the time. “I know how weird I am. I’m not a fool,” Cerene confessed.
“You’re not—”
“Stop it, please,” Cerene said. “I am fine with who I am. I don’t care if others think I’m an outcast. It might be hard to believe, but I
“Or?”
“Or maybe I’d burn them all,” Cerene said. “I’d burn the Queen of Sorrow for what she does to the children and me; I’d burn my stepfamily for hurting me, Loki the Huntsmen, Baba Yaga. It’s an endless list, really. The world is full of evil.”
The girl who thought the world was full of evil was the same girl who held a clue to it all.
“Then you’d have missed the whole purpose of why the Creators gifted you with fire—if they ever did that,” Shew said. “Why burn the world if, with fire, you could create almost every living thing; the dragons, the sea horses, and the butterflies.”
“Good idea, Joy,” Cerene said. “I’d like to create plenty of those … after I burn the others. Let’s start all over again. The world needs a new beginning.”
Shew shrugged; glad it was dark. She did not want to see Cerene’s expression now, because she didn’t want to know if she wasn’t joking.
“Moutza,” Cerene whispered in the dark.
Shew laughed, “Did it work?”
“Of course not. You see any fire?” Cerene said. “Wouldn’t it be nice if I could light a candle with my mind now?”
“Keep trying, Cerene,” Shew said. “Who knows? One day, it might work. Tell me something by the way,” she fidgeted in her place. “Did your mother or Charmwill tell you anything else?”
“Bianca tells me a lot of things. I forget half of it most of the time,” Cerene said. “I usually remember when something in my real life reminds me of her words.”
“I meant did she tell you anything else about me?” Shew said.
Cerene’s voice disappeared in the dark for a while, and Shew felt like a blind girl looking for answers.
“Cerene? I asked you—”
“I know. You asked me a question,” Cerene cut her off. “Well, not everything Bianca says is always true.”
“Did she tell you anything about a ‘clue’?” She scooted nearer.
“A clue? What do you mean?”
“Remember when she told you were like a Pandora’s Box, did she elaborate?” She said.
“If she did I don’t remember,” Cerene sighed. “She did tell me something else about you,” she sounded reluctant.
“Please tell me,” Shew said eagerly.
“She told me that I would be doing a great service by saving you repeatedly.”
“That’s about you. What did she tell you about me that you’re trying to keep from me?” Shew insisted.
“She told me that on the other hand, you won’t be capable of taking care of me,” Cerene said. “But that’s just Bianca. Like I said, not everything she tells me is true.”
“Did she explain why I wouldn’t be able to take care of you?” Shew didn’t like Bianca at all now.
“She said you will have a lot on your mind in the beginning of your journey,” Cerene said. “She basically said that you’ll be focused on your love life so much that you won’t do many things you are supposed to do.”
Shew didn’t like what she’d just heard. She was going to take care of Cerene and she wasn’t going to fail. She leaned back, thinking about it.
“Really, don’t listen to Bianca,” Cerene broke the silence. “She talks all the time. Once, she joked that in order for Chosen Ones to become Chosen Ones, they had to be saved repeatedly by unchosen ones,” Cerene laughed. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
“It’s very true,” Shew said. “In fact, I know a mentor who died to save a Chosen One before. Do you know that the old man you met here is dead?” Shew thought she could try to explain to Cerene what was going on. Maybe she could believe her.
“What man?” Cerene sounded upset in the dark. “Charmwill? You know him? Is he dead? How do you know that?” her breath puffed against Shew’s face.
“It’s a complicated story,” Shew said. “I could tell you all about it.”
Unexpectedly, Cerene grabbed Shew from her dress, “Tell me, how did he die? That can’t be,” she said.
“Calm down, I can explain.” Shew didn’t realize Cerene liked the man she had only met once that much. She was over-reacting.
“Where is he? Take me to him,” Cerene insisted. “I know how to save him.”
“He is dead, Cerene,” Shew said.
“I know how to save him,” Cerene repeated, and it sounded as if she were crying. “He told me how.”
“Oh,” Shew said. “You mean you could resurrect him with the blowpipe? How’s that? Carmilla chopped off his head. That cake didn’t kill him—“
“Not with the blowpipe, Joy. Take me to him, Shew,” Cerene went crazy. “Now!”
“That’s impossible. I can’t really explain right now,” Shew was going to tell her that this was a dream and that she had to wake up from it first. “How can you save him, then?”
“I know his True Name,” Cerene whispered. “He told me that I could stay in the cottage and be safe if I kept his true name a secret in me.”
“Charmwill’s name isn’t Charmwill?” Shew wondered.
“His real name is one of three elements needed for his own Art!” Cerene said. “And his Art can resurrect him.”
“You mean we can resurrect Charmwill Glimmer? That’s great news,” Shew said as the sound of an axe banging against the door horrified her.
The two girls plastered their backs against the wall, flashing their weapons in the dark, no words escaping their mouths.
The same axe came slicing through the cottage’s door again, the crack making way for a thin moonbeam into the room.
“What should we do now?” Cerene held Shew’s hand.
“Don’t worry,” Shew said. “I will take care of you,” she squeezed Cerene’s hand tighter.
A third hit sliced through the door, enough for Loki’s eyes and nose to show through the crack. He sneered at them, his hair dangling down his eyes.
“Piggy, Piggy!” His voice oozed all kinds of evil. “Come to papa!”
“Moutza!” Cerene took a step forward and waved her hand with an open palm and five stretched fingers at Loki.
Nothing happened. Loki mocked her back with glaring eyes, “Moutza Moutza!” He wiggled his eyebrows.
It seemed like he was spiraling down into madness with each passing moment as Carmilla continued to control his veins with the Fleece.
“What’s happened to you, Loki?” Shew screamed. “You were such a kind young boy!”
“I ate a frog for breakfast,” Loki raised his axe and slammed the door, spitting a frog’s legs from his mouth. “He kept telling me he was a prince, but I didn’t care. Could that be the Loki you want, piggy piggy?”
“You hate frogs!” Shew protested.
“I hate you too, princess,” Loki hit the axe. “Doesn’t mean I don’t wan to eat you alive, piggy.”
“Stop calling us piggies!” Cerene protested, ready to swing with her blowpipe.
“But why? I’m hungry as a wolf,” he yanked a big part of the door away, and stuck his whole head inside the cottage, wiggling his tongue. “If you don’t let me come in, piggies,” he impersonated the wolf in the famous fairy tale, “I’ll huff and puff and blow your house down.”
