Wildfire Witch (The Cursed Coven of Spells Hollow)

20. Nix

NIX

“Verity,” whispered a gentle, firm voice.

One moment, Lance was digging his hand into my chest. The next, I was opening my eyes with a violent startle to a completely different scene. I sat on a wooden bench in the middle of an overflowing garden. The cobblestone path was overrun by nature but not consumed by it yet. It was like it hadn’t quite been three centuries, everything living and dead frozen in time.

There was no wind, no gentle patter of water from the fountain nearby. It was full of mossy sludge, anyway. But I was still in Melisande’s garden, amidst plants grown lovingly by generations of Nightshade witches and once maintained by my friend personally.

I didn’t know how I’d gotten here. Except…I glanced down at myself and the ephemeral tatters of clothes half-consumed by fire. Then I turned to the spirit sitting beside me, hands folded in her lap as she waited for me to come back to my senses.

“Melisande?” I gasped. My friend was just as I remembered her, her wise blue eyes twinkling as she smiled and held out her arms. We hugged each other hard.

“It’s been so long,” she murmured.

I pulled back to take a better look at her. She wore the formal purple robe of the high priestess, her orange curls unkempt. It reflected how she’d looked when she died. Her smile was sad as she looked me over with the same assessment. “Thank you for coming back and breaking your curse. It sorrows me to see that it led to your death.”

I pressed my fingers to my chest. There was numbness around the killing blow, but the worst pain wasn’t physical. I thought of my men and sobbed. We’d been so close to living a life together. This had been the last stop before we turned a new page, free of the curse and welcome to do anything we wanted.

Melisande rubbed my shoulder, murmuring soft comforts. I cried without tears and tried to get myself together for her sake. “Have…have you been here all this time?” I asked.

“Yes. Any who’ve died in Spells Hollow since Morfran set off his curse remain here, unable to move on,” she confirmed.

I put on a brave face. I’d figured out the land’s curse, and now I was experiencing it for myself. Morfran had turned our once-great sanctuary into a death trap. She’d suffered a worse fate than me, tethered to the ruined land she’d sworn to nurture, as high priestess.

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine…”

She patted my hand. “It hasn’t been all bad. Many beloved people remain here with me, including Royce. We sent out emergency calls for help with the super blood moon and many descendants of the nine original witch families have returned to break their curses as well. I have watched many impressive young witches find their places.” She smiled, and I saw the mother in her, proud of their accomplishments.

“I was thrilled to learn that you remembered yourself as well, Verity. Your curse was particularly cruel and calculated. Each of your deaths has fed fire and energy to the curse on Spells Hollow…but now it is over.” Her expression dimmed as I sighed, deflating. It was a victory, but it felt like I’d gotten a bitter deal all the same.

“It’s over,” I echoed with a nod. “Aodhnait lives, and I’ve died. Just as I would’ve insisted on, had my men not been here to help us break the curse.”

She nodded in understanding. “What good is life at the expense of another’s wellbeing?” She would know, as she’d given her life for our people.

I nodded, lapsing into heavy silence. My regrets still played on a loop, centered on Ceridor, Seth, and Rusty. I knew that they’d save Aodhnait from Lance, but what then? I’d bound them to me, just to die and leave them adrift.

Melisande adjusted her robe as she stood. “Come with me,” she encouraged. “I’ll show you around and reintroduce you to the others trapped here with us. You’ll want to see Royce, I’m sure.”

I stood too, nodding absently. “He was gone so fast,” I mumbled.

“It took a lot to restore your memories, so he couldn’t linger. But now you can chat for as long as you like.” She offered her arm, and I took it. We strolled arm-in-arm through her garden like we used to, back when she was the noble high priestess and I was her smart-tongued spinster friend, always trying to bend her ear.

“I understand,” I said.

