The Last Moon Witch

by Feyra Silverlock

  “What’s wrong?” Kanruo helped her to sit up. She was shivering, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat as she sat, her hand clamped tightly over her mouth.

  Kanruo put a hand on her back, trying to support her. As he did, Notia staggered to her feet, pushing away the boys’ attempts to help her as she ran down the hall to the kitchen.

  “Notia?” Kanruo’s voice died in his throat as she clung to the sink and vomited a sticky black ichor. The fetid stink of burnt blood filled the kitchen as her entire body lurched with the force of the purge.

  When her body finally cleansed itself of the foul residue, Notia remained hunched over the sink, panting.

  “What did you see?” Quinn asked, his dark eyes wide with fearsome awe.

  Notia flipped the water on, rinsing out her mouth and spitting as she gathered herself.

  “Kanruo . . .” Her voice was strained. “Help me.”

  Kanruo wrapped an arm around her and assisted her to a chair, afraid to hug her too tightly lest she shatter like glassware. He and Quinn sat next to her, waiting with bated breath as Notia brushed the tears from her eyes.

  Finally, she looked up at them, her body sagging with exhaustion, elbows resting on her legs, her hair in disarray from the fit.

  “If you go back . . .” Her eyes lingered on Quinn. “If your coven stays in Ireland, you will die.”

  “We can’t leave.” Quinn shook his head. “It’s been our home for millennia.”

  “The Union will come, they will torch your earth, rupture your ley line, and . . .” Her voice shook. “Your magic will die along with you.”

  Quinn bowed his head. “Is that what the ether showed you? Is there no hope?”

  “The dark moon will cast her shadow upon your people. But . . .” Notia drew herself up, sitting as straight as she could. “I can extend to you the sanctuary of this land. The same kindness that was given to me, that saved my life and Kanruo’s.”

  Quinn sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. “I don’t suppose the ether gave you a timeline?”

  “It could happen tomorrow. It could happen next year. It may be happening right now. I’m sorry, Quinn. The age of magic is fading. There is nothing we can do to divert its course.”

  “Are you sure?” Kanruo asked quietly. He anxiously fidgeted with his pendant. Couldn’t they change their fate? Notia had always said that the druids, however peaceful, were powerful. How could it be that fleeing was their only option?

  “The ether is impartial and incorruptible. Through it we receive truths, both joyous and tragic. If you wish to change your fate, you must first change your mind.”

  Notia looked exhausted. Kanruo couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her like this. Her eyes were hollow, the circles beneath them dark purple, and her hands shook even as she sat still. It was chilling to see how much of her strength had left her.

  “I understand,” Quinn said solemnly.

  6

  Quinn was gone before either of them awoke. Kanruo sat across the breakfast table from Notia as she cradled a cup of coffee to her chest, seeming to draw energy from its caffeinated steam.

  “Why?” Kanruo asked softly. He’d lain in bed for hours last night, sleep evading him as he replayed the events of the evening in his mind.

  Not just anyone could be a high priest or priestess. It took a remarkable witch to lead a coven. Why hadn’t Notia ever told him? Why had she kept her affiliations with other covens a secret from him? He could make guesses. Perhaps she felt guilty over the deaths of her fellow witches, or was there more bad blood between the other practices that she’d not disclosed to him?

  He’d never thought that she would hide anything from him. Any time he’d asked for knowledge, she’d readily shared what she knew or given him access to resources so he could learn. But when it came to Notia herself, Kanruo realized he knew little about the woman who had raised him. Where had this mysterious injury to her leg come from? How, exactly, had her coven perished?

  The depths of the unknown twisted around his insides like snakes. And without answers, his thoughts began to leap from one terrible possibility to the next. Had his parents been in the coven? Who were they? Why had Notia survived when the others hadn’t?

  She hadn’t responded to his query, so Kanruo cleared his throat. “Notia.”

  She raised her eyes to meet his.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice quavered with fear of her answers.

  Notia took a long sip from her coffee and set the mug on the table before her. “What are you referring to?”

  He could see the lines of tension strung tight through her body, the magic threads humming frantically around her. She was just as on edge as he was. Where could he even start?

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were a high priestess?” That seemed the safest question.

  “It wouldn’t have changed how I raised you. It had no bearing on our current circumstances. It was a title, nothing more.” She relaxed minutely, her shoulders dropping as she spoke.

  That was a lie. She had taught him about the various coven hierarchies. It was more than just a title. Kanruo pressed his lips together tightly to seal his objection. Why was she lying now? Did she not trust him?

  “What happened to the rest of the coven, then?” He tried a different angle.

  “They died.”

  “No shit,” he muttered, the bitter tinged words escaping him before he could stop them.

  Notia blinked at him. “Why are you suddenly so interested in the past, Kanruo?”

  “I—” He opened his mouth but found he had no real answer. “I just want to know. I . . . I need to. It always feels like something is missing. No matter how hard I search or how many books I read, I can’t find it. It isn’t just missing the coven, it’s . . . it’s more than that. I feel . . .” He shrugged. “Empty.”

  Notia was quiet, taking another long sip of coffee as she reflected on his answer. Kanruo felt his heart trying to climb out his throat as the silence stretched out.

