The Last Moon Witch

by Feyra Silverlock

  Focus. He had to focus.

  The magic threads between him and Notia shuddered as he tugged at them, tracing them back to the damaged points on her body. Kanruo reached deeper. He knew enough human biology to trigger the correct cells. He could do this.

  Platelets to clot the wound. Macrophages to devour any pathogens, reduce inflammation, and release growth factors. Oxygen-rich blood to trigger the rebuilding of new tissue. All the things he’d read in Notia’s vast collection of books as a child during the long winters.

  Don’t worry, I’ll heal you, Kanruo promised as he pinpointed the injury.

  “Sha,” he intoned, his intentions laser focused, his convictions firm.

  The magic flowed through him as he clutched his hands tighter into the sacred position. His interlocked fingers twitched as he orchestrated the delicate process.

  Notia’s magic blended into his, two tributaries joining together to make a mighty river. He could feel the tiny cells coating the wound with fibrin. The flesh stiffened and puckered before the gash knitted shut and the lump went down.

  Kanruo unclasped his hands and slowly let them hover over Notia’s unconscious form, using his magic to scan for injuries invisible to the eye. He could feel a dull whimper of pain from deep within Notia’s bones, something old and terrible. Improperly healed and damaged beyond repair, it was buried beneath layers upon layers of carefully crafted defensive magic.

  Curiosity pulled him, and with the utmost care, he began to slowly disassemble the complex and intertwining layers.

  He’d barely begun when Notia’s eyes had snapped open. Her face was white with fear as she grabbed his wrist, halting his exploration. In that moment, Kanruo felt the magical leads between them snap in a spark of static. He stared at her, his entire mind and body buzzing with the backlash of power.

  “Notia,” Kanruo whispered, relief soaking through him like a summer rain. “You’re all right!”

  Notia blinked rapidly as she sat up, not letting go of Kanruo’s wrist. “We need to ground your energy. You’re shaking.”

  “I thought . . . I thought you were—” Kanruo mumbled as Notia rested her palms atop his head and slowly dragged them down his face and shoulders.

  “Be still,” Notia soothed, her brows furrowed in concentration as she pulled the excess magic from him. She shook her hands off before pressing them to the floor, sending the stray strands down into the earth.

  “What happened to you?” Kanruo asked as his mind came down from the heights of the stratosphere, gradually calming as Notia repeated the energy grounding motions.

  “The pot boiled over. I slipped as I went to take it off the heat,” she explained, performing the grounding gesture one last time. “I couldn’t catch myself. My ankle gave out. So down I went.” She looked at the bloody countertop and winced as she touched the freshly healed spot on her forehead.

  Kanruo gnawed on his lip. “But I sensed something when I was healing you, something old, broken. Why’s your ankle been acting up? What happened to you?”

  Notia sighed and took his hands in hers. “The Union breaks everything it gets its claws into, witches included. That is why I work so hard to keep you safe, Kanruo, so you never go through what I did.”

  There was a riptide of hurt under her words. He didn’t know what Notia’s life had been like before, but she clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Perhaps for now, at least, it would be best to let the sleeping dog lie.

  Kanruo helped her to stand, and Notia made them both a strong cup of söder tea. The smell of tropical citrus fruits and flowers blended with the black tea filled the house with a bright and cheerful energy.

  “So tell me, little supernova, what secret have you unlocked?” she asked as they settled on the couch. Kanruo grinned and launched into an explanation of what he’d found in the old tome.

  Notia sipped her tea and listened, a small smile forming on her face. “You are finding your path.” She patted his knee. “You’re going to be a fine witch, Kanruo. I’m so very proud of you. Never stop growing.”

  The praise made him feel warm from head to toe, and he basked in it. It felt good to know he was headed in the right direction, that despite everything, he was finding his way. “You think so?”

  “I know so, little supernova.”

  “Because you had a vision?”

  Notia laughed. “No, because you have a good heart. Because you persevere.”

