Chapter 60: Spiritual Spelunking (Her POV)
We were still at the table. The coffee had long since cooled, but neither of us moved. The silence between us had grown comfortable. Outside, the wind rustled through cottonwoods, whispering secrets I wasn't ready to hear. Malvor drummed his fingers against his ceramic mug, then stopped. Started again. Stopped. I raised a brow.
"You're doing that thing," I said.
"What thing?" He blinked, feigning innocence.
"The thing where you're thinking too loud and trying to act casual about it."
He cleared his throat, looking everywhere but at me. "I was just... wondering." I waited. "Have you ever thought about… seeing Ahyona?" he asked, like the words might explode in his mouth. "For, you know. Healing. Emotional excavating. Spiritual spelunking. Possibly… couples counseling?"
"Couples counseling?" I echoed, arching an eyebrow.
"Well, technically that's Zolandi's area," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "But I feel like Ahyona would bring cedar smoke and fry bread, and honestly that might be more effective?"
I stared at him, somewhere between amused and disbelieving. He finally met my gaze, and whatever sarcasm had been lingering in his tone dissolved. "I just…" He exhaled. "I want you to really heal. Not just get by."
My throat tightened. "I've already had Ahyona's acolytes in my head," I said flatly. "For years. They were the ones who helped me 'deal' with trauma. Every time I broke, they made me feel better. Softer. Safer. Like I was fine."
Malvor nodded slowly.
"I know." His fingers brushed against mine on the table. "That's why I wasn't sure if I should ask."
I looked at him.
"You already had people deciding what better was supposed to look like."
That shut me up.
"I don't want to do that to you too. I'll sit outside if I have to. But if there's even a chance Ahyona can help, you deserve that chance."
We didn't expect Ahyona to respond so fast. Usually, her realm required multiple petitions. But this time, her reply came within the hour, sealed in beeswax. "Come this afternoon," it read. "I will be old enough to help you."
Malvor read it twice.
"That's reassuring."
"Is it?"
"No."
The air shimmered as we stepped through the portal, its edges threaded with bark and smoke. A soft breeze carried the scent of juniper. We emerged in a clearing surrounded by towering cedars. The ground was carpeted in moss that glowed faintly underfoot.
Malvor adjusted the tray in his hands, stacked with sweets from his realm. At the center sat a candy apple that looked completely normal but screamed when bitten into. Apparently, this added character.
The lodge doors opened before we knocked. Inside, firelight warmed the wooden walls. Woven blankets covered the benches, and somewhere deeper inside, water moved over stone. Ahyona was already waiting. She sat on a cedar bench, dressed in deep browns. Her hair was braided and streaked with gray.
I blinked. I'd seen her younger. Older. Today she looked somewhere in the middle, crow's feet at the corners of her eyes and enough patience in her expression to make me immediately suspicious.
"Well," Ahyona said. "You brought sweets. That is already better than most."
Malvor gave her a half-bow, setting the tray down. "Figured I'd soften you up before the trauma talk."
Ahyona arched a perfectly shaped brow. "You're lucky I'm currently feeling emotionally stable. Otherwise, I'd make the river flood."
Malvor glanced toward the sound of water. "Noted."
She turned her gaze to me and stood. She opened her arms in a silent invitation. "I'm not going to make you feel better."
I stared at her. "That's a terrible sales pitch."
"Good. Then we're already being honest." Her arms stayed open. "I can help you look. I won't tell you what you're supposed to find."
I didn't move for a second. I stepped into Ahyona's arms. She held me once, briefly, and let go first. Ahyona didn't say a word as she led us down a path lit with flickering candlelight housed in hollowed gourds.
At the end of the path, she stopped in front of two tall, arched doors made of oak and adorned with carvings. She brushed the handle with her fingers. "This is the Grove of Shattered Echoes. It will show you what you remember. And some of what you don't."
I looked at the doors. "Will it hurt?"
Ahyona was quiet for a beat. "Yes."
At least she didn't lie. Malvor reached for my hand. Ahyona held up one finger. "She walks alone."
His hand stopped between us. I looked at him. He let it fall. I hesitated.
The doors opened.
The grove stretched endlessly in all directions, the canopy high overhead. Pools of water dotted the ground, still as glass. Trees leaned close, branches heavy with moss. Carved figures stood between the trunks, half hidden in shadow. I took a breath and walked. My footsteps were swallowed by the moss.
At first, I thought the pools were blank. But they weren't. They were empty. Each basin waited, titled and labeled, prepared, yet the waters? Gray. I moved slowly, reading the plaques beneath each one. Some had dates. Some didn't.
Age 3 – Birthday? Winter – No Fire. Someone's Voice, Maybe. Age 6 – Hiding Under the Table. Each title hinted at something, but the surface stayed unchanged. I reached out to one labeled: "Mother's Face." Nothing happened. Not even a ripple.
