Then, before Elena could speak — before she could breathe or move or react — the door opened to a chilly alley covered in ice, and Elena was tossed through.
Elena shrieked as she was thrown. She hit the hardened ground mercilessly and her thin body slid along the ice until she slammed against a wall.
Maren winced at the sensation.
Elena groaned, her head smacking against the wall with a heavy thud and she barely heard Massey speak.
"If we don't come find you by middle of night," the Druid-Beast said, "assume we will not come at all."
Masselythe's mouth flattened into a thin, cruel line. The bark above their beady, dark eyes furrowed as they locked in on Elena.
"And do not come back."
Massey tossed a coat, and other items on Elena, whose vision blurred from the hit at the back of her head.
Then, the door slammed shut.
Elena gasped. The hard sound of the door closing and the magic dissipating forced her to her senses.
She scrambled to the door, banging her fists against the wood as it slowly began to turn to stone. She yelled and screamed and willed the damn thing to reopen with her raw magic, but soon it was no longer a door and just a simple wall.
Elena gasped between breaths. She was freezing. Her fingers had gone rigid and her body numb. She snatched the coat off the ground, and from its messy pile fell a pair of winter boots and a heavy satchel. She pulled it tight around her and curled up, against the building.
The wall still lightly hummed with heat from Masselythe's magic and Elena savored every bit that she could siphon before it disappeared completely.
Maren shivered in Elena's body. She wanted to let go of this dream. Watching the witch cast her own daughter aside — experiencing the way it tore Elena to pieces — Maren didn't want to see anymore.
After learning all she had at the party, Maren wanted to dream of the DARKSPIRITS. She wanted information that would help her lead her country. She had the book. She had the stone.
So why?
What was so important about this scene?
What was important about peering into the intricacies of Elena's destructive relationship with her mother? Of how they cast her out of her home?
Maren was confused. She was angry and empty at the same time, but she couldn't tell if it was her own feelings or Elena's.
But more than anything, why did the stone show Cora the monsters? Why did the stone only show Maren history, while Cora's vision was that of a monster?
Suddenly, the dream skipped ahead.
Elena eating in a tavern. Elena searching through the contents of her satchel. Elena speaking to townsfolk, asking where she was.
Inaha.
She had been sent to Inaha with nothing but a winter outfit, a small bag of gold coin, a dagger and the very same book that Selma had handed Maren.
The fast-paced vision continued. Hours had passed and there was no sign of Massey. Elena walked around in the dark, picking odd items off the ground, with nothing but a broken candle lamp she'd purchased from a vendor.
Then, she wandered back to the place Massey had left her. She emptied the contents of her purse after her midnight rummage in the forest.
Three items.
A bit of charcoal she'd purchased, and two herbs Maren couldn't identify.
Maren suddenly felt a sharp pain as Elena ripped out bits of her own hair. But before she could think, she used it to wrap the herbs around the charcoal.
Then, she began chanting under breath.
She held the bit of charcoal between her thumb and her curled finger and wrapped her freezing hand around the other. Her head dipped low and she rocked back and forth in the dark alleyway, waiting for the magic to surge.
But after several minutes, and several odd looks from passerby's, nothing happened.
"Blast it all!" Elena exclaimed, tossing the bit of charcoal into a pile of fresh snow.
Maren could feel the way her mind turned. The chaos and turmoil inside her. She didn't know what exactly was happening or what those loud sounds were, but she knew it was nothing good.
Based on context clues, it was almost certainly an attack.
How big of one? She wasn't sure.
But neither was Elena.
At that moment, Maren felt rustling in different areas across Elena's body. She wondered if perhaps it had been happening all this time, but she was so distraught she wasn't aware of it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to the spirits that made home in her flesh. "I know it's cold. I'll get us out of here."
Elena eyed the bit of charcoal for a long moment. She took a deep inhale and steeled her mind. She silenced the chaos within her, and when she was finally ready, she picked the charcoal out of the snow and held it once more.
