The Last Witch

Spirits, as Asher quickly came to learn, were not ghostly apparitions like the old stories described. Aria explained it as the extra pieces that overflowed when there were holes in the world. Asher pictured it more like layers of strings; strings that made time move forward and trees grow and seasons turn. It was energy and life and death and all those impossible things. It was the world that made this world turn. Apparently, when the unnatural started to take hold, parts of it would bleed through and take the strangest forms. Usually it was invisible, but Asher had seen those forces that couldn’t exist. It was because he understood something that shouldn’t exist in the natural world to be real, that he could also see the parts meant to heal it. 

It was as though a spark had flared to life, one that burned hot and prodding behind his eyes, that wouldn’t let him rest. It wasn’t just the fog; these things were everywhere. When he sat on the porch steps, stringing the weeds out of the stalk harvest, he was joined by small white flowers with petals that pulsed like a heartbeat, their discs made of a spectral flame that danced against the morning sun. When he sorted the eggs into their little wooden slots to be sent out, rings of purple light would flash and dance whenever something touched the table or the floor. At one point, Asher poked at the table to see if they would react differently, and he felt an icy prickle as the lights zapped at his fingers. When he tried to sleep at night, the smoke from the mortar sailed in gentle, hypnotic patterns around the roof. 

Aria had been right; they didn’t hurt him. Now the initial shock had worn off, he found himself drawn into the strange sensations, if only to watch them work. They came with a gentle relief, a reminder that he wasn’t going mad after all. It was no longer a nightmare, or a confusing mess, but something he could see, something he could eventually understand. This was real. He could work with real.

‘So, if the spirits fix the world after the demons wreck it, what is it that witches do?’ he asked Aria. Both of them sat at the kitchen table, placing wax seals on order envelopes. Aria still wouldn’t quite meet his eye, but he understood why. He was hardly about to announce to anyone what he had seen, or was still seeing. 

‘The spirits only put the world back after something has been broken,’ Aria said. ‘And even then… you could put a bandage on a cut, but that same bandage won’t do anything to a chasm.’

‘So witches make sure it doesn’t happen in the first place?’ Asher quizzed. ‘You mentioned gaps. So, there’s like an opening to this place? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?’

‘Every prison needs a way to get in.’ Aria glanced up then, and he recoiled at the amused sparkle in her eyes. ‘You’re very chatty lately.’

‘I’m sorry, I can stop,’ Asher mumbled. 

‘No, it’s alright,’ Aria said. ‘I suppose I’m not used to people being so curious. Though, that’s not your fault, sweetie. You’re part of all of this.’ She stacked another pile of papers together neatly, and placed them aside. ‘The Gate into LeTorkani is the most reinforced part because it can be opened. That’s why there are cracks in the walls.’

‘Does the Gate open by itself?’ Asher could feel the weight behind the word. Gate. She definitely wasn’t talking about the same kind as the one at the end of her garden. 

Aria bit her lip. ‘It’s… hard to explain. They’re not physical things. It’s not so much a door opening, as a curtain lifting.’

Asher could only see a giant, dimensional door with all kinds of impossible magic around it. ‘So, something against the natural order happens, and it pushes the gate open so that impossible thing can fall through?’

Aria nodded. ‘In a broad sense, yes.’ She chewed on the edge of her quill feather. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure.’

‘What are you going to do with all of this?’

Asher paused. He was out of his element, he knew that, and the warning both women had given him before still echoed in his head. The more he dug into this, the more dangerous it would be. ‘I want to understand what happened,’ Asher said. ‘Especially if I’m a part of it now.’

‘There’s always ways to be more involved,’ Aria mumbled. ‘It might still fade though. A lot of the time, it’ll just… go away after a few days. Although, I don’t think I’ve met another Seir who fell into another world.’

‘Did you—’

‘Oh, gods no!’ Aria said. ‘I… might need to save that story for another day.’

‘Does anyone ever come out of that place?’ Asher asked. He bit down on his other question, but the itch in the back of his mind was back. If this sighted thing did eventually wear off, could he go back to his regular life, knowing that things were there that he couldn’t see? 

Aria must have seen something in his expression, because she gave him a soft smile. ‘Stranger things have happened. I’ve always wanted to believe Hadley was alive, even though it’s been nearly a year.’ She paused. ‘Did she look okay?’

‘I think so?’ Asher struggled to remember any details that weren’t blurring in the haze of post-trauma. 

Aria nodded. ‘I imagine it’s hard to tell in a place like that. I don’t hold that against you.’

‘It’s still hard to remember,’ Asher said. 

‘I wouldn’t force it,’ Aria said. ‘If I might, I think it’s better that you don’t. You know what you need to know, right? It’s dangerous and full of monsters, and it did a lot of damage. I don’t think it’s a good idea to dwell on the details. Even if you want to know what really happened to your friend.’

Asher flinched. ‘Did you find it easier not to think about it?’

Aria paused, and Asher wondered if she was going to answer at all, when her voice came out in a whisper. ‘Some days are better than others.’