  “History has not been kind to witches,” Notia finally said. “I admit I have . . .” She hummed for a moment. “I’ve omitted certain things in an effort to make your life easier. So that the weight of the past would not bear down on you.”

  “Did you ever consider that I’m not a kid anymore? I can handle it, whatever it is, Notia.” He reached across the table and rested his hand over hers. She looked away from him, studying the sunlight peeking through the window.

  “Can you?” she asked. The question sent a chill through him. Did he really want to know? Was he ready for whatever she might reveal to him? What if, the thought dawned on him, it’s more horrifying for her than it is me?

  “I can!” he insisted, locking away his uncertainty. “Look, we’re family, a coven of two. Whatever it is, I can carry it with you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

  Notia let out a harsh breath, blinking rapidly as she pulled her hand away from his to wipe at her eyes. She’d never cried this much before, but like her strange injury, in recent weeks, it had become more prevalent.

  “Our coven,” she began, “was killed in a raid a few days before Yule, fifteen years ago. I managed to escape with you.”

  “So, my parents, did they—” Kanruo swallowed heavily. “Did they die in the raid?”

  Notia’s brow furrowed as she closed her eyes, wincing at a memory. “Which answer do you want?”

  “The truth!” Kanruo burst out. “I want to know who my parents were! I want to know what happened!”

  “We used to have an expansive underground network that specialized in relocating children with magical abilities. Your father lacked magical gifts. When he discovered you had magic, he reached out through the Japanese branch of the network and to our coven. I went to meet with him, but our contact had been compromised. The Union sent a specialist enforcer to intercept us.” Notia paused to try and take a sip of her coffee, but her hands shook too badly.

  “What happened to my father? Is
he still alive?” he asked, gripping the edge of the table. He felt lightheaded. He had to be dreaming. This somehow wasn’t real.

  “I don’t know. He fought the enforcer to give me time to escape with you. But . . . but when I returned to my coven, it was too late. The wards had weakened in my absence, and the Union took the opportunity to strike. I saw the last of our kin tortured and slaughtered. I barely escaped with you.”

  Kanruo sniffled, scrubbing at the wetness in his eyes. “Is that how you got hurt? Did the Union . . .”

  “Yes. I sustained injuries in my flight.” Notia’s tone had become hollow and distant. She was being elusive, but the pain in her voice told him enough.

  “Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “What good would it have done?” Her voice became clearer, as if she’d awoken from a dream. “What good would have come from telling a child that I’d traded fifty lives in exchange for theirs?”

  Kanruo sat back in his chair. Fifty. Fifty people had died so that he could live. “But you couldn’t have known—”

  “Of course we knew!” Notia snapped, her voice quavering. “We all knew what would happen if I left. We all knew the risks and we all accepted them!”

  “Because you’re a seer.” As the realization hit him, a thousand worms twisted and thrashed violently, forming a knot deep within him.

  “Yes.” Notia nodded. “Because of the infinite possibilities, the ether showed me two. Save the child and lose the coven or forsake the child and watch as our magic slowly died, ourselves along with it.”

  Kanruo put his face in his hands, fingers rubbing at his temples. His head throbbed as if it’d been struck by lightning. Why? Why had so many people needed to die just for him? He wasn’t anything special, just one child out of thousands.

  Tears burned like acid in his eyes, and he fervently wiped them away. He’d come this far. He had all the pieces save for one. The one that had been carefully avoided.

  “Notia.” He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t. “What about my mother?”

  “What about her?” Notia sighed. The light shifted in the room, and she looked like she’d aged ten years.

  “Is she still alive? Who was she?”

  “Kanruo—”

  “I need to know! Please, Notia.” He was so close, so close.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not? You can tell me that your entire coven was wiped out because of me but not who my mother is?” He slammed his hands on the table, rattling the dishes.

  “This.” Notia shook her head. “This is why I didn’t tell you. You’re upset.”

  “Of course I’m upset! How could I not be? People are dead because of me!”

  “They would have died regardless. They chose their fate—”

  “How can you be so calm about this?” Kanruo threw his hands up and stood. His chair wobbled and fell backward, clattering on the wooden floor. He ignored it and began to pace, his emotions setting off sparks in the air as atoms clashed together in a whirlwind of magic.

  “Because I have carried it and all memories of our coven for longer than you’ve been alive. Rage will not change the past. We can only move forward,” Notia told him, her voice infuriatingly steady.

  Kanruo glared at her. “Tell me who my mother is.”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Give me a fucking reason!” He shouldn’t shout at her, but rage was boiling inside him, threatening to combust.

  Slowly, Notia stood and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

  “Because if I do,” she whispered, “it will break your heart.”

  He wanted to pull out of her embrace, but Notia’s magic was soothing his temper. A gentle spring babbled at his feet, cooling the potent fury that wanted to consume him.

  As the fire died down, it left a well of despair in its wake. He sniffled, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat. But the more he tried, the harder it was to contain.

  An ugly sob burst out of his throat and Notia hugged him tighter. He felt feverish, too hot and too cold, unable to stop shaking as he wept. All the while, Notia held him, grounding the chaotic maelstrom of energy that radiated off him.

