“Your heart gives you away,” the Devourer tells me. She turns around to face me. “It’s like a warning bell the way it beats so loud. So scared. I’ll gladly rip it out for you. Save you the trouble it’ll give you down the line.”
“Funny,” I say, pushing myself up. “I was going to say the same thing about your mouth.”
I pull on the anger and fear I’ve felt all my life. I pull on the hope that always feels like it’s slipping away. My magic surges through me, fills me with a power stronger than ever before. I blast the Devourer in her stomach. She deflects it with a wave of her hand, but I catch the worry that sparks in her red eyes.
I find myself smiling because I put that worry there. I’m not running.
Unlike so many times before, I call on my power willingly. It’s an instinct I can no longer ignore. I’m a wild thing, shooting sparks from my fingers. My throat burns from screaming as the Devourer slaps me with the force of her power. It stings cold all over, and I fall and freeze. I shudder as my magic warms me, my muscles seizing as they thaw.
My vision is filled with red. The Devourer stands over me. Black wisps trail at the ends of her long fingernails.
“You’re strong,” she whispers in my ear. “But I’m stronger.”
I flip to the side, narrowly missing her foot to my face. I jump for the silver handle hiding in the blades of grass. I wrap my magic around the mace until it looks like a weapon made of lightning. I swing it at her head. The Devourer’s face snaps to the side. Her hand goes to her mouth, where a thin line of scarlet blood runs down her chin.
She touches it, holds out her fingers to examine the red droplets. Is that fear I see in her eyes?
A sinister laugh makes me jump. Agosto crawls on his elbows toward us. One of his eyes is swollen shut. I can’t tell where all the blood is coming from, and then I see the hole in his head where one of his horns has been ripped out.
“You are weakening,” Agosto says. “How long since you’ve fed, Xara?” Zah-rah.
“I don’t answer to a mortal’s name.”
“Gods don’t bleed,” I say.
The Devourer turns her rage on Agosto. He won’t survive a second round. I can already feel my muscles cramping from the recoil, but I try to ignore the pain and stand between them. My power pulses at the center of my palms, ready to strike.
The Devourer hesitates, then tilts her face toward the light that comes from the sun and moon. What she sees seems to please her. She places her bloody finger to her lip and smiles a cruel smile.
“The difference between you and me, Alejandra, is that I’ve lived a long, long time.”
“That’s not the only difference,” I say.
“It’s my turn to shape the galaxies. And you’re so focused on mourning your lot that you don’t see how insignificant you are in the end. Don’t worry. You will beg me to end your pain soon enough.”
She conjures a great, black cloud. I run toward her, screaming at the top of my lungs as I blast my power at her. It booms like thunder and pierces a hole through her cloud.
She’s gone.
I release the magic I’ve built up into the sky, and I relish knowing that I drew first blood.
26
She is the light in the hopeless places.
She is the sky when the night blazes.
—Rezo de La Estrella, Lady of Hope and All the World’s Brightness
My mother used to pray to La Estrella, the daughter of La Mama and El Papa who birthed all the stars in all the galaxies. For a little while, after my dad’s disappearance, my mom erected an altar for her. She bought a statue of a woman with skin like the night sky, eyes silver like stars, and a blue dress draped around her body. She bought fruits and candles and a starling bird in a cage. It took up an entire wall in the kitchen and none of us were allowed to touch it.
But then the candles burned, and the bird got sick, and the food rotted, and one morning, we woke up and the starling was dead. That was the day my mother lost hope and donated the statue of La Estrella to someone else that needed it.
Here, in the Meadow del Sol, as the adas emerge from their hiding places, as the Faun King kneels before me, I collapse. The brightening sky still sparkles with fading stars, and so I pray to La Estrella.
“Forgive me,” Agosto tells me, crawling toward me. He takes my hand in his. His shackles drag behind him. He can’t stand up, and for the first time, I notice the terrible angle of his broken leg.
