"But you are," Sirenia said. "We can't change Fate."
Her mentioning Fate surged an idea into my mind. Could it be that this was my only solution?
"Six days, Majesty," Siren whispered, nearing my ear. "You have made it on this raft for six days." With all her evil, her voice was musical. "The longest I saw was seven. No one ever made it after seven days."
"Why? What happens after seven days?"
Sirenia didn't answer me. She sighed. I tilted my head to look at her. She was holding something in her hands. What was that? Bones? Human bones? "That's what happened to them, Majesty." She smiled, nudging the bones. "The whale, whose name is Moby Dick, releases a flood of water into his insides to clean out waste every seven days. No one can survive this flood—unless you're a mermaid, of course." She giggled. "And no matter how these bones can sing after you die, you won't be here to enjoy the music."
48
Fable's Dreamworld
Fable was still staring at the dark man hovering over Shew's body. He was wearing a black cloak. He seemed to have no eyes. No soul.
Fable shivered on all fours. She had failed her friends, Loki and Shew—and Cerené, actually. But she sensed something dreadful was about to happen. Was this the feeling she'd had since she had awoken in the Waking World today?
"You dumb little miserable girl!" a woman growled from behind her.
Fable winced, caught between two evils. She preferred it nearer the woman, though. The man in the dark cloak was beyond terrifying.
"What have you done?" the creature behind her continued. It surely had the voice of a woman, but looked like some… What was Fable looking at? A deformed, short, but broad, figure of what looked like a woman. She had an ugly face and crooked nose, long and bending, with two oversized and hairy holes. And she had chicken feet showing from underneath her cloak.
Fable gasped and took an involuntary step back again. Where was she supposed to go?
Running away crossed her mind, but she wouldn't give up at the last minute. She could breathe, couldn't she? Then she had to fight until the end. She wondered if she knew of a magic spell to fight this creature. But none came to mind. Would the spider web sew this woman's mouth shut? What good was a heart-splitting spell now?
"What in the Piper's name have you done?" The creature/woman trotted toward Shew's unconscious body. Fable avoided her as she passed, noticing the man in black had disappeared.
"What have you done?" the woman repeated, holding Shew in her arms, wailing like a mother who had lost her child. How could such a beast care for Shew? Why was she asking Fable this question? It wasn't rhetorical. She really demanded an answer.
"I—" Fable hesitated. "I used a spell."
"A spell?" The woman's ugly face grew uglier, almost goblin-like. "What spell?"
Fable cleared her throat. Who was this woman? Did she really care for Shew? "A spell." Fable shook her shoulders. How could she explain that she didn't know where she'd learned this spell? "One that split Shew's heart among us."
"Us?"
"Um—uh—the Lost Seven." Was she supposed to say this? "Alice!" She raised her head at the curving tress above. "Charmwill!" she yelled. "Someone help me!"
"You did what, you filthy little witch?" The woman was showing her dark side finally. She seemed to care for Shew, but she wasn't one of the goodhearted. Boy, she smelled so bad, of rotten chicken and… blood.
"Do you even know what language this spell is?" The woman talked as if she knew Fable from long ago. Then she dropped Shew to the floor and pounded her two hands over her head, like a mourning woman at a grave. "My sweet Queen of Sorrow, forgive me for the stupidity of this little girl," she called out.
Queen of Sorrow?
Fable stood, perplexed. Why was this woman so concerned? Why did she care about the spell?
"Look at how pale the Princess is," the ugly woman continued.
Fable noticed Shew was even paler than usual. As a half-vampire she must have always been pale, like she was in the Waking World. But now her paleness was bluish and her skin seemed to be aging unreasonably. Had Fable messed with the spell? Was this what the woman was telling her?
"How long has it been since you spelled the incantation?" the woman asked.
Fable refused to answer. This woman looked like she wanted to hurt Shew.
"Your friend is going to die if you don't tell me," the woman growled.
"About ten minutes ago." Fable gave in, as she had begun to worry. With all their differences, they both seemed to care for Shew's safety now.
"Then there is still hope," the woman said.
"Hope for what?" Fable said, glimpsing that Cerené was still unconscious.