The Twin Lords

At first Ilya did not know if they were traveling with any goal in mind. She knew that Jarret sought the capital of Leynnah in order to confront King Ramos and the Lord of Spring, but they did not follow any path, instead traveling beneath enormous trees and through thick undergrowth. However, the plants and grasses suddenly cleared, and before them appeared a well-traveled dirt road.

“What…?” Ilya blinked in confusion. Before her was the path, behind them was nothing but wild woods.

“The Twin Lords influence.” Jarret stated, as if that answered everything.

“They covered the roads?”

“They sought to isolate their prey. It worked.”

Ilya imagined any outsiders who attempted to locate Lustre would have a difficult time, especially if they had heavy wagons of supplies for trade. The people who remained in the town would have their work cut out for them clearing the road once more.

“Lord Briers and Lord Roses must have been quite powerful to manipulate the foliage all these miles away from Lustre.” She tilted her head as she considered Jarret, who walked a few paces ahead of Ilya, leading her horse by its reins. “How did you best the Twin Lords, my Lady?”

Jarret remained silent. Ilya had realized during their time together that her prolonged silences were usually owed to the Lords chattering away in Jarret’s mind. It seemed exhausting, but Ilya couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her.

“Do the Twin Lords wish to keep you from recounting their defeat at your hands?”

Jarret nodded. “They are like children.” She slowed her pace until she walked next to Ilya. “…You wish to know?”

Ilya nodded. “Yes, my Lady. I want to know everything about you. I wish to learn from your greatness.”

Jarret felt discomfort at the constant praise and gratitude that Ilya heaped upon her. After all, one day Ilya would know all Jarret’s secrets, and then it would be clear to the witch that her ‘savior’ was not worthy of such a title.

“…Very well. It was a week before I found you in the caves of the Gouge. I had recently set out on my own from Gloamside in search of the capital city, but I was easily distracted by any strange scents upon the air…”

—

Three Weeks Prior, outside the Forest Town of Lustre

The smell of flowers and sweet growth grew more intense as she crested the ridge. Below her, nestled within a dense copse of trees was a town surrounded by colors and foliage somehow even more vibrant than what was usual for Foundation’s Eternal Spring. The smell was so sharp it made her eyes water, and Jarret covered her sensitive nose with her traveling cloak. Her target must be there. She stepped off the ridge and began her descent into the valley, keeping note of the direction where the brilliant town awaited.

Incessant and biting, excited but derisive, the Lord of Wolves laughed in her ears at the folly of her plan.

Please, don’t tell me you actually think that the King of Foundation lives in a tiny shit-hole like that? I knew you were small-town trash but, really, Jarret, this is just sad. I feel bad for you.

Wolves spoke in a dialect that was strange to Jarret. He was informal, crude and crass, which did not surprise her - he was a god, he believed he had no superior. It only made her hate him all the more, though his endless insults had become nothing but background noise to her by this point. One could only hear the words “fuck”, “shit” and “bitch” thrown at them so many times before they lost all meaning.

“This is the first town I have come across since Gloamside. It doesn’t matter if it is not Leynnah - there is something here that must be taken care of.”

There had been much time to think as she had traveled a vast land that was entirely unknown to her, and Jarret had concocted a theory she wanted to experiment with. If she could find a way to somehow steal or otherwise inherit this Host’s contract with their god, what would happen to her contract with Wolves?

Wolves watched the gears turn from inside her mind, and he snorted at her idea.

Do you really think I’m so fuckin’ awful? That’s too bad~ You can’t just break our contract by running off to one of my siblings and asking ‘pretty please’. You’re mine, girl. You signed your soul away to me! I’m not going to share it!

Jarret’s expression did not change as she continued closing the distance to the town. She stepped up onto a rough dirt path that was carved by frequent traffic of horse and carriage. “I do not wish to break our contract, Wolves. You are exactly where I want you to be.”

His snarling quieted in confusion for but a moment before a raucous cackle shook her skull.

