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FOR A WITCH WHO RUBBED me the wrong way when we first met, Justine is a decent witch. In her own special, haughty way, of course. She listened to my entire life story from start to finish. She consoled me when I talked about my horrid childhood, my mother, and Igbob. She even gave my hand a squeeze when I confessed to killing Igbob. She asked the right questions that even I didn’t know the answers to. For one, she asked about my father and if I knew how famous he was. I told her I would suspect he’d be of some notoriety as a winner of the Flower Trials. The witch then followed up by telling me about Vahilda and why the wicked witch meant so much to her in her youth.
Justine admired Vahilda’s determination to become an Elite, even wanted to emulate the father-killing witch since she was young. It wasn’t until Justine begged Vahilda to train her for the Flower Trials about five years ago that she lost respect for the witch.
“She claimed I wasn’t suitable to be an Elite.” Justine sits cross-legged as she warms her hands over a fire made with a sunflower’s fire magic. “Vahilda had the audacity to tell me that. Can you believe her?” Her boyfriends scoff in unison as they stuff their faces with crispy tilapia.
“I’m sorry you went through that.” I wipe my lips clean of roasted fish and lie on my side. The warmth of the fire stirs up memories of Percy—the cat-man. He helped me secure the Egyptian bean, saved my life when I almost drowned. He held my hand—a sensation that’ll be forever impressed on my heart.
Blinking away tears, I roll away from the watchful eyes of Justine. I know the witch doesn’t trust me as far as she can throw me. I don’t trust her either, but if we’re going to lure Vahilda into our trap, we’ve got to work together.
During the Flower Trial coronation, the Astral Veil is opened, allowing for the wizard stepping down from his chair to depart into the next realm. With the veil lifted, Justine has told me to contact my father to bring him forth to expose Vahilda as the witchy killer she is. But to do so, I need an item of his to summon him from the grave. I wonder what Vahilda used to call upon his spirit that night in the mausoleum?
Justine says we’ll work out the kinks, yet I’m not too sure how we’ll accomplish much if I fail to locate one of my father’s belongings. If I do too much digging, Vahilda will become suspicious. Once I win the trials, I’ll have to pretend as if nothing is out of the ordinary when I return to Vahilda’s home.
A thought then occurs to me, a terrifying thought that restricts blood flow to my heart. “What if I make a trade with Vahilda?” I say over the din of Justine, and her boyfriends’ yammering about Goddess knows what. Rolling to face the flames and the witch, I continue, “When I first agreed to take part in the trials, I told Vahilda I’d allow her to claim the chair. But what if I ask her to free me from my contract in exchange—”
Justine pinches the bridge of her nose. “Elyse. You’re bound in a blood oath. The only way out is if you spill Vahilda’s blood. So far, she’ll definitely be executed when you summon your father, but you have to be the one to drop the guillotine on her neck.”
“I don’t want to kill her. I don’t want to kill anyone. Not again. Not ever.” I jolt to standing and pace around in a circle. “Aren’t there any loopholes? Any other way I can free myself without murder involved?”
Justine’s answer is short, simple, and severe. “No!”
***
AN UNFORGIVING SNOWSTORM buffets the four of us every step we take up the Mountain of Frost. Ankle-deep snow soon becomes knee-deep, then waist-deep as the storm picks up steam. It’s weird, the snow. For one, the weather was perfectly calm before we crossed over the grassy borderline onto the snowy pathway toward the mountain. Once we stepped over the boundary where the green grass met the white, snow-covered land, a blizzard assaulted us with heavy snowfall.
Ashley and Dana act as our shields. The twins use their massive bodies to defend us from the maelstrom of unforgiving ice crystals. Justine and I trek behind the men, huddled together to share whatever warmth we have left. At the rate we’re moving, plus the hellish weather, we’ll freeze to death out here. There must be a better solution to this. But with our fingers numb to the bone, we can’t summon the will to cast magic.
“There is a hot spring somewhere on this blasted mountain.” Justine’s teeth chatter with each word. “I could so use a deep soak.”
Through the thick sea of snow and frost, I doubt we’ll be able to find our way to a well-needed soak in a hot spring. We can only be so lucky.
Ashley and Dana turn their heads left and right. One twin cups his ear while the other squats to his knees.
“What’s going—”
“Shh!” Ashley and Dana hiss at me.
A chorus of howling and snarling sounds from all around us; fur-laden grey canine bodies encroach predatorily. Through the fog of snowfall, green and silver eyes glare at us, growls of ravenous hunger echo through the tumult of white.
Ashley and Dana motion toward their backside, asking Justine and me to hop on. We do so without question. I straddle Dana like a horse, wrapping my legs and arms around him tight.
“You must keep them off of us,” the twins say, voices nearly drowned out by the harsh wind. “Get ready.” The twins prepare to run, position their bodies in a runner’s stance.
