CONTENT WARNING: Grief, death of someone's child, a dead body pictured.
BIG WARNING: From here on out, the story will get much darker and there will be a lot more death. This is your warning.
Maddie
I became a witchfinder with two goals in mind - make money, and rid Henford of the scourge of magic.
The witches were what Volpe told me they were - cruel, heartless beings that sought only to destroy the order of things. They were the antithesis of nature whilst they purported to be the representation of nature. No being in the world should have the ability to strike lightning or raise the dead or create fire from their palms.
The witches were faceless enemies to me. I did not care for their lives or their humanity. They were a pestilence the country needed to be rid of. They were obstacles.
Róisín was not faceless.
She was nothing like the witches I'd killed - and after Volpe's excusing of Owen Annorin, it makes me wonder if any of the witches I'd killed were the way Volpe had described them. She was kind. She used her powers for a good purpose, and ultimately, she paid the price for her kindness. This country - maybe even this world - is no place for the kind. Henford is a place of survival of the fittest. There is no time nor space for emotions - only for survival, and this young girl lost her life to that.
Róisín only sought to help others. Nothing more and nothing less.
The woman screams and cries at the feet of her daughter's body until the fire dissipates.
I can't imagine what it must feel like - to be a mother staring a featureless corpse in the face, building a picture in your mind of what it once was - your own child. To see your own flesh, blood and livelihood reduced to nothing - I don't know how that feels.
For the first time in countless years, I feel the trickling icy cold run from my throat to my stomach. The emotional gravity of all that's been going on for years and years finally hits me emotionally.
The devastated mother turns back to me and screams in a tearful voice: "Why? Why are you still here?!"
Áine
Ever since you were born, I promised myself and others that I would do everything it took to protect you. Above anything else, I prayed to the Sun and Moon that you would at least grow old the way your mother and father have.
You are the sweetest, kindest child anyone could ask for. You are the Moon Herself, bright and serene and peaceful. You have your father's kindness and your mother's ferocity. You wore your emotions on your sleeve the way your uncle does. You are not content with surviving; you will accept nothing less than thriving, and you live life to the fullest despite all of the challenges you've seen and met.
I told myself that I would care for you when you found your wolf - that I would be there to support you no matter what. You are a proud member of a dying community, and now the only mooncasters left could potentially be your father and grandfather.
You died thinking I was upset with you. I never got the chance to tell you that I was sorry, that I loved you. The last thing I ever said to you is something I will never be able to take back or make up for.
I try to quell the flames flickering in my palms.
Years ago, I made peace with fire, and this is how it has repaid me. I made it my sword and shield and it has stabbed me in the back.
You always think it will never be someone you know or love. You always think it will be someone ultimately faceless to you.
You always think you can protect your children from anything.
I put a hand to Róisín's heart. Her body is still hot against my palm, but not enough to burn. I stare into the burned remains until my mind fills in the gaps. This burned body was once full of life and joy - like every single corpse burned on these stakes.
Róisín. my dear...I will never let another witchfinder do to anyone what they did to you. And when I find the person responsible for this-
"Miss, I'm - I'm - sorry. So, so sorry."
I don't know why she's still here - but that works for me. She seemed to have information.
"What's your name?"
She gulps. "Madilyn. Maddie to you. I'm almost certain I know who did this to your daughter."
Maddie seems to know a lot about what's going on, yet seems reluctant to tell me why. I need everything I can get out of her.
"I want to know everything. Don't leave out a single detail." I can barely speak a full sentence, and my words come out stuttered.
She nods. "His name is James Tanner. Blond, short wavy hair, usually wears a purple jacket. Moustache. About your age. I thought I'd killed him, and then I find out through a man named Daniel that he survived, got healed by your daughter and tried to tell her that I'd attacked him for 'no reason'."
"How did you know he was a witchfinder?"
"They all wear the same clothes, don't they? It's obvious."
"And this Daniel - you mentioned Róisín's uncle's partner. Why does he know about this?"
"Róisín went to the Withernham market to warn him about me after what James said. We met when she healed Mother Clementia at the monastery. Daniel and I were taking food to the refugees."
