Breaking Chains

In a valley across a great big lake, cradled between mountains like a god’s cupped hands, sat a number of villages and towns. They were nestled among green meadows and greener forests like chicks in a bird’s nest.

It was a peaceful place with people who considered themselves to be sensible and smart. They knew better than to do foolish things, to dress the wrong way, or to cause trouble. They worked hard and rolled their eyes at anyone who didn’t act like them.

They claimed to enjoy individuality, but the moment a colorful bard or a theater troupe with curious characters or simply someone different rolled through town, they began to whisper.

It was a pleasant place, as long as everyone acted as expected. As long as everyone behaved. As long as everyone was sensible and smart and did as they were told.

Raine had always been a bit of a strange child, born to parents who could pretend very well to be like everyone else, but behind closed doors, things were different. Behind closed doors, they told her adventurous stories. They told her strange and wonderful stories.

They raised her on the ideas of hope and possibility and that, ultimately, good would triumph over evil. It was simply how the world was made, they told her.

Outside of their home, however, those stories felt very distant. They felt odd and misplaced, like her parents had heard them somewhere very, very far from here. Somewhere where the world was still bright and colorful and people were accepted the way they were. A world where no one was wrong, where no one felt like they didn’t belong.

Her parents taught her well how to play along like they did. How to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

"It’s like a dance," her father said as he let her stand on his socked feet to dance around the living room with her, making her giggle, and he tossed her up carefully and caught her again. "It’s not so bad once you learn the steps."

"It’s like this everywhere in the world," her mother said kindly, quietly, but with a sadness, like she wished it were different but knew it wasn’t. "All we can do is try and hold onto whatever happiness we can find."

Raine always thought it strange, that her parents made themselves smaller and quieter and milder whenever they went outside.

They spoke more softly, and she could see the genuine emotions they bit back and ground down so they only offered small, palatable portions to their neighbors.

The people of their town were of the opinion that strangers were to be treated with friendliness, but they should not be invited to overstay their welcome. Strange things ought to be ignored, and no one ever went against what the temple priest said.

If he forbade entrance to the northern forest due to strange markings on trees or seeing a woman in a floaty, white dress disappear, no one went there. If the forbade using the river because there were ill omens, everyone washed their clothes elsewhere.

There was one thing he considered forbidden at all times, however, not just for certain seasons or until he had smoked out whatever evil had been seen, and that was a glittery cave up the mountain.

It wasn’t forbidden because the path was treacherous and would kill all but the most skilled climbers. No, it was because he considered the cave unnatural.

Raine secretly thought that it was beautiful. It glittered in the morning sun when she could catch glimpses of it between trees and especially in winter when the trees were bare.

She couldn’t help but wonder if it truly was an evil place, if it was rotten and malicious and would bring curses down on any who went there and their families ,to boot. She would love to see it up close.

Still, she was a good girl. She didn’t go where she wasn’t meant to, she did as she was bid and she dressed properly and was polite and friendly and smiled, just as people wanted.

Deep down, however, she felt herself wither away bit by bit as she grew older.

The world wasn’t fair, was the thing. She had learned that pretty quickly, despite her parents' stories to the contrary, once she started to notice things around her.

She noticed the priest drink and not pay, even though the tavern owner was struggling to make ends meet after a bad year. All while he preached about the importance of taking care of each other and not taking advantage of people.

She saw the mayor tug the young girl he paid for the upkeep of his house back inside when she wanted to leave, despite having a wife and children. The young girl never looked happy going to work, but no one said anything, even if other people noticed it, as well.

She saw the blacksmith kick at her dog whenever she grew annoyed with its presence. When her apprentice tried to say something, she threatened to send the kid home without pay for the rest of the month.

Raine very quickly figured out the actual rules of this world. Those with power, with money and influence or just sheer physical prowess, those were the ones who decided what everyone else had to do.

It was easy to spot the downtrodden, to realize just how much she herself suffered under made-up rules she had to obey, once she knew what to look for.

How even those with little-to-no power still tried to get it from somewhere. Even if all they could do to get a scrap of it was to toss rocks at chickens to make them panic and run away.

