Page 4 of The Flower of Death (Forsaken #1)

Fools Dream

Grace

Mom sits on her brown leather chair adorned with patches and fixes of love from over the years. We have had that chair for as long as I can remember. She remains quiet, her quilted blanket draped over her legs. Steady hands hold a mug of steaming hot tea. The fire crackles and pops, burning in the stone fireplace before her. Her distant gaze stares into the dancing flames; she refuses to look at me. Actually, Mom hasn’t said a word to either of us since her outburst towards Fallon. Mom immediately stood from the bed, the mattress creaking under the new weight, and walked through us to the old chair in the main room, dragging her cocoa quilt behind her.

“Mom? Are you ok? Are you hungry? Do you need another blanket?” Fallon’s talking to her gently, like she’s a fragile piece of glass that might shatter at any moment. His nervous energy is coming off in strong pulsing waves, I can feel them from across the room. He’s hovering around Mom, shifting his weight from side to side, unsure of what to do with himself. He keeps glancing at me while I lean my aching body against the wall for support. Fallon is no doubt wondering if he needs to save me from shattering as well.

What did I do? Mom’s body may have healed, but is she actually ok? The way she looked at me when I healed her will haunt me forever. She had so much fear in her eyes, and they were locked solely on me. Maybe she just needs time. I mean, I’m freaked out too. I just healed my dying mom. She was about to die, and I stole her from Death’s cold clutches. Maybe it wasn’t me, maybe it was just a fluke, maybe—

“Grace!” Fallon shakes my shoulders. “Snap out of it. You can’t break on me too. Help me with Mom. She’s just sitting there, staring. I think she’s in shock.” Fallon glances at Mom behind him. “What do we do?”

“Fallon, we just cheated her death. I think she can be granted a few moments of shock.” I refocus on her. Has she moved at all?

“We? Little sis, that was all you. You healed her entirely. No one would even suspect she has been sick.” Honey eyes stare at me for a moment, shining in awe. I can see the thoughts pouring into his head. He gets a look on his face that I am all too familiar with. That’s the face that thought it was a good idea for us to climb the Elder Tree. The tree is grander than all others, older than our village. Its sable trunk is wider than a cottage. The first branch doesn’t start for several feet, and the fur of the bark is soft and spongy, making it hard to climb. I didn’t even reach close to the first branch before I fell straight down and broke my arm on the dense forest floor below. He had to carry me home to Mom, and I cried the whole way. But, before I got home, I sucked up those tears so he didn’t get in trouble. We told Mom I fell playing in the garden. We would never snitch on each other, no matter how many of his pea-brained ideas got me hurt.

Fallon pulls me from my thoughts. “What if you can heal again?” he whispers, bringing his face close to mine.

“What’re you talking about?” I question him hesitantly.

“What if you can heal more people, Gracie? What if you can do this again?” he whispers excitedly.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” I’m in total disbelief. Heal more people? What if people find out what happened? There are bound to be questions, and they would ultimately lead to a meeting with the King’s Priest. My new home would be a scratchy noose on the King’s Wall and a returning spot to the darkness. I know now where death leads, and I am not going back. “You’ve had some terrible ideas in the past, Fallon, but this takes the cake.” I try to leave, but he cages me in with his arms.

“Hear me out. All those sick and dying people out there, they can have a new life given to them because of you. You could save them, Grace. Imagine it, sick little babes and scared parents and you can save them and—”

“And get killed, Fallon. The King won’t be very happy with a girl going around with her Gods -given gifts healing people. Do I need to remind you, they hate the Gods?” Our whispers have escalated into yelling.

“It was Moon Mother!” Fallon shouts at me.

“It was a God!” I scream, pushing him away from me.

“Enough!” Mom’s authoritative voice booms over us. She’s standing from her chair, her blanket draped on the floor as she stares right at us. “I have heard enough. Grace will not be doing anything with that horrible curse. This is a curse from a God, and Gods are forbidden. You will not heal another soul, Grace. Someone you heal will see it for what it is and turn you in.”