Oh brother… I’m so glad that I met you, Jarret! You’re such a stupid sucker. Keep entertaining me for as long as you live!

The sun was still early in the sky, and the wet dew and fog of the night quickly evaporated with its presence. A pleasant, cool breeze caressed her face and billowed her traveling cloak about her shoulders. The sky was a brilliant blue, and fluffy white clouds trailed lazily over the hills so close that they looked like they would brush the tops of the trees. The valley was lush and gorgeous, but the plant life grew thicker and more tangled the closer she came to the town. As the path became overgrown with tall grass, thick roots and wildflowers, Jarret lost sight of it entirely.

Her boots squelched in the plush grass as a humble, rickety home came into view. It had been built away from the main cluster of the town - likely to house a farmer, though Jarret could not see any fields amongst all the overgrowth. The wooden planks of the house were covered in thick briers upon which bloomed large, plump roses. The flowers were deep, blood red, and the effect upon the quaint home would have been beautiful if not for the way the thorns burrowed deep into the wood and the vines covered the windows in a grip like death. Perhaps the work of an overly-passionate gardener?

Or a god, Jarret thought bitterly.

I can smell my sister all over this dump, Wolves growled.

“If you can sense her, then can’t she do the same with you?” Jarret’s pace did not waver as she waded her way through the overgrowth to the house. The weeds were up to her waist now, and her boots kept getting tangled in their wet, long stems.

Of course! She knew we were coming as soon as you entered her territory last night. I’m impossible to miss - a predator in broad daylight.

“Then I will not waste any time with pleasantries.”

Ha! You, pleasant? ‘Don’t think you could be even if you tried, brat.

The door was old, its wood bloated out of shape from years of being beaten down by spring showers. It was also completely covered in the thick rose vines. The last time Jarret had entered a home so still and quiet she had been met with gore and death. She forced her breath to remain steady as she rapped her knuckles against the one spot of wood that was not reinforced with thorns.

“Hello? Is anyone home?” Jarret called out. Then she put her ear closer to the door to listen with her newly keen senses.

Only eerie silence replied, and she stepped off what was left of the porch to peer through one of the covered windows. It was impossible to get close enough to see inside the dark house with all the vines. Jarret unclipped her father’s knife from her hip and carefully sawed through a few, her hands protected by her thick leather gloves and bracers. She squinted against the brightness of the sun to see that the inside of the house was entirely covered with vines as well. The furnishings, walls, floorboards and rafters all acted as a trellis for the invasive plants - and the same was true of every room she could see into from the outside. In the bedroom, she discovered with a small twinge of disappointment the dead form of the house’s owner laying upon their bed. It was covered in briers, the same as the rest of the house, but the corpse lay withered, as if all of their blood had been sucked out of them.

Finding nothing of use, Jarret stepped away from the house and turned her attention toward the main part of town. She carefully stepped through the weeds and stopped at each new building she came across, checking for signs of life in a similar manner to the first. The smell of Spring and growth was so strong all around her that she could not pinpoint its source with her nose.

In the center of the village she found a well whose brickwork had fallen into disrepair under the heavy weight of the thick roots and vines that crawled into its depths.

Perhaps this god requires water as well as a Host to remain on Foundation, Jarret thought.

Wolves clucked at her. Gods don’t need anything but souls, moron. My sister might enjoy water, but it won’t satisfy her in the way that souls do. It’s probably a craving for her, like how you crave blood.

Jarret ignored the pointed comparison and refused to let Wolves feel how conflicted she still felt about it. She was not a beast. She was not a monster.

A knocking sound to her left caught her attention. She followed the source with her eyes and saw, with some surprise, a human hand knocking upon the window. It belonged to a building that at one point must have served as a tavern. Someone was trying to get her attention. Someone was still alive. Despite Jarret’s strength and height, it took some effort to keep her feet from being tangled in the grass and bushes that blanketed the town square as she made her way toward the building.

As she approached the window she could see that the human was not one, but many. Pairs of eyes peered at Jarret through the gaps of the thorns which covered the large building with suspicion, hope, apprehension.

