Page 19 of The Divine Lies We Weave

Finally. Welcome back, mortal.

Leela jolted as the hissing voice reverberated in her mind. She forgot about the Viperess. How did I get here?

Me, of course.

What?

I carried you.

H—how?

Do you need everything explained to you?

Leela shook her head. When I figure out how to get you out⁠—

You will not be able to. Save your breath, mortal.

“What is your name?” the woman closest to Leela asked in concern.

“L—Leela,” she stammered. She shied back from the burning fire, hoping the villagers wouldn’t see her shadows. Or did they already know? “Where am I?”

“A village near Ji,” the woman said gently.

Leela glanced at the sand. Good. It was still red, which meant she was still on Nihikian territory. Although she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, not when she was stranded in the middle of nowhere.

“My name is Jaya,” the woman said. “My people speak old Ji out here, but as a traveler between villagers, I have learned to speak universally.”

Safe… A word Leela wasn’t ever going to feel again, not with the Viperess.

“Thank you.” She nodded, relief flooding her. Perhaps she could hide out in the village and lie low until she reassessed her options. She searched for a wall, hoping the village had one, but the longer she looked, she realized there was only sand. “But I should be going.”

“You are hungry,” Jaya said. “Please. Stay and rest before you move. We can put some ointment on your wounds.”

Leela bit her lip and stared back at Jaya, trying to see through her intentions. Fear choked down her next words. Did they know she was a Vessel? Who she was a Vessel to?

“Do you want some food?” Jaya offered. “We have already eaten, but you are more than welcome to have some scraped from our bowls.”

Leela shook her head. “I am fine, thank you. I must be going.”

“Where are you heading? Do you need a camel?”

Leela frowned. As if on cue, a camel tied to a post near the river grunted. She stifled a laugh. She hadn’t seen a camel in so long. That, or Leela was delusional. She had wandered across the dunes for days, and she was tired.

She had conjured this entire village, and she was actually dead.

“Here,” Jaya said, handing her a bowl of something watery. “Eat. You must.”

Leela had no choice but to take the food as her stomach grumbled. With no second thought, she scooped her fingers in and began to eat. The taste of turmeric and something smooth and buttery coated her tongue. She quickly gobbled the stew, more vegetables than meat, as the villagers stood and watched. Some turned and left, some sat down by the logs around a firepit, staring at Leela like she was an ancient artifact from the sandstorms.

When Leela finished, they gave her water.

“Thanks,” Leela said, feeling guilt ravage her insides over doubting them. “I don’t have anything to repay your kindness.”

Jaya shook her head. “We do not need payment, nor do we wish for it.”

Leela bit her lip. She turned to the villagers as they resumed their normal duties. Children danced around the fire, imitating the fire spirits that roamed the desert and using their hands to make shadows along the red sand. Women sat by the lake talking, while the men cleaned their weapons and cut up vegetables in their huts. Smoke billowed from the fire, and Leela hoped it wouldn’t draw the monsters.

As Leela watched from beside the log, something in her chest twisted. She thought of her village before it was torn to shreds. Memories she’d pushed down—when she wandered down the river that divided the village and ran with the children. Nighttime had been her favorite because everyone, after a hard day of farming or gathering, came together to eat and tell stories. Leela loved the stars the most, which held such wonderful tales.