When Otávia de Valeriana turns 25, she has to leave her mansion in Dubélia and search for her great-great-grandfather's tomb. Her mission is simple: replace the magical rose on late Prince Jano's tomb to keep The Beast at bay and her magical powers...
"Choosing to stay is to those who understand that the real magic doesn't reside in Destiny. There isn't Destiny—there's just you and me. The rest is poetry for our love and pain."
— IZA, Meu Talismã
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This was the seventh month and the last night in Otávia's journey. Early the next morning, once she replaced the rose in her great-great-grandfather's high tomb, her mission would be completed and she would finally go home.
Thank Goddess.
Otávia poked the campfire with a bundle of dried leaves and tossed it on the flames. Once the smell of salvia reached her nose, she joined her hands for a prayer and closed her eyes. She was already finishing it—And keep me from the Beast, oh Goddess—when a voice broke the silence.
"What the hell?"
Otávia's eyes snapped open to see Josibelle dip her hand into the fire. Josibelle hissed and grunted as she fished the half-burned bundle of leaves, tossed it on the ground, and stomped it until the smell of salvia disappeared.
"Are you out of your mind?" Josibelle asked.
"Are you? That was a gift from my mother. It's for protection!"
"Against bad spirits, Otávia—but what's hunting us is pretty much alive, made of flesh and bones. In the new moon, burnt salvia awakens the beast. You taught me that."
"Well, I...I hadn't thought about that." Warmth crept to Otávia's ears.
When Josibelle, a simpleton warrior—or so she thought at first—was assigned as her protector, Otávia felt outraged. Jo was crude with her words, didn't care for perfume, and had a terrible mania of ignoring her social status. She was a terrible travel companion at first. But now...
With pursed lips, Otávia glanced at the tent Josibelle had put up, at the rabbit she had hunted and cooked for them, and at Jo's book pile inside her tent.
If it wasn't for Jo and her books, Otávia would've never reached so far in her journey.
Her eyes watered.
Jo's shoulders dropped. "Oh, Otávia."
"I almost killed us both. Again. If that monster had caught a whiff of this"—Otávia gestured to the stomped bundle of salvia—"he'd eat you, and then use me as a toothpick."
Jo let out a muffled laugh, biting her lower lip.
"A toothpick, Jo! And stop laughing, I'm serious."
Of course Jo didn't understand. She sat at Otávia's side and slid her hand on her shoulder. Her thumb caressed the mark of the beast etched on her skin. "Hey, look at me."
Otávia clicked her tongue as her cheeks warmed. "No. I was the one who left food for the squirrels—that turned out to be bears. And I almost put your tent on fire."
