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I found where their gazes landed, and something in my chest cracked. With her face twisted into a mask of pain, Freya lay on the ground. Members of her coven fought to reach her, but Josephine was quick to keep them away. The earth around the wicked witch had become a mess of vines and rocks, ready to attack at her will.
“Go,” Dad said. “Don’t…don’t run from what you are, Walker. Fight for her.”
Cadence nodded urgently. I squeezed Dad’s shoulder one last time and stood.
It was time to follow my destiny.
It was time to hunt a witch.
*
Freya
I glanced around the cottage in wonder.
No cracks fissured the walls, and no bookcases were toppled over. It was as if the attack had never happened. Soft light flickered from the lamps and the fireplace. Something bubbled in the kitchen.
The kitchen door swung open, and the beckoning scent of spices wafted out. Mom’s boots clicked across the floor, and her red dress flowed around her hips. She wore her signature obsidian necklace, and her fiery hair framed her face in loose waves. As her gaze met mine, her eyes crinkled in a smile.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” my mother announced.
“Mom,” I whispered, “you’re here?”
She chuckled, and her nose wrinkled.
“Where else would I be?” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s me who should be worried about you. You’ve been asleep for eons. I was worried I’d gone too hard on you in training.”
“Training?” I asked.
I tried to remember what she was talking about, but my head swam with confusion. Training sounded like something I should’ve been doing, but this past week had been busy and chaotic.
Something horrible had happened, but I couldn’t recall what it was.
What is going on?
“Oh, don’t cry, darling,” she said. “You’ll get the hang of fire-magic eventually. You should really be more worried about your healing-abilities. It’s much more useful, though not half as flashy.”
I touched my damp cheeks.
“I’m crying?” I asked. That wasn’t like me. There had to be a reason for the tears, if only I could think. “Wait, I did heal someone.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really? And this is the first I’m hearing of it?”
“You’ve been gone,” I whispered.
The realization hurt my head, and I tugged at my hair with a hiss. Mom rushed to my side and clasped my hands in hers.
“Don’t worry about that, Freya,” she crooned. “Can’t you see it’s hurting you? Come eat with me. We’ll talk about magic and the coven and that cute little werewolf you’ve been seeing.”
“But Mom,” I said, “why does my head hurt? What’s going on?”
“Darling,” she crooned and tugged me to her chest. I leaned into the warmth of her affection. “Don’t worry. You can stay with me if you just stop your fretting. That’s all you have to do. Let go, Freya.”
I closed my eyes, and the pain dissipated. With a smile on my face, I did as my mother asked.
I let go.
*