I take a deep breath and get on my knees, fighting the recoil that wants to crash over me. I dig my left hand into the dirt and feel for the pulse of the land. I take energy from it, let it filter through me and into Agosto’s wound. The gash closes and the blood dries. The swelling around his eye decreases, and before I can move to his ankle, he pulls me into a tight embrace. He’s so big, so muscular that I’m surprised at how gentle his touch is.
“Forgive me,” he repeats.
I shake my head. It’s not that I’m not forgiving him. It’s that I can’t speak right now. My power is on autopilot, searching for his broken bones. I hiss when I hear the snap in his ankle. Then comes Rodriga. The adas have made a bed of flowers for her. There’s a gash in her side, but it isn’t fatal. Her hand has been torn off. I shut my eyes. So much blood, I think. There’s always so much blood.
Blood is life, Nova said.
I let out a shaky breath and heal her. For a long time, the salamander girl stares at the stump where her hand should be.
“You came back,” she says. “Even after everything.”
“Yeah, even after you threw that wine at me. It’s a good thing I’m already filthy.”
Rodriga laughs, then winces in pain.
There’s a noise off to the edge of the meadow.
“It’s just us,” Nova says, walking in with Rishi.
“Thanks for joining us,” I say.
“I feel like I’ve been hit with a sledgehammer,” Nova says. Then, when he sees Rodriga’s wound, his face blanks.
“How does your foot taste?” Rishi asks him, heading straight to the center of the meadow where I’m surrounded by the adas.
When I turn around, there are more of them, all chained to the trees that create the meadow ring.
Nova walks silently behind Rishi. “What happened?”
“While you were sleeping off your drunk?” I stand, and suddenly all the adas stand too. I take a step closer toward Nova, and they follow.
“That’s normal,” Rishi says.
“Not fair, Alex,” Nova says. “I didn’t know what their food would do to us. We’re in Los Lagos, not their fairy realm.”
I don’t know why I’m picking a fight with him, especially now.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. I turn to Agosto. “What do you know about the Devourer? You called her by her human name.”
“There is much to tell, encantrix. Perhaps we should wait until you are…better?”
I don’t know what he’s talking about until the recoil slams into me. My knees buckle, and I swear my head is splitting open. Rishi lunges for me, and I lean all of my weight on her.
“No.” I shake my head. “Now.”
“Very well.” Agosto raises his hands and the ground trembles. Grass and flowers grow thick and twist into a tall chair. Agosto motions for me to sit.
“Do you know why the creature feeds?”
“Because it’s hungry?” Nova says darkly.
Agosto looks him up and down. His lip curls, but he composes himself. “Because the need for power is endless. You feel it too. Your power is free in the meadow.”
“Does the meadow do something to us? Does it make our power grow?” I wrap my hands around the roots of my chair. My magic connects with the essence in these living things, and it calms my nerves.
Agosto shakes his head. “No, but the meadow allows yo
u to put away other worries long enough to let your magic come forward. Look at how you bested Xara.”
“Who’s Xara?” Rishi asks.
“The Devourer’s real name,” I say.
“Long ago, that was her human name,” Agosto says. “She was just a bruja then, banished here by the Deos for a crime we’ll never know. She simply appeared. Some, bewitched by her beauty, pledged allegiance to her. I admit, I was one of them. Others staked their claim on their own lands and shunned her. The Bone Valle used to be the Valle Azul, a sect of brujas and brujos that dedicated their lives to the ancient ways lived there and in the mountains. They saw the Devourer as an intruder. The more land she possessed, the more the tribes defied her. The witches were the ones who planned to kill her. One of their seers saw the threat. But they did not act in time. Overnight, the sky was red and the earth was scorched. The Valle Azul became a desert, their bodies left in heaps.
“She claimed the heart of the land as her fortress and raised the labyrinth around the Tree of Souls. You see, the tree feeds the land. Without the life of the tree, the land cannot be replenished.”
“What happened to you guys?”