  Kanruo was quiet for a moment, reflecting on her words. “It’s hard sometimes,” he ventured. “Lonely. I . . .” He bit back the words that burned in his chest. As he’d dug more and more into the tomes of the Japanese Moon Witches, more questions had come up in his mind. Who had his parents been? Had they, too, been witches? Had they survived the purge?

  “I wish we weren’t alone,” he finally mumbled. It was as close as he dared get to the question that had been becoming more prominent in his mind. “You always talk about how the coven used to be, before the purge. I just wish there were more kids, more people like us. Like me.”

  Notia’s smile faded and her voice was soft when she spoke. “I miss the companionship of others as well. But I know for you, it must be exceptionally painful. A lonely childhood is something I wish on no one.”

  Kanruo nudged her gently. He’d not meant to bring the mood down. Notia did her best, and he was happy living here, but he didn’t know how much longer he could avoid the burning questions within him.

  “Notia I—”

  A frantic pounding on the door cut him off.

  “Were we expecting someone?” Kanruo asked, staring at the door with distrust.

  “No.” Notia rose to her feet, freeing her sickle from her belt.

  “Hello?” The pounding on the door came again. “Is anyone there?”

  They both knew there were only two options. Either Björn had failed and the Union had broken through Notia’s wards, or the more unlikely option—another magic user had stumbled upon them.

  “What do we do?” Kanruo dropped his voice to a whisper as he stood alongside Notia, torn between fight and flight. Inwardly, he cursed himself. He’d left his sickle in his room. With no other options, his finger reached out, pulling threads of magic toward him.

  Notia didn’t give him an answer as the person on the other side of the door continued to knock on it.

  “Please! I have an urgent message for Notia! I need to find her! Please!”

  Kanruo saw Notia tense, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She adjusted the grip on her sickle and nodded.

  “Open it.”

  Kanruo took three quick steps to the door, magic gathered in one hand as the other rested on the doorframe. Stepping back, Kanruo flung it open as Notia raised her sickle, ready to strike.

  A boy fell forward into the living room with a blast of harsh wind, a cloak of frozen green leaves draped over his shoulders.

  Kanruo hastily shut the door behind the stranger as the boy pushed himself up to his knees.

  “It’s you!” He stared at Notia with earthen eyes from beneath a curtain of blond hair, not even noticing Kanruo. “It’s really you!”

  The floorboards beneath the boy began to blossom with flowers and ferns. Kanruo’s eyes went wide. A druid.

  “P–Please!” The boy’s teeth chattered as his cloak of leaves wilted in the heat of the house. “I—”

  “It can wait, little one.” Notia dropped her attack stance and knelt before the boy, touching a hand to his cheek. “He’s freezing. Get him close to the fire. I’ll make him a broth.”

  The boy turned to look at Kanruo, staring at him in disbelief as Notia left the room.

  “So, it’s true then,” the boy whispered as Kanruo helped him to sit on the rug before the hearth. “There really are only two of you left.”

  He hung his head, his hands pulling half-melted ice from his hair while Kanruo silently wrapped a blanket around him. Notia had mentioned the druids and their pantheon of deities that wove earth magic. Life sprang up from t
he very ground they walked upon!

  They were a highly structured and traditional cult, one of the oldest and most reclusive. Kanruo never expected that he’d ever meet one. They had been devastated during the war, the nuclear radiation poisoning the earth and ley lines that they drew their magic from.

  The boy tried to speak again, but his teeth chattered with cold.

  “Let me help.” Kanruo put a hand on his shoulder. His thin clothes were ill-equipped to handle northern Sweden’s chilly weather and the snow that persisted well through March. It was amazing that he hadn’t frozen to death wandering trying to find them.

  Kanruo ran to the pantry and snatched a bottle of cinnamon oil. He mixed a few drops in his palm with a carrier oil and returned to the druid.

  Kneeling before him, Kanruo dabbed two fingers in the oil and traced the torch rune, kenaz, on the druid’s forehead. He reached one hand toward the fire, letting fingers hover just above the flames as he pulled its heat toward him. Using himself as a conduit, Kanruo rested his other hand on the druid’s shoulder.

