Page 50 of Maneater

I wandered aimlessly through Torhiel for some time.

The forest was quiet, not a hollow silence, but one that offered solitude.

Raithe had gone off somewhere, vanished to a place I couldn’t find.

I didn’t blame him for the mix of emotions he held toward me.

Frustration, affection, love. He saw parts of me that I had yet to understand myself.

I needed more time. Time to grasp the newfound power rooted in me.

Time to understand who I was becoming. And yet, there was still a strange pull toward him that I couldn’t ignore.

Every time I used my power, he was there, steady, guiding me through it.

I still needed him, even though I feared blurring whatever boundary remained between us.

I had no idea how to begin bargaining with mortals.

Should I return to the mortal realm? Could I forge some divine passage between Torhiel and their world?

The questions kept piling up. How had other demigods managed this?

Surely they didn’t all have a guide who believed fate had entwined them together.

I sighed, then drew a long breath. Then another. I had chosen this life. So I would figure it out, with or without Raithe. He told me I had to listen, to hear the cries of mortals calling out in Wrath. I’d try that in time.

As I walked, something shimmered behind a thicket of berried brush, catching my eye.

I pushed through and found a stream, glittering like ribbons of silver.

The water was so clear, so pure, I felt the need to get in.

Without thinking too much of it, I began to undress.

My hair was wild and loose, and I was left in nothing but my shift.

As mundane and mortal as it felt, soaking in that stream sounded more than gratifying.

If eternity was to be my life, then how I spent that time was mine to choose.

I waded into the stream, the water rising slowly as I moved, cool against my skin until it reached my chest. Though the depths were chilled, the surface carried the lingering warmth of the sun.

There was a weightlessness in that moment, the soft rush of water curling around me, washing over everything I had endured.

I’d survived Gadriel, barely escaping with my freedom.

I’d been shot in Falhurst, the wound that once threatened to kill me now reduced to a faint scar, softened by my divine awakening.

I’d been cloaked in mud and grime, blood and sweat.

I had drunk from the Ossirae and emerged something new. A demigoddess.

And now, the stream seemed to cleanse me. Not just of the dirt and blood, but of the pain, the memories. For a moment, I let it all go.

I leaned back, letting my body float on the surface of the stream. The water moved around me in soft, steady ripples, touching my face, my chest, my legs. I felt light, unburdened, like the things that had held me down were finally gone.

In the quiet, I closed my eyes and listened to my surroundings.

The forest spoke in quiet sounds. Birds gliding overhead, leaves rustling in the wind, branches creaking with age.

It felt whole, like everything was exactly as it should be.

I smiled without meaning to. For the first time in a while, my chest didn’t feel so heavy.

Maybe this life, wandering the far reaches of the world, held more meaning than I imagined.

For a time, I stayed there, drifting as the stream held me. But slowly, beneath the quiet, something began to stir.

My Wrath.

It didn’t crash in all at once. It crept in, slowly and steadily, pushing up from somewhere deep. I didn’t try to fight it like I used to. I didn’t shove it down or smother it with reason or fear. This time, I let it come.

It felt familiar. Dark, bottomless, always endless in its hunger.

I let it loose, and that’s when the screaming began.

The screams crashed into my head suddenly, overwhelming me like a dam breaking in my mind.

They flooded every corner of my thoughts, leaving no room to breathe.

The cries came with pain, not just in their sound, but in the weight they placed onto me.

I gasped in agony. My chest seized while my breaths came in short, panicked bursts.

Hysteria rose while I kicked downward from the water’s surface, legs flailing, trying to find the bottom of it.

I couldn’t stay afloat; my hands grasped at nothing, water slipping through my fingers.

I sucked in a mouthful of it, choking as it filled my throat and burned into my lungs. I coughed hard, body twisting in panic.

I tried to hold on to control, but my mind was drowning too. Drowned in the voices of Wrath. The mortals’ pleas rang louder than anything I’d ever heard. Raw, furious, relentless. No focus, no strength, no force of will could block it out.

In the midst of my hysteria, my feet finally struck the rocky floor, scraping against sharp stones. Pain flared, but I barely felt it. I still couldn’t steady myself. My arms moved without thought, not to swim, but to clamp over my ears, trying to block out the screams.

So many voices. Too many.

