I never thought myself to be a killer.

  I suppose if we had never crashed here, I would have died without having the stains of blood on my hands and soul.

  I am not so lucky now, though.

  It was an hour into fishing the next morning when I realized Royce had gone rigid. He stared off at that same damned spot he had been staring at before. A small inlet cove I couldn’t quite see. It didn’t matter how loud I called for him. It didn’t even matter when I gathered up enough courage to meet him out in the deeper water and shake him.

  My husband did not return to me. Instead, he started walking. The spear dropped from his hands, threatening to be lost in the unforgiving waters that were chest-high on my much smaller frame.

  I struggled against the tide after him, hanging onto that spear desperately. In truth, I was just afraid of it as I was whatever was luring Royce towards that small inlet cove.

  Thankfully, it was at least pulling him back towards the shallow ground. If he had gone over that sandbar… we both may have been lost to the ocean.

  When I saw the thing that sang to my husband, I couldn’t help but scream. She was beautiful. Curling hair like tendrils of seaweed cascaded down her exposed back. Almost human features, but sharper, more jagged. Her skin was the color of seafoam, and where her legs should have been there was a gnashing, hooked tail in the shallow water where she waited. The hands that reached for my Royce were webbed and ended with hook-like claws.

  And he reached for her, too. Soaking wet at this point, stumbling through that water that must have been pushing him along while it held me back. It felt like the gap growing between us was neverending as he collapsed on the shore next to her.

  I watched in horror as she stopped singing and bared the jagged teeth like that of a shark. The trance she was using to lure my husband shattered. He had just enough time to raise an arm to try to defend herself before the jagged rows of teeth descended and latched onto him. And he screamed.

  Worse, he screamed for me. Not in pain, though his face contorted with it. He screamed for me to run.

  Blood darkened the water around them like a dark shadow threatening to swallow my husband whole.

  It was then I was sure the water was fighting against me. No matter how hard I struggled, I remained almost the exact same distance away from them. And her sea-colored eyes… they remained locked onto me as I cried out. Like she was gloating.

  I don’t know how I broke the spell the sea held on me, or if it was all just shock and adrenaline propelling me forward but making time stretch in unfathomable ways. I could only think to do one thing, and I don’t even remember thinking about doing it. My body moved on its own, like it knew what to do. With the spear in my hands, I plunged that barbed end into her chest with every bit of strength I had, and ripped it back out.

  It was horrendous.

  Her features were grotesquely too human as she wailed gurgled death thralls. I dragged my Royce away from her as she spasmed and died, coming to realize most of his wounds were not horribly deep. I fashioned a tourniquet from the legs of my pants for his forearm, where she had seemed to take her first and deepest bite.

  After we both calmed enough to ensure his wounds were not immediately fatal, we began to make our way back to our campsite. I remember worrying aloud something about infection, but Royce seemed to feel certain the saltwater could stave off the worst of it.

  I remember reading the legends of sirens- these half-women, half-fish creatures that lured men to their deaths by song- when I was in college. Of course, these were supposed to be folklore passed between sailors hundreds of years ago. And yet… that is the only thing that comes to mind when I think back on the wicked creature that attempted to take my husband from me. I could not hear her fatal song, but the way he had swayed for days before…

  Royce has not commented on what happened, other than to thank me for saving him. I don’t know if he wishes to spare me from recounting it, or if he is ashamed of me for my barbarity. Or perhaps of himself, for being lured away from me, though it is hardly his fault if that was the creature of legend.

  I am starting to understand why Royce never shared much about his time during deployment. In truth, I had never wanted to know much. I knew he had seen unspeakable horrors… and had always been grateful for my naivety.

  Royce is resting now. We cleaned the wounds to the best of our abilities and he fell into a fitful slumber soon after. He should have a full recovery in a few days time. I find myself envying how easy rest comes to him again.

  Even after everything that had happened today, we did not speak of how impossible the earlier events surely must have been. Those creatures were spoken of when the world was a vast, undiscovered place and every new horizon brought the fear of the unknown.

