Page 47 of Maneater

I chased after Raithe, his form slipping further into the shadows.

I knew if I lost him now, I’d have no idea how to find my way out, or if escape was even possible.

But more than fear, it was the pull of the Ossirae that kept my legs moving.

I needed to see it. I wanted to taste the sap.

I’d buried so many truths about myself, locked away memories too heavy to face.

But I was done hiding, I was ready to feed the part of me that felt raw, powerful, and real.

Was Raithe right about what he’d said about my brutality?

I’d taken lives. Too many to count. I’d nearly killed my own father.

But wasn’t that an act of protection? My mother was beaten and broken.

He would’ve killed her if I hadn’t stopped him.

If my darkness hadn’t answered. Did that make me monstrous? Or merciful?

I’ve been torn between two selves for as long as I can remember: the life I knew as skirtsfolk, and this divine calling that pulsed through me like a second heartbeat.

My vision splits in color on one side, silver on the other.

There was something truly divine, something ancient, trying to take hold .

“Raithe!” I shouted, but his figure kept dwindling into the distance. “Raithe, wait!”

The demigod of Vengeance was vanishing before my eyes. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t close the distance. Each stride only pushed him further away. I tore across the rolling hills, ducked beneath tangled roots and wove through mazes of trees, but it was useless. He was gone.

I stopped abruptly, chest heaving, hair wild around my face. I turned in every direction, over my shoulder, right, left, but the Ossarith had fallen into a dead silence. My heart thundered in my ears. The song that once hummed through the forest had vanished.

“Raithe, where are you?” My voice came out strained and distant, like it was being pulled underwater.

I forced myself forward, desperate for a sign, for anything. And that’s when I saw it. A soft, silver light.

Then I saw a raven.

A calm washed over me the moment our eyes met.

Ravens had always been my guides, my allies.

Extensions of something deeper, something truer within me.

I didn’t hesitate, I simply followed. The bird flew ahead, its wings cutting through the still air.

Nothing else mattered, just that dark blur and the certainty that I was meant to follow.

Time was unclear as I ran, blindly chasing the one thing that felt real.

At last, the bird slowed, circling once before landing on a thick branch high above a gnarled, towering tree.

I stopped cold.

I knew this tree. I’d seen it before. Years ago, in the forest of Brier Len, while mapping with Caz. It had called to me even then.

Now, standing before it again, I knew without question that this was the Ossirae.

The Ossirae had been calling to me for years, maybe even longer. And Raithe, he had always been watching. Yellow eyes, sharp and bright, always present when my darkness rose. Always arriving when I didn’t know I needed him. He understood my divinity in ways I had never dared to.

But then awareness crashed over me. Disoriented, I turned in place, heart racing, eyes scanning the space around me. The Ossarith had vanished. The divine forest was gone.

The Ossirae stood alone now, vast, alive, and pulsing with power. All that remained was the god-tree.

The Ossirae looked just as it had all those years ago.

Unforgettable. Its roots twisted over and under one another in a tangled web, gripping the earth like a coiled hand.

Branches extended in every direction, reaching so far they seemed to touch the sky.

The bark at its base was streaked with layers of charcoal and gray, rough and weatherworn.

But this time, the Ossirae had leaves.

They were thick, rigid, and looked sharp enough to cut. Each one was molded in a shape I’d never seen on a tree before. No two were alike. Some were large, others small. Some smooth-edged, others jagged or serrated. Every leaf felt distinct, as if it held its own story.

If all the trees in Torhiel were connected to this one, this central god-tree, then maybe each leaf reflected them in some way. Or maybe the leaves represented the gods themselves, those who had come to the Ossirae, who had drunk its sap and left something behind.

What if it was both?

The trunk was massive, wider than the span of the cottage I’d grown up in. The branches that reached from it were thicker than the torsos of the strongest, well-bred steeds in Hyrall.

Raithe had said this tree held the lifeforce of the gods, that it could produce a seedling which would grow into an ossiraen.