She smiled my way. “Besides, our strategy has definitely worked. There are only two curses remaining before Spells Hollow is free. I have every hope that we will not have to linger as spirits for much longer.” Her cheer was a little forced, but I couldn’t fault her for that. It had to be next to impossible to keep up morale for the group that’d died here. Especially since most ghosts suffered terrible feedback loops if they were killed traumatically. The amount of spirits lucid enough to talk and walk around had to be slim.

“Good. You, Royce…every spirit here deserves rest.”

“And you as well, dear Verity.”

I hesitated to agree. I didn’t want to leave my men behind. It was so unfair.

“Tell me about them,” she said, cutting through my thoughts. She nudged my shoulder with hers. “Those three handsome gentlemen who accompanied you here.”

If I wasn’t dead, I would’ve blushed. “Oh, goddess. Where do I even start? You must remember Ceridor,” I said.

We shared a giggle like we used to on strolls like this. Our merriment filled the stillness of the surrounding space. “Certainly. The wind fae guard who realized you were an unwed treasure. I could never forget the day of your handfasting,” she said brightly.

“He searched for me all this time. He didn’t give up until we were reunited,” I said, full of gratitude and guilt all over again for how horrible those years had been for him. How his vows had changed, lending him that desperate edge of obsession. My death would finally sever those vows and he could heal now.

“How romantic,” Melisande cooed.

“And then there’s Seth, my anam cara. He’s the one that seems ordinary, but he’s quite skilled in everything from cooking to…” I drifted off, realizing I’d forgotten how we used to talk around the subjects of sex and intimacy. It’d been a different time, yet women were women. We loved gossiping about our men. “…To the arts of pleasure.”

I’d barely gotten to know my gentle, calm anam cara. Our bond was not as instant as the mating bond with a shifter or fae. We’d have grown into inseparable friends and lovers, two halves of one whole.

“You’ll have to tell me all about that,” she said with intrigue.

I eyed her for a moment, wondering if spirits could still be intimate. Not that I was going to ask—some things should remain a mystery.

“Then there was Rusty, the giant. He’s an earthen dragon shifter, but he keeps calling himself a great wyrm. I believe they’re the same thing.”

“I believe so too,” she said.

“He’s my big, growly animal.” What I wouldn’t do to have him hold me one last time and get all rumbly, where I could feel those vibrations quake through me.

My smile turned bittersweet. “I just met Seth and Rusty,” I admitted. “But…I love them too. They came into my life at the exact right time and helped me when they didn’t have to. Without them, I’d still be cursed and lost, a shell of myself.”

She held my arm, lending her silent strength and support as my loss continued to settle on my shoulders. I’d never get the chance to tell them how much I appreciated them. They, too, would have to move on without me.

“What of you and Aodhnait? How did you two hold up, sharing the same body and curse for so long?” she asked.

A sob shook my chest. “I…sorry.” I took a shaking breath. For the first time in an eternity, my mind was my own, absent of her warm presence. It hurt far worse than even losing my men. “The only thing that kept me going was Aodhnait. We shared everything and…I can’t believe…I’m going to miss her so much. She was my best friend.”

Melisande listened with sympathy glittering in her eyes. No—that was magic. It came out of nowhere, swooping down to loop around my waist. She released me. “Well, well,” she said knowingly. “It seems they feel the same about you, my friend.”

The tether of multicolored light and magic connected to my spirit as she spoke. Its core was pure golden magic, humming with the power of Aodhnait. Woven around it like a braided rope were other magics that felt just as familiar. Ceridor’s air, an icy caress. Seth’s water, placid and inviting. And Rusty’s earth, solid and unmovable.

Together, the four of them yanked, and I skidded back several feet from Melisande. My mouth popped open in utter disbelief. How many people were honored with phoenix resurrection? Even with how much I cherished Aodhnait, I’d never expect her to sacrifice her spark for me.

“Goodbye, Melisande. I won’t waste this! I’ll help set you and Spells Hollow free from Morfran’s curses!” I exclaimed in a rush.

She raised a hand, waving farewell. “Go and live, free of fear and pain. I shall see you again someday, in the next life.”