“Where is your Lord?” Jarret asked bluntly, staring at the brown eyes that had caught her attention in the first place. They belonged to a plump, elderly woman. She was clearly worried about something.

“Traveler, you are in great danger here. Our Lord has lost her mind.”

Doubtful. This is simply our nature - to subjugate and devour you pathetic-

“That was not my question. Where is your Lord? I will deal with her.”

The old woman’s eyes widened at the brash statement. “It is impossible. You must flee this place before she knows you are here and traps you as well!”

Jarret sighed and untied the strap of the leather bracer that encircled her right wrist, then rolled up her tunic sleeve to reveal Wolves’ brand upon her skin. Murmuring and gasps echoed through the building behind the old woman. Many of the curious onlookers backed away from the window in fear. Jarret expected this reaction - this town had already been hurt by one god, and to them she was merely another monster who would sow more misery.

“She already knows I’m here. I will leave you to your fate if you wish, but I have business with your Lord.”

The old woman thought for a moment, weighing Jarret’s words. Then she pointed with a thick finger to the buildings on the other side of the street. “Olivia is Host to the Lord of Roses. She has taken up residence in what remains of the stables, just there. You will find no more horses… they were the first to sate her thirst.”

Jarret had already begun to turn her back on the villagers to confront the Lord of Roses. The woman called to her in a stage whisper, “Be wary - she is cunning and sweet of words!”

Jarret held up a hand in acknowledgment but did not look back as she made the trek to the overgrown stables. Now that she knew there were eyes watching, she felt a bit stupid walking with high knees and awkward movements through the jungle. She leaned her head over one of the metal gates that had been used to keep the horses inside so she could get a better look at the structure. The direct light of the bright sun, now almost overhead, made every shadow dark and impenetrable, even with her sensitive eyes.

Before her sight adjusted, the hair on her neck stood up in warning. Jarret pushed back away from the stable not a moment too soon as a shining blade swung a hair’s breadth away from her nose. Instead of cleaving it from her face entirely, the blade slid across her skin, leaving behind a deep laceration over her cheek and the bridge of her nose. An injury, but not fatal. Jarret leaped back into the overgrowth, one hand on the hilt of the thick blade tied across her back and the other wiping blood from her face

Wolves laughed at her. She ignored him.

“I would have words with you before I send you back to the Shadowkeep, Lord of Roses.”

Wolves grumbled something about using the title of ‘Lord’ for a stranger but not for her own god, but again, Jarret ignored him.

Tittering laughter danced out from the darkness of the stables as two gnarled fingers gripped a vine-covered post, pulling after them a body twisted and grotesque. She had been a beauty before her life as a Host - chestnut hair, eyes green as the forest, perhaps even a lithe, sturdy physique. Now her hair was black, greasy, overgrown and tangled; her eyes were hollow and milky. Scars and bruises, burns and scratches covered her body, given to her by a pilot who could feel none of the agony. Each cut upon her body - which were many - had small tendrils of vines and thorns snaking through them, as if to stitch them closed again. A light-green liquid oozed from the wounds like pus.

“You wish to speak with me?” Her voice was like music - a stark contrast to her appearance. That same laugh burst from her throat, and the vines that twisted about the two of them grew another three inches in a cacophony of snapping and ripping. “Lord Wolves, I wasn’t expecting you around here for at least another two years. Did you miss me that much?”

Wolves bristled.

This bitch thinks I like her? What a joke… Little Jarret, do whatever you want with her. She’s annoying.

“I would speak with your Host, Lord Roses.”

“My Host? My Host doesn’t even remember her own name, the poor sod. She couldn’t withstand my revelry and now spends her days whimpering and begging for my attention.” Roses smiled sweetly. “She’s learned her lesson - she needs only me, now. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

The body’s face suddenly twisted into the macabre grimace of someone who had just finished a long, hard cry. A new voice emitted from the woman - a hiccuping, mumbling, crying breath. The Host’s voice. She could not utter any coherent words.