  So how could one be here now? Even if they had existed centuries ago, how could one still be here? How has no one lived to confirm their existence?

  And if they are real, and worse, they are here… that begs the question of what else waits for us on this island?

  As the days drag on, I find it harder to have hope anyone will discover our S.O.S. before our bodies waste away to bones.

  The forest is looking more and more like our only option if we wish to survive.

  I don’t think either of us will be returning to the ocean.

  ***

  It has been a few days since I have updated. In truth, there has not been much to notate.

  Royce is feeling much better, though still has a pretty limited range of motion with his arm. The wounds have healed nicely, like he said they would.

  He was weak, but I had no food and not much water to offer him to rebuild his strength. I did still shift through the ankle-deep water for anything I could find, but it was like all life had departed. I tried to always make sure there was a full pot of boiling water so there could be as much water as possible for him to drink.

  I almost broke and attempted to stir-fry those unknown mushrooms in the forest. Part of me wondered if they would be where they were last time, but still I worried about the potentially lethal side effects they could risk. My stomach ached relentlessly, nonetheless.

  Royce was a saint, as always. He never complained of hunger. He urged me to drink water, as well. I probably would have exhausted myself trying to fend for us had he not been more rational. He reminded me that digestion just consumes more water, and our biggest risk is still dehydration. We were hungry, yes, but we could survive a long time with little to no food. As soon as he was better…

  I knew what was supposed to come next. As soon as he was better, we would abandon the beach altogether and head into the forest. It was our only reasonable move.

  And yet neither of us could actually say it. We both remembered the horrible feeling like the forest was playing games with us. I, for one, feared that this time, the forest may not be so keen to grant us exodus.

  When we depart for the forest, we will take everything with us. I am not willing to lose what little we have.

  I am so tired. It has grown hard to sleep through the gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach.

  I do not wish to die. Not after being given this second opportunity- why make us young again just to kill us slowly?

  Or have we already died?

  Is this perdition? Or hell?

  I know not. Whatever it is, I am grateful to have my Royce next to my side. I fear I may have already succumbed to madness if not for him.

  It seems a different lifetime to think back on, but I can distantly remember the echoes of my son asking me hypothetical question after question.

  If you were stuck on a desert island with anyone, who would you pick?

  He found my answer incredibly dull. He had rattled off some famous singer he fancied at the time, saying the point of the exercise was to be creative.

  In truth, there was no one I would rather have with me than Royce. I trusted him more than I trusted myself.

  So I will trust him when he says we should journey into that twisted forest.

  But I will not be the one to suggest the idea.

  ***

  My suspicions about the forest keeping us captive proved to be true. When Royce had recovered enough he felt he wouldn’t be a hindrance anymore, we packed our makeshift pot and purifier into the seat-covers we had been using as sheets and Royce slung them over his good shoulder.

  This left me with the spear in my hands.

  I had done what I could to wash it free of most of the blood. Other than in a few newly rusted spots, it was almost like it never happened. Almost.

  I think Royce saw my look of trepidation when he handed it to me. But I know he is still injured. He could not fight at full capacity right now. I had to pull myself together for the sake of both of our survival.

  We left the beach without looking back.

  The first time Royce spotted wildlife, I thought I might cry.

  We crouched as he pointed, eyes squinting into the foliage far above our heads. I saw them, too, but they were unlike any squirrels I had come to know.

  They were large, hopping back and forth from branch to branch. Reddish brown fur with white underbellies. And there were so many, the treetops bowing under the weight of them. Another thought occurred to us, I think at the exact same moment.

  These squirrels seemed to be fleeing. Moving as fast as they could.

  I don’t think either of us intended on staying and finding out what was causing them to run like that. Royce pulled me along after him and we ran, too.

  He tried to run the direction we had come from. Of course, we never felt the familiarity of the sand under our shoes again. The forest continued to twist around us as we fled.

