Chương 78: Cursed by Love

The next morning, Farryn was dismayed by the state of the golden apple. Its gold had dimmed. It was still, unmistakably, gold in color, but washed out now, the deep luster of the night before faded to something paler. Should I have woken Adlon last night and had him eat it then? Does this mean its power isn't as strong anymore? Fear began to thread through her thoughts. What if nothing happened at all now?

What if the ordinary life she'd let herself imagine crumbled to nothing, all because she hadn't let Adlon eat the apple soon enough? Should she go back to the Forest of Truth? But there was no pixie to guide her this time, and if she wasted hours searching for one, the apple in her hand might lose its magic entirely. No. She'd have to make do with this one. It was Verdelia's own fruit; surely it wouldn't simply drain away after a few short hours.

So she woke Adlon and told him everything—the pixie, the silent walk through the sleeping forest, the Thíron Verdelia, and the apple's dimming sheen.

"That's..." Adlon sat on the edge of the bed beside her, turning it over in his mind.

"That's hard to believe..."

"But it happened! The goddess showed me the way herself, so everything should be fine!"

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Adlon, this has to be Verdelia's will." Farryn's voice climbed.

"Our love reached her. She's helping us, so–so we can finally have the life we've dreamed of." Adlon didn't answer. The doubt stayed plain on his face.

"Why..." Something faltered in her.

"Why are you hesitating?" She reached to the bedside counter, took up the apple, and pressed it into his hands.

"It's right here, Adlon. Our future. One bite, and it's ours. We can be together, for a long, long time. We can have a home. We can start a family. We can—we can—" The panic was rising now, fast. Everything they'd feared, every sleepless worry, was one single bite from being solved, so why the hesitation? They asked for nothing grand. Only a quiet, ordinary life. Surely that wasn't too much to want. Surely Verdelia had understood that, and taken pity, and shown her the way.

And yet, the apple sat in his hands, and Adlon wasn't lifting it to his mouth. Was she... the only one who wanted that life? Did Adlon not feel the same way she did? The panic in her chest twisted into something that churned and ached. Fear. Fear that Adlon didn't want to be with her, of losing the one solution they'd been given. Fear that this apple would drain to nothing and no other would ever come. It was right there. So close. And somehow it felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

Tears spilled over before she could stop them, dropping onto the sheets, onto the apple cradled in his hands. She tasted salt on her lips, felt the ache spread through her chest.

"Please, Adlon..." Her voice cracked.

"It's... it's right here." Adlon had his doubts, whether this would really be okay, to take a bite out of a fruit that no one has eaten before. If the goddess were so magnanimous, why didn't she reach out to any other elves before? Surely there should be an elf before them who fell for a human? He had heard stories. Why would they be the first? Was their love truly the strongest? Is that why?

But seeing Farryn crying like that, begging for him to just take a bite before the apple's magic goes away, he could not afford to keep thinking and doubting. He had been taking from Farryn; her promising healer career, her reputation amongst the elves, potentially her romantic life after his eventual passing. He had thought taking a bite would mean social sanction, but Farryn had told him it was Verdelia who led her to the golden apple.

Plus, even if there's social sanction, they could still figure things out together. If he missed this chance, if the golden apple was no more, Farryn might blame herself for it. Adlon might blame himself for it too, for throwing away something that could fix all their problems. Farryn would live in pain and regret, and he couldn't bear seeing it. So he raised the apple to his mouth, gave it one last glance. He looked at Farryn, who was looking at him, sobbing, then back at the apple. He took a bite.

His ears began to ring, then the flashes came. Visions burst across the inside of his skull. Visions that were plainly not his, and yet felt intimately his own, as though he were living out a dozen different lives through a dozen different sets of eyes. He had been underwater. He had been in a slum. He had walked the halls of a kingdom. He had been in the air. He had been inside places and things he had no name for, that he hadn't known could exist.

There were friends he'd never met, lovers he'd never known, faces upon faces he could somehow call mother, father. The visions came jumbled, chaotic, overlapping, but every one of them felt like his, and every one carried that same aching pull of familiarity. When he opened his eyes, he was staring at the ceiling. He was drenched in sweat. As his hearing swam back, he could hear Farryn calling his name, her tears falling harder now than before.