“I disobeyed her.” There’s a quiet shudder that passes through the adas. “We were one of the first to welcome her, but the more land she burned and sucked the life out of, the more I feared. We allied with the avianas and remaining tribes. We lost. The birds stay in their caves. The starlarks hide beneath the earth. As for us, she wouldn’t let us get away. There are entire generations who will never know what it’s like to roam Los Lagos freely. They’ll never know what it’s like to sleep under the shade of the Forest of Lights or run through the Valle Azul. Yes, Xara spared us. But our lives are a punishment every day and every night.”
“Why didn’t you let her take me?” I ask. “Your job was to hold me here until she arrived, wasn’t it?”
Agosto looks down. He tilts back and forth, like he’s adjusting to the absence of one horn.
“Because you remind me of someone,” he says.
“Who?” I press.
“An Alta Bruja of old. Her name was Kristiñe. She wanted to return Los Lagos to the way it was before Xara started feeding off the Tree of Souls.”
“Hold on,” Rishi says. “Why don’t your Deos stop her? If they created this land, can’t they just undo what she’s done?”
There’s a snicker. “Do your gods grant easy wishes?” Rodriga asks.
“The last time I checked, they were busy.” Rishi’s cheeks are pink with embarrassment. “But something this evil has to catch someone’s attention.”
“It’s gotten her attention,” Rodriga says, pointing to me. “The Devourer sends her demons to search for great power because she can’t do it for herself. She found you. You wear the symbol of El Papa on your chain. The Deos chose you for this.”
“This was just a gift from my father. Not the Deos.” I shake my head. “I’ve never been the bravest or best bruja in my community. I’m just a girl.”
“Don’t say that,” Rishi says. “Look at everything you’ve done.”
“Encantrix,” Agosto says, trying to get my attention to focus. “To free your family, you must release them from the tree. The tree is the key to Xara’s defeat. You have the power and the freedom to challenge her the way none of us have before, and perhaps once you save your family, you will free Los Lagos as well.”
I press my palm to my chest. Feel my heart racing. If my family were with me, they’d say that this is my destiny. A few days ago, I would’ve brushed off the thought that fate weaves the strings of life together. Today, I’m one step closer to making amends for my betrayal. The Devourer wants to hurt me, but I can return that favor. It’s more than just the Tree of Souls. Her destruction reaches this meadow and the avianas. Where will she go when there’s nothing left to destroy?
I hold out my hand, and Agosto takes it. I hold his dark stare with my own, and for the first time since we arrived, I feel like I’m on the right path.
I walk with him to the center of the meadow, where the banquet tree table is now empty. Since I broke the glamour, the source of the chains is in plain sight. There’s a spike staked deep into the wood.
“I’ve tried, encantrix,” Agosto says, tugging on the metal. “I try every day.”
“But I haven’t.” I wave my hand over the wood. The traces of the Devourer’s power writhe against my own.
I rub my hands together, and a ball of blue energy burns between my palms. I pull power from the soles of my feet, the pit of my stomach, and my fast-beating heart. I picture the Devourer’s face, hidden under a mask of death, and I let my power go. The table splinters into a thousand bits, and blue flame rains down. A sharp pain stabs my heart, and for a moment, I can feel the Devourer’s wrath.
Agosto struggles to breathe. He looks down at his hands in wonder. The manacles come undone, and the chains fall to the ground. The adas weep from joy. They embrace each other. They kiss my hands and feet. They run past the circle of trees and shout at the top of their lungs.
“Now,” I tell Agosto, “show me the path to the labyrinth.”
27
I believe the Deos fight as fiercely as they love.
—Philomeno Constancio Cruz, Book of Cantos
Before we go, the adas surround me. They want to touch my hair and hands and feet. They cry and pinch themselves to make sure they aren’t dreaming.
“Bless you,” an older ada tells me. Her hair is silver as starlight and her dark skin is wrinkled like a raisin. “Bless you a thousand times, encantrix.”