Raine made sure to toss rocks right back at them, and before she knew it, she started doing more things differently. She handed bits of food to kids with bruises on their arms who were a little too thin. Even if they weren’t thin, she still gave them something.

She lured the blacksmith’s dog away and kept it and was surprised when no one said anything. Then again, no one ever said anything.

So she took a good, long look at the rules. She turned them around in her head, and then she started to push and prod. She had careful conversations with neighbors who had the same smiles as her parents, who ground themselves down to nothing, and who did their best to be sensible.

Raine found out just how many people actually thought like her, how many wished for better days, for kinder hands, for softer words. For more love everywhere.

She also found out that she was getting really, really angry.

She mulled over her seething fury that was close to being stoked into actual rage, and she decided that this better world everyone dreamed of, that she dreamed of, could not come to fruition if she wasn’t willing to stop toeing the line.

To break some rules.

The first thing she did was walk up the mountain and visit the crystal cave. It was even more beautiful up close and absolutely breathtaking inside.

The walls shimmered and glittered and the ground beneath her was veined with some strange, glimmering, green metal running through it like the blood flow of the mountain.

As she followed the tunnel beyond the cave, she noticed that same metal run through the walls, as well, winding around clusters of crystals and overlapping before splitting again.

It wasn’t until she reached the end of the tunnel and it opened up into a massive space, sunlight falling in from large holes above, that she realized it hadn’t been metal veins at all. It had been roots.

What stood before her was a massive tree, the leaves seemingly to be made of the finest gold, the bark made of cracked and peeling brown and green gems, and silvery sap running down one side from a blade stuck in the tree, the wound still weeping.

On the ground before the tree were six skeletons with rusting and rotting armor and weaponry.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what had happened here: this group of people clearly had tried to take down the tree, most likely because it was made of everything precious that greedy – or desperate – people wanted. Clearly, the tree hadn’t taken kindly to that.

As she carefully approached, the fine golden leaves of the tree shivered in an invisible breeze, and she saw fruit that looked like crystalline chestnuts hanging on the branches. She was sure that just touching the spikes of the outer shells would pierce her fingers straight through.

Raine remembered all the stories her parents had told her like secrets, like they were giving her little drops of joy and sunshine to hoard and protect lest the world took it from her forever.

She knew magic when she saw it.

"Do you want me to remove the blade?" she asked, and after a moment, the tree fell quiet.

She approached very carefully, and nothing happened, not when she clambered up the roots, not when she reached for the blade and not when her fingers closed around the hilt, and when she gave it a big pull, it slid free almost effortlessly.

Raine used the momentum to toss the blade, watching it clatter across the ground, and immediately it turned to rust and crumbled like all the other weaponry. When she glanced back at the tree, the wound had stopped bleeding and was slowly closing up.

Smiling, she hopped down the roots and paused in surprise when a branch shivered and lowered itself, offering one of the half-opened chestnuts to her with a little shake of golden leaves.

Raine remembered all the stories about deals and binding agreements, of faerie magic and curses and wicked little creatures and monsters that wanted to trick people.

Then, she thought of her life filled with oppressive, suffocating rules. Rules that she had to listen to because more powerful people had made them up and reinforced them to stay in power, and she held out her hands.

She was here to break rules, and not taking anything from strangers was one of the rules. The tree wasn’t exactly a stranger, but it likely had the capability to ruin her just as much.

But she wanted to be daring. She wanted to believe that the world could be good, could be better, that the stories about evil things and ill omens and cursed babes and wicked witches weren’t all true.

Or rather, that those people were only called bad and terrible because they could threaten those in power. Because they broke rules.

She wanted to be a threat, she realized. She wanted to be wicked and cursed if that was what it took to make things better. She wanted to grind rules to dust the same way she had learned to crush herself down until she was small and sensible and sweet and good.

The tree shivered, the leaves suddenly becoming shiny like they had gotten polished all at once, the bark gained a healthy shine, and a chime like a song came from the crystals lining the walls.

The thorny shell opened, and a chestnut fell out, gleaming a reddish gold, and it was warm in her hands. It pulsed, like a heartbeat.

When she looked up, the tree seemed to be laughing, its leaves rustling, and the crystals were humming and chiming, but it didn’t feel like they were laughing at her. Raine closed her fingers around the chestnut, feeling it pulse gently, warm like a summer breeze, and she found herself smiling.

