

The world around me kept flickering, caught between one reality and another, and I felt as if I were being torn in two.

I could still hear his voice, but it was fractured, half in the present, half in the distance. Each sentence stuttered, broken by shifts in tone and pitch, like two songs played over each other, just out of sync.

“Stay back,” I panted in between ragged breaths, bracing myself against a nearby trunk. “Who are you?”

“Odessa,” the devil said warily. “You’ll only hurt yourself. Come to me.”

“No,” I answered firmly, even as I winced. The pain was still sharp beneath my skin, but with each passing second, it began to ease. I looked at him. “Who are you?”

“I am yours,” the devil said simply. His face was tight with concern as his eyes locked on mine. “The pain will subside, but it won’t pass. You need to drink.” His eyes flitted to the tree I was leaning against. “It will help.”

“Drink what?” I asked, teeth clenched.

“The sap.”

I looked at the tree, its bark streaked with a dark golden ichor, viscous and tacky to the touch. It resembled honey, but darker, more amber. When I pulled my hand away, my palm was slick with it, the syrup catching the light in glistening threads.

I wanted to resist. I wanted to pull away, to scream, to defy his command, but I stilled as the darkness inside me stirred, rising hungrily to the surface.

Though it was restrained, it ached for a taste of the sap.

And, as I always had, I couldn’t deny that part of me.

That side that consumed me so completely.

I raised a finger to my lips, tasting the sap.

The syrup coated my tongue, thick and rich, and in that moment, fragments of wholeness began to return.

I licked another finger, then another, until my tongue was tracing the lines of my palm, desperate for every drop.

With each taste, clarity bloomed. Colors brightened, tinged again with silver light.

My vision sharpened. My hearing cleared.

Every sensation grew more vivid, more alive.

But it wasn’t enough.

I turned back to the tree, fingers reaching for the thick, gleaming trails of sap. I brought as much as I could to my mouth. I drank greedily, again and again, until the pain dulled to a whisper and almost disappeared.

When I was done, my breaths were still heavy, but even.

The devil watched me in silence, his expression unreadable as his golden eyes studied me.

He was devastatingly beautiful once more, and shame flushed through me at the state I was in, at how I had devoured the sap so brazenly.

But when I looked at him, his eyes held no judgment. Only that same molten gold.

He extended his hand once more. “Come to me, Odessa. ”

I didn’t move. My feet felt rooted to the earth. “Not until you tell me who you are.”

A faint frown touched his brow, but it smoothed. “As I said, I am yours.” He stepped closer. “And you are mine.”

I took a step back as he advanced. “I don’t know who you are.”

“That isn’t true,” he said, taking another step forward. “Your memories may elude you, but your body remembers. It calls to me, just as mine calls to yours.”

“I—” My voice faltered. Flashes returned to me, the way we were entangled, our lips lost on one another. I remembered that hunger, that overwhelming need I felt for him.

“I’ve waited for you,” the devil said, standing before me. “For so long.” His head tilted, eyes searching mine. “I knew you’d return to find me in Torhiel.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You know my name,” the devil said, voice low.

“I don’t know you.”

“Say my name, Odessa,” he repeated.

“How could I?” My voice rose. “I’ve told you, I don’t know who you are!”

“You do,” he said evenly.

“No, I don’t!” I clutched the sides of my head, squeezing my eyes shut.

I had buried these memories so carefully. Sealed them away in a tomb I vowed never to disturb again. I’d ignored them in Brier Len. Suppressed them in Hyrall. Tried to dismiss them in Falhurst.

But here, in Torhiel, I couldn’t hold it back. Not anymore. I was tangled in a web of my own weaving, and now the threads were coming undone. My past had risen to meet me, and I could no longer run from it.

My face crumpled, and I shook my head as tears slipped down my cheeks .

The devil stepped closer, closing the space between us. He cupped my face in his hands, brushing the tears away with his thumbs, as if he could erase the pain, or carry the weight of it for me.

He whispered quietly, “Who am I?”

There was silence, then I answered, “You are Raithe, demigod of Vengeance.”