CONTENT WARNING: attempted suicide, discussion of suicidal ideation and historical and unhealthy attitudes towards such thoughts (please seek help if you yourself are feeling this way and do not read this chapter in a bad mindset). Discussion of a character's murdered child.
Reynold
The wolves are louder than usual tonight, circling the base of the cliff.
I find myself thinking back to the night wraiths.
All they were trying to do was comfort me when I was trapped halfway between life and death. I still feel terribly for them, even after what that one in particular tried to do to me. If I were in their situation, I too would have acted with a desperation incomprehensible to any mortal being.
The desperation I feel now is a different sort. The sense of your impending death is equal parts terrifying and comforting. I have seen the world of the dead for myself; the emptiness of it is as unsettling as it is inviting.
I am two steps away from never having to bear this miserable existence ever again. Two steps away from finding my dear daughter in Lunvin's wilds - though I wonder if she'd even want to see me again after what I did to her.
Áine was right, wasn't she? I killed her. I killed my own daughter.
Perhaps Lunvin would want nothing to do with me. What good is a mooncaster who cannot protect his own pack? There's a swirling sense of excitement and honour in my stomach; the messy pride one finds in punishing oneself flows through my entire body and leaves me sweltering with anticipation.
The wolves howl their pained and melancholy song to Lunvin. I can sense their disappointment in their voices.
Danger.
I don't recognise the voice in my mind, but I recognise the language all too clearly - the tongue of the Lunvinchenaîné.
Judging by his markings, he looks like the lead male of the pack from all those years ago. He looks too young to be the same wolf.
Danger. Pack.
The wolf runs up to me and bites my trouser leg, yanking me to the floor and away from the cliff edge. He does his best to help me to my feet.
"Do I recognise you?"
The wolf sniffs at my hand. Safe, he says. He seems to recognise me, at least.
I realise now - this must be one of the pups from when we last visited Lunvik as a family, and I bet now he leads his own pack. I decide to talk with him, father to father.
"Why are you here?"
Danger.
"I'm not in danger."
Danger.
He keeps repeating himself over and over.
"I...I had a pup. She was in danger. She was killed. It was my fault."
The wolf's attention is averted by the waning gibbous moon revealing itself from a singular cloud in the sky.
In this moment, I feel a deep-seated guilt combine with a fierce disappointment.
Lunvin...You must think me a rotten coward.
Perhaps you're right, but I cannot be stoic about this. Even you understand...don't you?
Your pack, the wolf says.
"Yes. I failed my pack."
The wolf snarls a little and repeats himself. I'm not sure what he's getting at.
Home. Way. Pack.
It takes me a minute to decipher his meaning.
I once again think back to the torturous existence of the night-wraiths. Even in their unimaginable pain and sorrow, they reached out to me. They did what they could for me with the little that they had to go off of.
Even if Áine never speaks to me again, I still have Clem, my father, the Peteran regulars, my friends, and the people of Henford. If the long-suffering dead can put their anguish aside for the good of other people, then I suppose I too will have to. To give into emotion is not the way of the wolves nor of the Lunvinchenaîné.
"Thank you."
He gives me a soft sound. Without thinking, I lower myself and rub his neck gently, but he seems to trust me enough to let me do it.
For you, dear wolf, who risks himself every day to protect his pack - I will do as you do. I will do all it takes to protect people until Lunvin decides my time is up...I just hope that I won't make any more mistakes.
Katlego
To my surprise, I have not bored the students to death with my long-winded discussion on herbalism. If anything, they seem to enjoy it. They're a lovely bunch. They tell me they've heard 'plenty of good things' about me from Áine and Owen. If anything, they seem to prefer me to Owen, in their own words, with many mocking his formal speech, comparative strictness and his usual dour expression.
"Now, I understand that Áine has likely taught you plenty about Wild magic and self-defence, but I believe I ought to teach you about another important kind of magic - that of community."
"Back home, we have a saying - 'I am because you are.' It calls to a shared humanity and a need to help each other. It runs deep within the spirit of my country, and is lost on many of the people of Henford. I know most of you are not from Henford and will know exactly what I am talking about."
"I don't know what Áine and Owen have taught you on the matter, but you must put community before all else. we can kill as many witchfinders as we like, but if we don't maintain community, that is when everything will fall apart. I understand that some situations may mean you have to use force to stay alive, but you must put protection and uplifting each other before violence and taking the lives of others."
