Witch Born(36)

It might have ended there and been tragedy enough. But it hadn’t. The world now feared Witches—feared them or coveted their power. More Witches were kidnapped. More wars broke out. Over a period of fifty years, hundreds of thousands of people must have died.

Now an old woman, Merlay gathered as many Witches into Haven as she could. No more did they travel about healing the lands afflicted by plagues or failing crops. They moved onto the island and went into hiding.

Senna only learned one thing more. Merlay had sent a Witch to discover what had become of Calden. All she’d found were a few helpless pollywog Mettlemots, which were only native to Calden. She’d brought them home to Haven. But the creatures were not meant to live in the colder climate. She worried for their health.

Over the centuries, they must have slowly died out. Until only one remained. Pogg.

Senna knew what came next. Decades of slow decline, until people began to doubt the Witches’ power altogether.

And then Espen had come. Espen, who didn’t believe Witches should quietly control nature. Espen, who wanted to force the world’s respect. Espen, who’d held the seasons for ransom, only letting the rains fall for those with the coin to pay.

Again, the Witches had fought—the second Witch War. Espen lost, but that hadn’t stopped her from waging her own personal war against every remaining Witch. The fallout had lasted ten years.

And then Espen had created Lathel—a seed with the ability to turn human flesh into trees that bore the captive Witch’s song in the form of a single fruit, the consumption of which had granted Espen the ability to steal another Witch’s power.

At first, Haven had sent their most powerful Witches to fight Espen. None returned. So the Witches dug in, went deeper into hiding.

Senna’s mother had been the Head of Plants. Sacra had lost her husband and firstborn daughter to the Witch Hunters. When she found herself pregnant, she’d fled deep into Nefalie—to the region known for its hatred of Witches. And there she had remained until the Witch Hunters found them.

Senna closed her eyes, remembering her horror at learning she was the last-remaining free Witch. That if she didn’t liberate the others, the Four Sisters would fall into chaos, taking the world with them.

She sat back and stared at the table laden with books detailing the Witches fall from the most powerful and revered entity on earth to the most hunted and feared.

So many must have died. Whole species—including the Mettlemots—must have been lost.

And Senna understood every doomed step the Witches before her had taken, understood why they had fallen into the pit they had. And it was clear they weren’t done falling.

“We can’t fight the world, and we can’t hide from it. They must love us again,” she whispered to herself.

The oil in the lantern was running low and the wick needed trimming. Senna rubbed her aching eyes. She was so tired she couldn’t think straight anymore. Everything she’d learned was swirling around and colliding in her head like a glass house full of flies.

Ever so slowly, she began to see recognizable patterns in the chaos. If a few pollywog Mettlemots had survived, why not some of the Witches? What if they had escaped and hidden themselves from the world behind some sort of barrier? Surely over the centuries their numbers could pose a threat to Haven. And what if Espen knew where they were?

Senna had to leave Haven, not just to lift the curse, but to discover the extent of the danger facing her Witches. She sat for long moments, staring into the lantern flame and making plans until her eyes burned with the need to blink.

Standing stiffly, she shut the metal clasps and slid the books back onto their places on the shelves. Then she extinguished the lantern and peered out the window. It was fully dark.

Joshen would be asleep by now. Even if he wasn’t, she couldn’t tell him what she’d learned.

The fallout from the two Witch Wars had not yet ended.

It still might destroy the world.





11. Song Pendant





Senna’s mother was waiting for her when she arrived home in the early hours of the morning. Without a word, Sacra followed her up to her room and lay down beside her. Too tired to object, Senna went to sleep.

The next morning, despite her protests, her mother escorted Senna to and from her classes and the island’s repair work. Though it had been over a week since she was attacked, her hand still burned whenever she used it much, so the Keepers relegated her to lighter cleanup work.

The day after was much the same. The worst part was, Senna didn’t see Joshen either day. She was still angry with him, but his absence hinted something was wrong. Something bigger than their spat. What if he’d been hurt? What if he needed her? On the evening of the third day, she slipped a few drops of sleeping potion in her mother’s tea.