Ash and Blood

DAISY.

One way or another, Bastian manages to get to his feet. I press up tightly against him, partly to reassure myself and to support him as much as he'll let me. Above us, a battle rages in the sky. The witches' blessing of Elysium still stands, shimmering and lovely like the Milky Way just out of arm's reach. But on the other side of that iridescent veil of color and light, black clouds swirl furiously. Green lightning strikes every few minutes, and some of it spreads thin cracks across the cloudy magic of the witches' blessing.

I don't know how much time we have before the Witch of the Dark's fury shatters the protective magic and rains down darkness upon us, but I'm not optimistic. We quicken our pace as much as possible, half-limping and half-running as we make our way around the forest bluff. I don't know how far we are from where Luke and Alice passed, but time is not on our side.

Thunder booms, and lightning cracks right above our heads, making the earth rumble as the impact reverberates around us. Bastian and I exchange worried glances as a thin black mist begins to trickle through the newly formed crack in the blessing.

"We can't climb straight up, and we don't have time to go all the way around, so let's compromise and hike up a steep incline a little further east of the bluff," I suggest.

Branches slap at my face, twigs and dead leaves crunch underfoot as we rush through the forest. Suddenly, I slip, my foot catching on an unearthed root. I yelp, lurching forward toward the ground that's far too close to my face because of the angle we're climbing at, but Bastian grabs me by the forearm and yanks me up at the last second. He grunts from the pain; the effort surely strains his already severe injuries. I curse, muttering an apology as I scramble back to my feet, but he just shakes his head with pursed lips.

"Just keep moving."

We struggle our way up the precipitous terrain, leaning on each other as needed. Eventually, we finally reach even ground and take off running deeper into the forest, our breathing labored. But my relief is short-lived as the terrain continues to shift around us. The forest floor is even here, but the greenery is growing scarce, and soon enough, we come across dead trees with blackened bark. Lightning still pierces the sky, but we slow our pace as a horrible sense of realization dawns on me.

We're here.

There is no more grass or moss, only a powdery black dirt beneath our hesitant footsteps. The air is thick with a foreboding smell of burnt wood and charred earth. Bastian's hand finds mine, and I feel a pit in my stomach as we step into his old coven's home.

The village that once thrived amidst this wilderness now lies in ruins, a graveyard of blackened buildings and smoldering remnants. An eerie stillness envelops the place, pierced only by the thunder and flashes of green lightning that paint the scene in foul, rotten hues.

We move forward, my gaze dragging across the remnants of what used to be homes and hearths. The walls that once stood tall are now reduced to charred stumps, and the roofs that once provided shelter now lie caved in and defeated.

I see no sign of life whatsoever—no scurrying animals, no crickets chirping, no wind rustling through the leaves despite the brewing storm. It's as if the very essence of life has been extinguished from this place, leaving only the haunting residue of death. We continue through the ashy remains, the dust swirling around our feet with every step. The air tastes acrid, tinged with the bitterness of loss and destruction. The once cobblestoned pathways that wove through the settlement are now reduced to twisted and cracked fragments.

Scorched wooden beams jut out haphazardly from the rubble, their jagged edges seeming to form grotesque faces contorted in agony. The few walls that still stand are blackened and warped, as if even the stones tried to escape the inferno that engulfed this place. Ashen remnants of what might have once been furniture lay scattered, like the shattered memories of a once-thriving community.

We keep going. I force myself to put one foot in front of the other. Everything inside me wants to look away and block out the devastation that surrounds me. We pass melted statues, now deformed into something nightmarish, buildings reduced to rubble, and thick trees reduced to ashy skeletons.

Everywhere I turn, I see haunting silhouettes etched into the ground and crumbling walls—the imprints of the witches fleeing for their lives. The stark black outlines make my breath catch in my throat. This is all that is left of an entire coven. A whole village full of witches. All these people...

I feel like an intruder in this place of sorrow, as if the scorched ground beneath my shoes recoils from my presence.

"We shouldn't be here," I whisper shakily. "This is wrong."

"It isn't supposed to be this way." I turn to look at Bastian, startled by the steady calm in his voice. His expression is controlled and contained, but his eyes glisten with unshed tears. He did not cry from the pain of nearly being beaten to death, but this... this would break any man. This isn't a village; it's a shadow, a dark imprint of a senseless sort of destruction that goes beyond good or bad. Pure, devastating chaos.

I realize with a sickening jolt that this place is the closest thing Bastian ever had to a home. He may not consider himself a member of the coven, but this is where he grew up.

"Bastian..." I don't know what to say, and even if I did, I don't get the chance to. Lightning crashes again, and those black clouds are now spilling through the cracks in the veil of the witches' blessing.

"We need to take cover," he mutters.

We find a house that's still more or less standing. Most of the door burned, but I kick down what's left of it, and we scramble inside. The furniture lies twisted and contorted in macabre forms. The wooden dining table is a mere skeleton of its former self, its once smooth surface now resembling molten wax frozen in time. There are gaping holes in the wall, and part of the roof is ruined, but there's enough left to shelter us from whatever the sky is about to unleash.

Or so I hope.

Charred floorboards creak and groan under our weight, their once glossy finish now marred by soot and sorrow. Here and there, patches of carpet remain, but they are mere shadows of their former selves, with the fibers melted and twisted. In the corner, a charred bookshelf stands, its shelves reduced to ashes. The surviving remnants of books now appear as shapeless lumps of burnt paper.

The worst part is the little things. The porcelain teacup that crunches under my boots. The smashed pile of wood that might have once been a board game. The shards of a frame, the picture inside reduced to ash. The black and burned remains of a teddy bear.

I gag in revulsion and sorrow. If there was anything in my stomach, I'd wretch it out at the sheer horror of this place.

Then a whisper tickles the back of my mind.

‘Boss? You out there?’

I could sob from the relief. "It's Alice," I tell Bastian, and he nods in understanding.

"Tell her not to go outside. That dark storm will break through what's left of the spell any second now," Bastian says. After a moment, we find the remains of what must have been the master bedroom, and he crawls unceremoniously onto what's left of the bed.

‘Alice? Are you okay?’ I call out through the mindlink, closing my eyes to focus on the feeling of her thoughts calling out to mine.

‘Hey. Yeah. We made it to the village. Found a little shed. I think we're okay here for now, but Daisy... this place…’

‘I know. Just stay where you are. Something is happening in the sky, and it's not safe to go outside. Can you guys stay and rest there until sunrise?’

A pause, then:

‘I don't think I'm ever going to rest again. Yeah, we're alright for the night.’

I know what she means. We've seen the stuff of nightmares in the waking world, and it makes the very notion of sleep feel impossible. Thunder booms outside, and the first drops of rain start falling. Thankfully, the bedroom we're in still has the roof intact.

‘What about you guys?’ Alice asks, and I glance over at Bastian, who's lying on his back, covered in soot and carnage.

‘We'll live. Stay hidden and under cover for the night. We'll meet up after the storm passes or once dawn breaks.’ Whichever happens first.

‘Copy that. See you at sunrise. Stay safe.’

I walk over to the window and pull away the dirty, tattered curtain. Bastian doesn't so much as look up to see what I'm doing. When I look outside, I have to swallow hard, gulping down the lump that threatens to close up my throat at what I see on the other side of the glass. Outside, the rain has started to fall.

But it's not water pattering against the window pane.