"But weren't you wronged long ago by that physician and the people of Finchwick?"
"I was, but many stood up for me as well. We must remember that."
I know that people will not entirely understand my point - after all, their own alchemy teacher killed the figurehead of the witchfinders.
"Miss Anansi, may I ask - do you think the witchfinders will strike again?"
The question definitely strikes me - right in the heart. These young people should not have to be thinking about such things.
"That, I cannot say. What I can say, is that myself and your other two teachers will try to prepare you for whatever happens. The witchfinders will not win if we look after one another."
"Is it true that you're a Mischief caster?"
"That I am."
"Is it true you can't teach us Mischief Magic?"
"I can to Gracelyn, but nobody else."
"Oh? Why?"
"Our magic is so dangerous that the only people we trust with it is our own communities," I explain to them. "But that doesn't mean I can't teach you a few things about general trickery..."
* * *
After some basic lessons on the use of Mischief magic, Gracelyn and new student Jade stay to talk a little. Jade is the daughter of Isidora Viridis, the woman in the mansion adorned with lions said to be a little... eccentric. Jade, on the other hand, seems very bright. Gracelyn's familiar, Mr. Nibblesworth, is supposedly her closest friend. She claims he is the only reason she's able to make potions at all.
"I didn't expect that we'd ever have a Mischief magic teacher! It's wonderful to have someone else like me around."
"Indeed," Jade adds, with a smug grin. "It feels as if there are so little of us now, and so much we cannot share with others that we can share with each other. I was hopeful when I joined this place that there'd be a Mischief teacher eventually."
"You are both too kind. It's wonderful to not feel like the only one, also."
"Miss Anansi - I can't help but worry about what's going to happen from now. I'm glad Volpe is dead, we all are, but ... won't he just get replaced?"
"I know how you're feeling, Gracelyn," Jade replies. "The worst part of all this is that my deluded mother only cares about the fae and not about the physical world! My mother is a skilled Mischief caster, but she's alienated almost everyone except for myself and her swindler of an uncle! She thinks because we're protected that everything is fine - it can't work like that."
"Oh? Whatever do you mean?"
"You won't believe this, but our family has always had ties to the fae for as long as we can remember. We consider them our friends and valued neighbours. The story I've been is told is that one in particular took an interest in us - a fairy that couldn't feel. it wanted some of our personality for itself. One person from our family is selected now and again to meld with it, ditching their physical being and taking the form of a bright green lion that helps protect our family.
I've never seen it, nor have I seen any fairies - but my mother claims to have seen it. It sounds unbelievable, but as time has gone on... I've wondered if it's true. After all, we've never been endangered despite all that's been happening."
That does sound barely-believable, but anything is possible in the world of magic.
"This may sound strange, Miss Anansi, but I do not believe my father died as my mother told me. He was in good health until his death. I believe he may have been taken by the fairy and became the lion to protect our family... I believe my mother has been lost ever since. Perhaps, on the off-chance that my prediction is correct - it might snap her out of her melancholy.
Do you think you could try and talk some sense into her, Miss Anansi? You'll meet another Mischief caster, and either my mother snaps out of her behaviour and returns to the real world - or if this lion does exist, she can try and encourage it to help defend Glimmerbrook as a whole if it's needed. I don't know what that will cost, but..."
It's the most outlandish thing I've heard in some time, but even if the lion story is just that - a story - another Mischief caster to aid us in case this explodes into conflict is something we'll need either way. Then again, if the Annorin family have had a gryphon serve them for centuries, is it so strange that the Viridis lion may not merely be a family tale or a figment of her mother's imagination?
"I'll see what I can do, Jade."
* * *
Áine
Maddie has taken me to the inn alongside Daniel Reyes, Eli's partner, who I've been curious about for some time. He seems a little shy, nothing like the way Eli had described him when we'd spoke about him briefly. Before I have a chance to properly introduce myself, he interrupts.
"I'm terribly sorry about your daughter, Áine. I met her briefly at the Peteran monastery. We helped some refugees together, and she helped out the abbess. She was lovely. There's something else I feel I need to tell you, though. You see, my father, well...he's been wondering about you for over sixteen years. I still remember when he chased your father out of the living room when I was a child."
He what? Gideon knew my father?
"How on Earth did Gideon know my father?"
