Page 13 of Wildfire Witch

“I should be content with what I have,” I told Aodhnait one fateful day, when my magic rebounded painfully back into my chest while I attempted to turn earth to fire through the most complicated array I’d made yet. It’d fallen to pieces on the table as soon as the spell failed.

“If you want fire, I can supply it for you,” the phoenix offered.

As frustrating as it was to behold the broken array, I was a woman grown now and wouldn’t cry over yet another sign that I had found the limits of my body. I was a woman of the sciences, and I understood trial and error.

I was taking notes on this failure when the door to my shop banged. I turned, eyebrows lifting in surprise when I saw Morfran standing on the other side of the counter. I’d made my dislike of him no secret and sneered at his audacity at visiting my shop. “Do you need something?” I asked, lips flattening. If only Ceridor were back. He was due to return from his job any day now.

“I smell the sulfur of another attempt at making fire.” His tone was low and cold as his gaze slipped past me to my shattered array. “What if I told you I know a secret that will make you a flame wielder?”

“I would tell you I’m not interested in your secrets,” I scoffed.

He tilted his head. “What have I done to make you so standoffish?”

“I may smell of sulfur, but you have the stench of black magic upon you.” I accused, gesturing for him to leave my shop. He stood there, staring at me unblinking for long enough that it was uncomfortable. Unnerved, I continued, “I do not work with corrupted witches. Plus, you’re always sniffing around Melisande’s skirts like you belong with her. My friend has told younocountless times, and despite my insistence, you’re still here and welcome in her town.”

“To think you pleasure your husband with that tongue,” he remarked. “No wonder he is gone a third of each year.”

I smacked my lips in offense. “Leave,” I said, pointing at the door.

“Not until I’m done with you.” He flicked his wrist, shooting out a globe of black magic. It exploded outward when it hit me square in the chest, becoming tight strands that bound my limbs to my body and splashed over to ensnare a screeching Aodhnait. She lit herself on fire and pecked at the magic, to no avail, while I squirmed like a worm on a hook, screaming uselessly while a strand bound itself over my mouth.

“You see, I have tired of waiting for Melisande,” he continued like nothing was amiss. “Spells Hollow will know my wrath, starting with those the high priestess loves most. Her spawn are already dealt with.”

I screamed louder, nearly breaking my vocal cords as I struggled to escape his magic and the terrible implications of what he was saying. My writhing ended as I tipped over, falling on my side with no way of getting up with how tightly I was bound.

“Now, her lovers and friends. Don’t worry, though. You will live.” He loomed over me, weaving magic between his fingers. “One member of every family has to live to suffer the consequences. Generations to come will remember my name, through curses of my design. I’ve decided to fulfill your greatest wish withyourcurse.”

He held out a hand and a thick pulse of magic surrounded Aodhnait, who released a single protesting squawk before going limp. “I curse you, Verity Carmine, to share your body with this being of fire. You will neither live nor die, but you will forget who you are until you are a dazed, broken shell wishing for an end that will never come.”

With one shove of black magic, he pushed my familiar into my chest and tears rolled down my face as I was wracked with white-hot agony. I bent in unnatural angles in the restraints, whispering one word, “Why?”

He regarded me with icy hatred, spitting his response, “I know you’re the one who’s been trying to have me banished. You’ve poured poison in Melisande’s ear, and for that, I hope you remember one thing: what happens next to those who live here is blood on your hands.”

He turned and left my shop, the door closing with a bang. I blacked out from the onslaught of pain inside of me, coming in and out of consciousness until my eyes opened to pitch black nighttime.

My senses returned suddenly. The floorboards around my body were intact in a perfect circle, but the rest of my shop and home were blackened with rising flames. They poured out of me with every heartbeat and there was screaming…I wasn’t the only one shouting, though mine came from the agony in my chest and the uncontrollable magic that threatened to burn me from the inside out.

Morfran’s magic had melted to a sticky mess, so I could stand…except the pain was too great. I dragged my body through the burning shop and abandoned everything to the flames. My fire had spread past the house, which collapsed behind me once my legs reached the already ruined grass.

Everything I could see was lit on fire. People fled in all directions, trying to escape the fire and the black magic rising from the ground itself. It stunk of Morfran’s influence, the blackest of curses seeping in and ruining the sacred land of the hollow.

My horror shifted with my awareness. Even I was burning. My skin charred, licked by overzealous flames which leaped to consume anything living. Despite that, I still called into the night in blind panic. “Melisande!” Not knowing she was already slain.

And, “Royce!” Not realizing he had died with her.

Then, finally, to the only force that could save me. “Ceridor!”

The pain had nearly stopped, and my lungs filled with smoke. Still, I called to the three people who meant something to me until all I could do was cough and wait for the end to come.

Ceridor arrived ahead of the dawn with all the wrath of an avenging angel, descending from the sky and putting out swaths of flames with a wave of his hand. He kneeled by my side and turned me, his face going slack with horror at what he saw. “Firefly, no,” he whispered.

“The…child…ren…” I croaked. “Mor…fran…cursed…”

“Shh. Save your strength,” he said. Tears made his eyes into mercury. “I will fly you to New Amsterdam. I’ll find you a healer.”

He shrugged off his cloak and cradled me in it. I closed my swollen eyes. The breeze licked the raw wounds over my body as we took to the sky, weightless with his wind magic. I tried to tell him along the way that I was cursed, that Aodhnait was somehow inside of me now. That I was the one who started the fire and undoubtedly killed several innocents in the blaze.

And the children. Morfran had murdered the children.

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