Mara leaned out the door of the ruined farmhouse, waving.
Calling back, I said, "Yeah, just another unlucky soul…"
Running up on bare feet, she stopped and looked at my bloody shirt. "Bella! You're hurt! Let me look at it. I may not look like it, but I'm quite learned in the medical field."
She leaned over, and I let her examine it.
Maybe she can fix that itching feeling…
Furrowing her brows, she asked, "Is this an old wound or something? There isn't even a scar here…"
She stood up before I could reply and looked me in the eyes. As I gazed back into hers, an uncomfortable feeling hitched in my stomach.
I looked away quickly and said, "No… I was shot with a bolt from its crossbow. So maybe I just heal fast or something. I came out here to find water and found that thing instead…"
She glanced between the corpse and me. "Let's go find some water, then…"
Nervously, she followed me, looking around as if more undead might jump out. We quickly found an old well, covered in weeds and brush.
Peering into it, we saw water shimmering at the bottom. Dropping the bucket down, we hauled it back up. It was clear and clean, so we took turns gulping desperately.
Mara smiled at me, water dripping down her face, and my eyes were drawn to her horns.
I asked her, "Mara, why do you have horns? I've never seen anyone with them before, so… why?"
She looked embarrassed, crossing her legs as we sat on the well's wall. Reaching up, she touched them. "I do have horns, don't I… I forget sometimes. It makes sense when you think about it. I'm a dragonkin… A druid in my family long ago mingled with a dragon, and they managed to produce an egg. The result was a dragonkin… so eventually, it was passed down to me."
My brow furrowed in slight disbelief.
Dragons… Seriously?
Looking at the forest across from us, I foolishly mumbled, "How… bizarre."
Mara turned pink, standing up in front of me. "That's not fair! I've been bullied for the way I look every day of my life. I can't help who my family consorted with! What about you, huh? You're certainly not human with your freakish strength and those creepy eyes!"
A spike of regret stabbed me, and I reached up to my eyes. "My eyes are creepy?"
I felt a rush of embarrassment and fear.
She glared at me. "Human eyes don't glow like that, Bella. Plus, you have this weird blur that shows up over your head. It's been getting darker and darker! It's terrifying…"
She slowly realized she had hurt me as tears began to soak my bandages.
I looked into the bucket I was holding. Staring back at me was a scary visage of bandages, with two glowing red eyes, strands of blood-soaked, grimy hair poking through, and a faint black blur over my head.
"No… I'm human… Right? What else could I be?"
Dropping the bucket, I ran into the farmhouse to the mirror in our room. Mara chased me, pleading for me to wait.
Gazing into the mirror, my fractured appearance set in: two glowing red eyes with rings of molten gold. A disc above my head, devouring the light around it. With my bandages covering my face, soaked in blood and gore, I looked like a monster.
Sobs tapered to ragged breaths, tears cooling on my cheeks.
Mara hovered nearby, her violet eyes wide with regret, fingers twisting in the hem of her makeshift black dress. "Bella, I didn't mean to hurt you," she said softly, stepping closer. "It's just… it's true. You're not human, and neither am I."
I lifted my gaze to hers, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "Whatever I am, I don't remember… It scares me because I don't know."
I looked into the mirror again.
Even my passenger understood the shock. Did he think I was human too?
Mara approached and wrapped her arms around me in a one-sided hug, a tentative smile breaking through. "We are who we are. We can't change what we are, but we can control who we are. If you're curious, I know someone who would know what you are…"
Her arms felt warm, her form delicate around me. Instinctively, I brushed her off. Something about that made me nervous. A small pit of panic dripped in. It was enough to momentarily override my terror and make my mind go blank.
Looking down at my feet, a small surge of gratitude washed over me.
"Thank you, Mara. I'm going to go out and think. When I come back, we can go see your mystery friend… I just need some time."
Mara dipped her head quietly. "Okay. Also, she isn't my friend… She was my mentor of sorts. What about food? I heard your stomach growling in your sleep last night, you know."
"I'm on it. I'm pretty sure there's a lake nearby," I replied, hefting the glaive and stepping into the hall. Black mist swirled at my feet, seeping from under the charred woman's door like ink in water. Mara followed but didn't react, her eyes sliding past it as if it were mere shadow.