His breath came heavy, like he was surfacing from a nightmare, but his head was clearing. This was not his only life. He didn't know how, or why, but he had lived other lives before this one. Or at least, that was how it felt. He remembered his names in those other worlds. He remembered the friends there, the families. He didn't know how to feel about any of them, but he knew them now. And through all the confusion, one thing was certain. They were all him. Is this the truth of the world?

He was just gathering himself to soothe Farryn, to try and tell her, when the world went white again. This time it felt different. This was no vision. They had been pulled somewhere else entirely. Before them stood a woman. She was tall, and draped in flowing white cloth pinned at one shoulder, falling in long clean folds to her feet. Her hair was long and smooth and gold, her eyes a vivid green, and her ears rose to long, delicate points.

She merely stood there, and yet she filled the whole of the space, the air itself seeming to bend around her. She said nothing, and needed to say nothing. Both Adlon and Farryn knew exactly who she was. The goddess, Verdelia.

"I see you have eaten the apple, human," the woman said.

"Y-yes, goddess." Farryn scrambled to speak.

"Your pixie led me to it, and—and we wish only to express our deepest—""Then you have failed me." Confusion swept across both their faces.

"W-what... what do you mean?" Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"The elves are my creation, dear Farryn." Verdelia's voice was cool, unhurried.

"I breathed life into them in the hope that they would become the finest, the most superior beings in all this world. They were meant to be... very nearly perfect." Her gaze sharpened.

"And yet here you are. Fallen to a temptation as foolish and as small as love." Farryn flinched.

"... but you're the one who led her there." Adlon's voice came out low, uneven.

"You led her to the apple yourself."

"True, and I did it to test her." Verdelia's expression didn't so much as flicker.

"To see whether my creations truly hold me above all else. Every elf knows that tree is my most beloved possession, that I would suffer none to take from it. And yet she took from it. For a human, no less."

"But—but—" Farryn could barely form the words.

"Then you should have made it a rule," Adlon said.

"Farryn told me there was no rule against it. If it mattered so much, you should have made it clear to everyone."

"Were I required to write down every last thing," Verdelia said, "it would mean my elves were fools. I made them. I expect my worshippers to be clever enough to know, on their own, what may and may not be done."

"That's..." Adlon's jaw tightened.

"That's just twisted."

"Now that the so-called truth of the world sits behind your eyes, you've grown rather bold, haven't you, human?" Verdelia regarded him the way one might regard an insect.

"I loathe to waste even my breath on you, but I think you need to learn your place." Farryn saw where it was going. She lurched forward, putting herself between them.

"N-no—no! Goddess, I am the one who failed your test. I'm sorry. I'm so deeply sorry. Punish me however you see fit, however you wish, only, please, don't do anything to—""You do not tell me what to do, Farryn." The goddess's voice never rose, and that was somehow worse.

"In fact, you ought to be grateful that I have not simply erased you from existence where you stand. After a betrayal such as this." Farryn dropped to her knees, shaking.

"I'm sorry..." Her voice broke into pieces.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

"I am deeply disappointed in you, Farryn." Verdelia's voice was almost gentle, which made it worse.

"It is not unheard of, an elf falling for a human. Disgusting, yes, but I permitted it. And then you brought one here, into Silvanis itself, and even that I tolerated. I believed you would stop there. That your good sense would hold. So I chose to test your loyalty."

"I'm sorry..." Farryn's forehead was nearly to the floor.

"I'm sorry..."

"And still you chose him. A human. Over me, the goddess who wrought your entire race from nothing." Farryn flinched where she knelt, squeezing her eyes shut, the apologies spilling out of her in a broken stream. Adlon's hands curled into fists at his sides, a heat rising in him that had nowhere to go.

"Oh?" Verdelia's gaze slid to him.

"Growing angry, human? On your dear girlfriend's behalf?" A slow, unpleasant smile.

"You know, I've just had rather a fun idea. You were right, in fact. I do need something to make it clear, once and for all, that the golden apples are not to be touched."

"I don't care about your rules now." Adlon's voice shook with the effort of holding it steady.

"Do whatever you want with them. Just…send us back. And I swear to you, I'll leave Silvanis. I'll never set foot here again."

"And if I told you to leave Farryn as well? To never go near her again, for the rest of your life?" Farryn's eyes lifted, wet and pleading. She wanted to speak, to beg, but nothing would come.

"... You're sick," Adlon said. Verdelia laughed, light and delighted.

