Someone had bound her life force to the ring.
And that same someone had then handed the ring over to the original Lady Willoughby, hoping that it would kill her.
“Focus, Edie,” Sterling whispered. “Command it one more time.”
Command it and force it to her will. Break it.
It was the way she’d been taught.
But she couldn’t stop herself from feeling empathy.
“I have to put the ring on,” she whispered, suddenly understanding how to break the curse.
Sterling’s head snapped up. “Don’t you dare.”
“Anchor me.” Edwina drove the ring onto her ring finger, and as Sterling cried out and reached for her, she felt her eyes roll back in her head.
Edwina stood on barren ground, the world strangely gray and devoid of color. Cracks speared through the brittle earth beneath her feet.
The ghosts of trees speared into the skies, blackened with decay, and several nearby houses lay in ruins.
It was the village of Bletsoe, but as seen through a demonic lens. A hellscape of maybe. Hopefully not the future, she thought. An echo of the real world, drained of color and life and hope and warmth. And this restless soul had been trapped in here—in a psychic echo of the world—since her murder.
“Hello?” Edwina called, turning in slow circles. “Is anybody there?”
Movement shifted at the corner of her eye.
But when she spun around there was nothing there.
“Hello?” she called again. “My name is Edwina. I’m here to help you.”
There. Behind her.
She turned around as a dark figure dashed toward her.
It was a young woman with long, ratty black hair, clawed fingernails and cracked skin around her mouth. She threw herself at Edwina and the pair of them hit the ground, rolling over each other.
Strong hands locked around her throat.
“I’ll kill you,” the girl hissed.
Edwina grabbed her wrists, fear giving her a surge of power. She kicked and wrestled and?—
Suddenly realized that none of this was physical.
“Begone,” she gasped with a surge of her will, and then the girl flew free, hitting the ground and rolling onto her knees.
“You’re a witch!”
Edwina staggered to her hands and knees. “I’m a sorceress,” she corrected. “I serve the Light disciplines, not the Dark. I’m here to help you.”
“Help me?” the girl spat.
“Yes, help you.” She pushed to her feet. “Do you know who you are? Do you remember your name?”
The girl threw herself forward, lunging in attack, but Edwina clapped her hands together and summoned manacles of golden light to cage the spirit’s wrists.
A scream tore through the air. The furious cry of something wild and bitter.