Jarret felt her blood quicken in her veins, and a heat began to build in her lungs.

“…Olivia seems not able to speak even if she wished to,” she snarled.

A flicker of recognition flashed through the Host’s expression at her name, but it was quickly flipped back into that smug grin as the Lord of Roses shoved Olivia back down into the recesses of her own mind.

“I will admit, she’s a bit of a bore now that she won’t talk back. Completely lost her spunk! You should have seen her when we were first wed.” The Lord’s expression was wistful. “All fire and brimstone, but really, I knew she loved to leave the decisions up to me. She hated responsibility so much that she planned to flee this little town with a boy she was sweet on. Isn’t that hilarious!” Lord Roses tutted once, and the thorny vines about them shook as if in agreement. “She was given to me by her father to keep the forest at bay, and to punish her for her disobedience. Poor Olivia never wanted me, but what a wonderful fit we are regardless!” The god tapped her chin in mock contemplation.

Jarret barred her teeth. She tried not to imagine what horrors Roses had used this young woman to unleash upon the people of this town, what tragedies she’d been forced to witness. They would make her too angry, too rash, and she needed to keep some semblance of control if she was to enact her experiment. Instead, Jarret held onto the viciously clear idea of the cruelty Olivia had been subject to within her own mind, trapped as an observer within her own body. That would be maddening enough for this task.

“Leave her and return to the Shadowkeep, monster.”

Lord Roses’s smile widened. “Oh, I see. You aren’t Wolves, are you?” She sighed dramatically as she effortlessly flipped her body up onto the roof of the stables. “And here I thought he wanted me again! What a cruel prank.” The smile disappeared, and Olivia’s eyes turned a jet black. “Who are you, who dares cage Lord Wolves?”

Jarret unbuckled the sword upon her back and hoisted it by the thick hilt. “I am Jarret Atomo - the woman who has bested a god.”

An ear-splitting shriek burst from Olivia’s throat, and the trees shook with impending violence. Jarret had barely enough time to register what was happening before she dove to the side as thick roots and weeds lashed out at her, one after another. She rolled to her feet, and with a mighty swing, she sliced the attacking plants. They were immediately replaced by more. Lord Roses watched from the top of the stables, summoning thicker and larger vines to ensnare, to trap, to lash and kill this Host who defied the will of the gods.

Her sword danced through the air, keeping the animated flora at bay. Jarret ducked and weaved through the vines she was not fast enough to cut down, but there were so many, and she feared she would be overwhelmed if she did not press her own attack.

Without warning, the roots of the tree she stood beneath burst from the ground. Its tendrils tightly wrapped around Jarret’s leg and pinned her in place. It threw her off balance, and a thick vine slashed across Jarret’s face, leaving a deep, jagged gash from her chin to her left ear. She spat blood out of her mouth, then jabbed her blade down, freeing her leg from the tree’s root.

In a ferocious burst of speed, Jarret barreled toward her assailant, sword tip aimed for Olivia’s neck. If she could stop the Lord of Roses this would be over. The villagers would be free, and the plants would return to normal foliage. Jarret vaulted over the weeds that clawed at her boots and landed heavily upon the stable’s roof. A terrible creak of rotting wood made its protest known, but she had no time to worry about her footing as she faced the Lord of Roses directly. Jarret hefted her sword and prepared to lunge.

“Oh, so noble and brave… for a human. But will you kill me? If you do, poor Olivia will be mine forever in the Shadowkeep, you know.”

“The contract was signed - her soul is lost. I can only free her from her prison.”

Jarret shifted her weight, and the roof groaned. Was this thing going to-?

CRACK! SNAP!

The roof caved in. After all the tension and added weight from the vines and moisture, the wood was rotten and feeble. Jarret plummeted into the stables, but landed on something that cushioned her fall. She realized, with horror, that the stables were also filled with plump, blood-red roses, upon which she was now sprawled. Quickly, she tried to stand, but her traveling cloak was caught on the wicked thorns. Before she could shrug it off to free herself, the vines struck, wrapping Jarret in sharp and jagged tendrils that pierced her skin and made her grunt in pain. She strained against them, snapping a few of the weaker vines - but even Wolves’s strength could not free her from this trap as more and more vines replaced those that had been broken.

