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“Fine.” Ayda sighed, stepping as close to the fire as she dared. As close as she was, the fire didn't seem to emit any heat, only waves of magic.
Ayda closed her eyes and focused on the magic pulsing through her body. The different sources of power mixed, creating a new blend of magic that was entirely Ayda. It was hers. Only hers. It was combined with the forces of old gods and ancient family bloodlines, but as it mixed inside Ayda’s mind, it was uniquely hers to manipulate.
Ayda breathed deeply and cleared her mind. She focused on the image of Margaret in her head, willing her to appear again.
“Margaret,” Ayda murmured, “I have questions. Please, come talk to us once more.”
Ayda kept repeating the request over and over again, not knowing if anything was working. Finally, Ásví gently tapped on her shoulder.
“Open your eyes.”
Ayda obeyed and nearly screamed. Margaret the Maid was sitting on the altar, completely encased in flames, looking at Ayda quizzically.
“Say something, girl.” Ásví pushed Ayda. “You called her here. Don't leave her hanging.”s
Ayda stuttered over her words, studying Margaret's perfect face. She looked alive as if she'd never aged a day from her portrait.
“Margaret, ma'am. Miss? Ma'am.” Ayda blushed. “Margaret. You spoke to me earlier today, and I need you to clarify what you meant.”
Margaret tilted her head to the side and said nothing, studying Ayda. Ásví put her head into her hands and scoffed.
“Margaret,” Ayda started again. She forced some authority and respect into her voice. “What did you mean when you said, 'Succeed where I fail?' How did you fail?”
“Well, that's rude to summon someone from the dead and ask them that,” Ásví interjected. Ayda turned towards the wizard with an exasperated expression.
“You didn't want to help, so don't critique how I do it!”
“Well, I didn't think you had to be told that it's rude to ask people how they've fucked up.”
Ayda put her hand on her hip. “Ásví, do you think that you've fucked up this evening or not?”
Ásví cackled. “I like you. And no, of course, I haven't made a single mistake. Never have.”
Ayda rolled her eyes, trying to keep a smile off her face. It was impossible not to like Ásví, as crazy as she might be. Ayda looked at Margaret.
“What will you have me do?” Ayda asked again. “’Blood, breast, or womb.’ What did that mean?”
The wind picked up in the clearing, and Margaret inhaled sharply. She leaned forward and pointed at Ayda.
“Ayda Bhaduri, your name day is upon you! Succeed where I failed. Succeed where I failed. Earth mender, turn to the sky. You are dormant no longer. Succeed where I failed. Whether through blood, breast, or womb!”
“Oh, lovely,” Ásví sighed, “Your posthumous vocabulary has not improved. I thought as much.”
Ayda opened her mouth to ask Margaret another question, but Ásví clapped her hands. The sound rang through the woods, and the flame disappeared, taking Margaret.
“What the hell!” Ayda groaned, burying her head in her hands. “I thought we were going to try to get answers from her?” Ayda looked at Ásví.
“We got as many answers as we were going to get tonight. If a shade starts repeating itself, it will keep going. Besides, we learned something, at least.” Ásví walked back through the woods, presumably back towards the stave church.
“What do you mean by that?” Ayda grunted in frustration as she followed Ásví. “We didn't learn anything!”
“That is where you're wrong.” Ásví looked pleased with herself. “Earlier, she said, ‘lie dormant no longer.’ Tonight, she said, ‘You are dormant no longer.’”
“That feels like semantics. It's probably because I could call and ask her questions.”
“Yes, partially.” Ásví raised an eyebrow and looked over her shoulder at Ayda. “But you could only do that since I made sure to wake up the old magic in you. You're welcome.”
Ayda sighed heavily, realizing she wouldn’t make any headway with Ásví. She was as stubborn as any old wizard had a right to be. They walked back towards the stave church in silence, the moon illuminating their path.