I can feel Fallon’s venomous stare on me out of the corner of my eye. I can see my mother’s disgust written plainly in front of me. I can hear my traitorous heart beating, as if it were not just dead a moment ago. My brother is disappointed in me, and my mother hates me. Mene, what did you do to me? Why did you give me this curse?

I turn around without saying another word and go straight to my room. Exhaustion has set in, and I collapse into my rickety old bed. It’s dark but warm. It doesn’t take long for sleep to overcome me.

I rouse from my deep sleep the next morning to a wonderful smell. Is that … breakfast? The aroma wafts into my room, and the scent makes my mouth water. We haven’t had a proper breakfast in ages. I slowly open my eyes, feeling the effects of last night deep in my body. The morning rays of golden sunshine beam into my little room, reflecting off my dresser mirror and gleaming into my tired eyes. There are sounds of small birds chirping outside in the garden, chittering and singing, looking for their morning meal. I throw my quilt off of my body and get out of bed.

Almost immediately, I fall to the chilled ground, groaning. My muscles ache as I lie there on the hard wooden planks, staring up at my ceiling, debating if food is worth trying to get up. My stomach rumbles as another waft of savory fat and salt floats into my room. Blazes.

My muscles are screaming at me as I pull myself up using my bed frame. I remind myself of a new baby fawn who hasn’t learned to walk yet, wobbling and buckling her legs. My body aches so severely, it’s hard to stand. I contemplate going back to my warm, cozy bed. I’m exhausted, and my muscles are weak, but the smell of a fresh breakfast urges me to continue. I get dressed carefully, pulling my shirt on slowly, my legs shaking as I put on my pants. I sigh from the hard work and walk out of my room.

Mom is in the kitchen making breakfast: eggs, bacon, potatoes, and ham. The savory scents of smoke and juicy meat make my mouth salivate. Where did she get all of this? Joy fills my heart. I have my mother back! I can’t help but smile and gaze at her longingly. I walk up behind her and give her a big, warm hug. She freezes instantly in my grasp, her whole body tensing under me.

“Mom?” I let go immediately and come to her side, examining her face. “Everything ok? Breakfast smells really good.” She turns to look at me with a face full of emotions, but none of them good. I see it, her fear, her disgust, her sadness. My heart feels heavy as her eyes look me over. “Mom, it’s ok, it’s still me,” I whisper. “I know I look a little different now, but I’m still me.”

“I know, Grace, it’s just going to take some getting used to,” she says quietly and turns back to the stove, tending to the wooden embers inside.

“Where’s Fallon?” I ask, trying not to feel rejected by my own mother. I look out the window, desperate for a distraction.

“Oh, I’m not sure. He was gone this morning, probably went out fishing.” Her voice is distant, as she continues to ignore me .

I stand near for a moment, but the conversation ends there. I can tell she doesn’t want me here. I decide to skip breakfast and go for a walk outside. I open the creaking door, the smell of damp earth fills my nostrils. I love the smells of the forest. I think I’ll take the back roads towards the market. I’ll go see Evie. Talking to her will cheer me up.

I shuffle my feet slowly through the grassy cliffs on the worn dirt path, massive holes litter the road, washed away by the torrents of rain. I admire the trees as I go. They tower above me, gentle giants with bark red and rough. They look as though they could touch the sky. The trees make a dark silhouette against the grey billowing clouds. I stop and stare up at the sky, reaching a hand into the air. My alabaster hand is a stark difference against the backdrop of stormy clouds. I stay still for a while and watch them blow through, different shades of grey lighting up the sky.

My stomach grumbles violently, interrupting my storm watching. I continue on my path with a sigh. It’s quiet as I walk, the crunch of my footsteps on rocks the only sound as I go. Small birds fly past me but don’t make a chirp. Not even the slightest gust of wind blows through the trees. The stillness only furthers my depression as it forces thoughts into my jumbled head.

