For The Nameless

DAISY.

Don't be like her.

Even if I were willing to go against Bastian's dying wish and use black magic to save him, I wouldn't even begin to know how.

But his mother does.

I look up at the Witch of the Dark to find black streaks down her face as if her tears were tar spilling from her empty eyes.

"Save him." The words are not a request or a question, and there is such force behind the command that the Witch looks up at me, surprised. "You have the power to save him, so do it."

She presses her thin lips into a hard line, staring at me for a few long seconds before replying. "I saved him once before, and he abandoned me. I tried to help him, but he refused to see the truth."

Anger boils inside of me, thawing the ice in my veins. "He felt guilty. He was afraid and ashamed of what you had to do to save him, and he thought if he left, it would be easier for you to let go. He made a mistake. Don't let him die for it."

Her jaw pops, her hands fall idly at her side, and I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

She's been through this before. Only this time, the rage and anguish I saw in the vision aren't there. Instead, her face is a mask of exhaustion and defeat. She stares at her son's unmoving body with hollow acceptance.

Hopelessness.

The Witch of the Dark turns to me with her hardened expression. "Save your tears, little princess. You'll join him soon enough."

This bitch.

"Then do it," I snap, too devastated and defeated to consider that those might not be the smartest words to say at the moment. I toss my dagger onto the ground beside her, and she stares down at it with mild curiosity. "You killed Alexander. You've killed your entire Coven. You're killing your son. And next, you're going to kill me. What next? Have you ever thought about it? Have you spared a single second to consider what will be left of the world when you're done with it?"

"It doesn't matter," she says quietly, and fury fuels me.

"Of course it matters. He matters," I say softly, staring down at him with pain in my heart. "He is the reason you tapped into black magic in the first place. It wasn't for revenge or for power. I saw it. I saw you hold him when he died. I watched a mother cradle her son, and it unlocked something that I suspect I will never understand. You have the magic now, so why don't you use it?"

She snaps her gaze back at me, anger finally cracking through her numbness.

"You think it's so simple, you stupid girl. Even if I wanted to do this, black magic is not a toy or a tool. It is a force of nature, and like all things, it has its limits. If you think I can control it, then you are even more foolish than I thought."

I have to resist the urge to clap back at her, gritting my teeth as I tighten my grasp on Bastian. There is no way I'm not going to be emotional about this, but I have to make sure they are the right emotions if we're going to stand a chance.

"You can't fully control it. Fine. But you can channel it. It took an incredible amount of power to create the Shades and the dark plague. If you can't summon more magic, then redirect it. If black magic is a part of nature, then there is a balance to it. I've seen it with my own eyes. If you give up the power over the Shades and the plague, maybe you can gain the power to save Bastian."

The Witch turns her black eyes to Bastian, whose head is still resting on my lap. His eyes are closed, and if not for the blood soaking his shirt and the pallor of his skin, he might look as though he were sleeping.

"My son made his choice," she says coldly.

"And now you get to make yours." I retort.

I take a moment to look at her while she gazes at her son. I take in the sunken features that were once lovely. The lips that kissed her lover. The slender hands that once held her baby. The arms that held him when he died.

There was love there once. There was so much more.

The memory of my own mother hits me. Suddenly, I feel like I can see the full picture well enough to realize there is still a piece missing. Before she was a Queen and a Luna, my mother was once a slave. Before the Witch was the Dark, she was a woman. Something changed. Something my mother gained and the Witch lost.

"What's your name?"

The Witch looks back up at me, and the surprise on her face makes it seem younger somehow. She stares at me for a second, then shakes her head. "I don't remember, and it doesn't matter. It's not who I am anymore."

There it is. This is the weapon I didn't know I needed. It was never a dagger, an athame, a spell, or a sword. Bastian took on a new name to become a different version of himself. Iris Silas Lyall fought for her name before she even earned her titles. My family dedicated themselves to creating an alliance that protected the outcasted and misunderstood. They taught me to believe that those who are lost can always be found, and sometimes all it takes is a single word. Just like Bastian's secret, the chink in the Witch's armor has been right in front of me this whole time.

For the Nameless.

"Then who are you?" I ask gently. "Alexander betrayed you, and he was wrong. Your Coven failed to guide and protect you when you needed them most. Bastian left you alone, and he shouldn't have done that. But you cannot justify your cruelty with the mistakes of others. Your son loved you, and you gave him a second chance at life. Now you can either use your suffering to keep creating even more suffering, or you can have hope. You can try again. You can believe that despite all the horrible things you've been through, you still have the power to do something good, and it is worth doing."

I hold on to Bastian with one hand and reach for hers with the other. She flinches as though surprised by the gentle touch, but she does not pull away.

"Tell me your name. You can remember it if you try, or you can choose a new one if you want to. Let it be what you become. We all have darkness within us, but what defines us is what we choose to do with it. You were more than your hatred, once. You were a daughter, a witch, a lover, a mother, a woman. What you become next is not Alexander, or Bastian, or anyone else's doing. It's yours."

I guide her hand over to Bastian, resting it atop his own.

My mother taught me that names are powerful things. A name is the word for who you are. Its definition is everything you are and want to be. We give it meaning with how we live our lives.

I am the flower that grows out of the dark crack on a stone. Daisy means innocent but strong, wild but beautiful, loyal but free. Iris doesn't just mean hope. In my eyes, it means mom.

And Bastian? Bastian means the wild howl of a wolf protecting what he loves, the sly smile in the middle of a storm, the feeling of home when you're somewhere new, and the darkness of the night that makes the stars shine.

To me, Bastian means love.

"Who do you want to be?" I ask her.

She looks at her son, and more black tears spill from her eyes. She seems so young to carry a power and a pain so ancient.

"I think… I'd like to be just a mother again," she whispers.

Behind her, the Shades lower their heads, sensing a shift in the air. The world holds its breath, sensing the oncoming change. The choice.

"Then tell me your name."

The screeching of the Shades fades into silence. Shadows move near us, seemingly drawn to the woman sitting across from me. The mist swirls as if sucked towards us. The atmosphere around us becomes electric, buzzing with not just power but purpose.

"Elyana. My name is Elyana Stone."