Page 46 of Maneater

Raithe had been leading me somewhere, though he refused to say where.

At the moment, I lacked both the strength and the will to press him further.

I had been naive to think I could drink freely from any tree here.

Not all of them produced sap, and fewer still were ready to give it.

Only Raithe could tell which ones would yield their nectar, and he was firm in his warnings not to take too much.

It was the lifeblood of gods, after all, and I was only half of one. Until I proved myself to the Ossirae, the sap could hurt as easily as it could heal.

“Where are we going?” I repeated.

To my surprise, Raithe finally answered this time. “I meant to show you this when we were children, before that witch ripped you away from me.” His tone was sour at the mention of Mag. “I’m taking you to see my ossiraen. The place where my lifeforce is rooted. Soon, you’ll have one of your own.”

Before I could ask anything else, we stepped through another grove, but this time, it didn’t open into more trees. It opened to a gate. The moment I saw it, something sharp struck me. Recognition flooded in so suddenly it knocked the breath from my chest.

I remembered.

I was twelve. Crying. Bleeding. My fingers gripped tightly around Raithe’s hand as he led me to this very place. He hadn’t spoken a word, but I knew he was trying to show me something. Something important.

But then Mag appeared.

She came with something in her hands, an object that severed the realms, a line drawn between the mortal and the divine. Whatever she held, it was enough to keep Raithe back. He couldn’t reach me. And just like that, she took me, dragged me back to her apothecary, back to Brier Len.

I’d buried that memory so deep it’d become myth.

Lost in the flood of that memory, I felt Raithe extend his hand, just as he had all those years ago.

I stared at it for a moment. But then I placed mine in his, our fingers threading together with haunting familiarity.

A current passed between us, not just of touch, but of something older. Something vast.

As we neared the gate, I felt its pull, an ancient force radiating from beyond the threshold.

I hadn’t remembered that before. The darkness within me, always restless, seemed to calm in its presence.

Even if Raithe hadn’t brought me here, I knew somehow I would have found it.

Or it would have found me. There was something sacred in it.

Something immense and beautiful and terrifying all at once.

The iron gates creaked open on their own as we approached. Raithe leaned toward me, his voice low and reverent, “Welcome to the Ossarith, Odessa.”

The Ossarith unfolded across an endless stretch of rolling hills, a forest unlike any I had ever seen.

It was wild, mystical, and utterly otherworldly.

As far as the eye could reach, trees covered the land, some towering and gnarled, others slender and smooth.

Some were heavy with vibrant foliage, while others stood bare, their branches skeletal against the sky.

No two trees were alike. Their bark shimmered in hues I couldn’t name, and their leaves caught the light in shades that seemed to shift with each step. Every color imaginable bloomed across their forms, as if the entire spectrum of the world had rooted itself here.

I stood breathless, overcome by the scale, the splendor, the sheer magic of it all.

Raithe guided me along a path I couldn’t see, winding us through the grove. Along the way, we passed trees that felt as old as the first gods themselves, and saplings so new their roots barely kissed the earth.

“This is where you were going to take me?” I asked.

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Raithe responded.

I followed closely behind him, unsure where to look or how to process what I was seeing. My attention was constantly shifting, drawn to one thing, only to be swept away by another moments later. There was something magical about this place, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“The lifeforce of thousands of gods is rooted here,” Raithe said, gesturing toward a colossal tree in the distance. “That one’s been standing for centuries.”

As we drew nearer, the sight of it stole the breath right out of me.

It was massive, easily over a hundred feet tall.

Its bark gleamed like burnished copper, and its leaves shimmered with the same metallic hue.

There was something primordial about it, as though time itself had settled into its grain.

Large roots twisted and braided together at the base, so deeply entwined with the soil that nothing could uproot it.

“It belongs to Caelora, a demigoddess of Vulnerability,” Raithe said.

“Despite being the daughter of a greater god, she chose to plant her ossiraen here. She’s always had a taste for the unexpected.

But I suppose when you’ve lived for hundreds of years, where you anchor your soul doesn’t matter much. ”

“Do you know who the others belong to?” I asked.

“Not really,” Raithe said with a shrug. “I’ve only been around a little over two decades. Being the demigod of Vengeance doesn’t exactly lend itself to socializing often.” He gave me a sad smile. “Not that I’d care to know, anyway.”

“I see,” I murmured. “Where’s yours?”

“A little farther ahead. We’ve still got a ways to go.”

“Why are you showing me all this, Raithe?”

He glanced at me, his golden eyes suddenly molten.

“To convince you to drink from the Ossirae. To show you there’s more to this life than what you’ve known.

Why you need to choose immortality.” He paused, his jaw ticking.

“Because if you don’t, I think the only thing keeping you alive right now is Torhiel.

And once you leave this place, she won’t be able to strengthen you anymore. ”

He stopped, eyes steady on mine. “I can’t let that happen, Odessa.”

