[Crystal Two: Little Butterfly]

  Maya's Perspective

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  I didn’t want to leave Val all alone in the infirmary like that. Not that I expected her to just… allow me to leave, but gods. It wasn’t fair to her. None of it was her fault. Maybe I could’ve made it work, at least until her wound healed. The guilt was indescribable. She probably wouldn’t speak to her father again.

  I’d gone back to the house one last time to rest and collect a lantern and some meager rations in a small knapsack. Thorin allowed me at least that much in his guilt. I didn’t say a word to him.

  The following morning, I bestrode Cupcake and descended the mountain. I didn’t exactly know where Mnemosyne was, but I knew it lay roughly to the south. I had no intention of having Marcel ‘find me,’ wherever I ended up; but it was either I take his crystals and guidance, or perish. A part of me desperately wanted to turn around and say, “Just kidding, still here!” But was that really what anyone wanted? Even though I wasn’t exactly sure how to move forward, I knew one thing: I wasn’t going back.

  Cupcake was a smooth rider, so long as there were no obstacles in her path. Winding down the mountain was exhilarating, but she had a… propensity for going through obstacles, rather than around them. She often forgot she had a very squishy, very human rider, and she was incredibly difficult to control when we weren’t going full steam ahead.

  As we rode, I came to two realizations. Firstly, in the past two days, I’d vomited more than I’d eaten. The Forest was massive; my rations couldn’t possibly sustain me for the whole journey, even if Mnemosyne lay just beyond its edge. Cupcake could possibly hunt for me, but… then what? I wasn’t willing, nor able, to gut an animal, much less the cute rodents Cupcake tended to… victimize. Even if I were, snow blanketed the ground everywhere. I couldn’t possibly light a fire and cook in these conditions.

  My second realization was that I had absolutely no sense of direction. If we got turned around, we’d be thoroughly screwed. But that was a problem with an easy solution. I stopped and dismounted Cupcake, rummaging in my pockets for Marcel’s green crystal. It reflected the Forest in its face.

  “Lay,” I commanded. She huffed and obeyed while I leaned against her body. Marcel had said the crystals he’d given me would ‘guide’ me. Whether to death or salvation, I would soon find out.

  DOOON!

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  One month ago

  I wonder if Maya has found my present yet, I thought, trudging through the snowy brush. Reminiscent chocolates pale in comparison to the Cosmaran ones. I hoped she still likes them, though. Shivering in the blistering cold, I wished I could’ve just stayed in Snowcrest, even for a little longer. Maya had begged me to stay, as she always did back when she was knee-high, and even now that she was almost fully grown. I wished, prayed to the gods even, that one day I’d be able to tell her why the answer never changed. In all my battles, of all my wounds and scars, no pain could compare to seeing her dejected, defeated eyes. Every. Single. Time.

  But the Syndicate was yet more merciless.

  The morning sun warmed my left side, just enough so that the weather was barely tolerable as I painstakingly progressed through the Forest. I’d have chosen any other place on earth to bring Maya if Arthen hadn’t insisted on Snowcrest’s safety. He was right.

  Snowcrest Mountain was like a peaceful cliff, steadfastly standing against Reminisce’s tumultuous waves. Except for the Syndicate. Sometimes, I appreciated having frequent missions. They kept my mind off… things. Perhaps I reveled in the violence. Perhaps I fell in love with the control I felt, blood-soaked as it was. Most times, though, I wished they would just let me be with my sister. Every time I returned, she was like a different person. Bittersweet. I loved watching her grow up, but hated not being able to experience it fully. I tried my best to fill in the gaps, but we both knew it wasn’t enough. I could feel the distance between us growing; but maybe that was a good thing. If she were caught in the crossfire of my escapades…

  Perhaps I could retire? I thought. Then what? Settle down? Start a family? With who? A Reminiscent? Reminiscent ko, I thought, bitterly. Evocative ni. I didn’t hate Reminisce or its people, but I never belonged here. Mingling with Reminiscents felt… unnatural. Like betraying my own identity. But still… seeing Maya’s eyes light up as she shared tales of my travels with her friends… it was worth it. Even though it was all lies.