Outside, the crisp morning air bit at my skin, carrying the faint rot of the undead corpse. I pointed it out to her, the bloated form sprawled in the grass. "Do me a favor. Can you bury that thing or burn it? Take its crossbow and bolts too. They could be useful."
She groaned, nose wrinkling. "Okay… I'm only doing this as an apology, though. I really am sorry, Bella."
I nodded in acknowledgment, but I was still steadying my breaths.
I turned west, toward the lake I'd glimpsed when I'd first stumbled into this forsaken place. Glaive in hand, I used it as a walking stick, the ancient leather grip smooth under my palm, the claw at the end of the shaft tapping rhythmically against the earth.
The pines loomed tall and whispering, their needles carpeting a badly beaten dirt path that wound over a dry stream bed, stones crunching under my boots.
A crow cawed harshly from a branch overhead, its black wings slicing the air as a gust of wind rustled the trees, carrying the sharp scent of decay.
Walking until my legs began aching faintly, I slashed at weeds and bushes with Nyx to practice. It had been silent since the fight with that undead. Was she mad at me, or sleeping?
The lake emerged down a slight hill: a small, glassy expanse reflecting the mid-morning clouds above, ringed by a packed dirt road.
Walking to the shore, littered with old pine needles and smooth stones, the water lapped gently at the edges.
I scooped up a flat stone and skipped it across the surface with an exaggerated, girlish flick of the wrist, my arm loose, hips swaying for effect.
Those instincts judged me, a silent scoff echoing in my thoughts.
I frowned, muttering to the ripples, "Be quiet. It's my life, not yours. Stick to haunting my dreams. I'll stick to actually living, thank you very much."
The water settled, distorting my reflection: a face still wrapped in bandages, hair poking out in random tufts.
Why hadn't I removed them yet? My nerves jolted a little. I had never seen this face beneath the bandages. Was I scared? Was I actually some grotesque monster? I didn't feel like it, really…
I kicked the rocks at my feet, scattering them across the lake's surface.
"Fine. I'll do it. Why am I even scared…"
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, beginning to unravel the bandages. Thoughts of scales, hideous burns, or scars made my heart sink, and I stopped halfway.
I can do this.
I took another deep breath and held it as I quickly unraveled the rest. It all fell off, and I willed my eyes open. My heart spiked with shock.
A face looked back at me, one etched with fear and surprise: a straight, short nose upturned in a regal tilt; full, pink lips; and smooth, porcelain-white skin. My eyes were vivid red, ringed with beautiful gold. Hair fell past my eyes, golden and shoulder-length, framing the face with slight waves.
I… am beautiful?
Staring down, I said it aloud. "I'm not a monster. I'm beautiful… No scales. No burns. Only me."
Laughing, the thought crossed my mind: Beautiful, sure. Not quite me, though… This was her. Who I was before. Not me… Not Bella.
Grabbing the bandages, I soaked them. Tying my shoulder-length hair into a loose tail, I left the framing strands free, then drew my knife, spinning it once on my palm for show.
Grasping the bangs, I measured with trembling fingers and sliced, angling for a natural fall rather than blunt edges. It took time, each cut deliberate, the knife's edge whispering through the strands. I checked the reflection: better, but not enough. Not quite Bella.
More, I thought, as my resolve hardened. I'm beautiful, but I can be more.
I trimmed the rest to chin length, shaping the sides and back, the top forming soft waves. A stubborn curl sprang up on my crown, defiant, but I let it stay.
The style reframed my face, softening the edges, and I smiled confidently at the water. This was enough. This felt more like me…
I sat on the shore, knees drawn up, watching the loose strands of hair drift across the water.
Footsteps crunched nearby. A ripple of aggression crashed into me as I instinctively shot a hand to Nyx. I could feel its pull.
<
An old man ambled along the lake's edge: beard and mustache thick and white against wrinkled skin, his bald pate gleaming in the sun.
He wore a faded fisherman's outfit with a patched vest and sturdy boots. He carried a weathered bag slung over one shoulder, with a small stool dangling from it and a fishing pole in his other hand.
