THE JEALOUSY OF JALICE

A wind billowed across the rolling hills, crashing into the trees at the forest’s edge. Leaves fluttered against the relentless tug, clinging desperately to the branches that had held them for months. Those that became dislodged swept into the air with other detached brethren, scattered at the wind’s mercy.

Jalice stared at the dazzling display of colored leaves dancing in the sky. The scene stirred up a war of conflicting emotions. There was no denying the beauty in it, yet she couldn’t avoid the bitter truth hidden beneath the layers of enchanting aesthetic.

This was death. The trees would soon be bare, and the forest would be rendered a sea of twisted bark stretching in vain towards the unreachable freedom of the open sky. The wind would crush the leaves into the ground until they became mulch, their true form forgotten.

Delilee’s face kept creeping into her mind. Jalice had given up on suppressing it. At times, her stomach twisted into knots at recalling her cousin’s sweet smile. As the hours passed, this pain transitioned into a deep sadness that threatened to bury her where she sat on the hill. Tears were a constant companion, swelling like waters behind floodgates the instant Delilee slipped through the cracks of otherwise formless thought.

The worst of these moments had occurred during Elothel’s ritual to release Jalice of the Sachem’s wards, which fae had insisted upon completing once safely out of the forest. A purifying scrub of her aura, as the mirajin put it—a matter that had to be dealt with while translated in the Apparition Realm.

Distressing—that’s how Jalice had experienced the ordeal. Like fire purifying metal, or the impossible feat of ripping a kiss from another’s lips, the mirajin stripped the aether wards. All the while, Jalice endured the raw and crippling emotions that unhinged within her in that Realm. Despite the relief at knowing the Sachem no longer had the wards tied to her, the return to the Terrestrial Realm had left her crippled with emotion.

Cycles of guilt and shame had incapacitated Jalice for days. Over time the episodes had grown shorter, with longer stretches of relief in between. Now, sitting atop the hill overlooking the forest as the sunset lit the sky with velvet hues, she basked in the trance of numbed emotions. Pangs of mournful sadness accompanied any dwellings on Delilee or Kerothan or Hydrim. But these were short lived and quickly buried for a later time when emotions might paralyze her mind again. Even her fury at Annilasia had died down over the previous days.

She didn’t move or turn her gaze from the forest when a figure sat beside her.

Elothel visited periodically during her retreats away from the others. Faer face was once again veiled beneath scarfs and the odd set of goggles. The mirajin rarely said anything, for which Jalice was grateful.

She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to listen. All she desired was to stare at the world around her as it continued to churn without her involvement. It gave her a sense of peace. If it was a false peace, she didn’t care. The wind would come and shake the leaves, and the leaves would fight or fall without a finger lifted by Jalice.

Elothel seemed to understand this, and yet today fae breached the silence.

“Dinner is ready. Mygo knows to keep a distance. He won’t pester you. And Vowt is already asleep. You’ll be glad to know his wounds are healing nicely.”

The words twirled in the air like the leaves, some of them settling in her mind, others lost in a bottomless pit conjured by her soul to distill any more stress. She didn’t answer. Hunger had abandoned her the past few days. Elothel ensured she ate, but it was never of her own accord. If she craved food, she wasn’t aware of it.

Silence enveloped them again as they sat and watched the light fade from the sky. In keeping with routine, Elothel would stay until she was ready to return to the camp. Fae never pressured her. Fae never broached the events that had transpired either.

Jalice stirred. A restless thread rippled in her soul that had not been present in recent days. She found herself speaking for the first time since escaping the forest.

“Will Sahruum forgive me?” she asked, voice cracking weakly.

“Of what sin, starborn?” asked Elothel.

Jalice inhaled, then exhaled slowly. Her fingers twirled her vow ring around the knuckle to which it clung. “Of what I did to Hydrim.” She paused, then added, “Of what I did to my brother.”

“Confession is healthy for the soul. It releases guilt and shame, and allows the chance to seek redemption. I think the truer question is, can you forgive yourself?”

Jalice was quiet for a while before answering. “So many people have been hurt by what I did. Is it not unjust to forgive myself for a sin that affected everyone around me, and beyond?”

“What is done is done,” stated Elothel. “The sins and tragedies of the past cannot be undone. They can be acknowledged by a repentant heart, but rectification is a complex matter that transcends one’s repentance. You can’t control whether others forgive you, and you can’t control the past. What you can control is your own penance and your own forgiveness.”

Jalice wiped a hand over her face to clear the fallen tears. A shiver passed through her, provoked by the sharp cold reigning the sunless land. “How could I not see what was happening? It was like being in a fog. I was there for all of it, and yet . . . I was blind.”

“A mystery I’m still puzzled over,” murmured Elothel. “I’m inclined to think it has something to do with the Stones of Elation. He’s changed their vibrations somehow, and it has affected everyone. More violence, more dissonance, more chaos. I have no proof, but there are very few alternate explanations for the mass deception over the tribes he managed in such a short time.”

Jalice grew faint at the thought of Hydrim altering the Stones. Only Sahruum or a mirajin was capable of that.

“How was he even there?” she asked. “It was like he was waiting there for me. And then he turned into . . .”

Elothel cocked faer head. “Yet another mystery. I can take a guess, but it is in no way conclusive. I don’t believe it was ever Hydrim whom you saw in there. Or if Hydrim was present, he was in no sort of control.”

The briefest of pauses occurred, filled with an unease she could sense beneath all the layers of garments. Before she could comment on it, fae continued.

“What confronted you was a powerful and ancient dokojin. The same feature of the House that allowed us to act simultaneously in both the Terrestrial and Apparition Realms—that strange overlap—allowed it to manifest there. From your account, it boasted some ability of shapeshifting, impersonating your husband and then revealing its true form. Yet I don’t think it was there physically, like you and me. It existed entirely in aether spirit.”