I moved on. The pools began to hold fragments. A chipped teacup in too-small hands. Cracks filled with gold that wasn't real, painted on to look like care.
A window at night, the moon crooked in the sky, a blanket corner clutched too tightly.
A hallway I didn't recognize, dark and narrow. Footsteps echoed from somewhere inside the memory. Mine, I thought. No one waited at the end.
I saw it: "Happy Lies"
At first glance, it was beautiful. Color moved across the water like a kaleidoscope, bright and saturated. Children laughed. Two figures stood at the center, arms outstretched. My parents, maybe. I stepped closer. No one had eyes. The smiles were too wide. The laughter had no sound. And beneath all that color, a small girl curled in the corner. Me. The word family was etched into the stone. I kept walking.
The next figure stood alone beneath a break in the canopy. I didn't want to look too closely. But I did.
The girl was tiny, no more than eight. Carved robes swallowed her small body. Her shoulders hunched, her eyes downcast. Rusted chains looped around her neck and wrists. A price tag hung heavy from her collarbone.
40 silver. Then 25. Then a single copper coin. My fingers brushed the bark. The girl bled. Thin red sap seeped from the wood, sliding down her legs and pooling at her feet. I smelled iron. I pulled my hand back.
The next path narrowed. The trees leaned in like ribs. The air turned metallic, damp with something holy and wrong. The memories were no longer fragmented. They were ritual.
Figures lined the path. Girls carved mid-motion. Arms spread. Backs arched. Mouths open. Their skin bore etched runes, some glowing faintly, others crusted with resin. Farther in, girls in temple robes stood frozen mid-chant, hands clenched around nothing. Each had a title:
Preparation – Silence
Obedience – The First Cut
Purity – No Voice
One figure knelt. A blade hovered just above her spine. Waiting. Her hands reached for nothing. I remembered reaching. I looked away. That was a mistake.
Offering #43 Not a painting. Not a sculpture. A jar. Tall. Thin. Crystal-clear. Inside: thick, red liquid.
A gold label at the base read, in delicate script: She Didn't Scream Loud Enough.
Behind it: more jars. Dozens. Each one numbered:
#27 – She Cried, But Not For Them
#61 – She Bled Beautifully
#88 – She Was Silent, So They Called It Consent
I stood there until my lungs forced me to breathe. I moved. I didn't touch the jars. I knew what was inside them.
The next path was simply labeled: The Johns.
It narrowed again. No paintings. No sculptures. Only pools and carved figures. Dozens. Hundreds. Each pool rippling with illusion magic, settling into images of me. But not me.
Versions. Smiling. Giggling. Moaning. Performing.
Each one different for the faceless figure standing beside her. Their features blurred, but their hands were always clear. Stroking my cheek. Pulling my hair. Tilting my head just so. Pinching, groping, hurting.
I walked between them. A different laugh for this one. A different sound for another. Shy. Eager. Sweet. Afraid. Whatever they wanted.
One reflection cracked. No warning. No sound. Just a thin, jagged line, splitting my reflection down the middle. The version inside that pool didn't smile. Didn't beg. Didn't perform.
She looked at me. I knew her. I exhaled and kept walking.
The path opened into a room barely tall enough to stand in. At its center stood a statue of me, fractured. The seams oozed. My figure was bent, not bowed. In both hands, she held a mask in front of her face.
Split down the middle: One side, the painted smile of comedy. The other, the smeared tear of tragedy. I couldn't see what was underneath. She held the mask so tightly her fingers bled constantly. Some cuts showed bone.
My knees shook. I reached for the nearest tree and braced against it. I breathed. Once. Again.
I stepped slowly out of the grove. The doors closed behind me. I didn't cry. I didn't collapse. I just stood there breathing.
Ahyona was waiting. She didn't ask me what I had seen. She knew. She extended a hand. I took it. She led me into a smaller room off the path. It was warm. Firelight moved across the walls. Two deep plum benches faced each other, a low table between them. A kettle steamed beside two clay cups.
Ahyona poured the tea. It smelled like lavender. Ahyona settled in the opposite seat. "Start wherever you like, dear," she said gently. "The lodge will fill in the gaps."
I stared down at my cup for a long time. "I don't know where to start."
"Then start there."
My breath left me in a slow, involuntary shudder. I tried to speak, but the words scattered. So I circled them. Facts. Timelines. Things that had happened to me, told like someone else's tragedy. But the lodge wasn't having it.
The mirror on the far wall darkened, rippling like water. First, nothing. Then, a red-haired child. Mute. The image flickered. Now: a younger me in the temple. My hands clenched around nothing. My lips moving, but no sound came out. Ahyona said nothing. Just watched. My voice cracked. "I was sold. After that..." I swallowed. "I was remade so many times, I don't know what parts are mine."