Dan ducks his head a little. "I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't pile bad news on top of bad n-"
"He killed my mother, Daniel. When he found me at my place of work, I found out, and...let's just say he was dealt with and leave it at that."
"I...Okay, but I still think you should talk to my father at some point. I think he'd appreciate it. He's getting on a bit now. I think the closure would benefit you both, when you're ready. Look, if there's anything I can do for you, just let me know, okay? Does Eli know yet?"
"I'm not sure. Owen plans to tell him, but he might need you. Please try and help look after him for me."
After attempting to get information out of the locals and the barkeeper with her peculiar charisma, Maddie returns to her seat.
"Ol' Doris tells me James threatened her for information about your daughter. See that bruise on her face? But that's as much as she'd tell me."
"Thank you, Maddie. I suppose we're even farther away from finding him than we already were...and what about the locals?"
"Two regulars saw him and two other men sat on the sofas by the fire a few days back, but hasn't seen them since. Nobody else would speak up."
"Brilliant," Daniel says. "So we have no idea where this man is and no-one is willing to tell us a damned thing about a girl who's been murdered? What if he's escaping Henford?"
"Not necessarily."
"They're all the same, men like him. Samuel Annorin, Volpe, and now James - they don't know when to stop. With each little victory comes a boost of confidence - and that's all we need. He'll get too big for his boots, and that's when we strike. I think we're going to need some kind of warning poster of some kind. I remember his ugly mug close enough, but unfortunately, I don't have any artistic talents."
Artistic?
"Violeta Vasile Nicolae. She lives down the road from Eli."
Dan's eyes bulge when I mention her name. "You two are going on your own if that's who we're asking. She terrifies me."
"We made our peace years ago. If you have a good description of him, Maddie, we can get Violeta to make some posters warning about him. We might need a fair few. We don't know if he might try tearing them down."
"If the posters are up, the witches will recognise him. If he tries to take them down, then someone - maybe even us - will see him. All I see is success, really. But how are we going to pay an artist for all this?"
I didn't even consider it. How could I possibly afford Violeta's work? There's every possibility that I could ask Owen for help, but even in spite of his enormous fortune, I wouldn't want to take advantage of him like that. It didn't feel proper.
"I still have a fair bit of money left over from a huge fishing job a while back. Maybe enough to cover it."
"Violeta was close to Róisín.
There's a chance she might give us a bit of leeway with money." I run
the risk of Violeta wanting to solve this herself, but Maddie's idea
with the posters seems a good idea.
I still haven't fully convinced myself she's gone yet. My mind tries to force the image of the charred flesh out of my mind and replace it with an image of my daughter's radiant smile - a radiant smile no-one will ever see again.
When we find this James, he will pay with his life - and I certainly won't make it quick.
* * *
Violeta's furious reaction manages to even shake Maddie to her core.
Maddie nods at me, and whispers, "I'm really starting to like her." She looks back to Violeta and begins rattling off a detailed description of the assilant, whilst Violeta's expression tightens into a combination of focus and fury towards the canvas...
* * *
Maddie's scrawled handwriting is nearly impossible to read, but I can just about make out the words. 'WANTED: James Tanner. 40s, blond, purple jacket. Alive only. Let me deal with the killing part.'
"Well, Maddie? Does this resemble him?"
"Perfectly. Thank you, Violeta. Áine, I hate to say it, but this is the man who killed your daughter."
I gaze into his cold features until they are branded into my memory with hell-fire. My veins feel as if they are pumping acid around my entire body. I quell the flames in my palms, leaving only a small trail of smoke from my fingers.
"You won't regret this, Violeta. I cannot thank you enough in words, but we will find this man and I will make sure every witchfinder in Henford doesn't repeat his mistake."
"Áine, there's just one little teeny tiny thing missing - nobody's going to look for him without a little incentive."
Maddie is right. Without a reward, we're hopeless. As much as I don't want to have to do this...
"I can ask Owen Annorin."
"Wait - what - like - the Owen Annorin? The one who looks like this?" she asks, impersonating a mopey expression.
"The very same. I didn't want to ask at first. It felt wrong."
"You took Dan's money before a billionaire's? How do you two even know each other? Look, come on - we're giving that money back to Dan, then. Why don't we just get Owen to slap a stupidly-large reward on it? A billionaire loses the odd zero off his bank vault and we'll definitely get James that way."
"You know I'm right, don't you? I can see it in your eyes."
