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“Beware the trickster, my boy,” she uttered before letting me go and walking away, her walking stick tapping loudly on the cobblestone street.
“Wait!” I sprinted after her, her movements surprisingly quick. When I caught up to her, panting, I begged her to explain herself.
She took pity on me and stopped, peering up at me. “The trickster, boy. Pay attention.”
“Who is the trickster?” This earned me a knock over the head with her stick. My eyes narrowed as I rubbed my head. What was that for?
“Anyone who wishes to see the Oracle must first pass the trickster. Beware. Should you look him in the eye, you will be cast from the Forbidden Isles, never to return. Whatever you do, Cassian of Valderán, whatever you might see or witness, do not meet his gaze.”
Two warnings should have persuaded me, but as I packed my bag and set off with a cocky swagger, I had every intention of returning no later than the following night. Once I was out of sight of the village, I quickly stripped, folding the clothing into the bag which I placed around my neck. After glancing around to ensure no one was around, I shifted, letting my manticore out with a roar.
For three days, I flew high, reveling in the freedom of flight and the feel of the wind rustling through my fur. Until I smacked into an invisible wall and fell from the sky. Terror had clawed at my throat, and I was convinced that was the end of me.
Two days were wasted recovering from the fall. Thank the gods for the shifters’ ability to heal. That was the last time I was able to shift, and since then, I have been making my way on foot, navigating the rugged and uneven landscape.
Scrambling the rest of the way up the cliff, I finally heave myself over the top, collapsing on my back. Staring up at the cloudless sky, I allow my racing heart and breath to calm. The sun has passed its zenith and is starting to make its descent. With a sigh, I push myself up, my muscles groaning.
Strange things come out at night. Things whose howls make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my blood run cold. Dragging myself to my feet, I scan the area, my breath leaving me in shock when I spot a large cave in the distance. I rub my eyes to make sure it isn’t a mirage—I’ve been fooled once already—but it doesn’t waver. A part of me urges to keep moving as long as there is sunlight left, but the idea of being safe inside a cave, where I might light a fire and sleep peacefully, is too much to overcome.
Adjusting the bag around my neck, I forge onward, my steps dragging with exhaustion. Sweat drips down my back, dampening my tunic. On and on I trudge, the walk taking longer than I would have expected it to. When I finally swipe the perspiration from my eyes and glance up, the cave is still the same distance it was when I started. When my fatigued brain realizes I have passed the same set of apricot-colored stones for the fifth time, I collapse to my knees, head hanging in defeat.
“Cassian, son of Alaric. Welcome,” a quiet voice hisses. I snap my head up, my gaze wandering around, seeing nothing.
Something titters in amusement, and I am no longer a mile from the cave but outside its entrance. Something moves within, something not human.Beware the trickster,the old woman’s voice whispers, and I have just enough presence of mind left to lower my head, keeping my gaze firmly on the ground beside me.
Minutes tick by and nothing happens. No more voices, no movement. I swallow, trying to wet my parched throat, but the fear coursing through me stops me from moving. I’ve come too far to lose now. I don’t know if this is the trickster I was warned of, but I can’t take any chances. I just wish I could have slept first—in my exhausted state, I may make a mistake.
I clench my fists as my mind thrusts a picture of Snow White in front of me. I will do this. I will get past this so I can get back to her. Determination pushes the fatigue away, and I reach into my bag, gulping down some water from my flask. “I’m ready,” I call out, just as the sun dips below the horizon.
“Cassian!” Snow White calls out to me, making me jerk. I raise my head until I’m reminded of the old woman’s words. I squeeze my eyes shut and lower my head back to my knees. “Please, Cassian, help me!”
Something tugs on my sleeve, and I freeze, holding my breath. Snow’s screams reverberate across the hills, playing on my nerves. These are not normal screams, but otherworldly ones, which I am sure will haunt my dreams for years to come.