“It called itself Dardajah,” she murmured. The name raked off her tongue like an obscenity.

“Dardajah is a tale that your people tell, originating from a forgotten era,” said Elothel. “The dokojin that was trapped in the Black House may claim that name, but it doesn’t mean that’s its true identity. Perhaps the name serves its purpose of instilling fear.” Elothel inhaled and then sighed. “But there my knowledge ends. All other details and answers about the ordeal and that entity elude me.”

“Can he be saved?” she asked, daring to speak the question that haunted her. She gazed solemnly at the sparkling capsule of her ring.

Elothel didn’t need clarification to whom she referred. “I believe so. But I advise you against the notion of saving the version of him you’ve created. That was never his true self.”

Jalice winced. “I know.” A moment spent wrestling with a surge of guilt forged her next words. “He was in love with my brother. I took that from them. I don’t intend to try and take it again.” The threat of a sob fluttered in her chest. She was tired of crying—tired of mourning.

It wasn’t her plan to throw it, or even take it off. But as if in some numbed trance, Jalice slipped the vow ring off her finger. She set her gaze on the forest beyond and flung her hand forward with a fervent groan. The ring soared through the air and disappeared out of sight, where Jalice imagined it’d be lost for all eternity. The thought saddened her. To her surprise, though, separation from the ring had no such effect. The ring bound Hydrim to her, but she realized now that he had never truly been hers.

“Life has lost all purpose,” she mumbled. “I’ve faced what I did, but now where do I go? I don’t even know how to save Hydrim from what I unleashed on him.”

“I can help you with that, starborn,” Elothel reassured her. Reaching into faer cloak, the mirajin retrieved a thin, transparent vial. There was enough fading light to reveal green residue smeared on the inside of the glass.

Jalice gasped. “Where did you get that?”

“I slipped back into the House before we left the crater. There’s hardly any of the substance left inside though.” Fae paused. “But it’s what you gave to Hydrim, isn’t it?”

Jalice stared wide-eyed at the vial, unwilling to voice the obvious answer.

“It doesn’t help much, but it’ll be a start. Maybe Vowt could scrape up something from what residue remains in the vial. Perhaps it might give us answers.”

“Is it really that simple?” asked Jalice.

“Not by any means,” said Elothel. “A disease, a curse, and a possession—that’s what we’re up against. But the vial offers a timid first step.”

“What else is required?”

“There’s the matter of the deal you struck with Dardajah, which gave him claim over Hydrim’s body. Then there’s the possession itself.”

Jalice’s heart sank. “How do we rectify all that?”

“Deals with dokojin are almost impossible to undo,” Elothel explained. “But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a way. Certain conditions must be met to break the curse enacted by such deals. It’ll take me time to construe them, but it will be done.”

Jalice bit down on her tongue, afraid to speak her next question but knowing it needed to be asked. “And what about the possession?”

Elothel was quiet for a moment, worsening Jalice’s anxiety. “That will require aether in its purest form. Only a mirajin can exorcise a dokojin, and that can only happen after we nullify the claim Dardajah has over Hydrim from the deal that was struck.”

Jalice opened her mouth, then shut it. She wasn’t sure if Elothel was volunteering for the task, but there was something in the mirajin’s tone that told her this was a topic for another time. Instead, she focused on what Elothel had revealed thus far.

It seemed too good to be true that they could save Hydrim. A part of her wanted to believe there was a way to redeem all that she had destroyed.

It’d be easier to flee. She could disappear somewhere and die alone without having to face the final consequences of her actions. Hydrim’s fate was her doing, but she didn’t need to see its end result. And she’d done enough damage. An attempt to save Hydrim might even worsen everything.

“Your brother is alive,” said Elothel.

The words settled into Jalice slowly. She turned her head to eye Elothel though she could hardly distinguish any features aside from faer silhouette in the dark. Surely she had imagined it—some trick of her mind descending so deep into despair that it found hope.

“Kerothan is dead,” said Jalice, fighting back tears. “He died during the Purge.”

Elothel cocked faer head. “I haven’t actually seen him. There are only whispers. But I’m confident that the man with hair like fire, fleeing east alone, was none other than your brother. I believe he escaped before the Sachem could line the borders with warriors. If I’m right, we’ll need to find him. It’s very possible the curse of Dardajah’s claim over Hydrim involves Kerothan.”

Jalice choked back a sob. Kerothan. Alive. She hunched over and buried her face in her hands while her mind refused to accept the possibility. More hope. I don’t want hope. Hope will destroy me.

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she asked, her voice as fragile as one of the dry leaves spiraling in the wind.

Elothel gently placed a hand on her back. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. The woman who was taken from the Fortress isn’t the same as the one who now sits here before me. I’m convinced the knowledge of your brother’s survival wouldn’t have held the same value to you if you hadn’t prevailed through the revelations about the Sachem and your past.”

Fae paused, waiting for Jalice to respond but nodding when she didn’t. “You need rest. I’ve given you much to think about. Days are quickly approaching when you’ll face more decisions that could shift the fate of the tribes. Putting things right will require you to face the darkest elements of the world—and yourself. For now, let’s return to the tents. Dinner is ready.”

Kerothan is alive. The thought crystalized. Already she wondered what her brother would say if she found him. Her chest tightened. How would she explain herself? Would he forgive her? Elothel’s advice to rest dissolved when held to the light of Kerothan’s survival. Her brother’s forgiveness rose onto the highest pedestal in her heart.

One truth swept across the doubts and despair. If no other purpose remained, and even if Hydrim couldn’t be saved, Jalice was certain what path she must tread.

She was going to find her brother.