Page 49 of Untethering Dark

Though the liquid had just been spooned from a simmering pot, it sat cold and heavy on her tongue, thick as honey but without the sweet flavor. Without any flavor. She almost spat it out from shock but forced it down her throat with a shudderingswallow. The brew’s icy, cloying fingers dragged down her throat, making her gag, before sinking heavily in the pit of her stomach.

A biting cold fanned out into her limbs, leaving numb and stiffened joints in their wake. “Scheiße.” She doubled over, clutching her belly. It wasn’t nausea that churned her insides but cramping. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Perchta thrust the steaming mug of lemon ginger water into her hands. “Drink, this helps.”

The mug frosted over where winter goddess’s fingers had touched, the gesture sparking childhood nostalgia. When she was a little girl and not yet patient enough to let her soup or tea cool, Perchta’s magic kept her from scalding her tongue. And when she was abed with fever, a palm on her forehead soothed and brought her temperature down.

Those clawed, gnarled hands had only ever brought her comfort and healing.

As with the potion, Astrid chugged the warm contents without hesitation.

The cramping ceased, but the body aches did not.

“Lay down, Tochter. Let it do its work.” Perchta guided her by the elbow and into bed, pulling a heavy quilt over her and tucking her in.

Being watched over, being cared for, taking a moment to breathe...one could never be too old for a little mothering, not even at a thousand years. And she wanted Mutter there by her side when she reached her first millennium.

Though Astrid shivered, glacial pins and needles jabbing her from the inside out, seizing up achy muscles, the effects of the brew weren’t that much worse than the common Grippe. As far as being under the weather went, she preferred this to migraines and a full-blown stomach virus.

Perchta disappeared into her library for a time. When she returned, she held an old tome, dusting off the worn leather cover with her sleeve. “Some reading while you rest.”

“What is it?”

“My first grimoire.” Perchta smiled, stroking its spine fondly. “Not the original, of course. Had to copy that over several times. Age still eats away leather and paper even when spelled with longevity.” She sucked her teeth at that, scrunching her face. It was a face Johanna made when complaining about dreaded, tedious chores like filing taxes or reorganizing the garage.

Surely there had to be better preservation magic by now. Something strong enough to keep Hexen from having to copy over their entire libraries by hand. Even humans, with their phones and their computers, had ample means to make their words last forever...

With a flippant wave of her hand, Perchta continued, “Anyway, it details everything I experienced, everything I learned as I became full Winter Hexe. There’s this new human saying, I believe, about not reinventing the wheel.”

Astrid pulled up the blanket to hide a smirk. What was new for Mutter was often still well before her own time, including this morsel of human wisdom.

Catching her mirth, Perchta gave her a pointed look, tone growing stern. “Let it guide you, but don’t feel beholden to it. Everyone is different in how they take to and practice their magic. Oskar will be back with Dahlia’s first grimoire momentarily, so you can see the differences for yourself.”

“Yes, Mutter. I understand.”

“The aches shouldn’t last long. By noon, as good as gone. Now, I have some chores to attend to, but if you need anything, just yell.”

Left to rest, Astrid studied the grimoire and all the lessons Perchta learned from trial and error. How she found andsolicited an equally illustrious lover, der Dämon Krampus, and used his life force—given willingly—to power the final transition ritual, as well as a detailed account of the growing pains that went along with the ensuing body changes.

Old teeth loosened and fell out, replaced by a mouth full of sharps. Nails became claws. Ears lengthened into points. Ram’s horns like her lover’s sprouted and curled from the crown of her head. Hazel brown eyes became amber. An immunity to cold settled in the flesh, and the magic within manifested a hundredfold.

The script was a little cramped in places, but neat, written in unnaturally straight lines and often accompanied by diagrams and sketches to illustrate various step-by-step spell work processes. Sections copied over from the original concluded in a reflection—wisdom Perchta gained with time and hindsight over the years and added later. It was a treasure trove of information.

These pages also contained the recipe cards to serious ice magic. Summoning blizzards, conjuring ice by pulling on the moisture in the air, forging structures and weapons and bindings. Freezing the water in a living creature’s body...

Everything Astrid had known and done before this point—freezing small bodies of water, scrying through ice, tracking—they were just parlor tricks by comparison.

As she flipped through the pages, reading and rereading, Perchta returned, brushing snow off her cloak. After some fussing around in the kitchen, she brought her a willow bark draught for the body aches and a plate of Kartoffelpuffer topped with homemade applesauce. The potato pancakes were Astrid’s favorite—and served with slices of Bratwurst on the side for bolstering strength.

She was so absorbed in the task she didn’t register that Oskar had also returned until he bounded onto the bed, a flash of orange fur, Dahlia’s grimoire strapped to his back.

She thanked the fox with a scratch behind the ears and some of her Bratwurst, which he enthusiastically ate out of her palm. Then, licking his chops, he curled up beside her while she continued to read.

By the time she read through both grimoires in full twice over, it was almost noon, and the chills and body aches had subsided almost completely.

“The first day is the worst,” Perchta said, holding out a rectangular package wrapped in brown paper and twine. “But the body acclimates quickly and will reserve enough strength for you to begin practicing tomorrow.”

“What’s this?” Astrid took the gift.

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