Page 11 of Wildfire Witch

Royce.Melisande. The two people from my past that Ceridor had thought to ask me about. “You’re really my brother?” I asked with a twinge of sadness.

He nodded and flexed his ghostly fingers. “There is not much time. I need you to come with me into the past.”

I took his hand and sank into darkness.

Royce’sghostly presence shot me into a fully formed recollection of myself. In my first life, I was Verity Carmine, daughter of immigrant witches escaping persecution. I was born in Spells Hollow, arriving shortly after Royce. Neither of us experienced the horrors of the outside world, but our mother described the fate of her old coven to us multiple times, down to the excruciating details.

Most of her coven, a group of herbalists and green witches, were burned at the stake in front of Edinburg Castle. She and my father escaped notice and stayed only long enough to bear witness and perform a private blessing for their friends and family. They then packed up what was left of the coven’s resources and fled in the night.

Thus I grew up as gratefully as I could for the new world and the hidden coven of witches who made their homes in Spells Hollow. But I was still a child and didn’t realize the incredible value ofthe books, reagents, and tools scattered around my home—the remnants of an entire coven’s riches dating back centuries—until I caught my parents whispering over a velvet pouch.

I was a girl of seven, fresh from wandering till dark with my best friend, Melisande. I wore a crown of woven wildflowers she’d made, while she was going home with an even grander crown I’d clumsily made with double the flowers, since she would be the next high priestess one day and even then I knew she was incredibly blessed.

“Verity!” Mother exclaimed. My spine straightened, and I assumed I was in trouble since she so rarely raised her voice. “Come quickly.”

Perhaps it was fate that my brother was still away, roaming carefree with his pack of friends. In those times, it wasn’t unusual for kids to wander on leisure days, and we knew the limits of the hollow’s safe boundaries.

I joined my parents and looked inside the pouch curiously. They’d loosened the drawstring and spread the fabric, revealing a mound of ashes. Something shifted within, a core of embers. “Don’t touch it, lass,” my father whispered. “The phoenix will ignite any second.”

He put a finger to his lips with a wink and I nodded rapidly. I knew they’d taken the phoenix ashes by accident, assuming it was one more reagent left behind when one of their coven sisters was dragged away. It’d remained dormant, patiently heaped in a cool, dark corner for this moment.

I clasped my hands and watched with my mouth hanging open with wonder as every flake of ash burst into a puddle of red flame. The phoenix chick took form, burning orange,then yellow, before extinguishing completely and flopping in the charred remains of the velvet bag. It lay shivering and limp with exhaustion as it took its first breaths.

My parents exchanged a meaningful glance over my head before Father’s broad palm settled on my back, nudging me forward. “Go ahead and hold it, lass. Without feathers, it must be cold.”

“I will knit it a scarf,” I declared. Father chuckled, patting my head.

I picked the baby phoenix up and held it to my chest with both hands. Despite its skin feeling like a coal warmed from a fire, it shook in my hold for a few minutes before settling and squeaking out a scratchy birdsong. It looked up at me with utter trust through a set of eyes that burned with white-hot flame.

Father builta custom perch for Aodhnait and painted my desk with a fireproof varnish made special by Mother. The phoenix watched me grow up at that desk, soon exchanging long days of leisure for the drudgery of memorizing spells, facts, figures, and the very basics of what would someday become my profession as an alchemist. I studied fractured facets of the ancient art from books smuggled away by my parents, most of which were written by the scientific minds of magicless humans from times long past.

A green witch could not practice alchemy with her magic before she understood the principles of the world around her and how all matter was related. I learned how to combine my magic withherbs and other reagents to form tonics, potions, and medicines with extra beneficial properties.

I could’ve stopped there, but I grew obsessed with a branch of alchemy concerning the elements and some of its niches of study, the transmutation of magical elements and the symmetry of magic. As my understanding of alchemy grew, so too did my desire to experiment with the line where magic and science met.

Aodhnait grew with me, reaching adulthood within a few short years. There were no other birds like Aodhnait and she knew it, standing with her chest puffed out proudly any time she was noticed and admired. Here in Spells Hollow, she was safe from being hunted or poached by those who wanted the powers of rebirth unique to phoenixes.

When she wasn’t ignited, most of her feathers were crimson, though she had a fine fuzz of orange in a patch under her beak and a flash of white amongst her long tail feathers, the only outward sign that she was female.

She was built tall and delicate, with a skinny, swan-like neck and a delicate clasp for a beak. Flakes of soot and ash occasionally rained from her feathers, which I had to clean up. As she and I had swiftly formed a familiar bond, it was my job to pick up after her, keep her fed, and groom her. Shelovedgrooming time and I adored her, so I kept her spotless and gleaming, despite her regularly setting the surface of her feathers on fire.

Aodhnait stepped into her role as my best friend, always there while I experimented with the element of earth I’d inherited as a green witch. We talked theory together, and she gave me her feathers and fire to help with my experiments.

By the time I was fifteen, I discovered that transmutation of the elements was possible after drinking a potion that allowed me to play with a puddle of water and cause it to dance by my will alone. I dreamed of making such control permanent and being the first witch to wield more than one element at a time.

It was possible, in theory, if I changed the alignments of my magic internally through my experimentation. I wantedfiremost of all, to master the most destructive element. It would only be right to match the majestic creature who’d chosen me as her witch.

I still spenttime with Melisande, but she was often away of late, training intensely to take her place as high priestess far earlier than she should have to, because of her mother’s poor health. She had true power, a connection to the land of Spells Hollow. And the night she would ascend was marked by an auspicious event, the first blood moon I’d witnessed.

We watched the moon rise together, standing amongst a crowd made up of the nine witch families in our coven and a handful of supernaturals who’d traveled from far and wide to watch the ritual. “You will be a fantastic leader,” I said, squeezing her hand.

She took her eyes off the sky for a moment to smile my way. Goddess, she already looked the part in her ceremonial robe, though she couldn’t hide the nerves she felt. They shadowed her eyes, no doubt spurred on by a fear of failure.

“You’ve certainly trained enough. You’ll be fine,” Aodhnait twittered from her perch on my gloved hand.

Melisande breathed a laugh. “Thank you for your support, you two,” she said.

Royce stepped up on her other side, clearing his throat. She released me and I winked, seeing her expression change at his mere presence. She was completely smitten with my big brother and spent the rest of the wait whispering with him. They were perfect for each other, I thought.

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