  “Fire burning day and night, grant us warmth. Grant us light,” Kanruo muttered.

  The energy transference was more direct and would more effectively warm the other boy. The verbal spell and oil rune helped to direct the focus of the potent flames. That was the beauty of magic—it could be spoken or silent, the techniques for implementing it as varied as the witches themselves.

  Notia returned with a steaming bowl of bone broth that the druid eagerly gulped down as the shivers left his body.

  “So, tell us, little one, what has brought you so far north in such a hurry?” Notia asked as he set the bowl down.

  “I’m sorry for my lack of introductions. My common name is Quinn.” The boy bowed his head. “My witch’s name is Sé.”

  “I’m Kanruo. Why do you have two names?” Kanruo tilted his head curiously. “Which one should we actually call you by?”

  “Do you not use two names?”

  “When Druids come of age, they are given a second name. This protects them when they work with fae and other magical beings.” Notia explained, putting a hand on Kanruo’s shoulder before he could pepper the druid with more questions. “It is a gesture of respect and trust to be told what another’s witch’s name is. Typically, you address them using their common name. Unless your tradition has changed?” she asked Quinn.

  “No, you’ve got it right,” Quinn assured her. “To be honest, I didn’t know if I would find you, High Priestess Notia. We’d heard terrible things.”

  “You’re a high priestess? Why didn’t you tell me?” Kanruo looked at Notia accusingly. Why would she keep something like this from him? What else, a darker part of his mind asked, had she kept from him?

  “My station changes nothing, and pride is a terrible folly,” Notia said coldly, looking pointedly at Quinn.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” Quinn said hurriedly.

  “No, your acting high priest, Ainbertach, did that well enough. Why are you here, Quinn?” Notia’s grip was almost painful on Kanruo’s shoulder, and he wriggled out of it. What was she talking about? Why was she treating another magic user like he was their enemy?

  Quinn put his hands together in a pleading motion. “We need your help. Please. The druids alone cannot stand against the Union.”

  Notia’s expression became icy. The blaze of the fire shrank before it.

  “He has some nerve” —she stood and began to pace— “after he turned us away.”

  “High Priestess—”

  “We were ‘unfit’ was the term that was used, I believe. ‘Filthy syncretics’ was what Ainbertach called us when he barred us from Ireland and cut us off from your ley line, and now he begs for our help,” Notia sneered.

  “Please, High Priestess—” Quinn tried to interject, reaching a hand toward Notia.

  “You have no right to address me!” Notia snapped, and a shimmer of power rippled through the room. Kanruo shrank back. He’d seen Notia angry before, but never like this. A raw fury laced her words like razor wire. “High Priestess? Ha! Of what coven? Ainbertach broke the treaty between us when my coven was in its most dire time of need! He knew exactly how dangerous it was for us to stay in North America, and he turned us away!”

  Tears of rage cut rivers down Notia’s cheeks. “I lost everyone. I lost my home.” Her voice broke. “It is only by the grace of the goddess that I have Kanruo at my side. And now Ainbertach has the gall to ask me to fight for him?”

  “My message isn’t from him!” Quinn shouted over her, his voice pitching in desperation.

  The room was quiet, save for Notia’s harsh breathing.

  “Ernmas escaped the Union and returned to us. My message comes from her son who will inherit her mantle. Please, Notia.” Quinn prostrated himself on the floor before her. “I know you’ve been wronged. But we need your help. None of us will survive otherwise.”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t even consider!” Quinn looked up at her. “That isn’t fair!”

  “Even if I were to say yes, two more witches wouldn’t make a difference. Not if you’re going to fight against the Union.” Notia’s voice softened, but her hands were still balled into fists at her sides. “I’ve seen enough bloodshed in my lifetime. I will not spend my final days on the battlefield or as a Union lab rat when you inevitably fail.”

  “Please don’t do this.” Quinn’s voice wavered. “Please, I’m begging you. You’re our last hope. The others . . . they won’t join us.”

  “You can sleep on the couch tonight. I’ll find you some blankets. I want you gone by morning,” Notia said firmly as she turned and limped out of the room.