Sweat drips from my forehead, gently soaking my hose. The screams come to an abrupt end, the tail of them echoing over the peaks. Silence envelops me, so thick I can only hear the thumping of my heart ringing in my ears. Just as I uncoil my muscles, the sound of metallic scraping sparks my nerves.
“Cassian,” my father groans, “please, son. Help me.” I crack my eyes open, keeping them focused on the ground. His feet appear in my peripheral vision, and I stare in horror as blood splatters on the ground. “Please,” he begs, his voice thick and guttural, as if filled with liquid.
Fingers twist into my hair, trying to force my head back. I curl into myself, using all my strength to pull myself away. My father’s feet disappear, but the blood remains, thick and sticky on the dusty ground.
The sounds of angry howls, yips, and snarls assault my senses as giant paws circle my huddled form. Hot, foul breath ruffles the hair behind my ears, and saliva drips onto my tunic. A rough tongue licks the back of my neck, sending shudders up and down my spine. I clench core muscles to prevent me pissing myself as icy terror grips my heart. My inner beast roars, begging me to let it out. Not that I could, anyway—whatever magic blocks my shift is holding him prisoner. Eventually, the animals disappear, silence once more descending. I exhale the breath I have been holding all at once and greedily suck air into my starved lungs. The quiet doesn’t fool me, I doubt the trickster is finished just yet.
Minutes tick by, ramping up my anxiety. My lowered gaze swings back and forth over the small amount of earth I can see, waiting, wondering. The trickster must get bored with my continued silence, for moments later, a ring of crackling fire encircles me. I hastily pull my feet under me, curling into a tight ball as the scorching heat shimmers around me. Panicked wails of anguish and terror sound from the depths of the flames, Snow White’s and my father’s voices pleading for mercy and salvation. The scent of acrid smoke mixed with burning flesh fills my lungs, making me choke and splutter.
It takes everything in me to stay still, eyes downcast. I was brought up to protect, to become a huntsman, my sole purpose to serve and defend the royal family. Alaric passed Snow White into my care when I was nothing more than a toddler myself, and I have always taken my duties seriously.
My rational mind knows she is not here before me, burning alive in the dancing flames. But her screams awaken something primal within me—the thing that whispers that she is mine. The raw need to leap up and tear her from the flames is so forceful, I have to lock myself down. My muscles tense tightly, but I grit my teeth and wait it out.
As quickly as they appeared, the flames die out, leaving me cloaked in the cover of night. A soft hand strokes down my face, cupping my cheek. “My beautiful boy,” an angelic voice says softly. “It’s okay. You can stop fighting now. I’m here.”
Shock rocks me to my core. I desperately want to look up. To see the woman who died birthing me, to just once lay my eyes on her. Do I look like her? Are her dimples mine? My eyes burn with unshed tears, and the hand moves to my head, gently stroking my hair. I clench my eyes shut tightly, blowing out shallow breaths.
This creature, or god, or whatever it is, is not just some trickster. Its cruelty is endless. It has somehow bored into my mind and ripped out my jagged pieces, displaying them before me, mocking me for my weaknesses.
“Who are you?” I cry out, and my mother’s hand disappears. A horrible scraping sound slides around me, and something hairy brushes my ear. Keeping my head lowered, I open my eyes. Eight thin hairy legs stand before me. The creature paces around me, hissing at me in a language I’m unfamiliar with. Its feet poke and prod at me, trying to force me to look at it.
“Cassian, will you not look at me?” it wheezes, stopping in front of me. “I see you met that meddling crone in the village. Did she tell you not to meet my eye?” I remain silent, giving it nothing.
Malicious laughter, low and dark, rolls over me. “She is a jealous old hag. She envies my powers and tells all newcomers to the islands to avoid me. I am Anansi, messenger to the sky god, Nyame. She has seen your struggles and wishes to award you for your bravery. All you have to do is meet my gaze, and I will bestow all her gifts unto you.”