And from there, how revered a god became would shape how that tree grew.

Could it be drawing power in return? Feeding off that worship, those offerings?

It had to. Nothing held this kind of presence without something sustaining it.

I stepped toward the Ossirae without fear.

It had been calling to me for so long, what reason was there to be afraid now?

As I approached, I moved carefully, avoiding the roots that rose from the ground like twisted ribs.

The closer I came, the more the darkness inside me stirred.

It no longer hid in the shadows, it rose, eager and alive, drawn to the god-tree like a moth to flame.

My eyes caught the texture of the bark, and I pressed my hand against its jagged surface. It was beautiful in a way that was unsettling. It was solemn, terrible, and captivating by its own right. How many demigods had this tree claimed? How many had it broken?

I knew one thing for certain: it would claim me too.

I already felt the bond, it was deep and undeniable.

There was recognition between us, as if the Ossirae had been waiting for me just as I had unknowingly been waiting for it.

Maybe that was why it had let me live so long in Brier Len.

Was it watching? Waiting for the right moment?

And why now? Why had Torhiel summoned me at last?

There was only one way to find out.

My eyes drifted upward. From a narrow crack in the bark, a glimmer of silver sap began to trickle free. It shimmered like starlight, but colder, more fluid. The Ossirae was offering me a taste.

This was the Ossirae’s trial, one every demigod must face. My time had come, just as Raithe and Mag had said. My decision could no longer be delayed.

The sap gleamed as it trickled down the trunk in thick, glassy streaks. My arm trembled as I reached out, not from fear, but from something deeper. Anticipation.

As I touched the sap, it felt cool and smooth against my fingertips. It lacked the stickiness of ordinary sap from the trees of Torhiel. This was something else entirely. It looked like starlight. Thick, shimmering, and catching the light with a soft glow. It was pure magic.

I lifted my fingers to my lips, hovering just a breath from the moment that would change everything. This was the threshold, the end of my mortal self. Once I tasted the sap, I would become a demigoddess.

Was I ready? Not even close. But I knew that without faith, there would be no transformation.

I tasted the first bead. It settled on my tongue like the sweetest thing I’d ever known. No flavor would ever match it, every taste that came before it crumbled to nothing.

The Ossirae’s test had begun.

The world narrowed, sounds thinning to a hush, until there was only the thrum of my own heartbeat. I took a steady breath, feet planted, hands still. Whatever came next, I would meet it standing.

I was in a forest again. I was back in Brier Len.

Water flowed around me, waist deep, its current gentle and familiar.

I trailed my arms along the surface, sending ripples across it.

I was home. Home in the wild that raised me.

And I could have wept. For the comfort, for the memory, for the way the land had shaped who I had been. But I knew it was time to release it.

Something stronger was calling me now.

Torhiel.

The deeper wood. The divine forest. That would be my new home.

And here, I would grow.

The water stilled across the river’s surface, and I knew I had to face her again.

The last time I’d seen her, I was twelve. After that, she appeared to me only in dreams. But now, I looked down and met her eyes once more. This time, there was no fear. And there she was, staring back at me. Odessa, child of pain, demigoddess of wrath.

She didn’t look like a monster anymore. Her face wasn’t lost in shadow. Her mouth didn’t twist in anger. But the dark streaks across her cheeks were sharper now, etched deeper than I remembered. She blinked, and fresh onyx tears slipped down her face.

I remembered her sorrow from before, so hollow it nearly destroyed me.

But these tears were different.

They didn’t carry grief. They carried power.

There was strength in them now. Fury. Wrath.

She was steady, grounded, and stronger for all she had faced.

I couldn’t look away. This was who I had always been meant to become.

She was the truth I’d been circling my entire life.

The last time I’d seen her, she had slipped from my reach, lost to the other side of the reflection, always close, never mine.

Not this time. This time, I didn’t let go.

She was me. And I was her. At last, we were whole.