Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Fyn stared at Hana's mouth, trying to make sense of what he just heard.

That was impossible. He couldn't have been gone for years. He knew it was more than a few days, he knew it was more than a few weeks, but years? That was just impossible.

But was it really?

During the course of his stay in the forest, he had met a talking serpent, he lived with a demon, he taught little talking turnips about herbs and how to use them, and he witnessed how branches and vines moved around him as if they had minds of their own.

Slowly, Fyn felt his knees giving out under him, and he falls in a messy heap on the floor, panic flooding his system. He had really been gone for years. That would explain the houses, why they seemed so different. That would explain why the majority of his plants had died. That would explain why his house had a thick layer of dust and dirt covering it.

It was because he was gone for years.

And he didn't even know it.

Tears prick the corner of his eyes as Fyn runs his hand through his hair.

How long was he gone? How much time had he wasted?

"When you disappeared, we thought life would have been better," Hana said, her voice seeming far away. "We thought you would have been the last bridal offering Gashea had to give the demon."

Fyn didn't lift his head, his mind still running through many things. He couldn't force himself to focus, his mind was elsewhere. An idea crosses his mind, he wonders if he would have taken this much better if he had been with Havu. The serpent always seemed to be better at helping me understand problems. It would have given him a piece of good advice right now.

"Then... the disasters began."

Fyn paused, "What?"

"Disasters," Hana repeated, her eyes turning dark. She pushes herself up, leaning against the wall of Fyn's small hut. Leaning her head back, she started looking up at the ceiling, her hand rubbing her belly, probably for comfort. "It was the drought at first, there was no water for months. The only source we could trust was the river. We had to get rid of the bodies, we had to wait for months to make sure that it was clean enough to drink."

Fyn knew that would explain the reason the river was now free of the dead bodies.

Hana sniffed, "Then it was the famine."

"Famine?" Fyn asked, hugging his knees to his chest. "There had always been famine."

It was the truth. There had always been people from Gashea who turned hungry. That was why there were bridal offerings in the first place. Still, Hana has pain in her face. The longer Fyn stared at her, the older version of her, he felt as if he was just in a dream. A dream he wanted to wake up from. Yet as much as he closed his eyes and opened them again, he was still there. Still in his hut that seemed to have gotten older than he was, sitting a few feet away from Hana, who seemed older than she was.

"It was different this time," Hana explains, rubbing her belly. "Fruits stopped sprouting from trees, fishes were gone, seeds won't grow. It was awful. Father got sick... the famine was too much. Together with the famine, came the diseases. Without proper nutrition, people started getting sick, people started dying. My husband... he was a healer from another island, he came here and he stayed here. Married me."

Hana had a genuine smile on her face. Fyn saw a sliver of the old Hana at that moment. The beautiful one he knew. The beautiful one he knew before the abductions, before the forest.

"We thought you died," Hana said. "We didn't see your body in the river, that's why we didn't offer a bride. We thought it ended with you. The next day, the disasters began. We tried to solve it, but nothing changed. We still suffered, plenty died."

Fyn was silent. He didn't know what to say. Hana obviously did.

"We tried offering another bride," She tells him. Fyn gasped loudly. Surely not! "We continued the ritual, the tradition. But something was wrong. When the bride enters the forest, even if she walked a straight line, she would always appear back in the place she entered. There was this... this barrier that prevented us from offering another bride."

Fyn chuckled darkly, running his hand through his hair as roughly as he could.

"Do you not hear them?" He asked sarcastically, repeating the very same words he heard weeks ago. When Hana tilted her head in confusion at his words, Fyn shook his head, annoyed. He points out, "The forest, apparently, it speaks."

Hana didn't laugh, she continued talking like Fyn hadn't even spoken.

"People started leaving," Slowly, Hana stands, her eyes on Fyn. It was dark and scary. Fyn gulped, standing too quickly, his vision black for a few moments. "People started leaving, but the sea won't let us leave. They leave at dawn, and by noon, pieces of their ship would wash onshore. Their bodies missing. People started leaving fully knowing they will never make it outside Gashea."

Fyn took a step back. As it had then, he watched as Hana's face melted into something diabolical and terrifying. Even though she had gotten older, she didn't change. She was still the cruel woman who watched her father tie him up. The cruel woman who gripped his hair as his scalp burned and threw him into the forest. Not caring whether or not he would live.