  Focus on the job, Marcel, I told myself, pushing through the thicket. Hillcrest Citadel needed to defend its superweapon and research until a caravan came to relocate them. A bit of an odd job for me. They usually sent me on battlefield rampages, not covert defense missions. Hillcrest already had soldiers of its own, but why hire one hundred soldiers when you could hire one Syndicate merc? Regular grunts were utterly powerless against us.

  Against me.

  Power… I thought wistfully. If I’d had enough of it, I wouldn’t have had to rely on the Syndicate. If I’d had enough of it, I could’ve made it out of Cosmara with Mother, Father, and Maya. I could’ve…

  I could’ve. If I’d had enough. But I hadn’t.

  Never. Again.

  I was approaching the edge of the Forest now, entering bandit country. Some of the Syndicate’s lowest-ranking members camped out here. It was the optimal place, after all: just outside the range of Snowcrest Hollow, in compliance with the pact, and just close enough to the main road to rob and kill innocent Reminiscent merchants. Despicable. At least I only killed those who had signed up to die. Soldiers and the like. These bandits, though, were as indiscriminate as the Dream-Eaters. I heard nearby rustling as I pressed on. The amateurs were surely watching, but they wouldn’t dare approach the Tiger’s Fang; only the elite among the Syndicate could bear an emblem name; they had a better chance against Achilles himself. Even some of Reminisce’s frontline platoons had flee-on-sight orders against me—what chance did lowly bandits have? The same chance Maya and I had had back then. Zero. They would need to soak in the Styx for a thousand years to face me.

  After hours of painstaking travel, the trees and brush thickened rapidly, signaling I was nearing the Forest’s edge. When Maya and I first migrated here, Arthen had explained that the Reminiscent locals knew nothing of Snowcrest Hollow, nor Northstar Hollow; only of ‘disappearances’ around the Forest. Some attributed the disappearances to seductive nymphs, others to ravenous beasts or demons. Either way, loggers dared not venture inside. For Snowcrestians, crossing bandit country to harvest timber was essentially a death sentence. So the Forest grew wild, especially near its borders.

  Finally, at long last the road! Freedom from tanglebush that had ensnared every step, from twigs that had snatched at my garments! I was officially in Reminisce. The dirt path, kissed by the bright afternoon sun, ran tangentially to the Forest. To the east lay several minor villages, but westward the great Mnemosyne awaited.

  Perhaps Maya would enjoy an excursion to the city—but I wouldn’t dare expose her to such danger. A city like Mnemosyne is as grand as it is perilous. Yes, if Snowcrest was truly the safest place for her, then that was where she would stay.

  I made sure the late afternoon sun warmed my face as I trekked down the dusty path. It would lead me directly to the city, as it had done countless times before. All roads lead to Mnemosyne, as the saying goes.

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  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  My suspended senses returned as my psyche exited the crystal. I’m cold, I listlessly thought, feeling tears streaming down my face, and my back is… wet? Hadn’t I been laying on Cupcake?

  I slowly opened my eyes and sat up, dazed, the crystal slipping from my forehead into my lap. Sure enough, there was a melted, muddy, Cupcake-and-Maya-sized patch in the otherwise unadulterated snow. But, uh… where was she, exactly?

  Munchmunchmunchmunchmunch.

  “Cupcake!” I screamed, loud enough to be heard by the gods on Olympos.

  She turned toward me, food staining her maw—she had been gorging herself on my rations! How did she even get into my knapsack?

  Woof! she said.

  I was finished. I should’ve just begged to stay in the village. I should’ve fought for my own innocence! It was my fault. I wasn’t just not justifying myself; I was running from my problems, and the worst part was the grass wasn’t even greener here! I didn’t know where I was or—

  Keep moving, Marcel said.

  “What?” I spluttered aloud. I must’ve been hearing thing—but now would be a terrible time to lose my wits.

  Keep moving, Marcel repeated.

  I whirled around and I… saw him. Casually leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed, frustratingly unburdened by my predicament.

  “You put me in this situation,” I stomped over to him, “and have the animal audacity to—!?”

  I rocketed my open palm toward his face, the effort causing me to blink.

  And he was gone.

  You’re rested. You’re—relatively—fed, he said. Don’t waste it. Keep moving.

