Chapter Text
It holds no merit that people believe I am The Plight. It does not matter that Vinelynn believes the rumours. It cannot be true. I cannot let it be true.
Because prophecy or not, I will not let it be true.
I married the prince to serve the kingdom and to rule it alongside a kind-hearted man. I cannot let it be my fault that Graena suffers. I cannot let Graena suffer at all. I have a duty to protect my people, and I will die before I am made into the curse that ends them.
I think of Vinelynn and the hurt in her eyes as she looked right at me and called me the thing that will kill my kingdom– my people and those that I love. She was hurt– and rightly so– by my betrayal, but to burden me with that insult was cruel, too.
I changed. I grew. I became a woman with responsibilities, instead of girl harbouring fantasies. I had to adapt to this scary new world. I had to think differently, act differently, be someone entirely new. I had to. For the sake of my sanity, and the protection of my people.
I had to put an end to the naïve girl who feared responsibility and obligations. I had to change my way of perceiving my life, not as a curse, but as a blessing. Many would kill to have the level of power and status I was given. I cannot take advantage of it. I cannot be weak.
Vinelynn accused me of changing. I hadn’t wanted to believe her, but she is right. She made it seem like such a horrid change, but I disagree. She would understand, if she were ever put in my position.
From age five and ten, I knew what my life would look life. I was trained and taught everything about the royal family and Prince Keteniam. I was told how to like the things he does, and I became someone entirely different during those lessons.
And afterward… there was Vinelynn. There to take me away to other worlds that we created. I could be who I wanted in those scenarios. But it was all lies and pretend, to make myself feel better about who I was forced to be.
Gullible. Selfish. I was a child who didn’t want to grow up. But now I see that I had to.
I grip onto the back of the seat, where Vinelynn had previously sat, before declaring me the villain. The fabric scrunches under my clenched fist and I make myself take in deep breaths. Steadying breaths. Calming.
When none of that stills the spinning room or the blurriness of tears that well in my eyes, I squeeze them tightly closed. I shut out the room and the memory of Vinelynn looking at me in disgust. I shut it all out as a tear rolls down my cheek.
A few more extensive breaths stop the shakiness in my legs.
No matter how hard I try to concentrate on breathing and pushing aside thoughts of Vinelynn and her criticisms, some flickers of memories still slip by.
“You are not the girl who promised we would never be parted…”
The frown that creased her brow. The look of disappointment.
“…I don’t know who you are.”
Her eyes sparkle with the tears that threaten to fall. As she spoke, she watched me. Crying as she waited for me to react. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t think beyond the fact that people would believe I had the gall to be The Plight prophesised to kill them all.
Kings, Eleidine, get a grip before you lose it completely. Surprisingly, the voice that resonates in my mind isn’t my own, but Mareike’s.
Mareike reminding me that I have many people relying on me. That I have to be strong. That Axara and ‘the others’ have faith. That I am ‘the one.’ Whatever any of that means, I have bigger things to worry about than what my sister thinks of my new life as Kingsdamned Princess of Graena!
I have a kingdom. I have thousands of lives in my hands. I have so much more important responsibilities than worrying about what Vinelynn thinks of my new life. She changed, too, and I would never hate her for it. She fell in love and became significantly happier.
I can be happy, too. With or without her support.
I married a prince. I became Princess of Graena. I cured Mentha–
Mentha. There is still work to be done.
A niggling feeling in my gut reminds me of Angel’s warning not to return, but every other part of me knows that I have so much more to accomplish. I have people relying on me. I have things to uncover and people to help– to cure once and for all.
For the last time, I silently promise Angel, I must return to Mentha for the last time.
~~~
Pale green eyes stare back at me, searching my souls for answers as I prepare to dig through her mind. I worry that the second I enter, Fear will attack, or Angel will push me out. I fear not being strong enough to do what it takes, take the final step, to cure Mentha for good.
We’re so close. I can sense it. The last hurdle is in sight, and all I have to do is overcome it.
The final barrier. And then she’s free. She is free and I will have my answers.
She doesn’t speak, but those green eyes glisten with determination. This is the only way she can tell me about The Plight, the prophecy, and everything else. She wants me to know. I knew it from the very beginning.
Mentha will guide me. She will show me the truth.
With a surprisingly steady hand, I reach for her. Hold her. Grip her hand for dear life, and whisper, “what happened to you?”
~~~
“Please, Odaax, just tell me where she is!” A slightly younger version of Mentha’s voice cries out. It comes out hoarse and weak, like she’s been locked away in this dingy room for months, crying out for her lost daughter.
All I see is darkness, and the outline of a male figure in the doorway. Everything is blacked out– forgotten. Lost to the damage of her mind, perhaps. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.
All that matters is the deep rumble of cruel laughter that surrounds the weeping Young Mentha.
“You ask every day, and every day I deny you answers,” I can empathise with that, I think to myself, “why keep trying?”
Mentha sobs quietly, and I feel the weak pulse in her blood, the subtle shattering of her heart with every moment she is separated from her beloved children.
“Why keep coming back?” She asks, despite sounding so exhausted– so defeated.
Odaax can never have loved this woman. This isn’t love. This isn’t even a twisted version of love. It is cruelty and hatred at its barest, rawest form. The way he looks down at her, bony and frail, and only smiles like he’s aware how much he’s winning this battle he created. It sickens me to my very core.