  I was dizzy and breathless by the time that we stopped running. My hunger pains burned so badly now I was sure we would die soon. I desperately gasped for breath, struggling not to collapse, as Royce called my name. And then he said it again, much more intense, and I finally looked up.

  Perched on a branch, a small spear of their own raised and pointed at us, was… a very small person? He looked human, if not for standing less than a foot tall. His limbs were too long to be human, too, lithe and narrow. His ears were pointed and curled at the end. What looked to be the pelt of a squirrel wrapped around his body. He was staring at us, a wild expression on his face. Before I could collect my thoughts, much less my breath, he was shouting. “Outsiders!”

  And we were descended upon.

  Leaves fell as trees snapped back into place under the weight of maybe a dozen or so of these creatures falling into a semi-circle around us, all with spears or bows of their own, still pointed at us. They all seemed to share a deep olive-complexion, and most were adorned in other small animal furs.

  Royce still looked as incredulous as I felt, and I realized that I had to be the one speaking for us. “Wait!” I cried, holding the twisted metal in my hands off to the side to show I had no intention of using it. “We’re lost, and hurt, and starving. We don’t mean any harm. Please, just let us pass.”

  They seemed to regard us for several moments before one stepped forward. Light hair was braided down her back. She was not wearing animal furs. Instead, her clothing seemed to be made of twisted vines and leaves in the colors of autumn. She did not seem to be carrying a weapon of her own. It wasn’t us she spoke to, but she finally broke the silence. “I told you they would be here. I told you they had come.”

  “Have you any violence in your heart?” Another, seemingly older one asked, and the question took me by surprise. He was thickly built, much stouter than the others, and brandished a much better crafted spear of his own.

  Almost immediately, the face of that wretched siren appeared in my head as she died. The feeling of plunging that spear into her, and ripping it back out. The sound. The pink stain of the blood that wouldn’t wash off my hands no matter how hard I scrubbed in the saltwater.

  But it was Royce that spoke for us this time. He shook his head, answering without hesitation. “No.”

  This seemed to satisfy them. They lowered their weapons, a few whispering between themselves while looking back at us.

  The older one and the unarmed woman stepped towards us. It was the woman who spoke. “My apologies if we startled you. One cannot be too careful these days. My name is Rupee. We are gnomes that live not far from here. If you would like, we can aid you.”

  Gnomes?

  I know I must have seemed in shock. I felt my mouth hanging slack but could conjure forth no words. Somehow, Royce was nodding like this was a normal conversation. “We would greatly appreciate that.” He said with a smile as he introduced us.

  “Wait!” I finally managed as they turned to lead us away. “You said you knew we would be here? How?”

  Rupee smiled knowingly. “All in due time, ma’am. Let us get you both a belly full of food and a cup full of drink, and I shall answer your questions.”

  It was at that promise that I could not argue, and we followed after these quick and nimble gnomes.

  I don’t know what I expected, or how I was capable of expecting much of anything when everything I had come to know was quickly being unraveled. I felt my breath catch in my throat as they slowed, and one called for us to duck our heads.

  It was only Royce that almost walked face-first into one of their bridges, though. Thankfully, it was constructed a bit higher than my head, or I may have, too. I know what was distracting him- there were about half a dozen rabbits roasting over a large, open fire-pit. We could smell them before we saw them, and both of our paces had quickened in excitement. A few gnomes tended to them, turning them over occasionally , though the rabbits were slightly bigger than they were.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  He did manage to duck out of the way just in time, narrowly avoiding the intricate weaving of vines that stretched from one hollow in a tree to another. There were a little more than a dozen of these bridges that connected the surrounding trees in a haphazard cleared circle.

  Rupee motioned towards a patch of knotted roots for us to sit on, and she climbed onto a stump next to us so we could talk a little easier. One of the other hunters that had made the trip with us was dragging over a waterskin.

