Page 4 of May: Bloom & Bane

We go? the little voice says in my mind. The one who smells like your spring is that way. She is sleeping. And beautiful.

“My spring?”

I stand up. My legs feel much lighter than they did after first waking.

I don’t care if I’m a monster. If there’s a woman sleeping nearby, and I’m the only one who smells like her spring, then I need to find her.

“Okay, Droot. Lead the way.”

CHAPTER 2

a good sleep

Every step I take is a battle between the two halves of what I’ve become. Where my left foot falls, the moss turns to a black, oily sludge that smells of wet earth and decaying wood. And where my right foot brushes the ferns, they uncurl into a rampant, green hunger, sprawling over the meadow.

“I’m making a mess of things, Droot,” I mutter, ducking my head to avoid a low-hanging oak branch.

He doesn’t seem bothered. He bobs along the trail like a white dandelion caught in a breeze.

The meadow doesn’t mind, he shoots back. It’s been waiting for a gardener. Even if you’re a messy one.

We reach a place where the trees grow so thick the sunlight only hits the ground in golden needles. In the center sits an ancient tree, its roots twisted into a throne of bark and lichen.

Sitting there is a rabbit larger than I’ve ever seen, her fur the color of harvest wheat. She watches me with eyes that look like they’ve seen the world begin and end a dozen times.

Droot bounds toward her, squeaking excitedly in my mind.

Mama! Mama! I found him. The one you said. He gave me my name. I’m Droot. Like root and droplet, Mama!

She descends from the throne, approaching me calmly. She sniffs the grass near my foot.

So you did, little one. Her voice hums in my mind, much steadier than Droot’s. You brought the grave-tender. And he bloomed. How rare.

I don’t understand a word she just said.

“You… You can talk too?”

To those who can hear.

I sink to the ground, and she hops forward, nose tilted toward my heart.

Someone was very greedy this time around, she observes sadly. They wanted the beginning and the end in one vessel. You can hear me because you’re a Solvernah. (Fertility reaper)

“What does that mean?”

She settles back onto her hind legs.

It means you bloom and bane. Growth and rot. Most who rise as you did crumble to ash within breaths. Those who survive a day become mindless, walking decay. But here you are—whole. Someone very special must have pulled some strings.

“Why? Why am I different?”

Because you are tethered. Somewhere, your other half waits. Without her, you would have rotted like the rest.

My heart clenches.

Another half? I don’t even know where I am—how am I supposed to find her?

“Her?”