Page 231 of Vasmora

I swept my gaze for Aleysia, but she was nowhere in sight. Neither was Moros. Only open fields and The Crone Witch’s hovel in the distance. Oh, gods, had she lived? Had I only dreamed it?

Twisting back around, I raised a shaky hand to my temple, rubbing the ache there, and breathed deeply.

The bird cawed again, blood pouring in a broken stream from its chest.

Every fiber of my being urged me to spare it from the pain it must’ve been suffering, as it twitched and writhed around the tine of bone sticking through its breast.

“Don’t,” my twin said from behind, as I reached up to remove it. “If you want to return, you must leave it.”

I glanced to the bird and back, shaking my head. “It’s suffering. At least let me lay it on the ground.”

“It suffers regardless,” she argued.

“If I let it die here, without burying it, Raivox will not exist.”

“Perhaps not. But if you do remove it, you may no longer exist.”

I let those words sink into my mind, rubbing my temples while my conscience battled inside my head. “He is my friend. I can’t just watch him fade to nothing.”

The bird cawed again, urging me to help him.

Hands clenched to fists, I stepped toward her. “Tell me if this holds any bearing on the real world!”

“I’m no longer part of the real world. I can’t answer that.”

“Then, I can’t walk away from him. If there’s a chance he doesn’t make it …” Tears filled my eyes, and I turned away from her and buried my face in my palms. “I can’t do this.”

Another loud caw had me swinging around to find The Crone Witch tugging the bird from the archway. “Damned fool, getting yourself skewered this way.” With a quick twist of her hands, she broke his neck, and I let out a sigh of relief. “And you. Just standing there, watching it suffer. It’s not right, the way you folk treat these creatures like they’re some kind of omen.”

I shook my head. “I … I swear I wasn’t.”

“No matter.” She spat, nodding toward the bird. “He’s dead now.” Kneeling beside the winterberry, where I’d buried him before, she clawed at the snowy dirt, her old, wrinkled hands reddening with the toil.

I fell to the ground beside her and dug my fingers into the cold snow to help. Within minutes, we’d managed a shallow grave, wherein she lay the bird’s body and covered him up.

Pushing to her feet, she wiped the dirt on her skirt and tugged a pipe from the pocket of her skirt. “I suppose you’ll be at The Banishing later in your best dress.”

Scooping up a small bit of snow, I rubbed away the dirt caked on my fingers. “I don’t much like the banishings.”

“Could’ve fooled me, girl.”

“Maevyth!” Lolla called from behind. “The governor is coming, and you’re here frolicking by those wretched trees with those godforsaken birds. Please come. Quickly.”

As I shoved to my feet, a grip of my arm stopped me before I could stride off.

The Crone Witch stared back at me with her one good eye, the other white as milk. Her pipe hung from the corner of her lips. “You’re making a grave mistake. Unraveling fate is a fool’s game.”

I wrenched my arm free, frowning back at her. “Then, I am a fool.”

She rolled back her shoulders and lowered her pipe from her lips. “Remember what’s real and what isn’t. Or you will find yourself caught in a deadly trap.”

“How?” I stared down at my hands, swollen and red. “Even the cold feels real in this place.”

The Crone Witch pointed toward the trees on the other side of the archway. “Do you see it there?”

I followed the path of her gaze toward the dark canopy, where light shimmered off the underside of the leaves. “See what?”

“What shouldn’t be. Light in the shadows.”