Senna searched their faces until she found her mother. Relief coursed through her as her mother’s worried gaze met her own. Sacra held her hand over her heart and breathed out in relief. Senna nodded that she was all right.
That relief was shattered when someone cried, “Smoke!”
Senna pivoted and saw a black plume cutting through the bright blue sky.
“One of the trees is burning!” someone out of sight shouted.
“Joshen!” Coyel said. “Round up some Guardians and deal with it.”
After sparing a glance at Senna, he sprinted toward the smoke, crying, “Guardians, to me!”
“Steady, girls. The Guardians will control the fire until we can take care of it,” Coyel said.
Still, Senna kept an eye on the smoke. The whole island was covered in trees that butted up against each other. She imagined how quickly a fire might spread. How they would all become trapped like a nest of baby birds in a chimney that had sat idle all summer—trapped by the very walls that protected them.
When the song finally ended, the Witches stepped back. Senna gripped the forearms of the nearest Witches, one of whom happened to be Chavis. The barrier rose with a clap of wind that flattened everything beyond it and dragged the smoke outward.
Immediately, Senna felt the connection with all the other Witches. Her sense of the Four Sisters sharpened to a razor edge. She felt the enormous shock wave of water rushing toward the Nafalien coast. Toward them.
Coyel was right. Dangerous as the fire was, it could wait.
Seconds later the singing started again.
Waters, calm the sea.
Settle and smooth, not angry be.
The wind twirled Drenelle skyward. The Witches repeated the song until she had all she could hold. Then the woman released it with her own song. Senna felt it rolling toward the waters, felt the song settle the sea like a hand smoothing a rumpled blanket. But their song dissipated long before it reached the end of the wave.
Already drifting downward, Drenelle shook her head in frustration. “Another one!”
Wind, beat against the wave
Before the coast her waters raze.
But Drenelle didn’t wait until she could hold no more; she released it when the wave was dangerously close to shore—to the nearby city of Corrieth. Senna felt the wind gusting before the city and cutting into the water like scissors through fabric.
The Witches were silent for a moment, Senna knew all of them felt the waters crash against the shore, and the shock of the plants. The wind had deflected the worst of it from the city. But not the docks. An aching hollow opened up inside Senna. People had just died. Many of them. And worst of all, she had friends among the sailors.
The witches sang for the waters to retreat. After more than an hour of continuous singing, they turned their attention to the fire. They sang in a storm. They didn’t need a big one, just large enough to cover their island. Still, Senna watched the smoke thicken, watched the first tongues of flames hungrily lick the darkening sky.
A light patter of rain bounced off the barrier. The Witches kept singing as it increased to a downpour. The smoke and flames were lost to the haze of rain.
Finally, Guardians appeared. Sooty streaks ran down their grim faces. Grateful for their assistance fighting the fire, Senna wondered how the island had ever survived without the Guardians. They worked better together, each side shoring up the other’s weaknesses.
If Senna were in charge, it could always be like this. She really could change things.
Overcoming her natural reticence would be a small price. Someday, she could become the Head of Sunlight, and then things would finally become better.
But what about the danger looming just beyond her sight? What about the dying land and people of Tarten?
The last of the Witch song cut off, and the barrier dissipated. Almost immediately, the rain let up.
Prenny spoke to Coyel. “How bad do you think Corrieth was hit?”
Coyel pursed her lips. “Our winds and their wall would have deflected the brunt of the wave. But the docks and anyone on them would’ve only had half that protection.”
“By the Creators, Drenelle, why didn’t you alert us sooner?” Chavis cried.
Drenelle backed away. “As soon as I sensed the tremor, I warned everyone.”
Other Witches grumbled, no doubt wondering how badly their homes were damaged by fire and tremors.
Drenelle lifted her hands in supplication. “I usually sense an earth tremor building for days, weeks even. But this one just happened.”
Senna remembered the unholy shriek she’d heard just before Drenelle’s warning. There was something unnatural about it. Something forced. She was so horrified she barely registered Joshen’s warm presence beside her.
“What is it?”