"We couldn't live without food, so my husband tried to leave the island," Hana's voice hitched like she was trying her hardest not to cry. Wiping traitorous tears roughly with her forearm, she hissed in Fyn's direction. "He knew what would happen, but he just couldn't let me and his child die. When he left by dawn, his boat didn't wash up on the shore until two days after. He left us seeds, that was all. My husband is gone."

Fyn's lips trembled as Hana cackled loudly. His laughter bringing him back to the day he had been abducted, like it had just happened yesterday. Black dots filled his vision and before Fyn could stop himself, he panicked. Averting his gaze, he looked outside, seeing something shiny in the distance. Squinting, he noticed it wasn't just something ordinary.

It was a herb.

He knew it was the one Kavan needed.

"My husband is gone," Hana said, blocking his view of the herb. "My people are dead."

Fyn puffed his chest, "I'm sorry, Hana."

"They're all gone, Fyn." Hana took a step towards him, her eyes pure anger. "Dead."

Shaking his head, Fyn knew he had no time for this. This was karma. This was reparation for all the bad things she and her father did. She wasn't the only one who had relatives who died. Gritting his teeth, Fyn started to walk outside, but he didn't reach far. Hana blocked his way.

"Move."

Hana shook her head, "I told the villagers if they don't hear from me for a few minutes they should come to find me."

"What?" Fyn asked, his eyes wide.

"They're all dead," Hana repeated, again. "And it's all because of you!"

Like slow-motion, Fyn saw Hana raise her hand up as if to slap him. Ducking, Fyn pushed her gently aside, making sure not to harm her that much seeing as she was pregnant. Before he made another mistake, he hastily grabbed as much of the shiny herbs he saw and ran.

"You did this!"

He could hear her loud against his ears. He could hear the thudding footsteps of other villagers as they ran after him. When he turned around, he could see men of different ages, all gangly and sick looking, holding sharp knives and torches, running after him like he was some ghost. Trembling, he bit his lips, stopping himself from crying.

Gripped tight on his hand were the herbs Havu had mentioned.

The forest was better. Inside the forest, no one wanted to kill him.

"Kill him!" He could hear Hana shout, "Bring justice to the deaths of our fallen families!"

Fyn shook his head, his voice echoing, "It's not my fault!"

He hears someone shout, "You should have stayed gone!"

"Leave, demon's whore!" another added.

Fyn couldn't help it, he turned around.

He felt anger inside of him he didn't even know he could feel. He was fine if they called him names, whatever name he could think of. He was no saint. He probably deserved some of them. But he knew Kavan didn't. Kavan was the nicest soul he had ever meet. He would not allow them to speak badly of him.

Never. Not as long as he was alive.

"Do not call him that!"

Thunder booms as the sky turned dark, and the ground seemed to shake.

Fyn didn't stop, he continued to run, his eyes set on the forest just a few steps away from him. A fire burned in his lungs and sweat dripped from his forehead down to the middle of his back. He stumbles on a rock, but as quickly as he could, he picks himself up and runs again. There was a pain in his knee and chin, and he knew the fall bruised him, but he was certain that he would return to the forest before they could kill him.

The village was dangerous. The people were murderous.

Kavan and the forest offered nothing but peace and comfort.

He was stupid for thinking otherwise.

Why did he even think of leaving a place that offered him food and shelter was a smart thing to do? What made him want to return in the first place? There was nothing left in Gashea. Nothing. He could always plant new herbs in the forest, he had friends there, he not once felt lonely.

He has Havu. He has the Næps. He has the forest.

He has Kavan.

When his feet hit grass and trunks of trees fill his vision, only then did he turn around. Behind him, he saw the same men chasing after him, falling into cracks that seemed to have erupted from the ground. Furrowing his brows, Fyn stopped, looking at the scene happening in front of him.

Wind blew in all directions, leaves and dirt spreading through the air. Women closed their windows as roofs started flying as if there was a tornado. Men started helping one another out of the holes that formed on the ground. As the rain poured from the sky, Fyn saw a long lighting strike a few feet away from some of them, thunder booming in the skies.

And in the middle of it all, he saw Hana.

Tears on her face, anger in her eyes.

Fyn stood still.

He watched her mouth form words he knew he will never forget.

"Watch," Hana mouthed, "This is all your fault."