It seemed that breaking the rules was one of the best ideas she had ever had.

The tree ushered her out, and she left with a spring in her step and a warm heartbeat tucked into her pocket. She returned home, finding everything unchanged, but she realized that she was no longer the same.

As though her resolve had taken root within her like that strange tree in that cave. It had grown to fill her lungs, branching out and flowering, and for the first time in her life, she felt like she could breathe.

Like she could walk tall without worrying that she was overstepping. That she would be too much, too loud, too rude.

Raine found in the following days that she laughed more loudly and talked with less and less restraint, and she realized how many people started doing the same once she dared to take the first step.

When she questioned the priest about the ill omens he had seen on some fields that could not be harvested this year, even though families were struggling, he stuttered in his answer.

No one had questioned him before, at least not out loud, and more and more people started asking, sensing that he actually wasn’t all that sure about these omens, until he said he’d take a second look.

During the next sermon he said nothing about cursed fields or a bad harvest or that even worse bad luck would find them all if they ate what grew there.

When she saw the blacksmith shout at her apprentice again, she spoke up without even thinking about it. The woman looked taken aback, startled at being approached, and while she cussed Raine out, she stomped away to continue her work. The apprentice sent Raine a grateful smile, and the little chestnut in her pocket kept beating like a little heart.

The mayor, when she saw him grab the young girl when she tried to slip out of his house, startled just as much when Raine raised her voice. The girl used the moment to weasel away, keeping her head down and her shoulders hunched.

The mayor, of course, put a smile on his face and waved her off, laughing and telling her that he had to remind the girl to do a better job with scrubbing the chimneys. He joked about needing to keep an eye on people or they wouldn’t work hard enough.

He squirreled away the moment he could, and that evening, Raine was approached by the girl, who thanked her softly. They talked, and the chestnut kept beating like a heart, and the next day, the girl sent, in her stead, her brother, who was bigger and a year older and more than eager to take her place to protect her.

The girl took his job, instead, and when everyone at the farm told her that she was too little, too weak, too soft, she proved them all wrong. She was doing such a good job, in fact, that the farm refused to let her go when the mayor showed up, and by then, no other young girls wanted to work for him, either.

Raine had spoken a lot with people, always carrying her chestnut in her pocket, and she saw the shift among her neighbors.

She saw the mayor suddenly treading more carefully as people started to get angry, she saw the blacksmith temper herself at long last when she began to lose business and she saw the priest speak less and less about ill omens and forbidden areas, and he could no longer leave the tavern without paying.

They had grown afraid, she realized. They had grown afraid because their power had grown brittle in their hands because the rest of the town had realized that they deserved better.

They now felt the prey-fear that everyone else had to live with whenever they had to be around the big, strong predators that had money and muscle and the authority of faith behind them.

But it wasn’t enough, Raine realized as the anger within her persisted, and she found that the rules were still there, just softer now. Gentler. And bit by bit, they got reinforced again with different words.

Words that still played on the same old fears people had. The same old thoughts that still lingered in their heads. Fears about their own safety and the loss of their fortunes and what little standing they had. The fear of being replaced or killed or cheated out of what they deserved.

And the same old, vile power slowly, bit by bit, regained its footing. Smarter now, more careful and better hidden, but it grew once again.

That night, Raine got woken by insistent knocking at her door. It was the young girl who no longer worked for the mayor, who was a little wild eyed and out of breath.

"There is a man," she whispered, nervously glancing over her shoulder. She had grown stronger at the farm and happier, as well. She walked taller, but she still avoided the mayor, afraid of him and his eyes that followed her. "And when the priest sees him, he’ll have him killed."

Raine followed her as they rushed down the night-dark road towards the farm the girl worked on. Her brother was waiting with a lantern, standing over the prone form of someone crumpled onto the ground.

The second Raine saw the man, she knew the girl was right. He was covered in blood, but that actually wasn’t even the part that would immediately condemn him in the eyes of the priest. It was the tattoos visible on his bare upper body, winding up his arms, and weaving below his collarbones to meet in the middle of his chest. And there, partially obscured by dark, still-wet blood, sat a symbol of the old world.