  “Delusions and hallucinations,” I grumbled bitterly. I had been wrong to go to Hugo’s forge extracting the memory didn’t mitigate the symptoms, it only delayed them. And probably worsened them, like he said. Hallucinating about my brother, after all he had done, felt like yet another cruel injustice.

  But… the crystal.

  It guided my path, yes, but it was more than that. It was a confession. Hugo had been right: Marcel had been thinking of me all this time. More than that, everything he did, however twisted… it was all for me. He killed for me. He bled.

  But he was never… there.

  And he punished himself for it. And would continue to. He has his reasons, Hugo had said. Was this it, then? Joining the Syndicate and doing their bidding until he self-destructed into oblivion? Could I forgive him before then?

  The journey to Mnemosyne wasn’t just necessary for my survival, but for his. As long as we were apart, he was never going to stop destroying himself.

  “Okay, Cupcake,” I said. “You owe me.”

  ***

  DOOON!

  We rode for another hour before the toll of a rune ushered Cupcake’s sudden collapse. She nearly rolled over me, sending me crashing out of her saddle and onto the rugged, snowy Forest floor.

  I scrambled to my feet and rushed to her side. Her breaths were heavy and—

  Wait. Was she… snoring?

  Had she been tranquilized?

  I found an arrow embedded in her left hind leg—a runebolt, more accurately. Thankfully, the barbed tip was caught in her thick fur; it had penetrated just deep enough to activate and send her to sleep, but not enough to draw blood. A technique similar to what village huntsmen used; but all the way out here? At this time of night?

  “If you’re trying to be clandestine,” a masculine voice called from the woods, accompanied by crunching footsteps in the snow, “you’re making an awful lot of noise.”

  I said nothing. How dare this disembodied voice shoot my beloved Cupcake?

  I pulled my runeblade from my pocket and gripped it tightly.

  “You can’t fight me with that,” he taunted, emerging from the trees. He carried a sleek hunting bow. “You’re in Syndicate territory now. The pact is clear about Snowcrestian… deserters.”

  His voice was gravelly, like an acoustic equivalent of sandpaper. He wore a chest plate, helmet, and mask, all bearing Northstar’s insignia.

  A bandit.

  He slung his bow onto his back and drew a shortsword. I backstepped, spreading my arms protectively in front of Cupcake. Who knew what he planned? Marcel had thought bandits weaker than him, both morally and physically. But he had been trained to fight entire platoons.

  And I was just… me.

  The same thinking that made the Leopard pounce, Marcel’s voice echoed, will make this antelope submit.

  He had a point.

  “Syndicate territory?” I clenched my teeth, my aggravation fueling me. “Do you not see my skin? Do you not see these eyes? Who do you think I’m related to?”

  He flinched. Just slightly.

  “I didn’t get a good look at you from afar,” he said, inching back, suddenly sheepish. “But up close… you must be his sister.”

  “That’s right.” I stepped forward. “And contrary to your arrow sticking out of my pet, I’m feeling very patient right now.”

  I was bluffing. Inside, my aggravation was eroding, terror creeping in to replace it. Almost as much terror as when the Snow Leopard had attacked.

  But now you have a weapon you lacked back then, Marcel echoed. Control.

  I jabbed the runeblade into a nearby tree, if only to appear more threatening.

  DOOON!

  BZAAP!

  Electricity surged through the trunk, charring it and nearly igniting the bark. The sound roused Cupcake, who began growling and prowling toward the stranger. She shook herself, fur crackling with electric potential.

  “Or perhaps,” I said, letting my words trail off, “you’d like to experience firsthand where this rune comes from…”

  If his sword so much as touched Cupcake, the shock would be fatal.

  “My apologies, miss,” the bandit stammered, his bravado utterly gone. “I didn’t realize you were affiliated with such a distinguished member. Please, what may I call you?”

  I paused. For once, I didn’t have to be… me. He didn’t know me. I could be anyone. The thought was liberating.

  “Deo,” I decided. Goddess of grain and fertility. Not very threatening by itself, but it allowed me to continue with: “Now kneel, before I send you to meet my brother.”

  “Anything but that!”