A dry laughter came from the dark shadows of the stable. Jarret cast her eyes about to find the source - the voice was different from that of Roses. It was deeper, huskier, mirthless. Through the twisting branches and wicked thorns now approached a man - his body mimicked Olivia’s, twisted and abused. Shaggy blond hair fell over his eyes, but Jarret knew that if she could see them they would be the same eerie black that Olivia’s had turned.

There were two of them? The old woman had not warned her of two gods!

“Don’t worry, Roses, I caught her.” The man’s smile was sharp and wicked as he looked Jarret over. “She can’t hurt any more of my vines.”

Roses peeked her head through the hole in the roof, smiling widely before elegantly dropping down into the stables to face her captured prey. Her gnarled body swayed as if it was a puppet on a string as she danced over the sharp thorns to join the man before Jarret. Using the blade that was still smeared with her blood, she traced the hard line of Jarret’s jaw. Then she tilted Jarrets chin, forcing her look into Roses’s black eyes. “You put up a good show, Jarret. But I’m afraid you are only human. You should not try so hard to rise above your station.”

The vines tightened, cutting off Jarret’s circulation as they dug their thick thorns deeper into her flesh, tearing into the deep tissue of her muscles. Jarret grunted in pain, but would not scream. Roses and the man laughed at the display. “Oh, please, cry and scream! We would love for our followers to hear what Briers has done to you.”

The other Lord, Briers, huffed. “When will it be my turn, sister? It’s no fun to direct the play - I want to act!”

Roses smiled sweetly. “Oh, patience, my sister. I need your vines to keep the people of this pathetic town in line! Once we drain them all dry, you can be the face at our next performance.”

Jarret watched the two Lords with disgust as they cooed and laughed.

The Twins, Wolves growled. Briers and Roses have always been a pain in the ass, but their power is not nearly on par with mine when they are alone. Roses needs Briers’s violence, and Briers needs Roses’s healing. Otherwise, they run through their Hosts too quickly.

Jarret frowned, with hardly a care for the Lords as she watched Oliva’s body be jerked around like a doll. It was clear that Olivia was so deep, so trapped, so hurt that she no longer had the wherewithal to impose her will over Roses. Olivia had been conquered by a demon from another world who couldn’t even stand upon the grass without Olivia’s sacrifice… and she had the gall to laugh at Jarret?

Red clouded her vision as her temper snapped. She hated this god. She hated this world. She hated Olivia, for being too weak to stand on her own. Jarret dug deeper, clawing into the depths of her being that demanded she stand, that refused to be captured, that would never be laid low, disrespected, laughed at again. The brand on her wrist began to smear, the deep blackness spread up her arms, turned thick fingers into long, sharp claws, her skin stretched and her bones snapped as her body changed to give form to her rage.

The Twin Lords stepped back, surprised, but quickly realized what was happening as Brier’s trap was strained and torn and ripped apart by the beast’s transformation. Roses lunged, brandishing the dagger and slashing a deep gash across Jarret’s neck. Surely this would stop her before it was too late.

Crimson blood splattered across the stables, splashed over the vines and grass and wood from the gaping wound. But the transformation did not stop until the beast had completely overtaken what was once Jarret. She snapped her fangs and her tusks nearly took off Roses’s hand. With a deep bellow, Jarret tore free from her binds and lunged at the Lords who laughed at her.

Roses and Briers flitted out of her reach, traversing easily through the thorns that caught on Jarret’s thick, black fur. It was foolish to try to capture both of them, so Jarret focused her efforts upon one: Roses.