Of one of the old gods.

Raine had seen the symbols of the old gods often enough; they were warnings and markings at once, so the townsfolk knew who to avoid. Only depraved, terrible people would carry these marks and worship old gods, they had been told.

Terrible people who relished in debauchery and bloodshed. Awful things that Raine and all the others were meant to be protected from as long as they were small and quiet and good and sensible and pious.

The chestnut beat like a heart, and Raine saw the opportunity to try to break one more rule. She sank down to a knee beside the man, touching his neck to feel for his pulse, and found it strong and steady.

"Help me carry him," she whispered, and the siblings exchanged a look, before they visibly gathered themselves and reached for the man.

It was late and dark enough that no one could see them once the lantern was extinguished, and the road was worn enough that they didn’t have to worry about stumbling or tripping over holes and roots or stones.

The siblings helped her set the man down in front of her fireplace, the dog she had saved hiding under the kitchen table, and they helped her clean him up. Not once did he wake, but strangely enough, none of the blood seemed to be his. There wasn’t so much as a bruise on him.

"Don’t you think he’s dangerous?" the girl whispered worriedly.

Raine thought of the priest and the mayor and the blacksmith. She thought of the traders that had come through scamming others out of their money, of the tax collector taking just a little bit more than he should with no one being able to do anything. Of the king taxing them and then not using the money to lift his people up.

She thought of all the rules that were placed like yokes on people, ready to turn into guillotines for those who dared to protest too much. For those who dared to be too different. Raine herself had to walk a careful line between breaking rules and not going too far.

It reignited that pit of fury in her stomach. She shouldn’t have to fear consequences for speaking up. She shouldn’t have to fear those in power, still, even after all her attempts to break free of her invisible shackles.

"If he is dangerous, it is not because of his markings," she said, "but because he himself is rotten." She glanced at the siblings. "We know rottenness even without the old gods, don’t we?"

The old gods clearly had never been the problem, nor had the old world been. The priests had claimed that they brought order and true faith to the people as they erased the temples of the old gods. And yet, things vile and dark flourished as much as ever.

"Thank you for telling me about him," she said, her voice softening. "It’s best if you go back to bed now, or you’ll be too tired in the morn."

The siblings nodded, whispering at her to be careful as they slipped out. The moment Raine closed the door and turned around, she saw that the man was awake.

His eyes were storm-gray, and his hair was long and dark, and he seemed a little surprised, staring down at his clean hands as he sat up. He noticed her a moment later and straightened.

There was a wild edge to him, Raine thought. Not like an alley dog, wary and about to snap, nor like shifty people who looked for their chance to lunge, but like rushing, deep rivers and rolling thunderstorms and wild horses galloping free.

She also noticed the faint glimmer that went through his tattoos, and he blinked and swept into a small, downright playful bow once he clambered to his feet.

"I thank you, my gracious savior," he said, and his voice was pleasant and not the least bit rough like she would have expected from someone who had been unconscious and covered in blood. "You have my gratitude; my name is Alric. Would you be so kind as to tell me where I am?"

Raine gestured at him to take a seat at her table and explained how he had been found in the field and brought here. "Why were you covered in blood?"

"A little tribute to my goddess," he said with pride, and his tattoos glimmered once more, as though a small wave of magic passed through them. "She loves to feast on dark hearts." His smile held a sharp, darkly proud edge. "You will not find the men I killed when you go looking for them."

Raine couldn’t help but think that that was neat. Quite useful, really. She would have loved to make the mayor disappear, as well as the blacksmith, the priest, the thieving and stealing and terrible people who never stopped being greedy for power no matter how much they amassed. Who had gulped it all down like they were starving and, still, were hungry for more.

Who were willing to hurt anyone in their way in order to gain more. In order to keep what they had already gotten their hands on.

"You will be killed when the others see those," she said and gestured at his tattoos. "You can hide here if you need to."

"You’re not afraid?" he asked, and there was a spark of curiosity, of fascination, of quiet delight in his eyes as he leaned forward a little. "You lot don’t like my kind very much. We’re monsters, devils, in your eyes. Heathens who will make the heavens weep with blood and cause all of your souls to be damned and forsaken."

