Black Lily

1. shadows and sweetgrass

Every day Tedros would play with the nymphs, and every night he would fall asleep beside them, facing the stars. He had never imagined anything different; he didn't need to. Everytime the stars lost their sheen, and he found himself looking towards the stubbly blades of grass growing beneath his bare feet, his nymphs would draw his head back to the stars.

Chaddick would often hold foraging competitions between himself, Tedros, and the other nymphs. Kiko and Yara, the nymphs sweeter than even the blackberries in the glade, would always pair up, hand in hand, and look for mushrooms together. It was cute, Tedros supposed, but he always seemed to win. One time he "only" found one mushroom, but none of the other nymphs could find anything that day. The nymphs knew he could just grow his own — Tedros being a god himself — but they always let him win. Tedros never said anything about it because he didn't want to hurt their feelings. He did live an idyllic life, and it would be ungrateful of him to ask for anything more. But maybe he wanted more. Maybe he just needed a push. Or, rather, a pull.

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Mortals always strummed melancholy tunes once spring turned to fall. The leaves died and decayed, and the wind grew shrill with cold. But what did they sing about before autumn existed? What then?

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Tedros dragged his hand along the rough tree as he circled around, looking for mushrooms. Another of Chaddick's games that he couldn't say no to. His pale chiton reached below his feet and therefore trailed behind him, glided against the ground. Tedros enjoyed the warm summer's grass beneath his feet until suddenly he didn't. In fact, the ground felt quite frostbitten.

The young god glanced down to see the end of a dark spot against him. The tree's shadow, he thought, of course. He did a double take. The shadow definitely did not look like a tree. Pinning his eyes to the shadow, Tedros followed its trail, adamant to know what lay at the end of it. Perhaps a large mushroom, he thought aimlessly. His feet grew colder and colder with each passing step, and the nymphs felt a million miles away. And then the shadow ended. Tedros bumped immediately into a towering, gangly tree. But if that's a tree, Tedros thought, then why is it staring at him?

"EEP!" Tedros screeched, throwing himself as far away from the being as possible. The being, who was looking a lot more like a woman now, stared back equally frightened. The luscious grass quickly turned into lifeless dirt, and Tedros stood above cold ground once more.

"If you're planning on attacking me, you probably should have brought a sword," the woman mused. Tedros looked at her in shock. "Though," she continued slowly, "I don't imagine you could even wield a sword." The woman awaited his response, but Tedros refused to say anything. He stared at the blackened ground, the cold stare of the woman, and her implications of violence. His heart began to pound in his chest, pounding to the beat of a warship's drum, and his eyes darted from the woman's piercing brown eyes to her long shadow to her open sketchbook, filled with harsh charcoal sketches of otherwise innocent flowers. Without another word, he took off back towards the nymphs. The woman bowed her head in remorse and went back to her sketchbook.

Tedros ran frantically through the forest, leaves that once passed peacefully overhead now thwacking him as he pushed forwards. The tree's bark-laden knots looked menacingly at him, as if they were purposely spreading their branches to rake against his face and scratch at his ankles. He ran until he felt like a mortal gasping for one last breath before being pulled under. Needless to say, the nymphs stared in shock as a forest debris and dirt covered Tedros emerged from the forest.

"Eat one of those mushrooms from your basket?" Chaddick asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," Tedros responded uneasily.