We have been traveling for weeks, avoiding enemy patrols, the fey, and other supernatural creatures. We are refugees now that our home has been stolen by Fülöp and his followers. Word of his treachery has traveled swiftly through both realms. Balázs no longer wears his older facade and the other witches have dropped their glamour spells, too. This allows us to pass through mortal towns unrecognized, but the supernatural beings have ways of determining our true natures. We have been hunted by vampires, the fey, and werewolves. They thought us weak because Balázs was deposed, but we won each battle. The cats were especially ferocious against the werewolves, growing to enormous size to battle them. I was shocked by this revelation. Their supernatural abilities far exceeded anything I ever anticipated. It was a reminder that I still understand so little of the world of the witches.
Snow twirls about on the wind, howling through the trees. We are closer to the summit and soon will leave the forest behind us. I had assumed we would set camp for the night, but Balázs has continued our trek toward the high peaks. As we ascend, I have come to understand why. This is a place of deep magic. It thrums in my bones and tingles through my veins. Our remote surroundings appear mundane, but I wonder if there is a glamour hiding the truth. I trudge after my sister, the cats scampering excitedly around us, weaving in and o
ut of the witches’ legs.
My breath mists and clings to my skin. I have never been so cold in my life. We wade through a thick, icy fog that creeps along through the trees and only the tips of the cat tails are visible above the haze. My teeth chatter and I wish Ágota would cast a spell to warm the air. My sister walks beside her father, her head cocked in his direction. It is evident that they are in deep conversation, so I will not interrupt. The closer our journey takes us to Balázs’s secret stash, the more the two have whispered together. The coven does not seem concerned by their behavior, but jealousy settles into my heart. I am not an Archwitch, so my magic is not needed unless we are under attack, but I yearn to be included in whatever plan they are concocting. Since we left our home, Balázs has invited Ágota into all his decisions. A new hierarchy is forming, one I resent not having a greater voice in.
Ágota whips about to face me, her eyes blazing in the light of the fire. “We are close now. Extinguish the torches.”
The witches obey without hesitation. My eyes gradually adapt to the gloom until I comprehend why Ágota ordered the fires smothered. A subtle glow beneath the snow forms a path that leads out of the forest and up to the summit.
With a twitch of her fingers, Ágota brightens the witch path and smiles. “Better. Follow us.”
As we approach, the sound of stone grinding against stone reverberates around us as steps slide outward from the steep face of the mountain to form a staircase. Balázs climbs the new steps with Ágota in his wake. I am awed by her appearance as her long black skirts and cloak flutter around her like dark wings. The magic in this place imbues her with an unearthly appearance as her skin glows and her eyes gleam bright green. She beckons me with fingers that appear even longer than usual and I hurry to obey. I am relieved to find the steps free of ice and snow. My feet are nearly frozen, but thaw as I climb. The air grows warmer and is scented with the fragrance of roses.
“It feels of home,” someone whispers behind me.
“I had forgotten,” Henrietta replies. “It has been so long and I was just a child.”
Magic vibrates through the air, swelling as we ascend. The witches behind me are utterly silent and the cats do not meow as they leap from step to step. Our path to the summit appears perilous. The gap between the stone steps reveals the valley below, and I calm my fears by reminding myself that Ágota can fly. I reach a landing that curves around the face of the summit and rush along the glowing path. A few of the cats pause to make certain the rest of the coven is following. They are much more alert here than they ever were at the castle where they mostly slept in spots of sunlight in the great hall.
Another stairway made of rock leads upward through a thick haze of clouds. I set my hand on the stone face and climb. I can barely see the dark shapes of my sister and Balázs through the icy mist and the glow of the path is my only guide. Despite my resolution not to be cowed by the great height, I slow my pace. One of the black cats takes the step ahead of me, then waits for me to arrive. Seeing my hesitation, it swishes its tail and lets out a small meow, encouraging me forward. Its green eyes glint at me in the dark and I am grateful for its kindness.
I climb upward into the clouds, the pale blue witch magic illuminating the stairs while the cats’ green eyes burn like small fires as it guides me. At last, I reach an archway carved into the mountain and step onto what appears to be a cobblestone road that winds through ruins embedded along the peak. The air is much warmer here. Trees, grass and flowering bushes are nestled into the ruins and line the pathway. I follow the black cat past broken walls, collapsing arches, and shattered masonry. A stream burbles beneath an intact footbridge and winds through the ruins to a small pond.
Henrietta joins me on the rickety old bridge. A sorrowful sigh escapes her lips.
“What is all this?” I whisper.
“This is where we arrived from our world. These are bits and pieces we brought with us,” she answers.
“The magic in the air...”
“It is from our world. Embedded in the surroundings. Before we ventured out into the world, we stayed here. I sometimes wished we had never left. Then my parents would not have been killed.”
“Come now!” Ágota calls out, her voice echoing around me.
At the very top of the mountain stands the remains of a rotunda where Ágota lingers beneath the arched entrance. The black cat brushes against my ankles, its tail wrapping around my leg briefly, urging me onward. I follow the familiar with Henrietta close at my heels. The cats skitter past Ágota and disappear into the grand structure. It is mostly intact with only a few holes in the high-domed ceiling.
Inside, the air is warmer still. The magical illumination that has guided us here brightens considerably and takes on the yellowish tinge of the torchlight. Thirteen pillars form a circle in the center of the rotunda, rising high over my head. The tops of the marble columns are carved to form thick branches that hold up the ceiling. The walls are covered in murals that have faded over time, yet hold some vibrancy of color. While I stare at one image of the witches dancing in a glade, it begins to move, the witches spinning about while slowly floating upward.
Henrietta takes my arm, urging me toward the center of the rotunda where Balázs stands with Ágota. I tear my eyes away from the enrapturing painting and follow. The coven encircles the father and daughter in the shadows of the tall pillars. On the wall behind Balázs is his banner of the burning tree. Beneath my feet, the marble portrays a night sky, but two moons, not one, glow in the firmament.
“Since we arrived in this world, we have struggled to find our way,” Balázs begins. “We dwelled here for a time, tapping into what was left of the magic of our homeland. When it began to wane, we had to leave this sacred place to preserve what remained of the magic, and learn how to wield the magic of this world.”
I sense Balázs is carefully constructing an argument to defend a revelation. The dip of his head, his gaze riveted to the floor, and his rounded shoulders speak of grief and guilt. I shift my gaze to my sister to see her watching me. I give her a questioning look and she responds with a gentle smile.
“What I have to confess is that the magic never truly waned here. It is embedded into the very fabric of these pieces of our world that were transported with us in the final exodus. Viorica and I made the decision to weave a spell that would block the coven from using the magic.”
The witches regard Balázs with surprise, a few visibly shaken by this revelation.
“Why?” Henrietta gasps. “Why would you do such a terrible thing?”
“The primary reason was to force us from this safe haven. Otherwise, we would have hidden here and never ventured into the world.”
“Where we met death at the hands of the mortals,” a male witch retorts.
“Viorica, Soffia, and I all agreed that we had to create real lives and not just hide away in our ruins. We did not realize how difficult it would be to access the magic of this world or how vulnerable we would be. Furthermore, we did not anticipate children would be a rare gift among our people.” Balázs finally lifts his head to gaze at his coven. “We locked away the magic as a safeguard for our future. Should we have failed in assimilating among the mortals, we planned to return to harness the power so we could begin again.”