  I saw Royce’s face when he saw it. I recognized it instantly, and I know he did, too. It was military grade, but old. Very old. All I could manage to say, though, was “Don’t chug,” as he graciously accepted and raised it to his parched, split lips. He took a few agonizing sips before he forced himself to break away and passed it to me without looking.

  It was the freshest water I have ever tasted. Or maybe that’s what it is like when you are not far from dying of dehydration. I struggled not to do the very thing I had enough mind to warn my husband from doing, but managed to stop myself with a gasp.

  “The rabbits should be done soon. My apologies- I knew you were coming- I just did not know exactly when. I attempted to have everything arranged for the two of you.” Rupee was saying as I handed the waterskin back to Royce.

  “You keep saying that- but how could you know we were coming? It was a plane accident- we crashed-” I found myself questioning aloud.

  Rupee giggled a little, trying to hide it with the palm of her hand. “Your arrival has been long foretold.”

  The ringing of a bell sounded, and I watched as dozens of these gnomes poured out of the hollows of the trees. Most of them regarded us with wide eyes, pointing and whispering to those closest to them. A few of the children looked star-struck, and a few of the elders looked moved to tears.

  The rabbits were being divided now. Royce and I were handed 3 whole rabbits and roasted carrots. I don’t think either of us could think to ask a single question while we ate- or more accurately, devoured.

  I can’t tell, again, if these gnomes were the best chefs I had ever had the privilege of dining with, or if I was truly ravenously hungry. But our meal was divine. Though something my mother had made during extremely scarce times, I had never been fond of rabbit meat. This, however, was tender, moist, and delicious. The carrots were sweet, almost honeyed.

  I think I cried. I struggled not to lick my fingers clean of the juices as I carnally tore into the meat in a way that I would have found abhorrent under different circumstances.

  Rupee allowed us to eat patiently, waiting until we had stuffed ourselves to begin. “You have questions.” She finally stated as I dropped the last of my rabbit’s bone onto the pile that had grown under our feet.

  It was Royce who spoke first, though, I think to the surprise of us both. “Where are we?” He asked the question so intently. Like it was a simple question. Like this was a simple place we would be able to nod along with once Rupee told us and begin planning our train ride back home.

  She tilted her head slightly, like she found that question amusing. “Our land has been known by many different names.” A small smile touched her lips as she watched the cogs in my husband’s brain grind. “Currently, I believe it to be known as Kilgory, but most of us do not claim the current king as our leader and still refer to it as Amboria.”

  He blinked, I’m sure his brain wracking for every country he could think of and trying to map it out in his head.

  She did not let him suffer in silence for long. “We do not exist on any of your maps. We what is beyond the horizon- the mirage of a coastline scurvied sailors imagine. Few humans know of our existence.”

  I absorbed these words numbly. It was something I had been slowly coming to all along- when a plane goes down, search parties come looking for the wreckage, the black box, the survivors. No one ever came. No hint of a search. No hint of life. The dark shapes under the water, the sirens, the small shadows in the woods, the gnomes sitting before us the size of my arm- we were a very, very far place from home.

  I almost expected this news to deflate Royce. He had asked so passionately that it had almost slipped my mind he was the one with the initial reservations about returning home. That was not the case, though. This revelation seemed to give him a renewed strength.

  “You knew we were coming. Do you know about us, then? Truly? The changes we’ve undergone?” He continued fervently.

  I noticed there were a few gnomes who had gathered to be within ear-shot of us, all stalling or pretending to be busy to overhear our conversation. From the way Rupee had laughed, I’m almost sure none of them have ever even seen a human before. I saw some of the younger ones comparing their limb sizes against ours to their friends who watched with wide eyes.

  Rupee was nodding when I looked back at her, but a saddened look had taken up her eyes. “I am aware. This is not a place of want, I am sorry to say. Your greatest wishes have not been answered. This land needs you, much like you needed it. And it needs you in your peak physical health. Both of you would have perished had the land not intervened.” She spoke woefully.

  “Were there any survivors?” I heard my voice before I even realized I was speaking. The words just fell out of me.