I heard the desperation in his voice, but it wasn’t his choice to make. I didn’t want to die, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to live either.

I brushed past the edge in his voice, continuing, “So these smaller ones, the saplings, do they belong to new gods?”

Raithe sighed, his shoulders sinking. “Some belong to lesser gods. Others are newly rooted. The stronger your bloodline, the more powerful your ossiraen becomes. But growth takes time. Years. Even centuries. It’s nurtured by mortal faith, by the passage of time, and above all, the judgment of the Ossirae.

If you pass the test, you’re given a seedling.

You plant it here. What it becomes is something only time can reveal. ”

“What of the ones that feel... less robust?”

“There’s a god for every emotion, Odessa,” Raithe said.

“Joy. Sorrow. Hunger. Grief. The divine don’t feel like mortals, we experience emotion as a force.

We’re creatures of impulse, of desire. Demigods are more tempered, sure, but the greater gods?

The greater gods love with a fire that can consume worlds, and abandon that love without a second thought.

They produce thousands of offspring, but only those who can prove their worth survive.

” His voice took an edge. “Only those who can manifest their immortality will live. Torhiel refuses the weak.”

That hit heavy in my stomach. “I have no choice then. If I don’t do this, I’ll die either way.”

“I don’t understand how you’ve lasted this long,” Raithe said curiously.

“How you’ve resisted Torhiel’s call. The moment I heard it, I answered.

I was so young I barely remember anything else, but I’ll never forget that feeling.

The pull of it. Nothing could have kept me from crossing into this realm.

” Clearing his throat, he added, “You’re special, Odessa. Even Torhiel knows.”

Eventually, Raithe stilled and his gaze fixed ahead. I turned to follow, and then I saw.

There was a tree that stood alone, and it was as haunting as it was devastatingly beautiful.

No leaves sprouted its limbs, only sharp, jagged branches that jutted out like fractured bones.

The bark was a striking contrast of deep black and lustrous gold.

Black swallowed the base while veins of gold streaked upward in uneven, barbed lines.

It stood at least thirty feet tall and had a presence that made the others feel small.

I didn’t need to ask to know that this was Raithe’s ossiraen.

He had told me that it took years for a god’s lifeforce to grow, centuries, even. But this one had already become something monumental, something ancient in spirit. It made me uneasy. If his power had taken root so quickly, then his obsession with me felt all the more dangerous.

Raithe wasn’t just any demigod, he was powerful, and terrifyingly so. How many mortals had bargained with him? How many had offered prayers in their rage, in their thirst for vengeance? If this was the ossiraen of a demigod, I could only imagine what Vengeance itself must look like .

“My father is the god of Wrath,” I said quietly. “Which of your parents is mortal?”

Raithe was passive when he answered, “My father is.”

“So, Vengeance is... a woman? Or, I suppose, something close to it?”

He let out a laugh, followed by a wry chuckle. “The lesser and greater gods aren’t male or female. They’re divine. They love as they choose, regardless of mortal form. There are no limits for them like there are for us. We’re godlings. Part of them, but always divided.”

“I see. Where is Wrath’s ossiraen rooted?”

Raithe’s jaw tensed. His expression darkened with frustration, and when he spoke, his voice was low, more agitated than I’d ever heard it before. “Enough, Odessa.”

I stared at him, startled. “What?—?”

Before I could finish, he grabbed my hand and pulled me abruptly along another path.

“Hey!” I yanked against his grip. “What are you doing? Let go of me!”

And Raithe did, suddenly and forcefully.

His face was tense with anger as he bit out, “You’ve got an endless well of questions, Odessa, about the gods and the divine.

It seems your curiosity alone is all the confirmation I need.

” His tone cut like stone. “We’re going to the Ossirae. No more questions. Move.”

He turned without waiting, striding ahead.

I stood there, motionless for a moment, unsure whether to follow. The Ossarith felt different now. Enormous, unfamiliar, and suddenly cold. I looked around, but everything blurred with uncertainty. Raithe’s figure grew smaller in the distance.

Something churned in my gut, something restless and hollow.

He was right.

The fog in my head was creeping back, slow and heavy.

I could feel it, like water rising in my lungs.

If I didn’t drink more sap soon, I’d lose myself again.

I’d sink back into the haze where my thoughts dulled and my memory unraveled.

But in that silence, something surfaced.

Recollections of what I’d felt the last time I let the darkness take hold.

The power. The clarity. That wild, terrifying freedom.

I had touched something infinite. Something divine. And I hadn’t wanted to let it go.

I told myself I was afraid of it.

But the truth was, I liked it. I wanted it.

I wanted to live.

I wanted to become a god.

As the truth rooted itself in me, fear was the first to come, then something darker stirred.

Hunger bloomed in its place, wicked, wanting, and wretched.