The teacup in my hand trembled. "I was good at it. The pretending. The versions. I knew how to make them love me. Or at least want me. That was survival." I blinked fast. Too fast. "I thought... if I could be exactly what someone wanted, then I'd matter."
Ahyona watched me. "Did it work?"
I didn't answer. No. Of course it didn't. I whispered it: "Even with Malvor…" His name hurt differently. "I think I still disappeared. Just softer this time."
I set the cup down.
"He never asked me to."
Ahyona's expression didn't change.
"He never asked me to be easier. Or happier. Or less..." I gestured helplessly at myself. "Anything." I stared at the steam rising between us. "But I gave anyway. Because that's what I've always done." My fingers curled into my palms. "I don't know where surviving ends and I begin."
The words sat between us. "I don't know how to stop."
Ahyona didn't respond. Didn't offer comfort. She just listened.
So I kept going. "With him, it's different. It always has been. He doesn't pull. He doesn't demand. And that… should make it easier." I stared at my hands. "Somehow it doesn't."
"Because if he never asked... then he never needed it." I swallowed. "So why did I still do it?"
The mirror behind me shifted. Malvor's bed. My body curled against his. His hand rested on my back, even in sleep.
Ahyona finally spoke. "You keep saying did."
I looked at her.
"You learned."
My throat tightened. "Then why do I still feel like a guest in my own life?"
Ahyona didn't answer.
I looked back at the mirror. "I thought Annie was real." The words felt wrong. "No. That's not it. She was real. I really laughed. I really loved him. I really was happy."
Ahyona waited.
"I just..." I shook my head. "I don't know when being happy became another thing I was good at."
The mirror shimmered. For a moment, I saw myself asleep against Malvor's chest. Then the image fractured. My stomach turned. "What happened with Domerik and Bresoria..." The names barely made it out. "Something changed after that."
Ahyona didn't ask. Thank the gods, she didn't ask.
"I couldn't hold everything together anymore." My fingers tightened around each other. "Something changed. And I still hid."
Ahyona leaned forward slightly. "You keep saying made yourself disappear."
"I did."
"You learned."
I looked at her.
"There's a difference."
I reached for my cup, mostly to have something to hold. "Can I unlearn it?"
"I don't know." That made me look up. Ahyona's mouth softened. "But you can learn something else."
I looked down at the tea.
Ahyona gave me a choice. "Do you want him in here?"
I looked toward the door. "Yes."
She stood and opened it. He was already there. He stepped inside slowly and stopped just beyond the doorway. His coat was gone. So was the glitter. Just Malvor.
He didn't rush across the room. He stood there for a breath. "Thank you for letting me be here."
I exhaled slowly.
Malvor's hands stayed at his sides. "You look tired," he said.
A dry laugh escaped me. "Understatement of the century."
He smiled. I gestured to the seat beside me. Only then did he move. For a while, neither of us spoke. The tea had gone cold.
"I thought I was protecting you," I said finally. "From everything I've been through. From everything I still carry."
He turned toward me. "I never needed protection from you."
"But I needed it from myself."
His brow pulled together.
I stared at our hands. "Or I thought I did."
He reached toward me slowly, palm up. I hesitated before sliding my hand into his. "I'm not asking you to fix anything."
"I know."
His thumb moved once across my knuckles. "I just want to know you."
I huffed a laugh. "I just don't want to disappear again."
His fingers tightened around mine. "Then don't." I looked at him. "Be angry. Be loud. Be impossible. Gods know I am." That got another laugh out of me. "Just don't vanish because you think that's easier for me."
My fingers tightened around his. "Even if I fall apart?"
"Especially then." He lifted our joined hands and pressed his mouth to my knuckles. "Like I said. Always and forever."
"I'm not ready for forever," I whispered.
Malvor looked at me. Then he smiled. Small. Almost unbearably soft. "Then stay for now."
I could do now.
Ahyona appeared in the doorway holding a wooden cup with a sprig of cedar and what looked suspiciously like edible glitter floating inside. Her gaze dropped to our joined hands. "Go nap."
Malvor blinked. "That's your professional recommendation?"
"Healing is exhausting, darling."
"That's it?"
Ahyona took a sip. "Trauma processing is cosmic feng shui. You moved the furniture. Now rest."
Malvor stared at her. "That explained nothing."
"It wasn't for you."
I snorted.
Ahyona smiled at me. "You did well. Even if you hate me tomorrow."
"I think I already do."
"Perfect. I'll see you again within the week. After that, regularly. We have work to do." With that, she turned and disappeared back into the lodge, drink in hand.
Malvor watched her go. "She terrifies me."
I nodded solemnly. "She terrifies everyone."
We stood. Neither of us let go.