  I already knew before she answered, but she solemnly shook her head.

  My heart squeezed in my chest. I thought of the other passengers- the mother with the fussy infant a few rows over, the soldier still in uniform being sent home-

  “Why us?” Again, the words surprised myself. Royce looked at me, baffled, as well, like you shouldn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth.

  They seemed to surprise Rupee, too. Her eyes widened for a moment, taking a good look at both of us. “I cannot say. The land chooses. There is always a purpose, though.”

  “And ours? What is our purpose here?” Royce pressed. His voice sounded hoarse.

  Rupee shook her head again. “I am blessed with gifts of premonitions, but the future is always being written and unwritten. I knew you were coming. I have hope for what you will do, but ultimately… I have no knowledge of what comes next.”

  “What is it that you want us to do?” He continued.

  Rupee stood, clasping her hands together. “For now, I want the two of you to rest. You are safe here. We can talk again in the morning.”

  I found she made a compelling argument. With my belly full for the first time in days, and the burn in the back of my throat quenched, I found myself sore and exhausted.

  A bed of moss had been prepared for us. Royce pulled me to him immediately, and I don’t even remember getting comfortable. For the first time in so long, much longer than we have been stranded here, sleep welcomed me with open arms.

  How could I have even known to be suspicious? How are you to fight falling asleep when it is a stranger to you?

  My nightmares were garish. Dark, and twisted, and vile.

  I stood in a warped throne room, overgrown with vines that penetrated the stone and forced their way upward, reaching and grasping. The room was alight with a red glow, seemingly pulsating.

  A man on a throne watched me closely, bathed in the dim light. His head was adorned with a thin circlet of a crown. He regarded me with dark eyes, hatred burning in them though I was sure I had never seen him before. “So,” he finally spoke, the air seeming to vibrate around him. “You’ve come to kill me?”

  I tried to speak, but my mouth was gagged. A small noise escaped me as I realized. I tried to reach to free it and found my hands were chained in front of me to an iron rod in the ground, keeping them rigid in front of me.

  He laughed at my realization of being trapped, still watching me. “You’re not the first to try.” He continued. “What makes you different from the last dozen that have stood in that very spot?” He stood, rising off the throne in a fluid motion. Dark robes billowed around blackened armor as he strode forward towards me. “What makes you special?”

  I felt a panic rise the closer he got, though his stroll was leisurely. He was in no rush as he crossed the expanse of the great room. However much terror I felt surging in me, though, I would not show. I did not twist and pull against my shackles. I knew it to be in vain.

  “Why don’t I just end this all before it begins?” He finally stood above me, looking down with utter contempt. He took my face in his hands, studying me. “I could kill you now, you know. You do know that, don’t you?” A mania had overtaken him when he spoke again. I could see it behind his eyes- those unsettling eyes that I didn’t want to look at no matter how much I couldn’t look away.

  I would not die a coward. I wouldn’t give anyone that satisfaction. I did not respond, just stared back at him levelly while his grip on me tightened painfully. My lack of response seemed to infuriate him even more.

  His fingertips dug into the skin of my cheeks painfully. “Or maybe,” he breathed, sounding crazed. I could feel it against the side of my face. “I’ll just kill your husband. You wouldn’t get very far without him, huh?”

  If he thought the mention of harm befalling my husband would break me emotionally, then he had no idea who he was really dealing with. I felt a hot anger bubbling in my stomach at the threat. I could deal with the threats of a man on a power-trip, but no one threatened my Royce.

  He was close enough for me to bring my knee up sharply into him, slamming my head forward and into his nose as he bent forward in shock and pain.

  I have a hard time recollecting the exact order of what happened next. I remember pain, and the thought that you weren’t supposed to feel any pain in dreams, though somewhere I had already accepted that this wasn’t a dream. I remember his face, bloodied and twisted with anger, as his hands tightened around my throat. I remember the burning in my lungs, the feeling like I would never breathe again, the skin of his face peeling off beneath my fingernails but it wasn’t enough to even make him flinch-

  And then I remember being bathed in a white light. The feeling of warmth.