I haven't the mental energy to pick apart what she just told me. For now, I will assume she is telling me the truth. She is my only lead to find this James that likely killed my daughter - and nothing will get in the way of me finding him. It is taking everything in my being to try and be civil. My rage is immeasurable, but I must save it for my daughter's killer. At first, I wanted her to back off and leave me be - but she'll be good to keep around.
"Maddie, I need to take this horse back to her owner - but after that, we are going to find this James. You are going to help me with that. My name is Áine."
"Very well, Áine," she says, with a dark air of confidence. "And when we find him, we'll get our own back - he'll be begging us to finish the job."
Owen
After waiting for Alex to fetch Lydia, she finally arrives, and her reaction to my changed appearance and the scent of fresh soil on my coat is as expected.
Once the initial shock wears off, she doesn't react as if she has not seen her husband for two months. She reacts as if I am a total stranger. If anything, I find myself a little downtrodden by such a chilly reception from my own wife. Perhaps it's for the best, given what I'm about to discuss with her.
"Lydia, we must talk in complete privacy."
She gives a slow nod, and we walk across the hall.
"You seem a bit slower than I remember."
"That's hardly a concern of mine right now, Lydia."
Once we enter the drawing room, I find myself trying and failing to explain myself in a civil manner.
"What possessed you to hire a sixteen-year-old witch as a surgeon's assistant, Lydia?!"
Her eyes bulge, but she reacts with very little in the way of emotion in her voice when she responds. She responds with a calm, practiced collection.
"This was the safest place for Róisín- even her father would tell you that. It was him who gave her permission."
Reynold allowed this? Why would he?
"Róisín wanted nothing more than to use her magic to protect people. She was better doing it here than she was trying to defend people on the streets. My own apprentices couldn't handle the level of casualties in the conflict and all gave up. I had no other choice. People were going to die - I had to do something, and so I sought the help of the girl who I heard had healing magic. I had no idea she was so young until she arrived."
"Lydia, you can't toy with the lives of the young like this!"
Lydia walks closer to me, her eyes narrowing into a glare.
"Did you forget what it's like to work in medicine since you lost your license, Owen? Our entire lives are an intricate weigh-up of benefits and risks. If I didn't have Róisín helping me with patients, then in the long run, more people will have died. If I focused on those with lesser injuries, those with more serious injuries would have died. If I focused entirely on the more severe cases, the less-severe cases would have not received any treatment at all.
Whichever way I went about this, someone would be at risk. This is medicine, Owen - there are no perfect outcomes, only best outcomes. You of all people should know this. How was I supposed to know the mansion would get mobbed by witchfinders the one night I let Valravn leave? What good would Valravn be as a protector when she was longing for you? Did you really think I was going to force Róisín to never leave the mansion grounds?"
"It's alright for you, Owen. You get to break the expectations and the rules for the greater good and be hailed for it. I did what was best for my patients and what was best for the girl. I'm not The Watcher. I can't save everyone. You outright killed a man in front of everyone, and yet you think I'm the bad person for not being able to-"
"Getting rid of Volpe was the only way forward, Lydia! You know that!"
"Was it? What has changed, then?" Her tone grows icier as she speaks. "The witchfinders are still out there in full force. I too thought Volpe's death would lead to some level of progress, but it hasn't."
The door swings open, and Áine enters. Lydia and I are thankful it isn't our children or a patient, but she has no Róisín with her, and her eyes are bloodshot and her face seemingly soaked with tears...
Áine
I interrupt their argument, and both turn and stare. Without me saying a word, it seems their question is already answered, but I put it into words anyway to convince myself of the harsh reality.
"Róisín was kidnapped by a witchfinder. I was...I was too late. She was burned at the stake."
To see Owen slightly break his usual composure somehow hurts more than my own feelings do - perhaps for now, it is easier to avoid my own feelings on the matter. This is not the worst of them - those are yet to come.
He throws his cane to the ground and sits on the sofa with his head in his hands. This isn't just him commiserating with me - Róisín idolised him. She wrote him a letter when she was a child thanking him for what he did for Oskar. She risked her life and safety to stand up for him at his own trial. This is what makes everything even more painful - everyone loved Róisín. Almost every person I know had a reason to love her. Her loss is a hole in the heart of everyone that knew her.
And now Lydia. I wonder what she has to say for herself.
She explains as much as she's able to with a distant, practiced professionalism. She's done this plenty of times before - only this time, she died on the stake instead of the operating table.
