Morana

"I didn't mean for it to happen," I blurted out. "It was his life or mine, and I chose mine. Me. I chose me."

The excuses tumbled from my mouth in a flood. To my own ears, they rang hollow. Convenient words to soothe the guilt tearing me apart.

"It wasn't my fault," I insisted, wiping tears and snot from my face as Kuga seated herself on the edge of my bed.

Her expression didn't change, even after I fell into mumbling and finally silence. Steepling her fingers over her knees, she stared at me. Those black eyes drifted across my skin, leaving an oily stain behind.

"I told you that we are the same, did I not?"

I shook my head. "We're not."

A low, humming note filled her throat, and some of the panic I felt eased. "The history of Deathsingers is not a pretty one. There were times when we were revered, and there were times when we were feared. Even in our homeland of Araphel. I was born during a time of fear. My mother and grandmother taught me the Songs, because they knew what we did was important. Without us, belligerent souls would never face judgment, and they would wander the world, seeking for a way to return."

Kuga's bloodless lips cracked when she smiled. I lowered myself into the chair by my vanity. Eyes dry, I clung to every word she spoke.

"Growing up in that environment made me a timid, fearful thing. I knew I had power, but I could not use it for fear of being punished, and if I did not use my power, then the phantoms might come for me. I lived by the rules and did everything I could to be safe."

I could see the girl she described. Only instead of Kuga's face, it was mine. Twisted and pale and painfully afraid. Living in the shadows to avoid being seen.

"When my lover tried to take me against my will, I fought back. The dagger slipped through his ribs so easily, and when he drew his last breath, his soul was released. I'd never been so close to one before, and I consumed it before I could get control of myself. His soul was weak and with little power. A bit of water shaping and glamor. But it was more than I had before."

"You told me this already," I said, forcing my words through a tight throat. "That doesn't make us alike."

She ignored me. Raising a bony finger, she swirled it through the air. A shimmering trail of blue water followed the digit.

"Two moon cycles passed before I consumed another soul. It was my first journey with my Reaper. War had broken out, and many of our people joined the armies, using their powerful screams to kill for the king. They sent out those of us who were too young to fight out to search for the lost souls."

It dawned on me that I had never really asked much about what Deathsingers did. Perhaps I hadn't wanted to ask her because she was a corrupt version of one, and I thought she would lie. But she spoke about Singing the lost to judgment with such reverence.

"There was an innkeeper. A flighty Will-o'-the-wisp, who recognized us for what we were. She threatened to expose us because she didn't want her brother's soul taken to Dycidium. They have an affinity for spirits themselves, and she knew he was near. I killed her to keep our secret, and I consumed both souls. I told myself it was to protect my Reaper, but I knew the truth then."

"And what is the truth?" I whispered.

"That the only way to truly ever be safe in a world full of monsters was to become the most dangerous monster in it."

She rose and walked to the tent's opening, pushing back the flaps before turning to look at me one last time. I raised my head and felt my eyes burn with unshed tears when I saw the pity in her gaze.

"We are the same story, child. The sooner you accept that, the sooner I can mold you into someone who might actually survive the journey into Araphel. That concludes today's lesson."

I stayed in the tent for all of thirty heartbeats after she left. Then I bolted through the camp, my skirts tangling about my legs as I ran. On the hilltop, I spied Cassia sitting and weaving a grass basket. Her mossy green hair fluttered in the breeze, and a tuneless melody fell from her lips. Something inside of me begged me to stop and go to her. To find peace in her presence, but the voice wasn't loud enough.

Soldiers scattered as I resumed my determined pace. The linen and wool tents gave way to finer materials like cotton and leather stamped with King Brinley's sigil. His tent was just ahead–a monstrous thing of leather and silk, and just to the left was his son's. Identical in every way but size.

"Tievel!"

"And where do you think you're going?" the soldier guarding his tent asked.

"Inside to talk to the prince."

"Is he expecting you?"

Probably not, since he likely hoped I was dead. How many times had he tried to kill me now? Was this what our future looked like? Stabbing at one another in the dark, hoping our aim was finally true? With the magic in his soul, I would be unstoppable–

The world tilted, and I put my hands on my stomach, drawing deep breaths. No. No. No. Kuga wasn't right. She wasn't.

"Let me in to see the prince," I demanded.

"No."

His eyes sparked orange as he smirked down at me. He was a salamander. My skin prickled as fear overtook me. Memories of burning were never far away.

Shoving it down, I called to the ice magic inside of me and grabbed his arm. The move caught him unaware, and he didn't have time to summon his flame. He yelped as frost coated his armor, causing the metal to stick to his skin.

While he moaned in pain, I dropped his arm and pushed past him. Tievel laid in bed with a book resting on his stomach. Today, his hair was sickly yellow, and the freckles on his face stood out more than usual on his pale skin. His lips moved, and even though no sound came out, I knew the words he repeated like a prayer.

Burning. World on fire. So hot. So cold.

"Is that what you wanted, then?"

He jolted out of his trance, his glacial blue eyes going wide when they landed on me. I thought he'd been pale before, but now he was almost translucent. We stared at one another until he broke the silence with a hoarse question.

"How are you not dead?"

"How do you think?" I replied, searching for the new magic inside of me.

Instinct took over, and I imagined taking on the form of the Puca. My bones lengthened and snapped. The world grew sharper as my vision shifted to that of a hunter. All the better to witness Tievel's horror as I settled into the form of his deceased soldier.

"Morana, what have you done?" he cried out.

And for a moment, I saw the boy from the palace. The one who snuck me candies and naughty library books. The boy I loved. Then his disgust swallowed him whole.

"You're a monster."

"I'm what you made me," I shouted, releasing the Puca's form.

"Really?" Tievel jumped out the bed. He stalked toward me, and I did not cower when he towered over me. "I did not force you to consume his soul, Morana."

"You put me in a position where I had no choice."

The tent opened, and the soldier stumbled in. Frost bite darkened the tip of his nose. "Sir, I tried to stop her, but she attacked me."

Tievel growled, and power pulsed off him. The soldier flew backward, landing outside with a bone breaking thud, and the tent flaps closed behind him.

Turning his attention back to me, he smiled. His canines lengthened and pressed into his lower lip. Bile choked me as his fingers danced down my arms.

"There is always a choice. Don't you understand that? The choices we make define us, and because of your choices, you have become the monster you swore to me you weren't."

"Says the boy who once told me he never wanted to be anything like his father." Our toes touched as I forced myself to close the space between us. "Congratulations. I think you're worse."

Pain burst across my scalp as Tievel grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. "I'm doing what I have to do to right my family's mistakes."

"That sounds an awful lot like choosing."

"Maybe it is. Maybe we made monsters of each other."

The pressure on my scalp eased, and he stepped back. I resisted the urge to rub my head as I said, "You're not making any sense. What did I do to make you a monster?"

Before the question was out of my mouth, I regretted it, and I waited for him to bring up my attempt to Sing away his immortality that day. But that wasn't what he said.

"You didn't choose me."