  I awoke in a panicked, cold sweat. Royce snored fitfully next to me as I sat up, desperately gasping in the cool night air. My hand raised to my throat, where I could feel soreness. I did not have time to react to the confirmation that my dream was not a dream.

  Rupee stood a few feet away, a somber expression on her face. I could see her in the flickering light of the small lantern she held, barely the size of a pipe. She dipped her head in what almost looked like an apology, and beckoned for me to follow after.

  I looked back towards my still slumbering husband, and decided I had too many questions to wake him right now. I followed her.

  “So, you’ve met him?” She asked me softly, offering a knotted root for me to sit on next to her, a little ways away from where the others slept. “The cruel king?”

  I nodded, my hand still touching my throat absentmindedly. “He looked human.” The words hurt to force out and I winced.

  “He used to be human, a very long time ago. The land favors humans. Only allows them to rule. ‘He who bears the crown, the land shall reflect back.’” She sighed wistfully. “The king has been driven to madness. The dangers and perils we now face are due to his paranoia and fears.”

  “He asked if I was going to try to kill him.” I managed hoarsely. “Said he could end ‘this whole thing’ before it ever began.”

  Rupee exhaled again, a pained expression tightening her features. “I had hoped to break this more delicately to you. The lands have chosen you to slay the cruel king and take up his crown.”

  “You mean Royce and I?” I pressed. “Isn’t that why both of us are here?”

  Her expression drew even tighter. She licked her lips nervously for a moment. “The lands have permitted your husband entrance, yes. That is incredibly rare. But you will be the one that saves us.” She insisted.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” I managed, feeling my heartbeat quickening in my chest. It made the pain in my throat worse. “I can’t- Royce was the soldier, I’m not-”

  “Prophecies are not something that can be argued with.” Rupee interrupted the beginning of my panicked stream of consciousness. Her voice was firm, definite. Like she had spent her lifetime believing in that. “The cruel king did not visit your husband in his slumber, did he? He visited the one he knew was the threat to the crown.”

  I felt my mouth snap closed, and could think of nothing to say. My head reeled in confusion as I tried to understand or make sense of anything that has happened to us since we arrived here. It was hard enough to understand without an additional prophecy and a very powerful enemy.

  “Generations have been praying for your arrival. My grandmother- she always wanted it to be within her lifetime. For her to see Amboria returned to its rightful state of peace and glory. She passed away six summers ago.” Her voice had grown rough, passionate. Borderline fanatic.

  “I am not the one you’ve all been waiting on.” I felt the words being crushed out of me- I couldn’t be. I was not special, or the chosen one of some prophecy. My luck was always run-of-the-mill when it wasn’t downright bad. I could maybe, just maybe, justify everything else we had been through.

  But the thought of me being special? Chosen? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  I saw the disappointed look fall on Rupee’s face.

  “I’m sorry, but you’ve got the wrong woman-” I started, but she was already speaking.

  “‘The woman with fire in her hair and heart will bring forth a new dawn for the land of desolation.

  She, with stars wrapped ‘round her shoulders, shall deliver us from our desperation.” She repeated from obvious memorization.

  I felt my rapidly-beating heart still for a moment. My mouth grew painfully dry as the weight of her words settled onto me. “How did-” I couldn’t speak.

  “How did I know about your birthmark?” Rupee produced a fabric of cloth that bore three stars, the one in the center raised higher than the ones on its left and right. Identical to the birthmark on my shoulder. “This was my great-great-grandmother’s, the one the prophecy was handed to. It has been our sign of rebellion, of hope, for many years. You have been destined for this for longer than you have been alive.” She insisted, pressing the cloth into my hand.