"No, human. You are the sick one. That you would even approach an elf, that you would imagine yourself her equal, standing as though you shared the same ground she does." Furious as he was, Adlon knew that raising a hand against a goddess would come to nothing. He couldn't win. She could probably smite him where he stood. Perhaps he'd be reborn somewhere else, if those visions were true, but he'd be someone else entirely. That was no escape. His life might end here, in this white and borderless place.

He looked down at Farryn, cowering, trembling, her eyes fixed on him through the tears. That was it, then. He couldn't keep bringing this down on her. If walking away from her meant she'd be spared, then he would walk away. If Farryn was safe, he would do anything.

"If you want me to leave Farryn," Adlon began, "then—""Oh, please." Verdelia waved it off.

"Such a dull little question. No, I've thought of something far better. Farryn will live; you needn't fret over that. In fact, so will you." Hope broke across Farryn's face. Still kneeling, she clung to it. That's right, this must be another test. She only wished to measure the depth of our love. And we've proven it, haven't we? Even under threat. Now she'll grant us the way out. It was a test all along.

"Th-thank you, goddess Verdelia, thank you, for—""You shall be the guardian of the golden apples, human."

"... Eh?" Farryn breathed.

"What," Adlon said slowly, "do you mean by that?"

"Let me make it plain and simple for you both." Verdelia's smile did not waver.

"Farryn requires some measure of punishment for her betrayal. But I am not so cruel as to kill the pair of you. So instead, I shall strip that puny little mind of yours away, and remake you into the guardian of my tree. You'll watch over it for as long as it stands." Her eyes moved over him, appraising.

"Naturally, you won't look... quite like that anymore." She gestured vaguely at the shape of him. Farryn shot to her feet.

"G-goddess Verdelia, please, there has to be some other—""Kneel, Farryn." The goddess's voice cut clean through the air.

"Or I may reconsider sparing his life at all." Farryn dropped back to her knees, shaking. She turned her gaze back to Adlon, unhurried, almost pleasant.

"Now. Any last words, human?" Adlon turned toward Farryn, even knowing she couldn't see him. It didn't matter. He needed to face her for this.

"It's…It's going to be okay, Farryn." His voice was soft.

"I'll still be here. Whatever she turns me into, I'll still be here. I'm not going anywhere." Farryn's shoulders shook, her forehead bowed to the floor.

"And listen to me." His voice caught, just slightly.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this. You hear me? You did nothing wrong. Nothing. This isn't on you, Farryn. It was never on you." That broke her. Farryn lifted her head, because if these were the last moments she'd have his face, his real face, she would not spend them staring at the floor. She had to tell him. She had to say it, even if it was the last thing she ever said to him. They looked at each other, then. Just for a few breaths. All the years of them held in a single look.

"I love you," Adlon said. Farryn's mouth opened, the words already rising.

"I lo—""Alright. Time's up." Verdelia snapped her fingers. Adlon screamed, a raw, tearing sound, his hands flying to his temples as something inside him came apart. Farryn was on her feet before she knew it, crying out his name, reaching, but he only kept screaming, doubled over, clawing at his own head. Then a shockwave tore outward and flung her backward across the floor. Adlon lifted off the ground, suspended mid-air, and a sphere of pure black swallowed him whole.

The screaming stopped, cut off all at once, into silence. The sphere swelled, larger and larger, and when at last it dissolved into nothing, what stood before Farryn was no longer a man. It was a monster. A great four-legged beast, low and serpentine and vast, its hide dark and glistening, wingless. From its shoulders rose not one head but many, a writhing crown of long serpent necks, coiling and twining over one another, more than she could bring herself to count. Farryn's breath seized in her throat.

Terror flooded her, but the scream wouldn't come. It lodged somewhere in her chest and stayed there, silent, as she stared at the thing that had, moments ago, told her he loved her. Verdelia laughed, bright and satisfied.

"Splendid. Now, what to call you?" She tilted her head, considering.

"I can't be bothered to invent something new. And your old name was so hideous, wasn't it? I think... yes. I'll simply rearrange it." Her smile widened.

"Ladon! That will do. From this day on, you shall guard my lovely tree." The beast did not answer. It only stood there, its many heads swaying, its eyes empty of anything Farryn could recognize. And Farryn, alone on the floor of that white and endless place, understood that the man she loved was already gone, and that she would have to carry, for the rest of her long, long life, the weight of the last word she never got to say.