The moon was bright that night, and Hayden couldn't sleep. He lay in his bed, feeling the branches sway around him, hearing the whisper of wind through the leaves of the witch's bower.
In the deepest hours of the night, soft footsteps approached his door. He tensed, waiting, but the steps halted just outside. Then he heard his name, whispered in a voice as soft as cobwebs. Nissa. He didn't think she'd meant him to hear.
After a moment, she turned and went away, as quietly as she'd come.
Then, somehow, dawn was upon the land. The birds sang gleefully, caring nothing for the woes of witch or mortal. Hayden turned and stretched, letting himself waken fully, even as fear crept along the edge of his bones.
Whatever happened today, he vowed to go down fighting.
Gracie met him in the common room, the dark smudges under her eyes showing she'd gotten as little sleep as he. Though neither of them had much of an appetite, they ate a sparing breakfast of fruit and bread. There was no sign of Nissa, and the skin on the back of his neck prickled with foreboding.
“Let’s go down to the clearing,” he said.
Whatever was going to happen, it would be there.
Gracie nodded, her face pale, and the two of them started down the stairs. She paused midway and pointed through the branches, a few creamy rose petals falling upon her sleeve.
“Look.” Her voice was hushed. “The barrier has reached the clearing.”
It was true. The green glow had come to the very edge of the grass. It encircled the oak, crouching there like a watchful sentinel. And at the base of the tree…
He squinted, then swore softly under his breath. A pyre had been built, a stack of branches that rose a good six feet in the air. Upon that bier, dressed all in white, Nissa lay. Her long hair was unbound and her eyes were closed. The magpie perched by her feet, its head bowed.
Alarm spiked through him. He raced down the stairs two at a time, with Gracie right behind him. They rounded the trunk and halted before the unlit pyre. Hayden reached up to tug on the witch’s arm.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Nissa? Come down.”
There was no response. Her arm remained limp, as though she were asleep. Or ensorcelled.
The magpie let out a low, mournful whistle, tilting its head to look at them from one beady eye. Overhead, dark clouds raced across the sky, blotting out the sun. These were no normal clouds, however. Their undersides were tinted a sickly greenish color, and the air held an acrid smell.
“The Stone,” Gracie said, looking past him at the oak. “It’s waking.”
The hairs on the back of his neck prickling, Hayden slowly turned. The curtain of foliage that normally hid the Stone was gone as if it had evaporated, and the rock itself was alive with green fire. Brilliant emerald light raced and whirled in the runes, pulsing so brightly that he had to squint to look at it.
Even as they watched, a thin line of green fire raced from the base of the stone to the pyre. A heartbeat later, the bottom branches caught fire.
“It’s going to burn her up,” Gracie whispered. “She’s the sacrifice. Not us.”
Cold understanding swept through him: Nissa’s sorrows and silences took on new meaning, and the words she’d spoken when she’d thought he was unconscious were suddenly, starkly clear in his mind.
She was the one the Stone would take, not them. And Gracie was fated to take her place as the Witch of the Woods.
A hole opened in his heart—one side filled with love for his sister, the other with what might have been between him and Nissa. What still might be.
“No,” he said roughly. “I won’t lose you both.”
He pivoted and grabbed Nissa’s arm, pulling her unresponsive body off the pyre and into his arms.
The wind rose with a sudden wail and the magpie flew up with a squawk of alarm, black and white wings beating in a flurry. Overhead, the branches creaked ominously, the leaves whipped by the wind. As the green flames rose, burning midway up the pyre, Hayden and Gracie retreated.
“Back to the common room?” his sister asked.
“Too dangerous. Look at that wind.” The branches of the oak were lashing back and forth, the wind tossing the flowerpots to the ground and dashing the hanging baskets aside.
A sudden gust stripped petals and fruit from the planters.
“Oh no—the garden!” Gracie cried.
One box tipped, spilling dirt and potatoes as it fell to shatter on the far side of the oak. The dark clouds circled above them, centered over the tree. The pyre blazed, burning a hot, bright emerald. Overhead, the magpie circled, shrieking its danger call.
“Get back,” he said, carrying Nissa away from the oak. “Get behind me.”
All around the clearing, the barrier sizzled and hissed. The wind intensified, the air filled with torn foliage and shredded flowers. Debris whirled past—the shredded remains of pots, baskets, and vegetable planters. He bent over, trying to shelter Nissa from the worst of it and block the wind from his sister.