“You are the visage of La Tormenta, wife of El Cielo,” another tells me.
I want to pull away, to tell them that I’m still far away from winning, that this is too much. But their hope is pure, and I’ve let myself go without it for too long.
Then it’s time to go, and I wave my final good-bye. I fight the exhaustion in my bones. Mama Juanita used to tell us the story of La Vieja Tollussa, who put herself in a hundred-year sleep to outlive her enemies. But when she woke, her body had kept aging and ached too much to move. She used the last of her power to turn herself into a caterpillar because her journey was still not complete. As we leave the Meadow del Sol and take a path east, I carry that thought with me.
Agosto leads the way, followed by Rishi and Nova. I bring up the rear in case we have any surprise attacks. Though from what Agosto says, this place is deserted. We cut through dry weeds and patches of scorched woods. It’s colder here than in the other places we’ve traveled. Thorny vines, like black barbwire, wrap around the base of trees. Agosto calls this place the Wastelands del Este, what once was the Forest of Lights. The ground here is dry ash littered with tiny, gray pebbles, every tree an unmarked grave.
“Why are we going east?” Nova asks. He’s been moody and suspicious of everything the Meadowkin have said since I freed them. Granted, he has his reasons. I ate fruit and drank the wine, but it wasn’t nearly as much as Nova and Rishi. It made me forget where I needed to be. It made Nova think that his marks were healing. He walks with a semipermanent frown to my left while Rishi is unusually quiet to my right.
Agosto looks over his shoulder at Nova. “Because Kristiñe hid the path to Las Peñas. I do not have the power to find it, but I believe the encantrix can. I will take you to the Alta Bruja’s temple.”
“You’ve been in that meadow a long time,” Nova says. “Sure you remember which way to go?”
The faun doesn’t answer. As we walk by, he lets his hands touch the burned tree trunks until the palms of his hands are as black as Nova’s.
“Long ago,” Agosto says, “the trees were majestic and white as the moon. When the fires came, they consumed everything. It was a living flame, out for blood.”
“What are these symbols?” I ask, tracing a rune in the bark.
Agosto hobbles over to me. “It is th
e mark of the starlarks. They lived in the Forests of Lights before.”
“It’s hard to imagine anything living here,” Rishi says.
“All lands change for the worse when the people do not fight back. Now there is nothing left.”
“But if the Devourer drains the land dry,” Rishi says, “what’ll she do for power?”
“Move on to the next realm,” Agosto says.
A dark thought grips my heart. It is my turn to shape the galaxies. “If she had enough power, could the Devourer leave Los Lagos?”
Agosto nods.
From here, the scenery starts to take shape. The trees give way to a steep downward slope covered in tall, yellow grass. The land undulates in rolling, purple hills that stretch into the flat lands of the horizon. Polished stones jut out of the ground, like the crooked teeth of the earth. Off in the distance, there’s a ring of enormous pillars that remind me of Stonehenge. The Alta Bruja’s temple. There’s so much grass around the stone pillars that it looks as if the earth has begun to swallow it up.
The sky is a powdery blue with swirls of purple clouds. The breeze carries the scent of lavender and wildflowers. It’s amazing that the same land that is home to the River Luxaria and the Wastelands can also be home to this. I wonder, if we return home after being gone for so long, will it look different to me?
But one look at the worry on Agosto’s face takes my smile away. We get closer to the edge of the forest where we reach a dead end.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The land,” he says. “It’s different.”
“Are you sure we didn’t go the wrong way?”
Rishi bites her bottom lip. “You said it’s been a while since you left the meadow. Maybe we did go the wrong way.”
I grab the map from Nova’s back pocket. It’s been folded and unfolded so many times, the edges are starting to fray. I find where we are on the map. The edge of the Wastelands, west of Laguna Roja. North of us should be Las Peñas, and beyond that, the heart of the land—the labyrinth. But it isn’t.
Labyrinth Lost Page 17