Home and mother were secrets Ramii guarded from all.

  Yet with Mr. Rono and his two closest friends, he could not bear to conceal everything. He confessed to having a home, and a mother as well, but said she suffered from the same dread of strangers as Mr. Rono, so severe that she kept herself from all others.

  Ramii’s home lay within the Labyrinth of Venomous Thorns, a forest bordering the Hunchback Horse Graveyard. Its depths were choked with tangled, thorny boughs and threaded through with countless serpentine paths.

  To the east of the Labyrinth lay an ingress for the afflicted. It resembled a hole more than an entrance, wide enough for but a single person to squeeze through, rising no higher than an adult’s waist, and black as pitch within.

  The courtyard before the entrance held twin rows of infirmaries to the left, reserved for the afflicted awaiting their turn. To the right stood the ancient Hunchback Horse Hospice, where healers toiled, its work unbroken from the days of war to the present. City folk recounted that during the war, Tlyna and many healers had repurposed a warhorse encampment into a place for tending the wounded, which in time grew into a grand hospice.

  Two long, roofed walkways linked the hospice to a pair of hulking edifices. The one with three crooked chimneys, forever exhaling sable fumes, served as the crematory. The other stood as the house of mourning. Across from the Labyrinth’s entrance stretched a sinuous, stone-cobbled path, flanked by narrow inns, sordid eateries, and clamorous mercantile stalls.

  Ever since the war had ended, Tlyna had vanished from the Hunchback Horse Hospice. None saw her depart the Thorn Labyrinth. She entrusted the place to her fellow healers, that they might continue the care of the afflicted.

  The Labyrinth itself had arisen amid the war, in the time when Tlyna was said to save lives by miraculous means. The elders still spoke of how thorny trees had shot up almost overnight, as if by magic, there in the White Toad Desert, near the warhorse stables. Even those healers who had once worked by her side knew nothing of the arcane arts she wielded within the thorn forest, where she drew back souls lingering at death’s edge.

  The afflicted and wounded came predominantly from beyond the city of Diang. Upon their arrival, kinsfolk brought them to the rows of waiting infirmaries. The patients were laid upon narrow cots, fitted with wheels and draw-ropes. Beneath each cot, baskets of fresh fish, raw flesh, or produce were placed, offerings in hope that their kin might be admitted into the Labyrinth.

  At the stroke of midnight, from the shadowed recesses of the Labyrinth, a company of silver-pelted lynxes emerged, gliding through the infirmaries. Their eyes gleamed like lunar orbs as they moved slowly through the corridors between the rows of waiting cots. Some seized the baskets of food and melted back into the gloom.

  The chief lynx paused before each sufferer and scented them from foot to forehead. From between its keen fangs it released minute verdant beads, pressing them past the lips of three chosen ones. As stupor claimed them, the lynxes drew their cots into the Labyrinth, leaving behind lamentation, fervent supplications, and curses.

  Every three days such a night returned—and only three were taken. Many harbored bitterness when their kin were passed over. Some dared to follow through the entrance, or slipped in through other openings beyond the thorn forest. By the break of dawn, the lynxes dragged them back out. They moaned in pain, spent and broken, their bodies swollen and bloodied by venomous spines and the savage bites of the lynxes.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  ~~~

  After leaving the tavern, Ramii returned home later than usual. He avoided the main entrance. Instead, he slipped into the Labyrinth through hidden gaps. Deep within the thorn forest, his modest timber dwelling stood at the edge of an open glade. It had but a single door and two small windows facing the front.

  It was a night of the full moon. From within the house, through the casement window, Ramii saw the shape of an outlandish creature. It shuddered violently. Translucent, viscous shrouds peeled away from its body.

  It was neither quite a tree nor fully a beast. Its massive trunk, twice as wide as the house before it, was a writhing mass of tangled limbs, sheathed in husks that gleamed like serpent scales. These limbs rose and spread into a broad canopy. From it, countless twisted branches stretched skyward. At the end of each twig squirmed many-fingered hands, as if molding something unseen in the air. Every finger forked in twain, quivering like a serpent’s tongue. He named it the Snaketongue Tree.

  Each evening, Tlyna waited for him to join her for supper. If he stayed out late, a meal was always set upon the table.

  Ramii lit several additional lamps around the dining chamber, and their wavering flames drove back the chilly gloom. At the table lay his favored dishes: grilled perch, cornbread, and tender fig leaves. The rich scent of the fish overwhelmed the faint fragrance of coconut oil from the lamps.

  Since childhood, Ramii had been told by Tlyna to keep their kinship a secret and to pay no heed to rumor. For years, he had grown accustomed to turning a deaf ear to such talk. Yet of late, the winds of gossip surrounding Tlyna had soured into malice. Now, with the emergence of those enigmatic green corpses, he could no longer go on without an explanation from her.

  Tlyna held her silence despite Ramii’s sharp, probing questions. She gently set a whole grilled fish onto his plate. In the chamber there remained only the clatter of spoon and fork on the table, hurried and grating.

  Ramii stopped eating. Tlyna cast a sorrowful glance at the plate, more than half the fish still untouched. She told him to clear the table, and he carried the dishes away without a word. A long, soundless sigh escaped her.

  When Ramii returned, Tlyna was still seated at the table, gazing absently at the faltering oil lamp. The flame trembled in her brown eyes and in a single tear that slid down her pale cheek. A pang seized his heart. His expression softened, if only slightly. He sat across from her.

  “I knew this day would come,” Tlyna whispered, more to herself than to him. “Thirteen years ago, I already knew.

  Look at this lamp, Ramii. Behind every flame, there is shadow. And not all darkness is meant to be chased away by light. The lamp’s fate is simply to shine. It asks for nothing more. You have seen my struggle to save lives through the years. I sought no recompense. With no expectations, I am spared disappointment. Let them heap their curses upon me; thus my heart is lighter because of it.

  And you, my child, must learn to see both the light and the dark, and to accept them both, for they cannot be parted.”

  Tlyna fetched another lamp and set it upon the table, replacing the one that had gone dark. She resumed:

  “Deaths will grow ever more frequent within this city. Thirteen years ago, I saw no other path for them; and I do not believe otherwise now. I cannot speak further, for the sake of your life.

  Before long, I shall leave this place. Whether you come with me or remain here is your choice alone. None shall know you as my son. But if you choose to stay, I will find a way to return to you. And when that time comes, may we live together in days of peace…”

  Ramii lowered his head onto the table; his shoulders trembled. Tlyna stepped forward and drew him into her arms. She pressed a kiss to his hair. He lifted his face to look at her. The anguish in her expression was plain. The unanswered questions still pressed on him, yet he could not bring himself to ask another.

  ~~~