I know Mom needs time to decompress from the many changes. She is in full health now but had made peace in her final moments. She thought she was going to die and then I healed her. I can’t help but be excited Mom is here with me again. It’s hard to accept she doesn’t want to be around me right now. Perhaps I am cursed like she said.

I approach the market, and the many sounds snap me out of my thoughts, stirring a fresh wave through me. Fishermen are yelling to their crew, bringing in fresh catches of the day. Boats are weaving through port with men yelling to passing ships. The birds overhead are singing their songs to whoever will listen; small melodies of chirps and songs of the sea by the gulls. Villagers mingle and barter at the stands while stalls yell out their wares, enticing passersby. My eyes look at every little thing, taking in the life around me. I catch a whiff of the food as I walk by the stalls and groan inwardly. Cured meats, meats on the grill, meats smoking over a fire, Gods. My stomach screams in response, seizing my muscles in anger.

On my walk to Evie’s, I’m so entranced by the food that I almost didn’t see him. Almost .

A tall man with the hair of fire stares at me, his blue eyes wide, mouth open like a stupid trout. I stop in my tracks, eliciting a swear from the gentleman behind me. Anger wells up inside me, begging for a violent resolution. He’s standing there with a meat skewer in one hand and an ale in the other. His ginger hair is windblown from being out at sea. Close friends are laughing around him, deep in conversation. They haven’t noticed the change in their mate.

I explode.

“Harry Pracker, you asshole! You are a no good, trash-eating, fish bitch!” I storm over to the murderer, my feet hitting each step with the force of a thousand waterfalls. My anger roiling inside me.

“You were dead,” Harry whispers in disbelief, taking a step back.

“Not anymore, bitch.” I throw a punch with all my might, landing it square on his nose. He stumbles back and yowls, dropping his food and ale. He grabs at his nose with large hands, blood pouring through the cracks of his pale fingers. My knuckles throb in pain, becoming more intense with each passing moment. I look down at it, and I can already see the making of a bruise. I try to move my fingers, but only a couple twitch. I groan, annoyed. I definitely broke it. His friends are all staring at us now, some of them laughing while others make lewd comments.

“Hey, uh, maybe—” A friend starts to intervene, taking a step toward us.

“Stay out of it or you’re next!” I point at him violently. Calloused hands go up in surrender as wide eyes communicate his yield.

“You broke my hand, Prickler .” I give him a hard kick in his thigh while he lies on the ground, bleeding. I steal his meat skewer off the ground in revenge. I stare at the crying red-haired baby before realizing a crowd has gathered. I panic before quickly leaving the scene as I recognize attention would be bad right now. I jog down the cobblestone and scarf down the meat skewer, continuing on the path to Evie’s. The tangy meat a victory prize as disbelief flows through me. I can’t believe Harry. I would turn him in, but then I’d have to explain how I’m still alive. Stupid asshole. That man is disgusting; I almost feel gross eating his food.

Almost.

I peer back to my hand, furrowing my brows as I twitch my fingers. I need to tape them. Fallon taught me how to punch properly, but all that training went over the boat when I saw him . I definitely just threw my fist in a rage without thinking of my form. I sigh as I walk past the fresh catches being sold at the stalls. The strong smell of fish overwhelms my nostrils as I admire the silver scales and red meat. Hopefully, Evie will have a first aid kit at her house. She runs a forge. I would expect her to have supplies for injuries. Yet, I am a little worried she won’t. She is so bullheaded, she probably thinks she doesn’t need them.

I get to Evie’s in a foul mood. She is already outside and working on her pieces. I watch her set out the tools she’s using for the day and go to gather water from a trough to bring over to the pot she uses to quench her metal. She’s walking with the wooden water bucket when she spots me.