Men. Women. Children.

Their screams twisted together. Some shrill, some low and guttural. All of them angry. All of them crying out. One on top of another, wave after wave, endless and dominating. I couldn’t tell if I was hearing their screams or my own.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Pressed harder against my ears.

Stop . I needed it to stop.

I could do nothing but curl in on myself.

I felt my body sink deeper into the stream, but I was frozen.

Paralyzed in place. My lungs screamed for air as I slipped beneath the surface, but the voices had taken over completely, flooding my mind with their fury.

The pressure was unbearable. So much rage, so much Wrath, crashing into me all at once. I was suffocating in it.

The water that had once held me gently, now dragged me down, swallowing me whole. My chest lurched. My muscles locked. Immortal, but not invincible, Raithe had said. I was learning that now, and far too late.

Bubbles escaped my mouth, my lungs releasing what little air I had left. I looked above to the surface, but the sunlight above had grown dim. The current pulled me along, uncaring, as if it didn’t notice I was breaking apart in its hold.

But the longer I stayed under, the quieter it became.

Slowly, the voices began to fade. Not gone, not silenced, but softened. My thoughts blurred, my senses dulled. And for the first time, surrounded by that pain, it was hushed.

My arms loosened, floating weightless at my sides. My legs uncurled, no longer tense. The screaming didn’t stop, but it grew quieter, further away. Still there. Still aching. But not devouring me.

It was stopping. By the gods, it was finally stopping.

But the quiet didn’t last.

I tried to hold onto it, tried to stay in that stillness a little longer, but something was pulling me back. Dragging me toward the surface. Dragging me back into the pain.

The voices that had faded into the background began to rise again, slowly at first, then louder, and louder, until they roared back to full force at deafening pitch. Sensation returned in a rush. My body jolted with it. A grip locked around my arm, tight enough to shock me back to myself.

I was being dragged. The water rushed around me, pulling at my limbs and hair as I was yanked through it.

Then, suddenly, my face broke the surface.

I roused, but the grip didn’t loosen. It kept pulling, kept dragging me until the stream gave way to solid ground.

My skin scraped against moss and dirt, clinging to me in thick patches.

Shock tore through me as something struck my back.

Then again. And a third time, harder. My body convulsed, my lungs spasmed, and I choked.

Water spilled from my mouth in violent bursts, more trickling from my nose.

I coughed, over and over, each breath raw and burning.

Air rushed in, but relief didn’t follow.

Breath finally filled my chest, but the voices didn’t stop. The pain didn’t stop.

I flung my hands to the sides of my head, pressing hard against my ears. I curled on the forest floor, trembling, rocking, barely able to think past the noise.

And all I could do was beg, over and over, through clenched teeth and shuddering breaths.

Stop. Stop. Please, just stop.

As I rocked, I heard my name faintly being called.

It echoed behind the horde of screams and pleas of Wrath, growing louder while the other voices slowly faded.

Though my body still trembled, the shock clinging to my skin, someone gently cradled me, pulling me close.

Strong arms wrapped around me, holding tight, and a forehead pressed softly against mine as a soothing hum began.

The hum was beautiful, so achingly tender it sent a wave of calm through my chaos.

The low voice continued, humming one melody after another, until the cries were soothed, driven back behind the dam they had broken through.

My breathing began to settle. I felt a warm hand cradle the base of my neck, drawing slow, comforting circles.

I knew who it was. Raithe . His scent, his presence, powerful and familiar, wrapped around me, offering protection, kindness, and comfort. I leaned into him, absorbing the warmth he now gave so freely. The coldness he’d left behind in our last encounter had vanished.

When my trembling finally quieted, I opened my eyes, and there he was. I looked down to see his body stretched across the mossy ground, his throat still humming that haunting, beautiful song.

“Raithe,” I whispered, my throat still raw from coughing. My hands clung tightly to his tunic. “What is it you’re always singing to me?”

He paused his humming for a moment. “A song that can only be sung by the gods.”

A quiet sound of contentment escaped me. “Thank you for singing to me.”

“Shh,” Raithe murmured. “Just listen. Everything will be alright.”

So I listened, following Raithe’s clement command. I lay there on the forest floor, nestled close to him as he hummed to me, until the voices of Wrath faded. Until his was the only one that remained.