Page 23 of Untethering Dark

Bent over at the waist, Astrid dotted gingerbread with icing, cut into the shapes of trees, stars, and woodland animals. The spice cookies would get dipped in glaze.

As Astrid recounted the hikers’ offenses from the night before, vengeful rage limned her mother’s face. It predictably turned into gleeful, maniacal scheming when she explained what transpired between her and Altes Geweih, along with her plan to adequately thank him for saving her goats.

Mutter practically glowed with greed for Hexen grandbabies.

“This is fantastic news!” Perchta began, the most cheerful she’d ever seen her, but Astrid cut in, nippingthattopic in the bud.

“Mutter,” she groaned, “I already have a partner for the final ritual. Remember Demos?”

They met at a Bacchanal a few years ago and had such a great, rollicking time he outright volunteered his “services” when she told him she was working toward becoming a hag.

“Ah yes, the satyr, right? Certainly capable of getting the job done, but now that you’ve got the forest king’s attention, why not shoot higher? This is a golden opportunity.”

“He’sveryappealing, yes, but I don’t know him. I know Demos. And more importantly, I can trust Demos not to eat me.”

“But that’s half the fun.” Mutter’s glee increased tenfold, and Astrid suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Both at the double entendre and at the school of thought that the more perilous, the better. Hags wore their ritual conquests like badges of honor.

Astrid liked an adrenaline rush as much as any witch, but the final hag ritual was the last step to becoming her truest self. Itwas special. And Demos understood that. He was familiar and safe and wouldn’t make demands. He just wanted to help.

“I’d need to know much, much more about Altes Geweih before I’d even consider taking him for a tumble in the snow, much less ask him to help me power a ritual.”

Perchta’s expression fell a little, but she recovered quickly. “What would you like to know?”

“How much danger am I in, now that I’ve gotten his attention?”

Mutter rested one clawed finger along the side of her face, thoughtful. “He’s one of the lesser gods, but a god, nonetheless. An immortal. There’s no question that he outmatches you in strength and power.” The thing about Hexen mothers was they saw power as an alluring challenge, not a threat. “But he’s fair, and he deferred to your wishes yesterday and rescued Fritz and Liesel. Still, there’s always a risk and intentions can change. Did I teach you the teleportation ritual?”

“No,” Astrid replied, grumpily. That would’ve been helpful to know yesterday when she thought for certain she was about to die.

“Ach. Must have been Dahlia then. I’ll send Oskar with a scroll.”

Scrolls passed amongst Hexen were like recipe cards for magic. Dahlia was another one of Perchta’s daughters but from another time and another land, and Astrid’s hag sister in magic if not blood.

“What else do you know about Altes Geweih?”

“Little more than you, I’m afraid. But what I do know of his history is simple. This ishisforest, but he only devours intruders, those who don’t pay the proper respects. This land could be entirely impassable, but he’s shown great generosity and restraint in allowing the humans to have their daytime pilgrimages, without cost.”

A beast that could hunt by day but chose not to? Feral but also capable of restraint, a promising sign. She wouldn’t take a monstrous lover who was unable to control his own impulses. For all the hags that came out of those encounters victorious, there were just as many who’d been devoured. And not in thegoodway.

“I didn’t think he was capable of such mercy.” Being spared her own life—twice—was surprising enough. “I thought he was driven by the hunt.”

“In a way.” Hexe Mutter’s voice gentled, backed by a healthy amount of respect. “But more motivated by the need to protect the forest and the creatures within. Age does funny things to one’s nature, softens some of the harder edges. He’s ancient, to put it lightly. Paleolithic, to put it honestly. While we Hexen are creatures of habit, gods are bound to their land. They cannot leave it.”

Thousands of years trapped in one place, and thousands more yet to come. Roaming the same mountain, the same stretch of forest over and over. The monotony must be grueling.

These days, Astrid was a veritable homebody, and quite happy about it. But that desire to settle came after years traveling abroad. To think, she had more freedom than a god.

“Still, it stands to reason that he’s seen humans at all their stages,” Mutter continued, expression darkening. “And knows quite well what they’re capable of, insofar as what’s touched his territory. You see, Tochter, there’s monsters and villains. And then there’s true evil, something so vile even we vicious creatures cannot abide it. We do what we can to weaken it, to stop it, but when all is said and done, it changes even us.”

Some of the worst evil came from humans. Astrid solemnly refilled her pipette with icing, keeping her hands busy, while the rest of her felt heavy. “I remember you saying.”

It was before her time, but great human evil had come to this land less than a century ago. And Mutter, who usually didn’t show a compassionate bone in her body for human affairs, had picked a side. She hid people, the ones being ruthlessly and systematically slaughtered, and she gave them protections, medicines, and provisions.

But what had Altes Geweih done?It was a fierce thought.

As if reading her mind—and Astrid thought that maybe she could—Perchta added, “In times of great suffering, Altes Geweih eats evil and evil alone. There...just has to be balance.”

Good. “I understand, Mutter.”

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