Chapter 6: Spirits, Scars, and Solidarity

My mind was in turmoil as I followed Lily back to the river spirit’s palace. As soon as I entered, I smelled strong whiskey.

The scent was sharp and raw, the kind that lingered in the air and burned your throat just breathing it in.

Figures. Even river spirits need a drink sometimes.

“Why are you back? Everyone hates me now. The river spirit’s palace is no place to stay.”

She lounged on a throne of driftwood, bottle in hand, eyes red-rimmed. Her voice was brittle, edged with pain.

The river spirit just sneered at me, clearly knowing where I’d been.

She sized me up, daring me to challenge her.

I pressed my lips together, looked straight at her, and told her all about Nathaniel’s plan.

I didn’t leave anything out. Her face got darker with every word.

When I finished, she knocked over her glass and bottle, face stormy. “You think I’m unfit to be river spirit too?”

The question hung in the air, heavy as a thundercloud.

Before I could answer, she shot to her feet and grabbed my neck, shouting, “Any mortal dares to bargain with me—do you really think I’m just some soft-hearted woman?”

Her grip was strong, but I saw the hesitation in her eyes. She wanted to scare me. Not kill me.

I struggled out of her grip, rubbing my neck to ease the discomfort, and frowned, “Aren’t you?”

I met her gaze, unflinching. If she wanted a fight, I’d give her one.

If not for her kind heart, why did she let go of my neck so easily?

If she truly wanted to hurt me, I’d already be dead.

If not for her kind heart, why, after all the storms in the city, has no one died?

She could have destroyed the town a hundred times over, but she never crossed that line.

The worst injury belonged to a phony preacher who sprained her ankle during a stunt.

The irony wasn’t lost on either of us.

Faced with my sarcasm, the river spirit burned with anger, smashing up the palace.

She hurled bottles, shattered mirrors, sent waves crashing against the walls. The palace trembled with her rage.

After venting, she collapsed on the ground, eyes dull, lost in thought.

Her anger spent, she seemed smaller, almost fragile. I sat beside her, silent.

She didn’t agree to Nathaniel’s proposal, but she didn’t drive me away either.

A truce, for now.

Over the next days, she stopped going ashore to argue and just sat in the palace, listening to the curses roll in.

The voices echoed across the water, relentless and cruel. She bore them in silence.

The commotion was so great that people from surrounding towns gathered, crowding the riverbank every day.

It was a circus—news vans, gawkers, preachers, all jostling for space along the muddy banks. Kids on bikes darted between reporters with bad coffee.

Many of the river spirit’s colleagues came to visit after hearing the news. After learning what happened, the land spirits and forest spirits couldn’t understand.

They arrived in a swirl of leaves and dust, their presence filling the palace with whispers and ancient energy.

“We’re all earthbound spirits. We know you’ve worked hard for years, and the people have sincerely worshipped you. How did things suddenly get so bad?”

“They don’t believe you’re the river spirit? Isn’t that ridiculous? You have the river spirit’s seal—who else could be real?”

They spoke with the certainty of immortals, as if human belief was a minor inconvenience.

The river spirit gave a bitter smile and drank in silence.

She swirled her glass, eyes distant. The silence said more than words ever could.

I curled my lips as well, feeling stifled inside.

The weight of centuries pressed down on both of us.

The river spirit’s seal—she brought it out at the start of the conflict.

She’d flashed it before the crowd, hoping it would be enough.

But they just called it a fake. Said she’d stolen it.

Their minds were made up—no evidence would change them.

Honestly, the day she brought us topside, most people probably knew she was real.

Deep down, they recognized her power. They just couldn’t accept her truth.

That was the real problem. Not the magic. Not the miracles. Just her.

“Why? There’s the Virgin Mary and Artemis—plenty of female spirits and goddesses. Why can people accept other female deities but not you?”

I tossed the question out, hoping someone had an answer.

After a long pause, I said, unsure: “Maybe it’s because those goddesses were known as women from the start, but the river spirit was always thought to be a man. Now, with a sudden change, people can’t accept it.”

Change was the enemy, not femininity.

When the other spirits left, they advised the river spirit to go along with Nathaniel’s plan. After all, the conflict needed resolution, and the gentlest way was best.

They spoke of compromise, of keeping the peace, of letting things go. I saw the resignation in their eyes.

Yes, by Nathaniel’s method, the river spirit would just retreat behind the scenes. She’d keep working hard for the people as before, and endure being forgotten day by day.

She’d fade into legend, then disappear for good.

With the first Nathaniel, there would be a second and a third.

A legacy of men, each one claiming her work as his own.

No need for a thousand years—with deliberate guidance and concealment, in less than a hundred years, the fact that the river spirit was a woman would be completely forgotten.

History would rewrite itself, and she’d vanish from memory.

From then on, the ones out in the world, soaking up worship and offerings, would just be her agents.

The power would always pass to the next man in line.

I couldn’t help but sneer.

The bitterness in my mouth tasted like old whiskey and broken promises.

Nathaniel really had it all mapped out.

He’d found a way to win without ever risking himself.

If he played his cards right, he could even pass the position down to his descendants, making the river spirit work for the Brooks family forever.

His ambition was as deep as the river. Deeper, maybe.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t tolerate such injustice. Just like in my previous life, I refused to let others steal my credit, kept speaking out, even went to court.

I’d fought for every inch, every line in every report, every scrap of recognition.

Although I was called greedy for fame and money, and in the end, I didn’t win and died depressed, I never regretted it.

I never wanted to be one of them.

What I fought for wasn’t fame or profit, but the right for women to be recognized by the world.

I wanted justice, not glory.

Countless great women in history have had their brilliance hidden by such disgusting means. If I chose silence too, many more would end up like me.

The cycle had to break somewhere. Why not here?

I refuse to accept it, for myself and for all the women hidden behind men.

My resolve hardened. I wouldn’t be complicit in my own erasure. Not again.

I was willing to convey Nathaniel’s idea, just to see what the river spirit thought.

Her answer would decide our next move.

If she didn’t want to fight the world, I wouldn’t say more.

I wouldn’t force her into a war she didn’t want.

But clearly, the river spirit was unwilling to endure such injustice.

She’d rather die than back down.

After the other spirits left, the river spirit sneered: “Those old guys pretend to care, acting like they want what’s best for me, but they’re just waiting to see me give in.”

She spat the words out, her anger sharp as broken glass.

She was worshipped like a high god, her offerings abundant—no wonder the lesser spirits envied her.

They watched her with envy, resenting her success.

But more than envy, it was jealousy and resentment.

Their pride was wounded by her very existence.

Being surpassed by a woman—not everyone could accept that, not even spirits.

She laughed bitterly, the sound echoing off the palace walls.

“Even if it means mutual destruction, I’ll never swallow this humiliation. If they want to see me bow my head, maybe in their next life!”

Her eyes blazed with defiance. I felt a surge of hope.

With these words from the river spirit, I felt relieved.

I smiled, the weight on my chest lifting just a little.

“My lady, how do you want to handle this?”

I asked with a bright smile. Meeting my gaze, the river spirit was slightly startled, then smiled broadly.

She clapped me on the shoulder—hard. Laughed like a storm. For the first time in days, she looked truly alive.

“Good, Sarah, so you were waiting for me here!”

We grinned at each other, conspirators in a revolution.

Seeing that I was also eager to fight, the river spirit laughed heartily. After laughing, she solemnly patted my shoulder, the determination in her eyes even stronger.