I took Róisín's words as she spoke them on that day before she left, but I don't know if I quite believed them. It seems she wasn't lying about Reynold approving of all this- and for the same reason Róisín gave me, that it seemed better than her trying to protect people in the streets.
Why? Why would he let his own daughter do something that endangered her own life?
"I did everything that I could to protect her, Áine. I could not prevent her from ever seeing her family again. I hope you understand this. I'm beyond sorry for what happened. If there's any way I can help-"
"The most valuable treasure I ever had in my life is gone, Lydia. No amount of 'help' can make up for that."
"I understand. If you ever need anything from me in the future-"
"The only thing I needed you to do was protect my daughter, and you failed."
Her professional air splits into two for a moment. My words cut like a scalpel, and I could not care less. She does not know the life of an everyday person. She will never know what it's like to lose a child.
Owen gives me a sharp side-eye and utters my name in a gravelly tone. I bite my tongue instead of speaking what's left of my mind, and only for his sake. She leaves to attend to her patients, and there's a thunder of small footsteps down the stairs. I don't see any sign of Valravn.
"If it will save you some trouble, Áine, I'll be the one to tell Eli about this."
Eli...he's going to be crushed entirely by this. It's going to be like Oskar all over again for him. I don't think I could shatter him like that.
"I would greatly appreciate that, Owen."
All four of Owen's children arrive, all of them excited until they see the sullen expression on their father's face.
"Father! We missed you! We're so happy you're back!"
"You look so different! I like your coat!"
"Did you learn any new spells, Father?"
"Did you bring us back any presents?"
The youngest child tries to mimic his siblings.
Owen slowly raises his head and looks to all four of his children one by one. The candlelight casts a noticeable shine across the teary veneer of his eyes.
"Father? Are you crying?"
In an instant, he manages to cover himself.
"I missed all of you children so dearly..." he says, his voice trembling.
The girl next to my feet runs up to him and throws her arms around him.
Owen holds her gently at first, slowly tightening his grip on the little girl.
"You're a lot cuddlier now, Father!"
"Ophelia!" he laughs.
"Don't be sad, Father! We're here now and we're all together again!"
The children all gather around him, reaching up.
"Ophelia, that's enough! I want to hug Father too!"
"You're too old for hugs, Simon!"
"Be quiet, Constance! You still play with dolls!"
"I like my dolls! They're pretty!"
"Me hug too!"
Owen chuckles in his throat. "Now, now, children - you all get as many hugs as you like. I hope you've all been good for Tilly, Alex, Valravn and Miss Oakley..."
"Of course we have! We've been giving Valravn lots of hugs. We were even allowed to feed her fish!"
"And we've been doing lots of writing and reading with Miss Oakley! Promise!"
"And we helped Miss Tilly to clean the kitchen!"
"I see. And none of you wanted to help Alex with the stables?"
"Ugh, no! The stables are all dirty and they smell bad! Like Simon!"
To see them all laugh together leaves an emptiness within me. I know how he must feel - those two months without his children, I am sure he regrets them deeply. I would not be surprised if he never returned to Glimmerbrook.
"Who is this, Father?"
All the children look at me with big, bright eyes.
"Ah. This is Áine. She is your uncle's sister."
"That's a pretty name."
"But if she's Uncle Eli's sister, then doesn't make her your sister too, Father?"
"I suppose, in a sense, yes."
"You didn't tell us you had a sister!"
"Well, I didn't know myself until a short while ago."
"It's a pleasure to meet you all."
"It's wonderful to meet you, Miss Áine. I feel bad for you. I also know how annoying it is to have two brothers. At least yours are clever."
"Reynold..."
His head swivels almost immediately, and excitement colours his features. It pains me to consider how short-lived his excitement will be - and how I do not share it the way I would have before.
"Áine! Darling, it's wonderful to see you again. I'm just resting - I've been clearing up witchfinders' bodies and blood from outside all the morning. Seeing you is a welcome break..."
"Reynold, I am not here under any polite circumstances. There is something I must tell you."
The horror already seeps in, it seems. He lifts himself off the pew and demands to know the news.
His initial reaction is one of surprise rather than sadness. For a moment, I know his mind will trick him into thinking it's a dream, or a joke, or a misunderstanding.