They exchanged blow for blow. Jarret was fast, but her increased size made her that much easier to hit and ensnare. Her fur flew as gashes ripped across her shadowy form and blood flowed freely from her wounds. Still, she did not stop. Her rage fueled her, her fury, her passion, her hatred kept her standing, swinging, biting, tearing until–finally, she managed to grab nimble Roses by her ankle. Jarret threw her to the ground. Roses landed on her stomach, only to be pinned to the dirt with one large, clawed hand. Jarret’s breath was ragged and heavy as she snarled at her prey. Roses thrashed and screamed, but could not get loose from the iron grip of Jarret.

“No! Get your disgusting paws off of her!” Briers’s vines and thorns continued to strike at the beast that held down her sister.

Jarret, however, did not immediately strike the killing blow.

Gently as she could with her massive, adrenaline-filled form, she tore what remained of Olivia’s shirt from her shoulder to reveal the brand of Roses.

“There it is.” Jarret growled. She used a claw to press into the brand, and was rewarded with a cry from Roses.

“W-what are you doing?! Stop!”

“Break your contract with Olivia.” It was difficult to speak as a beast, but her voice boomed in her chest, the words full of the threat of violence as they formed around wicked fangs and tusks.

“I-I can’t! It has never been done!”

Jarret did not repeat herself, but continued to scratch, carving through the brand upon Olivia’s skin. She would see how deep it went, and if it seeped to the girl’s bones, she would simply bite through it.

Roses screamed in agony, and then her brand began to slide, to grow, to bleed across the rest of her Host’s skin. The Lord was transforming, the same as Jarret had. Vines wrapped her body, shielding her from her assailant. She grew larger, taller, stronger, and then with the force of the earth itself, she attacked Jarret. The Lord of Roses kicked her bodily off of her, and Jarret stumbled back.

Briers was waiting with another trap of tangled weeds and vines, but Jarret twisted. She was fast, despite her size, and she caught Briers between her massive jaws.

It was Roses’s turn to scream in alarm as Jarret’s fangs sunk deep into Brier’s Host. She growled around the body.

“Give me this contract, or return to the Shadowkeep in pieces.”

Brier struggled, but even with the swiping vines and stabbing thorns Jarret did not flinch. Her jaw began to close, her fangs piercing deeper until they met in the center. Roses grabbed Jarret’s jaws, one in each hand and strained against her to free her sister. But Roses was not powerful without her sister, and could not overcome the terrible rage that flowed through Jarret’s body. With a swipe of a great claw she knocked Roses away, and she tumbled into the tall weeds in a sprawl.

Brier gasped as Jarret shattered bone, pierced organs, spilled blood. The assault from the thorns weakened until it finally stopped entirely.

The Lord of Briers exhaled a shaky breath, then relented, but her grin was still wicked as she seethed under Jarret’s maw. “No mortal can survive two gods within their puny vessel - you will regret what you have done.”

A familiar electricity jolted through Jarret as she snapped her jaws shut and let the contract slide down her throat. Briers accepted, and the terms bound them together. She did not return to the Shadowkeep as her original Host died, instead nestling within Jarret’s body alongside Wolves. Jarret heaved, huffed, clawed at the earth as she felt the second deity slither into her mind, and she quickly bound her with her own thorns.

I will kill you for taking me from my sister. Briers’s voice was like the scrape of wood against a window in Jarret’s mind.

“I’ll kill you for taking my sister from me!” Roses’s voice was shrill like a child in the midst of a tantrum.

“You will not be apart for long.” The beast’s eyes fell upon Roses, who had begun to slam her vine-wrapped fists and slash her curved claws against Jarret’s shoulder. Thick green tears fell from her eyes. Jarret’s claws closed around her thin, long body and squeezed until Roses’s bones cracked.

“One last time, Roses. The contract.” Jarret’s head was spinning from the two she already had, but she could not leave this god to continue tormenting the people of this town.

“Ghk—” The Lord of Roses slowly changed back to a mere broken girl as she glared up at Jarret.

Roses, don’t you dare-! Briers shouted, but only Jarret could hear her.