  He sheathed his sword, unhooked the scabbard from his belt, and dropped to his knees, offering it to me.

  Watching him crumble before me filled me with deep satisfaction—

  And that scared me.

  And I hated needing Marcel’s protection. Twelve years later, and I was still cowering behind him.

  The bandit’s sword shivered in front of me. I looked at Cupcake, her fur still crackling like thunder clouds, then back at the bandit. I could take it… I thought. But… then what?

  Oya, finish him, Marcel said. I gritted my teeth, trying to drown him out, but he persisted. Hesitate if you want to die.

  It was tempting. I could take his sword and send him across the Styx for trying to hurt me. To him, I wasn’t Maya. I was Deo, named after a goddess. What could be more divine than deciding between life and death?

  But I wasn’t a goddess. I was… me. I couldn’t even kill insects. Who did I think I was, contemplating murder?

  “Keep it,” I decided. “Just… get out of my sight.”

  He scrambled to his feet and scurried back into the trees. The moment he vanished, I collapsed onto my hands and knees. Snow bit my skin. I found myself gasping—how long had I been holding my breath? I stayed there for several minutes before Cupcake yawned and nosed my shoulder. I shifted to scratch her ears, the electricity snapping across my skin like a whip.

  “I’ll survive,” I said more to convince myself than anything. “But we need to keep moving.”

  Marcel’s voice slithered into my head as I hauled myself upright.

  You could’ve killed him. You could have made him gut himself at your feet. Why didn’t you?

  “Because I didn’t want to,” I replied curtly, almost slapping myself for speaking aloud. “Snowcrestians don’t soak themselves in blood.”

  He does. You mustn’t count on others’ mercy.

  “Mercy!?” I shouted, apoplectic. “You think—”

  Crnch.

  Footfalls from the Forest, far too many to belong to a single person, drowned out my outburst.

  “Deo, was it?” A new voice, smooth as spider silk, drifted from the shadows. Cupcake growled, muscles tense. A bandit, much more confident than the first, strode into my torchlight, followed by at least a dozen comrades.

  “Egbami…” I muttered. There was no way I could slick-talk my way out of this one. The adrenaline that had propped me up vanished. My fraudulent confidence was stripped away.

  There was no Deo.

  I saw the original bandit among the crowd, grinning ear-to-ear behind his mask. Of course, I thought bitterly.

  You could have avoided this if you had just embraced… bloodshed, Marcel said. I gritted my teeth.

  The confident bandit—the leader, I decided—stepped forward.

  RUN!!! Marcel shrieked. It wasn’t just a command; it resonated deep within my primal instincts.

  But just before my reflexes caught up, the bandit leader spoke.

  “Allow us to extend our deepest… apologies, Ms. Deo,” he said.

  “A-apologies?” I stuttered, stunned, confused. I inspected each bandit. Some were masked, some were armored, but I didn’t see any weapons. Was I… safe?

  “Yes, of course.” He bowed respectfully, and the others followed suit. “My subordinate should have been more careful.”

  “Yes, he should have.” I straightened my back, if only to put up a front.

  “The Syndicate honors its own, Ms. Deo,” he continued. Meaning Marcel, who’d probably carve his name into their bones. “If you’d allow it, we’ll escort you to our outpost. Warm food, dry clothes. Consider it a… token of goodwill.”

  The thought was tempting, but abhorrent. In trying to separate myself from my brother, I ended up cloaking myself in his influence twice in one day.

  More than that, these were Syndicate. I’d spent twelve years learning to hate these people. Now I was considering mingling with them? Bedding with them?

  It’s a trap, Marcel urged. He could be right, but what was the alternative? I had been under-equipped from the start, and, even if I hadn’t been, I was exhausted. Cupcake had to be exhausted too. And the leader’s eyes flickered from me to her. He was afraid. They were afraid. How far would they bend for the Tiger’s Fang?

  How far would…I?

  “Fine,” I decided. “But Cupcake rides inside. And I expect my own quarters.”

  “A-absolutely!” the leader stammered. “Anything for the Tiger’s Fang and his family.”

  “Hmph.” Goddesses don’t need anything from anyone… but they do accept offerings.

  And just like that, I allowed them to lead me deeper into the Forest.

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