He could not touch her, not while she stood upon this Path. But his words sank into her heart, and she feared the truth of them. Girl and wolf . . . inexplicably joined. Only death would sever his hold upon her, upon Fairbird, upon the Land.
See the truth.
She pushed herself upright, forcing her eyes to look ahead, to look to the daylight where the river emerged from the deep places of the world and roared out into the sea beyond the Circle of Faces. One step, then two. She felt the wolf reaching for her; all his will strained against her, begging her to stay.
“Starflower—”
The river caught her.
Just as it had the last time she fled, it swelled about her legs and snatched her up, carrying her through the darkness. She should have drowned; her bones should have been crushed. But the Path was true and swift. It did not lie. It carried her beyond the darkness, out into the blazing light of day and cast her upon the shore of the narrow isthmus, beyond the reach of the mountains, beyond the reach of her god.
Imraldera lay gasping for some time, uncertain of herself and her fate. At last, her arms shaking and her legs protesting in agony, she forced herself to her feet and turned to face the long cavern.
The wolf stood at its mouth. His eyes were full of black fire, and his fists raised in furious protest. “No!” he shouted, his voice carrying above the roar of the river. “Come back to me, love! Do not leave me again!”
The silent girl stood trembling, water dripping from her hair, her nose, the hem of her dress. She stared at the Beast and he raged at her. But he did not step beyond the safety of the mountains.
The Black Dogs were nowhere in sight. Perhaps they were near, but Imraldera could not say for sure. There was no trace of Midnight. She was alone upon that stretch, ocean on either side, mountains before, haze of a distant horizon behind. She and her enemy were the only two beings left in the worlds.
But he would not approach her.
He beckoned, his voice desperate as he spoke. “I will give you a voice. That is what you want most, isn’t it, my lovely? I took it from you, but I can give it back. Return to me, and I shall give you everything you want!”
She stared at him, her brow set in a line, her lips gently parted.
“Say his name,” said the Dragonwitch, “and he will do your bidding.”
Imraldera raised her hands to sign, but they did not move.
See the truth and speak! sang the voice in her heart.
What truth was she meant to see?
“I will make her suffer,” said the wolf. He paced back and forth along the edge of the water, just within the shelter of the cavern. “I will make that sister of yours suffer. I will tear into her just as I tore into your father when you left me the last time! You love her, I know. You would die for her. But will you live for her, Starflower? Will you return to me and live out your life as you were meant to for the sake of that girl?”
Hatred. That must be his name. She stared at his hideous face, distorted by his own unsatisfied lusts, and she hated him.
See the truth.
“I can’t!” she screamed in the silence of her mind. “I can’t see what you want me to see!”
But you have already seen it.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Let me show you.
Imraldera gasped.
She stood in a memory upon the bank of a stream. She saw herself crouched on the ground at the feet of several angry lads, Fairbird clutched protectively in her arms. A gray lurcher snarled at her, saliva dripping from her jaws, hatred in her eyes.
Imraldera watched the girl who was herself gazing into that distorted face. And she remembered. She remembered what Starflower had seen.
Every living creature must hear its true name spoken before its soul may wake and live. Otherwise, be it man or beast, it is no more than a husk living a brutal, animal existence. The soul is a seed that must be watered, or it will lie forever dormant.
Frostbite, bruised and kicked and ill-treated, was a soulless creature when she snarled in the face of Starflower. But her spirit longed for an awakening. She longed to hear her true name.
Starflower, lying on the riverbank surrounded by enemies, had looked at that animal, and she had loved.
Imraldera shook herself, blinking as she returned to that place between oceans, standing before the Beast. She saw him, saw what he had been meant to be. What loss or neglect had stunted the growth of his spirit so that it might as well never have existed? She could not guess. Or perhaps he had chosen this living death. Perhaps he had rejected all hope of true life for the sake of the godhood he so desired.
It did not change what he had been created to be. It did not change his true name, the name that lay hidden behind all others.
The girl looked upon the wolf, and her eyes were opened at last.
“I know your name,” she signed.
“What?” snarled the wolf. It was against the laws of the Land for menfolk to speak the silent language of women, but he had ruled this Land too long not to know all the workings of his slaves. “What did you say?”