It was a terrible, terrible thing to lose someone. More terrible than that was to lose a child, from a mother no less. Many orders ruling the animal kingdom bound a mother to unseen strength when protecting her offspring, how could this be any different?

  Gany looked at her hands glisten with thick, warm blood illuminated by candles and moonlight. The silver light of the full moon fell across her eyes, cold and ghastly, and blanketed her in comfort. Another failure, she thought. Once again. She fell back against the cold rock of the cliff face, listening to the roar of the sea some distance ahead of her. The full moon held the tides low for her monthly rituals. Tonight she could only gaze helplessly at the pathetic lines she’d drawn into the sand and filled with blood. The ritual had failed yet again and this time, desperation turned into defeat. She threw sand at the candles, unable to bear their incessant flickering, and laid her head in her hands.

  A hand touched her shoulder. She knew who it was but she didn’t move. She simply curled over to hide her face and sobbed.

  Mede scowled at the sight. She never could understand why humans were so unwilling to let go. This was why they were weak, she thought. Attachments this strong to something as fleeting, as meaningless as life only ended in over reliance on it. The true opposite of strength, in her eyes, was reliance. Though she adopted a human woman’s form, she was far from it. Dozens of rumours surrounded her, or rather its, origin. Some surmised it was just a demon. Others believed it to be from another world.

  “How far will you go,” it asked Gany. “For this child whom you never heard cry.”

  Gany wiped her eyes and slowly sat up. “I’ll give my arms, I’ll give my sight, I’ll give everything I have!” She said. “I’d die for him! You will never understand!”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Mede frowned with confusion. Gany had answered the usual way, to a creature incapable of the intricacies of humanity. Though this time, the creature had asked with a different tune. She didn’t know it now, but Gany was being offered a shard of light in her dark world. What it truly asked was would Gany deliver on hefty prices such as this and more?

  “What about someone else’s life?” Mede asked. Gany stood suddenly. She had had enough of this… thing asking such stupid questions with no answers. Mede had a knack for riling her up but today was not the day. She was grieving and every failed ritual was like a fresh cut on a healing wound and this was when Mede thought right to say such things. Gany swung at it. Her fist cut through air then was enclosed by Mede’s. Mede pushed her down, twisting her fist back to force her to yield. Gany get her teeth. Her knees slammed into the sand. Mede’s form towered over her, lankier and darker, more resembling a gnarled tree than a person.

  “Answer it to me.” Mede said in a low voice. Gany glared into its glowing red eyes. It’s head appeared more snake like now and its shoulders broadened like a bull’s. In any other situation, Gany would have been beside herself with fear. But the fire in her heart was resistant to the cold. Ever since that night….

  “Yes,” she bit out, “even my mother’s.”

  Mede leaned closer, watching, waiting for a moment of hesitation. Nothing. It raised its other arm to her face and placed its first two fingers above each of her brows. Her sight flashed white, then black, then visions bloomed beneath her closed lids.

  “In my centuries of life, I have known one or two stories like yours. I can take you to someone who deals in such things,” it said, as a small hut appeared before Gany’s eyes. “We travel north, follow the sea. This sorcerer knows.” It lowered its hands and her visions dissipated. “When you meet, I will leave.”

  Gany was lost for words but was bursting with questions. Who was this sorcerer? Weren’t they all killed? Why had she been informed now and not before? Did Mede enjoy others suffering this much? How far away was he? Why—

  The she realised the finality in the creature’s voice in that last sentence. ‘When you meet, I will leave.’

  “Why?” She asked it.

  Mede reverted to a more feminine form. It tilted its head then turned toward the sea. A sliver of dawn sparkled on the waves.

  “We go tomorrow.” It said