His voice had gained a grandiose pitch like he was about to perform on stage, and Raine found herself laughing. It wasn’t a nice laugh; it was sharp and snapping, and her grin was more a baring of teeth.

"I am not afraid," she said, though a part of her knew that she was, deep down. Not of him; he was strange and edged in nature’s wildness, but there was no malice in his eyes. No dark hunger, no acidic anger, and no salivating greed. Things she had seen in the mayor, in the blacksmith, in the priest.

She secretly feared what these people could do to her if she dared to act out too much, even as she spoke up. She did as much as she dared to, but she still chafed at the invisible ropes that kept her tied to the ground.

Kept her half on her knees, half ready to placate, to be careful, to lower her head for the sake of her own safety.

The priest would have her killed as surely as he would see Alric dead if he ever decided she was too much of a problem. She had no idea if the rest of the townsfolk would come to her aid if that happened, but she wasn’t going to bet on it.

"No, you’re not afraid of me," he murmured before he grew more solemn. "I am no threat to you or yours, you have my word. I hunt for those that have passed the threshold of redemption, those that allow themselves to be hollowed out by rage and greed, and those who gorge themselves to all things dark and vile."

"I wish you much success, then," Raine said, thinking of bruised, tired people and limping animals and flinching children. "Hunt well and for many years."

He laughed, bright and delighted, and he pressed his hand over his heart, his tattoos glimmering once more as he sketched a bow while sitting. "As you command, my gracious savior. I may not have been injured in flesh when you found me, but a terrible magic had been placed on me by those I gave to my goddess."

A curse would explain why he had been limp and unresponsive without so much as a scratch on him.

"They cursed me to never wake, for they thought no one would show a wretched creature like me any kindness." He smiled at her, a wild sort of charm to him as he added, "I slept for no more than an hour before you found me."

Raine smiled back, a little toothy, a little dark, a little challenging, and a little glad. "Shows them what they know, doesn’t it?"

He laughed once more, and when she offered to get him food, he hopped to his feet to help her make a simple meal. They talked until the sky grew bright, and when she left to go to work, she heard him sing a cheerful song, the type of song the priest had warned everyone not to sing, full of alluring promises and enticing ideas. The priest said that such music meant only to corrupt anyone who listened.

And as she left, she felt something settle over her and her home. A blessing, edged in the same nature-wildness that Alric carried. That his goddess carried, she realized. It felt like support, like protection, like daring.

The chestnut kept beating like a heart, strong and steady, and Raine met the eyes of all her neighbors and told no one of Alric, of the wicked ruin made flesh that they would only see in him should they lay eyes on him.

Raine had never met anyone who actually understood her, not until Alric. He made it easy to speak her mind, to show him all the sharp and dark and angry parts of her that seethed at injustice, that snarled at the shackles she couldn’t bring herself to fully shake off.

The parts of her that wanted to ruin all things dark and vile until they were gone, never to return. Until the world could be bright and kind once more.

Alric spent his days at her place, and whenever she returned from work, she found the tiny little house clean and food cooked and the blessing having seeped even further into every part of her home.

It showed in ways she hadn’t expected: wild flowers grew all around her house, hawks sat on her roof during the day, and owls at night. Ravens accompanied her, and smart little cats watched her like they knew things she didn’t.

Her dog loved Alric, and somehow, the scars that had been left on its body and hidden under fur vanished. If anything, her dog seemed stronger and brighter than ever, though it still flinched from all but Alric and her.

At night, however, Alric left. She never asked where he went or what he did, and he never said anything, either.

He returned before dawn, and while there wasn’t a speck of blood anywhere, there was a pleased calmness to him. A glimmer clung to his tattoos, and a predator’s satisfaction to the blessing that coated her home. To the goddess that had chosen him.

He was pretty resistant to wearing shirts, however. Raine had given up on trying to talk him into covering up his tattoos, and somehow, whenever people knocked at her door or she had visitors over, he vanished into thin air.

To her surprise, the siblings came by more and more often, as well, at first to check on her, and then they seemed to just enjoy visiting. Before Raine knew it, she realized that the siblings, too, were angry and sharp, and they wanted to ruin injustice and cruelty and greed as much as she did.

