The Dead Seas

“So am I,” Anwir says to my left.

“What happened to you?” Chesrie criticizes.

“I tied myself to a chair,” he jeers. “What do you think happened? I walked over to the brush to make sure no one was around and got hit from behind. Get off my back.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised, must you be completely useless?”

“Like you did any better.”

“We were coming to save you.”

“Plenty good that did.”

“Enough, you two!” I shush them. “It doesn’t matter. We’re here. How are we gonna get ourselves out of this?”

They become silent, neither seeming to have a solution, not that I do. Eventually, Anwir speaks up again.

“Well, what happened to you two? I got nabbed just a little after you left. How’d you go unseen for so long?”

“There wasn’t anyone there to see us,” Chesrie answers much kinder. “It was like a ghost town, so we started what we came here to do. Eventually, we ended up in a small hut at the edge of the forest. There was a trapdoor inside, and we climbed down and found a little girl hiding in a secret room.”

“Really?” he responds, a deep level of intrigue in his voice. “And what did the little girl say to you?”

“I’m sure whatever she told you was true,” a deep and suspicious female voice answers from behind us.

I hadn’t realized that we weren’t alone, but with our backs faced to half of the room, there could be a number of people there. The woman then comes into view off to my right, dressed in black and holding a tray with three cups on it. I immediately recognize her, only for some reason she is no longer dressed in white. She is Kindra’s mother. The bruising on her face and neck only confirms this further. She continues speaking as she picks up one of the cups.

“But what she was slow to realize was for what purpose you really came here. Just look at your clothes.”

A feeling of inescapable death comes upon me as I realize that they, too, are different. I’m no longer wearing my original dress. Instead, I’m wearing a white one. As I put together what this means, Kindra’s mother walks peacefully over to Anwir and forces him to drink from one of the cups.

“What are you doing to him?” Chesrie yells out.

She doesn’t respond, instead returning to the tray and grabbing another cup, pouring some of its liquid into the first cup. Then, she sets both down, grabbing the third cup and turning toward me.

“You won’t have to worry about him soon enough,” she says as she forces me to drink and then swallow by covering my nose and mouth. “You’ll be thanking me shortly.”

Anwir begins to lash out violently, but he is unable to free himself from his restrains, neither does he cry out, though I can tell from his face that he is trying to. My heart begins to race as I expect the same thing to start happening to me, but as Kindra’s mother

finishes forcing Chesrie to drink, nothing does. I glance back over at Anwir, whose eyes are full of anger.

“Tsk, tsk, Anwir,” she says to him like a parent lecturing a child. “If only your father could learn to accept when something doesn’t belong to him, then maybe you’d still have your voice.”

“What did you make us drink?” Chesrie shrieks.

“Oh, just tea, dear. You and your sister will be fine. But as for Anwir, he might never speak again.”

“Why would you—” I start, Kindra’s mother interrupting me.

“Because the poison was for you, not him. I’ll explain as much as I can, but we have little time. You have to trust me if you want to get out of here alive. Kindra told you about Maltehom coming and what that means, yes?”

I nod as best as I can.

“I was never supposed to be the tribute. Anwir’s father, the leader of this little island, promised that none of us would ever have to be tribute again, sending his son out to find a tribute instead. No one asks when a thief goes missing.”

My eyes shoot left toward Anwir, but he does not look back. His head is bowed, at least as much as the restraints allow. He seems drained and sorrowful. He has no reason not to be if what she said about the poison is true.