Lifeblood

Chapter 30

Mary shivered, the sun not doing much other than grating her eyes. In the sky above, a single wisp of cloud stood out against the blue, a tuft floating in a pond.

Thud.

The Cursed's foot landed beside her. It was reptilian with two wide toes and a spur on its heel, much like a troll would have.

Mary staggered to her feet, cornered but unflinching. The Cursed loomed over her, lichen covering half its face and hooded eyelids concealing its irises like fungus.

She was out of all feathers but one.

Mary coaxed that spark in her chest, pushing past her exhaustion. With a nudge it consumed her body, replacing stone-like skin with her Jothian form. The earth wobbled beneath her. She quickly steadied herself, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin.

There was a reason the Cursed had never attacked Rillin in the centuries since Queen Ril retreated to the west—all the way up until the Blue Bloodbath, that was.

The Cursed were afraid of Bluebloods.

Sweat trickled down her back as the Cursed stood unmoving, expressionless. Mary glued her eyes to its face, searching for a reaction, but the map-like patterns of lichen made it unreadable.

Oh gods, please be scared. I'm supposed to be terrifying.

It lifted an arm and Mary all but bolted then and there. But no blow came, and she cracked open an eye to see the Cursed holding something out to her.

A dagger—dwarfed by the size of its hand.

The blade was stained purple-ish, and under the grime, a green tint reflected the sun. Mary stared, dumbfounded. She reached for it, fingers hovering unsurely above. The hilt was surprisingly warm, or perhaps her hands were still freezing from the pool. Her mouth moved as if to thank the Cursed, but the words felt wrong, and nothing came out.

A rumble vibrated from the Cursed, similar to what Mary guessed a mudslide might sound like. It turned, one foot thudding much louder than the other, and shuffled away.

Mary held still for some time after it left, her gaze finally dropping to the dagger. She held it under the waterfall to clean off her and Irati's blood, careful not to make skin contact with the Veryss iron. The wound had healed, but its agony was fresh in her mind.

White flashed above. Mary thought it was the spray from the waterfall at first, but then a pale-haired Beast dropped beside her.

"There is a Cursed nearby; we should leave—"

Mary back-handed the Beast. "Don't speak to me," she spat, stalking to the fissure.

The Beast rubbed its jaw but wasn't dissuaded. "Do not head back! It's not safe yet."

Instead of trying to make the leap to higher ground, Mary wedged into the gap and slid to the bottom where an easier path led in the forest's direction. There she could shake off any bandits, but the Beast might be another story.

"Let's not go this way."

Mary slashed at the hand that came near her shoulder, missing by a hair. The Beast retracted—but only enough to not get stabbed.

She fought her way out of a patch of low-growing bushes, twigs catching her already torn and dirty clothes. The presence behind her was almost as clingy. Mary zoned in to every step the Beast made, the slightest change in pace spiking her anxiety levels.

The path widened as if in response to her shoulders bumping the sides, enough to afford a step left or right. A tumble of debris led up to the end of the fissure and Mary wasted no time in scaling. She pulled an arm over the top. The foot of the mountain expanded before her, trees inviting. And before the line—