It was a novelty to find such friends, to no longer feel so alone with her strange soul, and when she carefully shared the stories of her parents with these people, instead of snatching them from her and extinguishing their light, she saw their eyes brighten.

"You are a gifted storyteller," Alric said after the siblings had left using a pause in the day’s rain to head home without getting soaked.

He wasn’t going anywhere tonight, and he smiled at her with all the promising, luring wickedness, all that temptation, that the temples relentlessly warned of.

Raine looked at him, and he shifted, leaning back to silently present himself to her, smiling with that nature-wild edge to him. His hands fell open as though to invite her in if she wanted to join him, and she realized something.

She realized that she did want him and just why the temples had done their best to vilify this feeling, this breathless longing that burned differently than her anger.

It made her palms tingle with the wish to reach out and touch what they said should not be touched outside of matrimony, and even then, ought not to be desired.

This feeling made her daring, it made her want, it made her rebellious.

So she stepped forward, and he parted his legs for her, giving her the space to fit between his thighs, and when she reached out, he happily welcomed her touch. He pulled her in and kissed her like she was magic, like he was capable of making her taste what stars were made of.

The chestnut pulsed like a heart in her pocket, and his tattoos made her hands tingle as though she was touching a vein of otherworldly power. As if she could dip her fingers into that vein and coat them in a god’s blood, and as though that god would welcome her at any time.

It was the best night of her life.

Raine stared down at Alric’s tattoos while he slept beside her in her bed, warm and loving. Unafraid of his and her own desires, of laughing together and stopping halfway through when they rather wanted to talk.

Of cussing when it suddenly smelled like something burning, and he realized he had forgotten the cake he was currently baking. Of saving the cake only to ignore it as they fell back into bed together.

She loved him, she realized, she loved him and his wildness and his goddess whose presence lingered around her house like a dear friend reading a book just in the other room.

But with that love, the chains she had grudgingly endured made her ever more angry. She hated that he was hiding just to stay with her, to avoid causing her trouble, for he was never afraid for himself. He also didn’t want to endanger the siblings who had grown to be such precious friends to both of them.

For them, too, Raine was angry. For the way the girl still flinched from the mayor, and for the way her brother never dared to even look at the son of the tavern owner despite both of them secretly being sweet on each other.

It made her angry to see the blacksmith’s apprentice and how exhausted he was, how people ducked their heads around the priest and fervently tried to do everything he said, so very afraid of punishment. So very afraid of the god they were meant to believe in.

There was nothing to punish, especially not when those actually doing terrible deeds were still held in high esteem, still had power and money and could pay others to look the other way. Could threaten them into silence. Into submission.

"You are thinking very loudly," Alric murmured and opened his eyes to look at her, his dark hair a bit tangled, and she reached out to gently run her fingers through it, and he hummed, sweet and delighted, as she carefully worked out his tangles and lightly scratched her nails along his scalp.

"I want to show you something," she whispered, and when she got off the bed, he sat up and watched curiously as she picked up her dress and reached into the pocket.

When she rejoined him, he leaned forward curiously. The moment she opened her hand to reveal the chestnut, he sucked in a sharp breath, and then he threw his head back and laughed.

His eyes were bright, and his tattoos glimmered as he reached out, gently cupping her hand in both of his without touching the chestnut.

"You are going to be an end and a beginning," he told her, a strange echo to his voice, and the presence of his goddess was thick in the air, like she was leaning over their shoulders. "And knowing what we know of your heart, it will be glorious."

Raine sucked in a breath, and her chest suddenly felt too tight and too full, and she carefully set the chestnut aside. Alric was more than eager, more than willing, to let her drag him atop her, letting her kiss his laughter off his lips.

He whispered against her skin that he loved her, that he couldn’t wait for the day she decided to show the world all that she could do. All that she was made of.

It didn’t even take two days before his wish came true. Raine had just gotten back from her work when a commotion at the market square got her attention.

Arriving there, she saw the siblings kneeling in the dirt, both of them bleeding with tears in their eyes. Their desperate pleas got ignored by the priest who condemned them for witchcraft.

