She reached out with the roar of her open spirit and stabbed her will into the mud. The dirt screamed as she touched it, but her will was absolute, and it had no choice. The blades vanished from her chest as the men were yanked off her. Their laughter turned to terrified screams as the ground beneath their feet turned against them. They flailed as they started to sink, screaming in panic, but the girl dug her now-freed hands into the mud and tightened her grip, snarling as she slammed her will down. The moment it landed, the men vanished into the swamp, the sticky mud closing over their heads without a trace.
The swamp fell suddenly silent, empty except for the droning of distant insects. The girl crouched in the mud, her dark eyes bright in the flickering light of the toppled lanterns until the mud took those, too, and everything fell dark. Sensing its chance, the mud began to buck against her Enslavement. She let it go, staring dumbstruck at the bloody knife in her hand. What had she done? Killing the captain had been bad enough, but now she’d killed the foremen as well. They would slaughter the camp for this. They would find her and kill her, kill her brothers, kill her people, all to make an example for the other camps. They would all die and it would be her fault.
Bleak despair filled her mind, drowning out even her panic, and she began to weep. The sobs shook her until her bones ached, but the more she cried, the worse she felt. There was no escape, no hope. Nothing.
Finally, her crying subsided, and she realized something was different. The swamp was silent. Not just night silence, true silence. There was no rustle of water, no insects chirping. Even the gentle wind had stopped. Her body went tense, and the girl edged her head up, peeking cautiously through her tangled hair. The dark swamp was bright as noon, but that was impossible. Dawn was still hours away, and in any case, this was no golden daylight. The light was white, stark, and cold as fresh snow. She would have called it moonlight, but no moon had ever shone this bright. She raised her head to stare, and that was when she caught sight of a woman’s white foot resting delicately on the surface of the swamp.
The girl jumped and scrambled back. The woman stood less than a foot away. She was naked, her skin flawless and alabaster white. White hair fell in a cascade across her white shoulders, and her white eyes were sparkling as she looked down at the muddy girl at her feet.
Hello—the woman’s voice was like cold silk—Nara.
“How do you know my name?”
The question was out before the girl could stop it. Nara was her tribe name. Ever since the invaders took them to the camps, she’d shared it with no one. She should be furious that this woman, this obvious outsider, knew it, but she could not be angry with her. The woman was simply too beautiful.
The White Lady knelt, and Nara couldn’t help noticing that the mud did not smudge her perfect skin. The woman extended her hand, cupping Nara’s dirty cheek in a burning grip.
I know everything about you, the woman said. I am your Shepherdess. I have been watching you since you were born. You are a brave girl, Nara. Brave and beautiful. The white fingers stroked her cheek, leaving burning trails that made Nara tremble. So beautiful. More beautiful than anything else I’ve created.
“Created?” Nara whispered, the word little more than a feathered breath.
Well, the Lady spoke and smirked, as though this were some long-standing joke, not fully. I am not the Creator. But I shaped you, you and all humans, in my image. Her beautiful face fell. For all that, you always were ugly, ridiculous creatures, fitting for the ugly job I made you to do. Even so, every now and then I catch a glimmer of something more. The fingers slid down to brush Nara’s lips. Like you. You are beautiful, Nara. From the moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you. Knew that you and you alone of all the ugly, blind humans were worthy of being my star.
Nara’s eyes widened as the White Lady leaned down and pressed a burning kiss to her lips. It was the briefest touch, but the proximity alone was enough to send her reeling. Still, Nara had never been quick to trust, and, though it went against every instinct she had, she pulled away, putting space between her and the woman who called herself Shepherdess.
“Your star?” she said with as much strength as she could muster. “And what is that?”
The White Lady looked at her with a smirk. My servant.
Nara scowled. “I’m done being a servant.”
I am not like your human masters. The Lady laughed. Those deaf sacks of meat. I am Benehime, a Power of creation. I am the Shepherdess, all spirits serve me. But my stars are different. They are raised above all others, and answer only to me. As my star, there will be no want you can think of that I cannot provide. No wish I cannot grant.