I rummage through my sack tied around my waist with the help of Dana’s leather belt. Blindly reaching for a flower, I pull whatever my hand lands on. Bindweed. The lightning flower.
“Now!”
The twins blast off like shooting stars, barreling through the knee-high snow and the storm as if they’ve done this hundreds of times before. Their size alone tells me the twins have trained their entire lives to mold their bodies like Greek gods. Dashing through the snow, the twins narrowly avoid the snapping jaws, the ferocious claws of the wolves on the hunt.
“Did we pack any lupine?” Justine asks the twins. With one hand wrapped around Ashley’s neck, she uses her other to rummage through her purse of flowers. “Damn it.”
Dana jerks right, dodging a lunging wolf, nearly stumbling. I clutch to him tight, almost losing my hold on him and the bindweed. This running, the storm, the ravenous wolves, and my freezing body have me regretting all my life choices that lead to this disaster.
Fingers numb from the cold, I focus on a wolf on our heels and summon a bolt of purple-blue lightning. The electricity buzzes above and, like a knight’s sword, slashes down on the encroaching wolf. The world goes white for a blink. All noise fades to nothing. Then, all my senses come rushing back an instant after. The wolf jitters in the snow, body curled in a ball as it lets out its final whimper.
“Found it.” Justine waves a blue lupine flower over her head in celebration.
But the celebration is cut short.
A wolf tackles Ashley, teeth landing purchase on his arm. Justine is tossed off her boyfriend’s back, rolls into the snow, and vanishes beneath the blankets of white. Dana curses the wolves and sprints to help his brother, who pounds the canine’s skull with such force a loud crack knocks the thing lifeless.
“Are you okay, brother?” Dana lifts Ashley to standing.
“I’m fine.” Ashley’s eyes whip around the snowy landscape, searching desperately for Justine. He shouts her name through the buffeting winds that steal our breath away and stab our bodies with billions of ice crystals.
“Look out!” I scream.
Dana turns a moment too late. A wolf is at his neck, teeth digging into his tender flesh. The unexpected attack rips me from Dana’s back and into the sea of white. Everything cartwheels, the blizzard whirls around me like a tornado, stars creep in on the edge of my vision. Tumbling down an incline, I collide with the bark of a tree, my body screaming from the hurt and the cold.
Catching my breath and pulling myself upright, I slump against the tree. I wrap my arms around my torso and shiver from head to foot. My ears burn at the unholy sounds of Ashley and Dana howling in agony as they do their best to fight off the pack. I can’t see much through the downpour, and I’m thankful for that. I’ve witnessed enough death to last me a few hundred lifetimes.
Something crunches to my left. A shadowy silhouette trudges through the snow; an arm extended for me. Panicked, I reach for my bag, ready for a fight. But the figure’s face comes into view, and I sigh in relief. Justine lumbers toward me, face reddened, hair covered in snow.
“H-H-Here,” she stutters, body shuddering from the cold. The witch hands me a lupine flower, its petals battered by the wind. “F-Fly to the p-peak.” Justine collapses to her knees.
I’m by her side the moment she hits the snow. Frowning, I press my lips together, fighting the urge to cry out for Justine as the helpless witch bleeds out from her side. A set of wolf teeth has ripped her dress and flesh. The wound is gaping, bones jutting out, blood spills through her fingers as she depresses her hand over the gash.
“Justine,” I cry, leaning her against the tree. “Hold on. Please.” It’s foolish of me to attempt to revive her, to heal her wounds when the threat of wolves still lingers near. I can’t let her die, not after what she’s done for me, not after the witch saved me.
The witch’s eyes flutter closed. “G-go. I’ll... I’ll be f-fine...” her head lolls to one side, the life slipping from her as she exhales a breath.
“Thank you.” Is all I can offer her, all I can give as a parting gift to her. I wish I would’ve gotten to know her better. I wish things were different. And yet, all my wishing won’t bring the witch back to life. Justine deserves better than this. All the slain witches and wizards deserve far better than this. So many lives were lost just to have a seat at the table.
With no time to grieve, I call forth the magic within the lupine. My back aches, shoulder blades twitch, spine tingles as membranous, rainbow-colored wings bulge, unfurl, then flutter on my back. Lupine, also known as the monarch flower, allows the user to fly, unlike the anemone—the wind flower—which is normally not used for flight but to scatter seeds by way of wind. I’ll have about an hour and a half of airtime compared to the mere five to seven minutes of wind time.
The pack of wolves encircle me, licking their maws smeared in blood. Jaw set, I take a running start toward my canine enemies. The bloodthirsty overgrown dogs launch themselves at me, hungry for my flesh. But their effort goes to waste as I soar up, up, and away.