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Raana turned to the only other source of light besides the lantern Nerissa had at her side and the fire blazing beneath the obsidian pot at her knees. Even destroyed, the stained-glass window was beautiful. Fragments littered the floor in shattered pools of silver and midnight blue. A gaping wound to match the one left in her chest. She was sure if she peered into herself, the way she peered out into the rot of the Wilds, she’d see as much destruction.
She’d sacrificed the lives of two wolves to save Adrien. Maybe that’s how she’d ended up here. A monster who belonged with other monsters. Her magic was the answer to her arrival. It was the only explanation.
“You found your way to me,” Nerissa said, her voice soothing yet haunting in its ease.
“More like you found your way to me. The halls shifted.”
Nerissa hummed, seeming unfazed except for her slightly lifting brows. She plucked one rat of many scurrying creatures from the small cage, squeezing it tightly in a fist.
Raana watched in awe, disgust, and fascination as the elder witch honed her focus. She muttered words in the witch’s First Language under her breath. The rat stilled, and its jaw opened on a hinge. Barely reacting, Nerissa reached over to the vial on a rack at her side. It was then Raana noticed her other wares. Vats of dark blood, monstrous organs, claws, and teeth.
From those beasts. All ingredients for whatever potion she brewed.
Nerissa dropped a rivulet of liquid onto the rat’s tongue, then released it. The creature ran, ran, and ran…and collapsed in a convulsing heap before it stilled, not rising again.
Potions…or poisons.
“Mother above,” Nerissa seethed. “Too much heartstring that time.” She scribbled some notes down in the leather-bound journal at her side. It was filled with recipes and clippings, as well as drawings of plants and animal anatomy.
“Could I ever do that?” Raana asked, curiosity getting the best of her. “Potion work like this, I mean. You’re creating brews from nothing but your own mind, and they work—most of the time.”
Nerissa’s features curled slightly at the jab. “Likely not. It’s a rare gift of my bloodline, like the persuasion. As divination is also yours.”
“I haven’t really tried divination.”
“I think you have without even realizing.” She flipped to a new page. “I once killed a man with a cocktail, not realizing what I’d mixed. All subconscious. My magic drew me to different ingredients.” Raana’s eyes widened, and Nerissa waved it off. “Don’t mourn him. No one did. He was a bastard.” She pursed her lips, going back to an older page with what looked to be a siren’s tail, before flipping back. “Magic like this comes on gradually, divination likely even more so. If it didn’t, it would overwhelm you and drive you mad. It’s why I’m convinced the High Witch never learned about you. Seers cannot be seen, not truly. Which is why when she finds a powerful witch, one who may be greater than her, she binds them to her by blood before they reach their potential to keep them grounded and close.”
An undercurrent of malice laced each of Nerissa’s words. Raana didn’t remember much of the High Witch or the mainland, where her image was splashed in every corner of the three great witch cities.
Nerissa plucked up a vial from a bag behind her, the contents of it shimmering despite the low light. “Are those…siren scales?”
“Yes.” Using a small set of forceps, Nerissa pulled one of them out.
Raana gaped. She’d never seen a siren. Their isles—for when they dwelled on land—were located in the far west of the world, their ocean kingdom likely just below it, though she wasn't sure if it ever had truly been charted. “How did you get them?”
“I plucked one out of the ocean myself.” It was said with such conviction, Raana had nearly been convinced, but then she amended, “A merchant was peddling them, and you know they’re authentic because…” She tapped the scale on the lip of the cauldron, a metallic clang reverberating in the room. “They’re like plated armor.” She dropped the scale into the vat. The liquid shone, then bubbled and steamed. “Sirens are the closest relative to the fae that we have in this realm. It’s said the faeries that didn’t want to leave the mortal lands jumped into the ocean, became it, to evade our persecution after the War, and now they call mortals to the sea with song and promises of power to devour us in retribution. I’m sure the walls of their kingdom are lined with gullible bones.” Nerissa took hold of the large wooden ladle and stirred the brew, the air filling with a scent of sweetness. “You’ve never been curious to learn about your father? About where that shadowed blood comes from at all?”
Raana took a few steps away and turned, glancing into the endless forest, at the beasts stalking around them. “According to Helene, he got my mother pregnant and left her. He wanted nothing to do with me, so why would I want to know anything about him?”
“Because you’re smarter than that,” Nerissa said. “He gave you power unlike anything else. If you could learn exactly where that ends, you would be an unstoppable force.”
“And if I don’t want to be?”
Nerissa sighed. “I understand your fear; I understand that you have been broken, but if you do not reforge yourself, it will be a tragedy like no other.” The words were almost soft, matronly. They rattled in her skull.
I understand…I understand.
How likely it was they could’ve been manipulation, but Raana still tucked them close, packing them into her wounded heart.
“You and I are similar, child. Too powerful for our own good.”
“If you’re so powerful, how were you captured by the King?”
It was an honest question. Maybe one that didn’t need to be delivered as snippily as it was. This woman, at the end of the day, was a murderer. She should’ve treaded more carefully.
“Because greater forces than I conspire.”
Spirits, did she ever stop speaking in riddles?