“In hopes of you finally changing your mind.” He answers in total honesty.
“I will never–”
“She will never know, my love,” Odaax says, as if he could ever take away this pain, he causes her, “she is gone.”
The final remnants of Mentha’s heart crumble and collapse in on itself as she deciphers the meaning of his words. Okaria is dead.
There is nothing left of Mentha but flesh and bone. She isn’t human. This whole scene isn’t even humane. She is a vessel for a soul that feels nothing but grief and pain.
Mentha releases a body-writhing cry and I think even Odaax flinches at the brutal reality of it. He manages to collect himself, all too quickly.
“Hush, my love,” Odaax crouches before her, and I pray that she’ll kick out and hurt him even a little. But something tells me he has her in shackles tight enough to restrain any movement at all. “I can make this better for you. I don’t know why you still remember, but I can make another deal–”
“I don’t want to forget her!” Mentha wails, but it fades to soft cries, and I feel it in my gut. I know the feeling of being ignored. Not having someone listen to what you want. Mentha would rather this pain– rather know her daughter is dead– than let Odaax take away every memory. “It is a blessing that your damned curse didn’t work on me–”
“Damnit, Mentha! I want to help you,” a coarse, grimy hand reaches for her. She cannot pull away, so his long fingers caress her damp cheeks and greasy hair. “I can take away your pain.”
The young woman shakes her head, trying to get him away, trying to deny him again and again, until he will finally understand.
“I want my daughter–”
“And what about Keteniam?” Odaax spits at her– standing in a rush to get away. I want to flinch at the man’s use of Keteniam’s name, but I have no control of my own body. All I feel, all I see, is this moment. “You wish to stay here, suffering in this pain, and leave your son motherless?”
“I cannot be a mother– not without my child–” Her words cut out from more sobs.
The monster just rolls his eyes, getting impossibly more worked up, “you have a child!”
But that isn’t enough. Mentha cannot form the words, but I already know what she’s thinking. She will never get over this loss. Okaria was her daughter– her flesh and blood– no other number of children will make up for it. If she lost Keteniam instead, the pain would be the same. Loss is pain– no words or actions on Odaax’s part can make up for that.
“All for a prophecy you do not understand…” Mentha mutters to herself, in utter disbelief.
“She was the prophecy! She would fulfil it. She was my damned Plight!” Odaax yells at her, and I feel immensely proud of Mentha for not flinching.
“You are wrong!” Mentha shouts with the last of her breath. Before slipping further into darkness.
~~~
“Don’t you at least owe me an explanation?” The voice– a woman’s– slips from the lips of another version of Young Mentha.
The dark figure before me only smiles wider, preparing to laugh at the frail woman trapped in her own bed– shackled to it like a criminal. But he only extends a hand that cups Mentha’s cheek. The action would otherwise seem affectionate, if it were not accompanied by hate-filled eyes and a gut-wrenching smile that only seems to promise death and pain.
“You know why I’m doing this, love.” His voice– too familiar– echos around the room. It appears small, like the memory was damaged with age and Mentha can no longer piece together enough of it.
My vision is faded around the edges as I dare to meet Fear’s eyes. Red– a terrifying reminder of the power he holds. “I want to hear you admit to your cowardice– once and for all.”
“Don’t insult the man who holds your life in the palm of his hand.” His voice is a whisper that tickles my face, like sour, stale air.
“I have accepted my fate. I only ask for one thing: to hear your pathetic excuse again. To watch you say the words as you take my life without a second thought.”
Fear only seems too pleased to fulfil Mentha’s final wish. His smile widens before saying, “I made the world forget that wretched girl. I will kill you, like I killed her.”
I feel her pain. The sting of grief. The burn of anger. Every other powerful emotion that impossibly fills this singular small woman. And yet, she doesn’t appear able to cry. She can’t scream or plead for her life. Lost in grief, she is numb.
I feel a lump of bile rise up my throat and only just manage to swallow it down. My blood pounds in my ears– fuelled by anger and hatred. And yet, as she stares at this horrifying man, surrounded by deadly shadows, I feel a prick of something akin to love. Who could ever love the person willing to kill them?
“And you were wrong, my love. I will forever remember this moment. I will always remember you, my dear wife, and the life I took from you.” His thumb strokes my tear-sodden cheek as he speaks cruel words with affection. And then the memory cracks and I feel Mentha’s body writhe and tremble– overcome with a level of fear that I never thought humanly possible.
What kind of person– no, demon– could cause someone this kind of pain?
I feel him everywhere. Fear. In her blood, spreading across her entire body. In her lungs, suffocating every drop of light from her. In her head, scratching at the walls and destroying everything that makes her who she is.
It was him. It was Fear. Mentha lost her sanity at the hands of Fear.
His eyes change first. Like a single puff of air, extinguishing a candleflame, the blood-red irises flick to blue. Normal, if not a little cold. The shadows retreat, briefly. Suddenly, he doesn’t appear to capacitate as much space. I can still feel Fear everywhere, but I watch as he diminishes into the form of a man. A human man.
Odaax.
The monster did this to his own wife. He used her fear to condemn her to a helpless life, unable to think or do anything. Trapped in the only mind that escaped his curse. Stuck watching memories of her life play out before her eyes– unable to do anything to change them.
Odaax did this. He killed his own daughter. He ruined Mentha’s life.