The mayor stood back, smug and darkly satisfied, staring down the girl as he said, "I am willing to take in the girl and show her the cleansing path of redemption."

The anger within Raine broke free like a beast that had finally figured out how to shatter its cage, the chestnut beating stronger and fiercer than ever in her pocket.

Alric was at her side with her dog before she knew it, as though he had known something would happen – or, perhaps, his goddess had told him. People started to gasp and shout when they saw him, the mayor and the priest recoiling from him and the shimmer along his chest and down his arms. From the symbol of the old gods that he wore proudly.

Raine didn’t waste a second to use the chaos his presence caused to pull the siblings up off their knees, and then they were running, a tremor running through the ground as buildings creaked and groaned, ravens diving down to attack the townsfolk, and Alric was at her side a moment later.

She led everyone to the crystal cave, pacing angrily as the tree rustled its branches, but it welcomed them among its roots anyway.

The siblings got her caught up on what had happened. That the girl had refused the mayor ever since she had escaped his house and his continued obsession with her had never stopped.

The priest had gotten ever angrier that he had to pay for his drinks and had noticed the glances exchanged between the tavern boy and the brother.

He had said he would only let the charges against the brother drop if the tavern owner gave him everything he wanted free of charge. The brother had been the one to tell them to not do it. To not give in.

The slope of the brother’s shoulders was tired and defeated, however, sad and yet also angry.

"Can’t you kill them?" the girl sobbed, looking at Alric, who looked at Raine.

"They are not my prey," he said and smiled, temptation and wildness and everything forbidden and so, so good in the curl of his lips. "I know better than to ruin someone’s hunt."

The chestnut pulsed, and Raine felt her chest expand and her lungs fill, and she knew there was no shoving the beast back in its cage. Not when she didn’t even want to.

Not when she wanted to shatter shackles and destroy everything dark and vile until it laid broken at her feet.

"I will go with you," Alric said quietly an hour later when the siblings, at last, slept exhaustedly among the roots, the tree having drawn them in and cradled them protectively. Her dog was curled up in another cluster of roots, paws twitching as it dreamed.

He offered his hands, and she took them, lacing their fingers together. He pressed searing kisses along her knuckles, his gaze smoldering as he didn’t look away even once.

"I want to see you claim yourself," he murmured, his lips brushing her skin. "I want to be there when the old world ends and another begins."

The tree rustled like a whispering rumble, and a chiming laugh traveled through the crystals, and Alric grinned. "You found something wondrous here, do you know that?"

Raine looked at the tree, something that others would consider impossible, and she felt the lingering presence of Alric’s goddess. She blinked as realization unfolded within her mind like a flower that had grown quietly and patiently all this time and could finally bloom.

"The old world," she whispered, and Alric grinned in agreement. She took a deep breath and straightened. "I know what to do."

It was pitch dark when they returned to the town. Her home stood open and ransacked, and while her rage flared hotter at the sight, she didn’t let it distract her.

She walked beyond the town center to the intersection of dirt roads where three buildings stood facing each other. The temple, the mayor’s house and the blacksmith’s smithy.

She pulled out the chestnut, and it felt downright hot to the touch now, its pulse so strong it rumbled up her entire arm, synching up with her own heartbeat.

For quite some time, she had simply carried it with her, had let it be a reminder of her own daring and just how rewarding breaking the rules was.

That fear was what held her back, what held everyone back, from living fulfilling and free lives.

Fear they had been taught, fear they had been told to have, even though it served no other purpose than to keep terrible people in power.

"What are you doing?" the priest’s startled voice made her whirl around, and there he stood, swaying slightly from his drinking, wide eyes fixed on the chestnut like he had spotted his own personal monster.

"He knows this is his end," Alric whispered, leaning over her shoulder, his gaze fixed on the man, one predator sizing up another. Three predators, for she was one, too, she realized.

And she was sick and tired of pretending otherwise, of making herself lesser, of watching everyone around her do the same. Of being scared, scared, scared, always on their knees, always apologizing, always worried to set even one toe out of line.

"An end for a beginning," she said, and dropped the chestnut onto the dirt road, the priest lurching forward with a desperate cry.