Then the pyre exploded in a blaze of green fire.
A moment later, a wailing cry arose, an eerie keening that scraped the inside of his skull. It was the sound of an angry, ancient hunger that would not be denied.
A shrieking gust clawed through the tree, pulling loose the highest room and tossing it to the ground. The structure landed with a sickening crunch, a sound like breaking bone. They flinched back as pieces of wood scattered, tossed into the air by the storm.
“Look,” Gracie said, her voice shaking. “The Stone is trying to find Nissa.”
Green fire raced out from the base of the tree, the hungry flames leaving charred grasses in their wake as they quested forward. The wind howled, tearing at his aerie and fanning the blaze. Black smoke billowed into the air, the stench making them cough. It was the smell of decay, of hopelessness. Of everything lost.
The tree was no shelter. And they couldn’t pass through the impenetrable wall of magic that ringed the clearing. Wildly, Hayden glanced around, his gaze falling on the last place he ever thought would be a refuge.
“The oven.” Holding Nissa close, he ran over to the mounded stones.
Eyes wide with apprehension, Gracie hurried after him.
“We have to get inside,” he said. “Now.”
His sister wrenched open the rounded wooden door, the heartwood cured by fire to withstand the heat of the oven. Would it be strong enough to hold back the enchanted flames?
He set the witch down just outside the door, then ducked through the opening into the dark enclosure. The sudden quiet inside the oven made him aware of his own harsh breathing,
“Take her feet,” he told his sister as he grabbed Nissa under the arms.
The green fire surged forward, spitting sparks.
“Gracie!” he yelled. “Get in!”
She jumped into the oven and together they tugged Nissa inside, folding her knees so she’d fit. In his haste, he stumbled backward, thwacking his head on the low stones. The moment the witch’s feet cleared the threshold, Gracie scrambled forward and pulled the oven door shut.
Faint light filtered down from the few airholes beside the chimney. His head pounding Hayden crouched beside Nissa, and Gracie knelt on her other side. There was scarcely enough room for the three of them.
For a moment, everything was still. Then Nissa let out a low moan and opened her eyes. She blinked in confusion, her gaze going from Gracie to Hayen.
“No,” she said weakly, struggling to sit. “Let me go. The Stone—”
“Can find its own dinner,” he said shortly. “I’m not letting the fire take you.”
“You don’t understand. The sacrifice must be made.” She gestured toward the oven door, now outlined in green light. “This is how it ends. This is how it always ends.”
Her gaze locked with his, and in her clear, sorrow-filled eyes, he saw something that made his heart ache.
“I won’t accept that.”
She let out a little sound of grief, then lifted her chin. “You have to. Either the Stone takes me, or it takes us all.”
“I won’t let it.” Gracie grabbed her hand. “Is it a curse? Can we break it?”
“I…” The witch hesitated.
Outside, the wind rose to a roar. The light turned green, washing their skin to the color of death, and suddenly the stones surrounding them were warm. Too warm.
Nissa leaned forward, staring at the door, and Hayden grabbed her shoulders.
“Don’t open it,” he warned.
She shivered, despite the heat, then slumped back against him. “It’s too late. The Stone will devour us all now, if it can. I’m sorry.”
“Ow.” Gracie crouched, balancing on the balls of her feet. “It’s getting hot.”
“We have to endure it,” he said. “Nissa, can you do anything?”
“I’ll try.” She set one palm to the floor, then winced and quickly pulled it away from the hot stone.
“Get on my back,” he said, drawing her to him. “Gracie, in my arms. I’ll hold you both off the floor.”
“But what about you?” his sister asked.
“My boots are sturdy. I’ll be fine.” He didn’t mention the heat already seeping uncomfortably through the soles. “Hurry.”
He boosted Nissa onto his back. After a brief hesitation, she twined her arms around his neck. Then, still crouching, he hoisted Gracie into his arms.
“Stop wiggling,” he told her. “Hold onto my waist.”
Sweat began trickling down his temples, his thighs burning with the weight of carrying both women. But he wouldn’t let either of them go.
Beyond the oven, a howl arose, louder than hungry wolves, an angry cry that clawed at his ears. Nissa shuddered on his back and almost lost her grip, and his sister flinched.
“Hold tight,” he gasped. “Both of you.”
“How long?” Gracie whispered.
“I will tell you when it’s safe.” Nissa’s voice caught, as if on a sob. As if she couldn’t believe that they might, in fact, emerge alive.