Asher didn’t say anything more. He was already sure he was wearing on his welcome here, and the last thing he needed was to hurt them. More than that, the pain around this mysterious red-haired woman obviously still cut deep, and it only made him think of Navarre. The mirror of his own grief was a new hurt all on its own. Maybe Aria was right, and he couldn’t dwell on the nightmare parts. Still, he didn’t want to walk away from this. He would tread carefully, but he needed to know. As sorry as he felt for Aria, he couldn’t be sitting in this pity for the next few years. 

This wasn’t just Navarre though. Valenda had housed thousands, and he didn’t know what the damage in Dalvany was, but he couldn’t completely accept that there was nothing he could do to mend the situation. Especially if it was going to keep happening. Besides, other people weren’t going to stop looking, and panic would only lead to mistakes. He couldn’t let this go; it was dangerous either way.

The afternoon passed quietly, as the crates were marked and seals were stamped, and Asher found the strength to hobble down the porch steps into the garden. Aria had produced a pair of walking sticks to help him, though every step took an effort that wore at all his limbs. By the time he chicken coop, where he gently prodded each of the little creatures back into the hatches, his arms ached and he was huffing for breath. He hadn’t heard anything about the wild animals while he’d been out here, but since the farm animals were locked up at night, he suspected they hadn’t been dealt with yet. 

The women had eight chickens in total, all of them plump and sleek with shining feathers in shades of brown and black. They warbled as they lumbered around his feet, a couple of the more confident of them pecking at his single boot that touched the ground. Asher leaned down to stroke one of their heads, the sleek of their feathers calming and smooth. A rooster came over to nudge his hand, and he stroked the feathers next to its crown. How simple it would be, to be a chicken in a place like this, so majestic with no worries in the world, cared for with enough food to make him explode. 

‘I don’t think I’ve seen you smile since you came here.’ Gershwin leaned over the fence, watching him with her own wry smile. 

‘I like chickens,’ Asher mumbled. 

‘I can see that. It’s no excuse for you to be on that leg.’

She patted a crate next to the gate, and Asher hobbled over to drop down onto it. He felt a question in the air, so he bit down on his tongue. One of the chickens wandered over with him, and he stroked its head absently. 

‘Aria says you’re getting curious,’ Gershwin said. 

Asher flinched. ‘I know you’re warning me away from it, but I can’t walk away. I need to know what happened to me.’

‘I know,’ Gershwin said. ‘She gets nervous is all. What happened with Hadley was… well, it’s still quite raw. I think both of us know she always went too far with it. It’s why I don’t…’ She knotted her fingers together. ‘Please be careful, Asher. If you get pulled in there again, it’s going to be even harder to get out.’

Asher nodded. 

‘I know you want to find your friend, sweetie,’ Gershwin said. ‘I know what it’s like to have someone you care about in there. I really do.’

The thought of Navarre winded him all over, still hitting as hard as it had the first time. He hoped more days were easier than they were like this. ‘We were fighting when it all happened,’ he mumbled. 

‘Always seems to be the way,’ Gershwin said. 

‘I feel like I owe him,’ Asher mumbled. ‘I want to fix this.’

‘Owe him because of the fight?’

‘Because I left him there.’

Gershwin frowned. ‘You would have died. You nearly did die. There was no leaving him there. What could you have done?’

‘I don’t know,’ Asher admitted. ‘I don’t know what to do now. It’s not really clear which parts are dangerous to poke at.’

‘If I say all of them, will you agree to walk away if it gets really dangerous?’ Gershwin asked. 

‘So there’s no specifics?’ Asher asked. ‘If that’s the case I’m already in danger. I’m already in the middle of this.’

‘It’s hard to explain,’ Gershwin said. ‘If you consider every single person and every single thing to be a moving part, nothing is going to move in the same way. So messing around with any of it is not going to have the same result each time. Does that make sense?’

‘I think so.’

Gershwin sighed. ‘I can see you’re not going to drop this. Can you at least tell me what you’re planning to do?’

That, Asher didn’t know either. As much as he was starting to accept that this was his world, he still knew so little about the rules. Sitting here and thinking it over wasn’t doing anything though. He would need to treat this as any other case. Just because he was the victim in this situation, didn’t mean he couldn’t put his experience to use. 

‘I want to see where you found me, if that’s alright,’ Asher said. ‘From there, I will have to touch base with someone in Dalvany to find out what happened there. From that point… I guess I’ll go with what I found.’

‘The usual City Watch investigation?’ Gershwin mused. 

‘Something like that.’

Gershwin bit her lip. ‘Alright. I’ll take you out there. For the other part… I don’t know. The doctor said he’d let someone know you were here, but I’m surprised no one has shown.’

Asher wasn’t. If Dalvany was anywhere as bad as Valenda, then it would be chaos in town. As for Evelyn… the woman thought herself above visiting a prestigious boarding school; the mere thought of visiting a farm would give her a heart attack. 

‘I’ll get the cart ready,’ Gershwin said. ‘You didn’t see where Colter went, did you?’

Asher had no idea who Colter was. ‘No, sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to put you out with—’

‘Young man, you are not walking to the other end of my property,’ Gershwin said. ‘And we don’t let anyone go out past the fence by themselves. Stay here. Play with the chickens. I’ll be back in a moment.’