“Fine.” Roses seethed. Faster than one could blink, Jarret’s fangs flashed, and she tore the skin that housed the brand. She swallowed the meat and blood, and Jarret felt the same mark bloom across her own shoulder blade. It seared like molten iron against flesh. The Lord transferred to Jarret’s body through claws that still gripped the body of her previous Host. Olivia, who was unconscious but somehow, alive. The same could not be said of Brier’s Host.

As carefully as she could, Jarret set Olivia upon the grass. Then Jarret slowly shifted back to her original human frame. It was agonizing, more than any time before she had tried to push her body back inside the confines of mortality. The injuries she had sustained throbbed, her blood spilled down her body and stained the earth red. Jarret tried to cough, but only blood came out. Her throat was still slit. Despite her victory, she would not last with these injuries.

Well, Wolves, it seems I have done you a favor. Briers was smug. She won’t last long with her body in this state.

My sister will take her soul for all her hard work! There was no hint of desperation or anger in Roses’s voice.

You’re out of your mind, Roses. That’s not going to happen. Wolves bristled.

Jarret blinked. Were they… fighting over her?

Don’t be such a filthy dog about it, you oaf. Briers sniffed in disdain. You’ve clearly been trapped. I am freeing you. I did the work — I get the reward.

I was here first, you pig. Fuck off. She’s mine.

The three gods spat back and forth, arguing over who should possess her soul once she died. They each had a claim to her now that the contracts had been agreed to… but she only had one soul.

Jarret gasped for air. She was light-headed. She had lost too much blood. She collapsed to her knees, clutching her throat.

Oh, no you don’t. This hasn’t been settled.

The smell of roses flared in Jarret’s nostrils, and the deep slash across her throat began to stitch closed with thin vines. Green liquid filled her wounds and staunched her bleeding. Jarret blinked in shock.

Just what I was thinking, Roses. You can’t go dying on us until it has been decided who has true ownership of you, my little beast. Briers laughed dryly.

Please - our little beast. Roses tittered.

Wolves growled, clearly more than a little irked at the blatant possession the Twins displayed toward his Host.

While the three continued to argue, Jarret shakily stood and examined her wounds. While not fully healed, they were certainly tended to. All she needed was bandages, or a cloth to tie them off with.

She picked up Olivia’s body and carried it back to the inn, where the majority of the townspeople were staring agog at her. Heavy boots stomped onto the wood boards of the tavern’s porch, and she waited outside the barricaded door. It took a moment to find her voice - Jarret was exhausted. “She is still alive. Roses is… subdued. Your Host needs healing.” Her words came as a demand, harsh and angry. She couldn’t believe these people had watched her go through all of that effort, and still they cowered from her. The danger was past, the monster was defeated.

Then she realized that their expressions, their hesitation… She was the monster to be wary of.

Of course. To them, she was not human.

Jarret glanced down at Olivia’s limp form still nestled in her arms. She thought of how she had killed Brier’s Host easily and without any thought. She didn’t even know his name.

Maybe… she was less human than she thought, too.

—

The elderly woman who she had spoken to before had finally broken the spell of trepidation in the inn, and what followed was a flurry of activity. Olivia was taken from her, and a few women set to the task of tending to her wounds. Jarret was also given supplies for her injuries, but she was left to cover them herself. The people did not want to touch her. Jarret sat in the corner at a table. A light meal had been offered to her, but after the bite she had taken of Briers, the thought of eating anything made her stomach churn. She just stared at it, blankly, waiting for news.

“Excuse me, Jarret! Ms. Jarret! Please, a word?”

She glanced up to see a thin man, his hands clasped together pleadingly. He stared at Jarret through wire-framed glasses with one broken lens, and his face had a few light scratches across them. His hair was scarce, but his clothes were fine. He didn’t look like he could swing an ax or till a field, and Jarret wondered what use he could possibly be.

Jarret stared, waiting for him to speak.

“I, uh… my daughter, she has asked me to fetch you. She would like to apologize”

“Your daughter?”