  “Fuck,” Quinn whispered, pulling at his hair. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  Slowly, Kanruo reached out and put a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Let me talk to her.”

  “I can’t ask you to go against your high priestess.” Quinn looked at him with a frown.

  “I’ve got to at least try. You’ve come all this way to seek our help, and what happened in the past isn’t your fault. She shouldn’t hold it against you.” He patted Quinn on the back and went after Notia.

  He found her in the hall, trying to avoid an avalanche as she pulled at the mountain of thick blankets on the top shelf.

  “Let me help.” Kanruo reached above her head and extracted the blankets she needed. He hugged them against his chest as they stood in the weighty silence.

  “I’m not changing my mind, Kanruo,” Notia said as she took a blanket from him.

  “We can’t just abandon them,” he protested. “You can’t punish people for the wrongdoings of their forebearers. Besides, doesn’t the mother moon charge us with defending and protecting those who need us?”

  Notia sighed. “The crone moon also knows when to avoid battle.”

  “And the maiden charges into it,” Kanruo countered. The triple aspects of the moon goddess weren’t lost on him. The maiden, mother, and crone, each a critical part of life with their own gifts and wisdom shared to the witches who followed them. He took a deep breath, meeting Notia’s eyes. “We have to help them. Let me go in your place. Let me act as your proxy.”

  He saw her heartbreak play out across her face as he said the words, but he felt a soft glimmer. A glow of pride. Notia put a hand on his cheek, cupping it. Diamond tears glittered in her eyes.

  “You have a good heart, Kanruo, but I refuse to send you to your death.”

  “I won’t die, I promise! Have a little faith in me.” He clasped her hand. “I was trained by the best high priestess in the land. Have faith in what you taught me.”

  “Ah, to be young and invincible again.” Notia’s smile was faint. “To believe that you can change how the world rotates. We’re not gods, little supernova.”

  “But you always say we can change our fate. We have to try!”

  Notia swallowed heavily and pulled her hand away from his face. “But we cannot change that of others. The wheels are alr
eady in motion.” Her voice became airy as she spoke. “We cannot turn back the clock, we cannot stop the tide.”

  She swayed back and forth where she stood before pitching forward.

  “Notia!” Kanruo dropped the blankets and caught her in his arms.

  She clung tightly to his arms, her entire body vibrating like angry hornets trapped beneath her skin.

  “What happened?” Quinn rushed into the hall, a trail of ferns bursting up from the floorboards in his wake.

  “I–I don’t know! She just pitched over.” Kanruo tried to help Notia stand, but her body became dead weight and they sank to the floor.

  “Darkness,” Notia murmured, her eyes darting beneath their lids. “Darkness great and terrible spreads across the Emerald Isle. Magic dies with it until there is none left. Only death.”

  Notia’s body seized up, her back arching, fingers clawing at the floorboards.

  “A vision!” Quinn whispered. “Lay her down. We can’t move her like this.”

  “She’s never had a vision like this!” Kanruo protested as he laid Notia on the floor between them.

  “No one is ever fully immune to the voices in the ether when it demands an audience,” Quinn murmured as he stared at Notia with reverence. “Her skills as an illusionist and seer were once renowned. I’ve seen induced trances, but nothing like this.”

  “Only death,” Notia murmured once more, her body twitching slightly as her head jerked from side to side.

  Kanruo sat back on his heels, his mind a blur of questions. His hands clutched at the hem of his tunic. Why hadn’t she told him? Why hadn’t she trusted him? Now he was powerless to help her. What if she died, snapped her own neck in her thrashing?

  “Did she say anything else?” Quinn asked as he checked Notia’s pulse. The question pulled Kanruo out of his spiraling thoughts.

  “You heard most of it. There was a bit before she fell over about things in motion and being unable to stop the tide.” He brushed Notia’s hair out of her face. Her quivering was dying down. The episode passed almost as quickly as it had come on.

  Notia blinked, staring up at the two boys. She opened her mouth to speak and quickly clasped a hand over it.