  If I had been standing, I’m sure I would have fallen over. I felt like collapsing even as I remained seated on those knotted roots. Instead, I gripped the small piece of cloth with a dazed expression on my face. “Is- is Royce in the prophecy at all?” I finally managed to ask through the fog of confusion.

  She shook her head, once. In the flickering light, I couldn’t see her eyes. “Just you.”

  I saw her hesitate. I just couldn’t bring myself to press any further. Couldn’t stand the thought of her telling me he was destined to die.

  “And that light? What was that?” I pushed the thoughts away from my head.

  Her head tilted in quizzical curiosity. “What light?”

  I don’t know why, but her not knowing chilled me much more than if she had known. “The light in my dream. He was about to kill me, and it stopped him. It woke me up.”

  Her expression twisted in confusion as her head shook. “I do not know- I have never heard of anything like that.” She was thoughtful for a few moments. “Divine intervention?” She guessed.

  I stared at her blankly for a moment before she laughed at my disbelief. “Who do you think passes down the prophecies? Gives me visions? Lends power to the crown?” She continued to laugh as I’m sure my expression grew more and more incredulous. “I forget- humans no longer innately have magic anymore. You all lost it some time ago. Sorry for your loss,” She added that last part quickly, as if trying not to be offensive. “But it is still here. In the people and creatures that live here. Gods, too, if you know where to look.”

  I stood, abruptly. “I feel like my head is going to explode.” I commented weakly. “Is it safe for me to try to sleep again? Or can he come back?”

  She was still laughing to herself, but tucked it away for the moment. “Astral projection of that caliber has to be exhausting. Who knows if he is powerful enough to try again?” She shrugged her shoulders lightly.

  I stared for a moment, feeling like my eyes were going to pop right out of my skull. “I’m sorry, we’re guessing now?”

  “We have no way of knowing. Besides, if it was divine intervention, which is the only thing that makes sense to me, I doubt that he would be wanting to tangle with that. The gods of the land are ancient, and very rarely involve themselves with the crown. If they are inserting themselves directly, that means bad things for him. But there’s a reason they are still here- he is not powerful enough to get rid of them.” She spoke so casually, like we were discussing the latest sports game over the weekend. Not gods and monsters, and myself now somehow wrapped up in a mess.

  “That didn’t help my headache.” Was all I said before I retreated back to where Royce still sleeps next to me.

  I stared down at that damned cloth for a long time, trying to find some way to justify it. My mama had laughed about my birthmark, and because of its placement I had never been able to see it until Royce had drawn it for me after we were married. The same three stars he had drawn probably 40 years ago shimmered back up at me from my hands. There was no sane way I could rationalize it. There perhaps was just no sanity left.

  I had hoped penning some of this would shine some clarity or make something make sense. Alas, I find myself just as confused and incredulous as I have been for some time now. I am very aware that if I were to be reading across this journal, I would scoff at the fictional nonsense being spewed as fact.

  Perhaps that’s why Royce has seemed to understand everything so much quicker. To him, it only has to make sense to him and I. If we can comprehend it, no matter how unbelievable, it was just a fact. And how can you argue comprehension to the world around you?

  But here I am justifying myself to a reader who may never exist.

  I can no longer comprehend this for myself, my husband, and you- you unknowable, unobtainable vessel of your own truths and beliefs. I will not implore you to abandon them.

  For my own sanity, though, I think I am to abandon my own.

  Does it make sense for me to be a chosen king-slayer of long foretold prophecies in a land where everything was somehow wrong? No. But it is what I am being told. What I am to believe.

  When I am to wake, I shall not argue logic with my own eyes any longer. I will shed whatever premises I think I know like a snake sheds its skin. Embrace the absurdities this new world continues to provide.

  And though, as I lay here in the quiet, my mind keeps returning to one thing. The look on her face when I asked about Royce being in the prophecy.

  I will make one thing crystal clear. There is one truth I carry, the one truth that has spurned me forward every day for almost 50 years. I will do anything to protect my husband, and come hell or high water, he will be safe.

  No matter what I have to do, or who I have to become.