The water bucket slips from her grasp and clanks to the dirty cobblestone, water splashes and races across, spreading the dirt in a wave. It spills into the cracks and reaches the tips of my worn leather boots. She stares at me, mouth open, like I’m a ghost. I might as well be one at this point.

“Grace?” she says shakily.

“Hi, Evie. Please don’t ask, I’m tired and it’s a long story. My hand is broken, do you have any tape?” I start to walk toward her, desperate to avoid the topic. I know she’s not going to let me off the hook though. Evie is strong and stubborn. I can see the indignation stirring in her eyes from my audacity. She storms me, wrapping me into a big hug, burying her face into my briny white hair.

“Grace Teller, you will tell me what happened to you, get inside right now.” Her voice is scalding as she lets me go and grabs my arm in an iron grip. Strong arms drag me inside her house, locking the door with a loud click.

“Tell. Me. Everything,” Evie demands.

“And that’s where I’m at right now. A ghost whose own mother is afraid of her and a brother who can’t stand to be near her. And then I punched Harry on the way here and broke my hand. Will you tape it now, please?” I finish telling Evie the story of what happened to me with a big sigh.

“Oh Gods, Grace,” she says. She’s still for a moment, pondering my words. After a moment, she grabs the tape and takes my hand gently. Brown eyes narrow as she touches my fingers gingerly. “Are you sure it’s broken, Grace? It looks fine to me.”

“What’re you talking about?” I start to move my hand, wiggling my fingers with ease. I am amazed to find that I can move it perfectly with no pain whatsoever. “That can’t be, I know I broke it on Harry’s face.”

“Did you ever think maybe it’s not just others you can heal?” Evie ponders.

Is she saying I healed myself? This cannot be happening. I healed my own broken bones. I healed my dying mother. What else can I do? Am I going to get reported for this? Will Evie report me? She seems way too calm about this.

“You seem to be taking this all well?” I ask hesitantly, scanning her face. Evie is my best friend, but would she turn me in?

“Grace, this is not the first time I’ve seen a God’s work. Gods may be forbidden in our kingdoms, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”

“You believe in the Gods?” I whisper with wide eyes.

“Grace, I let you take that damned fish to temple for years. I’ve told you stories about Gods late at night. You really think I don’t believe in them?”

“I guess—I never—I thought you were just being my friend, entertaining me.” I am entranced now. She really believes in the Gods. What does she mean when she says she’s seen God’s work? Why is my best friend so full of secrets? “Those stories, the ones about the Land of the Gods, do you really think they’re real?” I ask.

“If you were to ask my family, they would say yes. We believe in the Gods, Gracie,” she whispers, leaning in close, a smile on her lips.

I breathe heavily. “What should I do then? If Mene is real and gave me this power. What am I supposed to do with it? What path do I take?”

“Well, I don’t think we should forsake them so easily, Grace. I think your gift should be celebrated. Mene saved your life and gave you the gift of healing others, and I think that’s beautiful. That is not the work of a cursed vengeful God, this is our Moon Mother.”

“But what if I get caught healing?” I whisper, feeling frightened.

“You have a choice to make, Grace, and I cannot make it for you. I will tell you, though, Mene did not save your life and give you blessed gifts for you to forsake them. She saw something in you. She saw the girl coming to her temple every full moon and making a sacrifice and prayer, risking her life for her mother. She breathed you a new life and a chance to heal everyone, the same way you prayed to heal your mother. Now you can also answer prayers of lost souls.” Evie’s voice is calm as she talks to me.

We sit quietly together for a moment while her words sink in. I could save others and answer the prayers of people like me. I risked my life for my mother. Why can’t I do that for other mothers? Fathers? Children?

“What about the pain I had when I healed her? I felt like I was dying. I felt so weak, and there was so much hurting.” I remember the searing agony in my heart and the weakness I got throughout my body. It was as if my very soul was being cleaved from my body.