"I can do this," she whispered. "I can use Nemaine's magic. I've done it before."
She then began reciting the chant. She muttered it over and over, her breath escaping her in an icy cloud. She recited through the pain in her frozen lips — through the numbness in her fingertips. Elena quieted everything around her and everything within her, focusing on nothing but the words.
Then, the charcoal lit aflame in her hand.
Hope bloomed in her chest, but she refused to release her focus.
She brought the tip of the flame to the stone wall, exactly where Masselythe had opened the door and carved its outline, just as she remembered it.
Maren didn't know what she expected, but the line left behind from Elena's charcoal drawing began to burn, its embers glowed bright with a hint of violet glimmer.
It was magic.
Elena gasped and stepped back as the light began to brighten and the lines in the stone deepened until it was a true door — a stone mirror to the one she had at home. Elena reached one hand out, her fingers brushing the stone. But then she stopped.
Maren frowned internally, confused. But her confusion quickly disappeared and understanding took its place.
Elena was tossed aside by her family. For better or worse, she was told not to come find them.
Midnight was far behind them, and soon, a new day would start.
And her family had not come to find her.
Then, Elena clenched her fist, sweeping her feelings aside, and pushed the door open.
Maren smelled it instantly, her — or Elena's — eyes widening. The toil churned low in her gut as soon as the scent hit her.
Metal.
And rot.
And smoke.
Elena swallowed hard and shoved the door wide open as she forced her way through the opening.
Maren couldn't believe her eyes. She couldn't believe the spell actually worked.
There was almost nothing left.
It was a battlefield.
The leftovers of a small war were scattered all over.
It was total devastation. The trees, the green of the clearing, every bottle and bauble that adorned the landscape — all of it had burned to ash. Fire still lingered on the trees in the distance, consuming them along with everything else. Even the stone Nemaine had raised from the earth had been crushed. The cottage was demolished, save Elena's door and a wall or two still standing.
That's when Elena spotted a figure, massive and long amongst the rubble.
"Echo…" Elena whispered, her hands quivering at her sides.
Maren could feel the twitch in her body. Elena's mind commanded her to move but her body simply couldn't. The shock was too much.
Elena let out a shaky breath, and suddenly the memories shifted, garbled together. Maren heard Elena's cry. She could feel her heaving sobs and the agony and adrenaline as if it were her own. But the vision was broken and blurry, jerking back and forth between images. [1]
Nemaine in her arms — barely alive, curled within the safety of her serpent-beast.
Masselythe's figure in the distance, engulfed in flame.
The blaze of the morning sky.
And a single flag piercing the center of a field of ash.
Its banner was black, marked with the image of a dead tree outlined in gold.
Though Maren had never seen the infernal symbol before, she knew instantly who had laid siege to the Frogswamp.
Who had killed Elena's family.
The Darkwood King.
***
Maren's eyes shot open and she suddenly didn't know where she was.
Her chest was tight and heaving.
Tears spilled down her face as she struggled to catch her breath. She could hear voices, but they were faint and distant. She felt as though she were under water, scrambling to the surface.
Then, hands grasped her shoulders, radiating that familiar warmth she knew all too well.
Cora's gaze met hers, steadying her.
She spoke but Maren could hardly hear her. She was focused on the feel of Cora's hands on her skin. The way it burned with such inviting heat.
Maren felt her breaths calm as Cora held her in place.
Then, Cora reached for her, cupping Maren's face in her palm.
Maren closed her eyes and leaned into it. Her body relaxed instantly and she realized something.
How could I ever choose, Maren thought, when her touch alone feels like home?[2]
[1] When I started this scene, I was typing everything out, but it just fell short of how this would have actually played out for Elena. I wanted to write it in a way that properly conveyed how trauma is remembered.
[2] And while I wanted to convey how trauma feels, I also wanted to end the chapter with something less heavy. Elena's tale is important for furthering Maren and Cora's storyline, but so is their romance <3