Chapter 10

Ari's POV

It was five years as a breeze in the trees.

Some days were chill. Some days felt like a storm. But every day changed us.

We were on the training field, and I was sweating as I lifted my hands. My palms were faintly illuminated as the energy began to concentrate.

Silas was standing with a resentful pride. “Steady, Ari. Don’t push too hard.”

I am attempting, I said, and I had to make it slow.

The light flickered, then straightened to a soft white.

“Good,” Silas said. “Again.”

My muscles were sore, and I continued. The magic of healing requires concentration, patience and moderation. I was not even able to feel energy five years ago. I might pull it, bend it, control it now.

I wiped my forehead. “How many more?”

“One more,” Silas said. “Then we check on Harriet. She was levitating again today this morning.

I groaned. Please, tell me that she did not lift the roof this time.

Silas laughed. “Not the roof. Only the chairs.”

“Great,” I muttered. “That’s… better? Maybe?”

We walked toward the main hut. A little voice shouted before we came to it:

“Mom! Look what I can do!”

I froze. “Oh no.”

Harriet, the same, now five years old, but with the air of a queen, was standing outside, and had had two witches watching on her with fear. There was a pebble before her face, and it was whirling.

She grinned. “See? I didn’t break it this time!”

I said to Harriet, Take it down, gently.

And I can go faster, I can make it go faster, I said.

“No.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Just a little faster?”

“Absolutely not.”

She pouted and put down her hand. The pebble fell very tenderly upon the ground.

The two women at her side heaved a sigh of relief.

One whispered, “Thank the moon.”

The other talked of stars.

I walked to Harriet and knelt. You told me, sweetheart, not to practice alone.

I was not the only one; I pointed to the witches.

The witches shook their heads hastily. “We told her to stop, Ari. She didn’t listen.”

Harriet crossed her arms. “Mom, I’m not a baby.”

“You’re five,” I reminded her. Five-year-olds do not pick up rocks, chairs, and roofs.

She shrugged. “Other kids don’t. But I can.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Harriet possessed strength which I had never known in any witch or wolf.

Wild.

Bright.

Natural.

And dangerous.

I gently tapped her forehead. It is because you can and not because you should.

She tilted her head. “Even if it’s fun?”

“Yes,” Silas said from behind me. “Especially then.”

Harriet groaned loudly. “Adults ruin everything.”

We laughed together, yet deep in my mind, I knew I was always worried. Each month, Harriet acquired more magical power. Witches took good care of her, but even they were astonished at times.

She hugged my leg suddenly. “Did I do well, Mommy?”

I stroked her hair. “You did. And no more exercising until Silas comes with you.

She shook her head and ran off towards the trees. “I’ll pick flowers!”

“Stay where we can see you!” I shouted.

“Okay!” she yelled back.

Silas stood beside me. “She is powerful, Ari. Too powerful for her age.”

“I know,” I whispered. “It scares me.”

“It scares all of us,” Silas said. But yet she is good, and tender, and inquisitive. Those are good signs.”

I looked at him. Her father was not any of those.

Silas touched me a hand upon the shoulder. “She has more of you than him.”

I wanted to believe that.

Weeks turned into months.

Training became routine.

I healed injured animals.

I learned stronger spells.

And I explained to Harriet how to settle her magic.

Every night she would sleep in my arms and say, Mommy, are we safe here?

And all night I said, Yes. Witchwood will perpetually take care of us.

I believed it.

Until the messenger came.

It was grey in the sky, and a horn bellowed out of the woods. Witches came flying to the clearing. I was one of them and looked about at the trees.

One of the riders pierced the fog-- panting, reeling on his wolf.

The wolf collapsed.

The rider went on his knees next to him.

Silas rushed forward. “Help him!”

The rider was hoisted up by two witches. His skin, his lips cracked, His eyes shook. A disease was clodded on him like dust.

“What happened to him?” I asked.

The rider seized the sleeve of Silas, coughing. Lady... we want witches... we want you all...

Silas looked at the elders. Whatever is it that is going on in the packs?

“A disease,” the man gasped. Something different... getting viral. Healers can’t treat it. Wolves are dying…”

My heart tightened. “Where?”

“Allied Packs,” he said. “Several territories. And Blood Pact Pack…” He swallowed. “They’re the worst.”

The phrases sucked the breath out of my lungs.

Blood Pact Pack.

Lucius.

No. I couldn’t think about him.

The rider looked around at me feebly. “The packs beg for help. They need healers… now.”

Silas inhaled slowly. “Bring him inside. Ari, come with me.”

I followed without thinking. My hands shook. My throat felt dry.

We looked at the rider inside the hut. His skin burned hot. His veins changed to dark and were marked with strange marks. His breathing was shallow.

Silas frowned. “This is no normal sickness.”

“What is it then?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

He did not speak it aloud, but I overheard it, nonetheless.

And that is the problem.

I did all I could to heal the rider, but the illness had little to do. Silas and I went out when he was at last asleep.

The sky was darker now. The wind was colder.

We have five years to prepare, Ari said Silas, you know we have. Far more than the witches here is your power of healing. This is why you were selected by the council.

I blinked. “Choose me for what?”

“To go,” he said. “To leave Witchwood. To help the sick.”

My breath kind of froze. “Leave? Alone?”

“No,” he said. “You’re taking Harriet.” My heart was racing hard. “Silas… the packs will be there. Wolves will be there.”

He nodded. “I know.”

My voice shook. “Lucius might be there.” Silas’s eyes softened. “You gotta hide who you are. You’re Ari, not Daria. Nobody will see who you are, as such.

I shook my head. “But what if he senses us? But what in case he feels something?

I looked down. Harriet was sitting up on the grass, and flower circles flew round her. She giggled, without the least idea of the danger behind Witchwood.

A tear trailed down my cheek. She is only five; she will be safer with you than anybody, Silas said.

So he put into his robe and drew out a small letter sealed up.

“Take this.” I frowned. “What is it?” Silas slid it into my hand. He lowered his voice. And in case anything happens, open this. My chest tightened. Oh, Silas, what the hell does any happens mean? He didn’t answer.

He simply gazed at me with his secret, frightened eyes.

And that was the worst for me.