The chestnut vanished into the ground like it was made of water, and Raine felt it take root. She sensed it as the chestnut cracked open and a seedling grew out, and she stepped back, pulling Alric with her, as the priest wailed, and she heard a crash from the mayor’s house, and the door of the smithy slammed open.

"No more shackles," Raine said just as the seedling broke out of the earth, and then it grew and grew and grew, gem-barked and gold-leaved and big and powerful; it dug its roots into the town, spreading below houses and racing along streets until they emerged and shimmered as though metal had been poured in wild lines into the ground.

And Raine felt it, she felt herself grow braver and stand taller. She felt the way that hungry, terrible greed and that vile, vicious darkness in three hearts shivered and then fled.

The priest was running, the mayor was running, and the blacksmith was running, fear in their eyes as everything they had built was crumbled by the roots of something as old as the foundation of the world itself.

Something that had been forgotten but had never left. It had waited, patiently, for someone who would not take from it but offer something to it.

Someone like Raine, who wanted nothing more than to ruin the current world to make a better one bloom from the ashes of viciousness and greed and hatred.

She heard more doors slam open, more people fleeing like hares, their vile hearts desperate for escape.

As the tree finished growing, some houses stood empty, and the entire town seemed to be able to breathe, people peeking out of their homes, and all of a sudden, there was laughter and crying and shouting of relief and gratitude.

Alric pushed her forward, towards her people, the siblings rushing down the road with her dog racing ahead to be welcomed back with apologies and tears. With promises to be better, to be braver, to never again look the other way when injustice took place.

When Raine returned to Alric, her faithful dog happy at her side, she found him leaning against the tree, his eyes closed and his tattoos glimmering. She felt overwhelmed in the best of ways by everything that had happened.

"Not every plant grows as big and strong as trees," Alric said when she reached his side. "Some need a tree’s protection to grow; they need shelter and a chance to be more than struggling little seedlings."

He smiled at her. "You are like this tree, my dear love. And now, these little plants can grow because of you." He nodded at the townsfolk. "This will turn into a beautiful place."

The tree rustled to get her attention and lowered a branch, offering her a chestnut. It was an unhurried gesture, and yet, she sensed the unspoken question in the air.

Was she done, now that her town was free? Was she satisfied?

Or did she want to keep hunting until she had ripped out everything terrible and horrible root and stem?

The answer was easy.

Raine opened her hands and accepted the chestnut that dropped into her palms, warm and pulsing.

"Will you hunt with me?" she asked. "I’ve only just begun, and I would be glad to have you by my side."

She looked up at Alric, who had brightened like he had hoped she would ask him that. That she would want him around. His tattoos glimmered brighter, like his goddess was eager for this, as well.

The darkness had fled, but it wasn’t gone. Not yet, and not anytime soon, but it would happen. There was no corner it could hide in from her, no place it could run to where she would not follow. She would hunt it to the end of the world, until the old, cruel one laid dead at her feet and the new, kinder one could grow beneath protective boughs.

"We will go with you," a voice spoke up, and she looked over her shoulder to see the siblings behind her, faces determined and fierce. "You don’t have to do this alone."

Her dog barked at that moment like it was determined to be part of the group, like it would not be left behind. Raine would never have abandoned her beloved dog, of course, and she reached down a hand to gently pat its head.

She smiled as the tree offered the siblings chestnuts, as well, and Alric’s hand found hers, lacing their fingers together.

"You will touch more people’s hearts going forward," he whispered into her ear, his voice making a tingle race down her spine. "I can’t wait to see the new world you’re bringing with you."

He leaned forward to press a kiss to her shoulder. "Your bright heart will terrify the dark, my dear love. Just leave some hearts for me to devour, won’t you?"

She had to smile and turned to face him, leaning in to kiss him. "We will do this together," she murmured as she pulled back. "Your goddess is part of this new world, after all, isn’t she?"

"She and all the others," he said with a grin. "Very well. Shall we?"

They shall indeed. It was time to make all things vile and terrible tremble and cower in fear like they had made everyone else cower and tremble until now.

It was time to break shackles and free people who yearned for a kinder, softer, better tomorrow. For a world where love reigned and everyone could be themselves, fearlessly brave.

Tree by tree, they would bring death to fear and endless, hungry greed.