"Áine - what do you mean?"
"I mean it exactly as I have explained it. A woman helped me look for her. We heard screams, and I was too late. The flames had taken her, Reynold."
Reality dawns in his expression, and he seems to almost stare right through me, as if I am not present.
"I have to ask you a dire question, Reynold - why did you let Róisín work at the mansion?"
"What? Why do you think?" he snaps. "I told her that I didn't want her trying to be like either of her grandfathers. I told her I wanted to live long enough to- I didn't want her out there trying to defend people! I told her she had her whole life ahead of - She wanted to be like us, and I didn't want her doing what we do!" His voice is loud enough to echo off the stone walls. "You don't seriously think this is my fault?!"
"You shouldn't have let her do it, Reynold."
"What should I have let her do, then? You're the one who told her she should defend herself by any means necessary - should I have let her get killed defending witches instead?"
"Of course not-"
"If she could use her magic in a positive way in a controlled environment, then I'd hoped she could change minds somehow. It was thanks to me that Julian changed his mind, and it was thanks to Owen that a lot of the village-folk changed their minds as well. We aren't going to secure a safe world for the next generation by bloodshed alone!"
"You can't separate yourself from violence, Reynold! You've spent all morning cleaning up after the blood you spilled! It's the only way - you know it and I know it. If they saw reason, then they wouldn't be witchfinders! We aren't going to just sit down and take it, are we?"
Reynold grits his teeth and tenses his fingers, tightly gripping onto his arms.
"If I didn't find a way to let her practice her magic in the safest possible way, then she would have found less safe ways to do it, and she'd still be dead. If I held her back from using her magic at all, then what I did to my sister would have repeated itself. Róisín is a teenager, Áine - she would have disobeyed our wishes either way. The best-case scenario was to find a balance between what I wanted and what she wanted."
I don't respond to that, too exhausted to muster a reply to his backwards logic. Sixteen years ago, he tried to separate himself from the wolf - and look at all the good it did him. Now he's trying to act like he's had no part in the violence. Denial will not save a single soul.
"I have one request."
"Which is?"
"I want her to have a traditional Lunvinchenaîné burial. We leave our dead for the wolves, so that the wolves can feed on us and continue the circle of life. I know it sounds grim from someone else's perspective, but it means a lot to us to be able to give back to the wolves like that."
What kind of a disgusting and inhumane burial is that? He must be joking!
"I'm not leaving our daughter to be eaten by wolves, Reynold! She's already been set on fire! What's wrong with you? Even if I could, there's barely anything left of her!"
"Never mind, then," he retorts, through gritted teeth.
"Is there anything else on your mind, or are you done with your accusations?"
"I have nothing more to say, Reynold."
"Good. Now get out of my sight."
Reynold
By the time I reach Lake Lunvik, my feet are blistered and night has fallen. A sliver of moonlight casts a sparkling light across the water. I do everything I can to fight my feelings about Áine's accusations. I tell myself that she is merely grieving, but maybe she isn't. Maybe she means exactly what she said.
I did everything to try and prepare Róisín for the future, and it wasn't enough. I tried to be a better father than my own, and I still failed her. I tried to do what was best to look after her, and it still wasn't enough.
I find myself screaming to Lunvin, demanding to know where I went wrong - but Lunvin does not answer such questions. If anything, She is gazing down upon me demanding that I overcome these feelings, that they are detrimental to my own survival.
Momentarily, a trick of the light upon the lake's surface makes me think I can see Róisín's face in the water.
I call out for her, but there's no reply. Of course there isn't. My shattered mind is playing tricks on me once again.
I think back to sixteen years ago, when I felt Róisín moving about inside of her mother - a joyous occasion for us both. We were so thankful back then in that moment, to know that our daughter had a shot at life.
I can only hope that Róisín has found her way to Lunvin's lush wilds, to live amongst the wolves and run alongside them for eternity.
I expect to feel a fierce, burning vengeance. Instead, all I feel is an emptiness not much different than when the night wraiths tried to entice me into the land of the dead. The silence of Lunvik says all it needs to. Not only have I lost my daughter, the world has lost a member of a dying bloodline.
For all I know, Alistair and I could be all that is left of the Lunvinchenaîné this side of the world - perhaps at all.