“Ah, the Host- er, the previous Host of the Lord of Roses…”

Jarret followed the man up the stairs, her temper rising before she even set foot into the room. What could that woman possibly have to apologize for? Olivia had only wronged herself as far as Jarret was concerned.

One of the rooms less touched by the Twin Lords’s influence was in the center of the inn’s second floor. It had been fashioned into a makeshift sickroom, and a couple of older women were still in the process of staunching what remained of Olivia’s shoulder. Sweat poured down the young woman’s brow, and her eyes were clenched shut against the pain. The town had been isolated for who knew how long, and they were certainly low on all supplies, including medical. Olivia’s father and Jarret both stood to the side, out of the way while the women completed their task of tightly bandaging the wounds. They coaxed Olivia to drink some water. Her breath was ragged, and her body shook from the pain and shock.

Each of the nurses gave Jarret a small nod in acknowledgment as they brushed past Olivia’s father, who would not meet their eyes. Once the three of them were alone in the room, he approached Olivia’s bedside and sat upon a now unoccupied chair. “Olivia, sweetheart? The warrior who saved you is here.” He tried to brush her cheek with a tender hand, but Olivia flinched away from his touch. “What did you want to say?” he coaxed.

Olivia’s eyes opened just long enough for her to register that her father spoke the truth - she took in the cloaked, stern woman waiting in the corner of the room – the woman Olivia had watched, from within her own mind, fight to free Olvia from the clutches of the Lord of Roses. Olivia’s heart was stormy with conflicted emotions. She had never seen someone fight so hard for her — not even her beloved Anthony, who swore he would carry her away from her town so she would not bear the burden of Host. Instead of her happily ever after, Anthony had fallen for the wiles and sticky promises of the Lord of Briers. Olivia had not been able to leave him behind, and so she accepted her own fate as Host in order to stay with him, as they had promised they would.

This woman had fought to free them… had fought for her sake like a true monster. But she had also killed Anthony without hesitation. The woman who saved her life also damned her to an empty one. What words were there, then, to thank her for saving Olivia, and to damn her for not also saving her beloved Anthony?

Olivia cast her eyes up to the ceiling, unable to meet Jarret’s gaze any longer. Shame filled her chest. She felt childish for her anger; selfish for her grief. The words she wished to say caught in her throat.

Finally, she choked. “I’m sorry. You had to shoulder my burden because I was too weak to carry it.”

“No.”

So sharp, so quick was the reply that confusion masked her harrowed features. Jarret stared at the woman for a long moment, her expression intense and unreadable. Olivia felt like this warrior would finish the job after all, and she would be freed to meet Anthony in the Shadowkeep’s Halls.

“I chose to take this curse upon myself until you ask to take it back.” Jarret said, finally. Olivia’s eyes widened. The thought of being shouldered with the Lord of Roses once more made her skin crawl, her heart race, her brow sweat. Jarret shook her head.

“You were not given a choice.” Her voice was strained. “I know your pain.”

Olivia’s father rose from his chair, and it clattered loudly against the wall. “W-what are you saying?” His eyes gleamed with greed. “You mean, my beautiful Olivia will once again bring us prosperity and-”

His words were stolen from his mouth as Jarret stared at him with her sharp, amber eyes. “Your god killed and tormented your town and you still believe it will bring you fortune.” Jarret spit at him, and it landed wetly upon his shoe. “You are a fool.”

Olivia’s hand shook where she laid in bed. Jarret did not move to comfort her - she knew she was not the one who could bring her peace. She would not preach to her with empty promises and honeyed words, for they had not worked for Jarret, and she knew they would not work for this young woman.

“I will bear Roses far from this place. She will not harm you again.” Jarret bowed her head awkwardly. “You had no choice, but that does not make your sacrifice ‘good’, and it does not make you ‘worthy’.” Jarret stepped to the room’s threshold, then added over her shoulder. “You will suffer with this for the rest of your days… but you will live.”

Olivia’s eyes watered, and she burst into tears as Jarret exited the room, her heavy boots making no sound against the wooden floors.