Evie furrows her brows. “I was thinking about that too. I think you only have a small fraction of her healing powers. You have limitations.”

“What happens if I go past those limitations?” My voice barely a whisper.

“I don’t think we want to find out, Grace. I don’t think Mene will grant you life twice,” she whispers back to me.

We stare at each other in silence for a moment, both of us lost in our thoughts.

“Thank you, Evie.” I get up and hug her. She embraces me fully and warmly, bending down to reach me.

“Also, you missed my birthday,” she snarks.

“Evie! Oh Gods, I can’t believe I missed it! We have to have a do-over!” I shout.

She laughs heartily and hugs me tightly. “Gracie, we can have as many birthdays as you want, just please don’t die again.”

“I need to go talk to Fallon first. I need to tell him I want to try again. I want to help people,” I state firmly. I let go of her with a goodbye and leave her house. I shut her solid oak door with a heavy thud. I start walking down the cobblestone path, my shoes making echoes that are lost into the market. I feel light after my conversation with Evie. She believes I can do good things with my new abilities. Perhaps I can make my new life worth something.

I’m lost in my thoughts as the sky grows dark. Night rolls in and heavy clouds make their presence known. There is a boom of thunder coming from above and mist is starting to fall from the sky, tickling my face with cold kisses. Lanterns are being lit across the market, creating a hazy glow down the path. They’re strung across from the tops of stalls to posts along the water’s edge. I hear a familiar voice as I’m walking past a stall. I turn my head, and I see him.

Carter .

He’s dressed fine in a thick black coat at a stall looking for flowers, his mousy brown hair parted perfectly. He picks up a bouquet of red roses, examining them closely and smelling their scent. Carter must have heard I’m alive, and he’s getting me flowers. My heart leaps out of my chest. He’s going to marry me! I begin to go to him. I run lightly, my feet echoing off the cobblestone.

“Carter!” My voice is lost in the sounds of the market.

I manage to get a little closer before I see a pretty young woman wearing a beautiful emerald dress come up to him and kiss him on the cheek. I stop abruptly, my heart sinking to my feet as my gut jumps to my throat. I can’t tear my gaze away. They smile at each other warmly, and he gives her the bouquet of flowers. She shrieks happily, bringing the crimson petals to her delicate face. My breath catches as I watch the woman with my flowers. They start to walk in my direction, but I can’t move, I’m stuck in a nightmare. The pretty woman says something to him, and he laughs, his handsome smile penetrating my soul. He used to laugh like that with me.

We would meet at our tree in the woods, and he’d bring me flowers. Sometimes he brought me sweets. We would laugh together and make jokes. He would tell me his dreams and ambitions for his father’s shipping company. We would make love on the soft grass on the forest floor. We were in love. He glances my way, his chocolate eyes catching mine. His smile drops instantly as his steps falter. A new face of disbelief dashes across his features before I see anger swell in his eyes, but it’s only for a split moment. His head whips back to his partner, plastering a new smile on his face as they stroll right past me, arm in arm. As if I’m still the ghost everybody has forgotten. I hear his warm laugh echoing off in the distance.

I can’t move. I’m frozen in shock, or in sadness, I do not know. My heart has dropped out of my body. He must have married that girl. I was only dead for three weeks and he married her. He said he loved me. It only took three weeks to get over me? Is that my worth? Rage starts to fill my heart as my muscles tense. Recognition of what had happened to me starts to set in as I face reality.

They had killed me. His father and Harry, they killed me! And they didn’t even care! They dumped my still-warm body into the frigid ocean and moved on. Darkness fills me through every pore. My soul has morphed into something tarry and black. How dare they. Why would I risk my life healing people like them, like this village? These people would surely turn me in for just a praise of their lord .

Fuck these people. I’m healing no one.

My limbs are heavy as I sludge back to my house. It starts to rain on me, large cold droplets soaking my body, but I welcome the freezing rain. The cold feels like home.