He settled beside me without a word, his blue eyes distant, as if I were part of the landscape.
"That's rather brave of you, old man. Don't you know this place is dangerous?" I warned him, Nyx at the ready. He completely ignored me.
Unpacking his bag, he laid out his stool, set out a tackle box, and assembled his pole, humming a low, rhythmic hymn under his breath, like a melody made of memories.
Memories of waves and waiting.
Tying a lure to the line with gnarled fingers, he tested the cast with a whip of the rod, the motion fluid despite his age. He added a metal sinker, adjusted, and cast again, the line arcing gracefully into the water.
Propping the pole between rocks, he rummaged in his tackle box for walnuts, cracking them with his bare hands, the shells crunching sharply.
Disbelief bubbled up, and I felt that burning behind my eyes again. I broke the silence, my voice carrying further.
"Who are you? And why set up right next to me?"
He turned slowly, as if noticing me for the first time, his whistle-soft voice carrying an archaic lilt, words rolling like echoes from forgotten tales. "Oh, hail there, young lass. Didst not spy thee anon."
A faint whistle threaded his speech, perhaps from gaps in his teeth.
"I be here for this spot be prime; the fish seem keen to nibble, and I hath a day free of toil. The world hath wearied me of late, thou knowest?"
I nodded, staring at my hands. I could almost see the blood on them still.
He glanced too, brow furrowing. "Ah, thou hast wielded the spade much as of late, hast thou? Aye, 'tis been a grim year for such. Too many cross the veil ere their time."
His face sagged with sorrow, and he pulled a sandwich from his box, biting into it with a crunch, his eyes fixed on the lake's serene surface.
"So, child," he continued after a swallow, "what brings thee here? Not a fitting haunt for a comely maid, 'specially in these shadowed days."
He scanned the trees warily, as if expecting them to stir with malice.
I sighed, the truth spilling out. I felt I could trust this stranger. His presence was oddly comforting. "I don't know who I am, or what I am. If I'm some sort of bloodthirsty monster or just a confused girl. So I came here to think."
He eyed me sidelong, unmoving, chewing thoughtfully on his sandwich. My stomach growled fiercely, a low rumble that echoed across the water.
He chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Ha, that be likely the sole monstrous bit o' thee." His smile deepened, crinkling his eyes. "Aye, thou art no mere mortal, but neither a fiend. Thou seemeth something elder… rare as starlight. Not aged in years, mind, but in lineage."
I nodded, gazing at my reflection again. He tossed a rock into the lake, ripples spreading outward, each wave distorting the image until my eyes gleamed molten gold, reddish and fierce. A faint black mass, a halo, shimmered above my head like a crown of shadow.
"Think naught ill of it, girl," he murmured. "Thou art fair, with beauty within as without. Thou mayest bear a dark vein, yet 'tis not what defines thee. As water mirrors the world…" He paused, watching the ripples. "So must the soul echo its surrounds. Ne'er let it devour thee, but don the gloom as mail…"
A tug on his line snapped his focus. "Oh! A bite!" He seized the pole, yanking it back with practiced grace. "Stand clear, lass, and behold the master at labor."
The rod bent sharply as he reeled, the fish thrashing in silver flashes, water splashing in arcs. Yet he hauled it in effortlessly, a large specimen slapping against the shore. With a swift club from a wooden mallet, he stilled it, holding it aloft with a triumphant grin.
"All in this realm must be battled for," he said, laughter booming. "This one fell for yielding its strife and lacking wit to best me." He extended the fish, its scales glistening wetly. "Here, child, for thy troubles. I know I hath intruded on thy solitude, but 'twas needful. Thou deservest far more, aye?"
I took the slimy, scaly weight into my arms, its cool body twitching faintly. He gathered his pack but left the stool, pole, and tackle box, ambling off as he whistled that hymn into the fading light, a receding wave.
"Wait!" I called, turning. "You left your…"
But he was gone, vanished like mist. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows, and I stood alone with the fish as proof. Glancing back, his items lay overgrown with weeds and grass, rusted and decayed as if abandoned for years.
Tears streamed down my face, unbidden, hot and salty. He had been so kind…