Page 54 of Wildfire Witch

“Perhaps you can feel it while you stand on this part of the ground. Your curse is anchored here, Verity. I left a trail of tortured fire energy around the magical trigger that will release Aodhnait from your body,” Morfran continued, pointing downward. “The only way to get to the trigger is to absorb the energy and, as you are well aware, your magic is incredibly unstable.”

“Oh no, I see where this is going,” I said under my breath.

“Nothing’s stopping you from getting that trigger and freeing Aodhnait. All curses have a weakness, after all. But this energy…I made it extra hot for you. Either you or Aodhnait will die in the process of ending your curse.”

My phoenix released an outraged shriek in my mind. My hands balled into fists, gaping at the audacity of this echo.

“Which of you will it be, Verity? Do you love your precious familiar enough to die for her?” Morfran smiled maliciously as his echo faded until there was only his awful voice ringing in the air. “Or have you grown to hate her and see her as a parasite? It’s your decision…but only one of you leaves Spells Hollow alive…”

My breathing quickened. I pulled at my hair, releasing a shout of fury as I stamped my feet. “That.Fucking. Bastard! After all this,he…he…” I was so angry, I could barely speak. Ceridor watched me, his eyes rounding with alarm.

I pinched my brow, trying to calm down so I could at least communicate what’d just happened. “I know how to break my curse. It’s actually quite simple, no array…or fancy elemental magic…or anything we’ve done is even needed.” Despair was setting in as I reached for the ground with my magic. Fire motes as hot and agitated as lava tried to rise and answer my call.

We’d made it this far, bonded this tightly, all for Morfran to screw me over one last time. Because I couldn’t just pull Aodhnait out of me. If I didn’t end my curse properly, we couldn’t destroy the blight on Spells Hollow itself.

“What did he say? What will break your curse?” Seth asked, a bit frantically.

I drew in him and Rusty, making a huddle with the four of us, and shared what the echo had told me. Aodhnait was still buzzing with indignation in my chest, about as communicative as a hive of pissed off wasps past her mutters of every insult she knew, aimed at Morfran.

Seth made a thoughtful hum. He and Ceridor exchanged a glance while Rusty gave a threatening rumble. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Seth asked.

The wind fae nodded. “Morfran designed his trap without us in mind.”

Aodhnait paused in her fury.“You know, they’re right.”

He’d assumed I would come back to Spells Hollow alone, not with the three men who’d forged connections with me to stabilize my fire. Those bonds were still there, whether the firecame from Aodhnait or purposefully agitated motes that kept this swathe of ground burned and suffering.

I worried my lip in concern as I considered the worst outcome, where I dragged them into an inferno with me. “It’s a lot of fire. This might take everything we all have, and if it’s not enough…”

“It’s going to be enough,” Rusty said firmly. “This Morfran guy isn’t going to force you to choose anything.”

“Agreed. I give you full permission to use all of my water magic, if you need it,” Seth added.

“And my wind is at your disposal, as always. Do what you need to, firefly. I can’t wait to hold you and Aodhnait again, separately,” Ceridor said with an encouraging nod.

I could’ve cried again in the face of such overwhelming support, but I kept a stiff upper lip and gathered myself. “This is what we came here for. Stand back, just in case there’s an actual fire.” As I dropped to my knees in the center of the burned grass, my men eased away to healthy ground, but not too far.

I sought my connections with them, tugging gently. Air, water, and earth flowed from them into me, circulating my body to prepare for what was to come. My men closed their eyes, surrendering their magic with full trust. It was their faith and support that convinced me that I could do this. I would neutralize Morfran’s trap and free my familiar, opening up a new life for myself with them and her.

The elements hummed within me, prepared for the first wave of fire that I summoned from the ground. It rushed up in a wave of malignant magic, tortured flames that’d been twisted both by dark magic and the amount of time they’d been embedded here unnaturally. Once I started drawing on this magic, I realized itwouldn’t stop even if I willed it to. Either I took in every mote of dark fire, or I burned.

Heat licked my skin and clothes, searing both inside and out. For each brush of fire, though, came another soothing wave of magic from my men. Rusty’s earth layered over me, protecting me even when my clothes caught fire and drifted away to ash in what felt like minutes.

Here in these ruins, there was no way of telling how much time I kneeled there, sweating, back arching and body contorting as I unconsciously tried to avoid the worst of the pain.

Seth’s water kept my body hydrated and temperature mostly stable. Those motes circled my bloodstream, fighting back against the dark fire that sought to bypass me and infect Aodhnait. There was fire everywhere and I was the wick of a candle, trying desperately not to burn.

Morfran’s trap emptied of fire motes faster and faster. Ceridor’s air was my last line of defense. Once I figured out how to create a trap of my own, a pocket of oxygen-less air, the last of the dark fire snuffed out.

I panted, my body saturated with sweat, ash, and smoke. But I probed the ground and only fresh, healthy earth motes answered my magic. They bubbled something else to the surface, a small piece of black magic.Take, the earth begged.

The moment I touched that remnant of Morfran’s power, it traveled within me, unlocking the binding tendril that kept Aodhnait trapped in my heart. Heat rose in my chest in a golden glow. Aodhnait’s spirit started to unfurl, free after over three centuries of suffering.

It was over. If I had any water in me left to weep, I would. We’d broken the curse. We would never have to be reborn again!

I opened my eyes when a man’s hand curled around my shoulder, expecting to see Rusty by the feel of claws dimpling my bare flesh. The afternoon light was slanted differently, revealing that I must’ve spent several hours working magic to end my curse.

Standing in front of me was Lance Drakkon, and I gasped in surprise. He already partially shifted, with crimson scales up to his elbows and a hateful sneer on his face. His other arm was cocked back, flames dancing on the end of his claws. “This is for putting my son in the hospital, youbitch,” he snarled.

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