  He’d never wanted this, but part of him had always suspected the truth was terrible. Now there was no unknowing it, and the noose of knowledge tightened around his neck.

  “It isn’t your fault, little supernova,” Notia murmured to him. She pulled back, her thumbs cupping his face to brush away the ceaseless tears.

  “But–but . . .” he whimpered, the words stuck in his throat.

  “They live on through you, through our magic.” Notia’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “So long as you remember that, they will never truly die.”

  There was a fluttering and tapping at the window that made them both jump. A glossy blackbird with a yellow beak and a long tail perched on the window ledge, occasionally tapping its beak at the sill.

  “A koltrast,” Kanruo murmured, his mind fixating on the avian, welcoming the distraction. The return of the blackbirds to the area meant spring was truly here, even if snow dappled the sky on occasion. But more importantly, this one had a red string bound around one leg, an unspoken message from Björn.

  “The Union has left.” Notia breathed a sigh of relief. “Get your coat. We’ve both been in the house too long with our thoughts. Let’s get ice cream.”

  Kanruo nodded silently, more than willing to throw himself into the diversion of visiting Umeå.

  7

  Spring was blissful chaos, the temperatures soaring during the day to melt the snow with a brisk wind that still demanded a jacket, only to freeze at night and leave everything coated in ice. It was customary to eat ice cream in the sun with a jacket on.

  “Kanruo!” Alrik bounded up to him and hugged him tightly, almost lifting him off the ground in his enthusiasm.

  “It’s good to see you too.” Kanruo laughed. “Your hair is pink!”

  Alrik took a step back, running his fingers through the brightly colored strands. “Yeah, the green was getting old. How’ve you been?”

  “I . . .” Kanruo hesitated, the balloon of joy at their reunion punctured, the happiness rushing out of him. “I’ve been better.”

  “Let’s talk about it over fika, ja?” Alrik slung an arm over his shoulder. “Nothing that coffee and pastry can’t fix!”

  “I don’t know if it can,” Kanruo admitted as they began to walk through the square. The sun was bright, warming him better than any hot bath could. But inside, he still felt hollowed out. The ice cream hadn’t helped. The weighty silence between himself and Notia had left the sweet treat tasting bitter in his mouth.

  Delivery drones buzzed around them weighed down with parcels. A few mischievous children chased them, the older ones grabbing ahold of the machines’ landing gear and going airborne for a few seconds as they struggled against their weight.

  An old woman had a tent set up selling homemade bread. Her advertising bot offered samples and called out to passersby that the recipe had been in the family for over thirty generations.

  The roof of the protective barrier around the city was open today. Fresh spring winds blew through the city, swaying the prized birch trees planted along the sidewalks.

  Alrik’s arm was slung over Kanruo’s shoulder, sending his stomach on a series of gymnastics, the emptiness inside him replaced with an irrational giddiness. Alrik was excitedly talking about a cute boy from Umeå university he’d met.

  “So, I take it things fell through with Gull and Kjell?” Kanruo asked, steering all his attention on Alrik in an effort to keep his thoughts in check.

  “Yeah, they ghosted me.” Alrik sighed, a crestfallen look slinking across his face.

  “I’m sorry.” The words were weak, but Alrik seemed to appreciate them as he slapped him on the shoulder.

  “It’s okay, that’s what rebounds are for!”

  “You’re serious about this university boy
?” Kanruo shook his head as they entered the café, scraping slushy spring snow off their boots and hanging their coats up.

  “Eh.” Alrik tipped his hand. “It’s just a bit of fun. But I bet we could find you someone cute through his social network.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The spring semester boys are” —he mimed a chef’s kiss— “just a delight.”

  Kanruo snorted. “A love life is the last thing I care about right now.”

  “Well, with an attitude like that—”

  “You know how complicated it is.” Beneath his layered tunics, Kanruo felt his obsidian pendant hum in sympathy. “And certain things have come to light that compound the issue.”

  “Oh? Oh.” Alrik patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s order. Get some coffee in that sullen soul of yours and see if we can’t put our heads together and work out a solution.”

  They ordered at the counter from a chipper android, and Alrik insisted on putting it on his tab. The android glanced between them before offering a large smile and a wink as they took their pastries.

  Alrik swiped his ID card to reserve one of the few private rooms at the back of the café. There, they could talk without being overheard. Between sips of coffee and bites of princess cake, Kanruo recounted what had happened over the long winter.

  “I just . . . I thought I was getting answers, making progress. But then this druid shows up and it turns out Notia’s been a high priestess this whole time and her entire coven died to save me. But she won’t tell me why and she won’t tell me who my parents are.” Tears burned at Kanruo’s eyes and he pressed the heels of his hands against them.

  “That’s wild. I mean, maybe she had good reason? Maybe they’re like covert operatives or something?” Alrik put a hand on his shoulder. “But it is weird that she’d keep all this from you. It sounds like it’s kinda important.”

  Kanruo sighed and rested his forehead on the table. “I’m fucking cursed is what it is.”

  “Pshh, no, you’re not.” Alrik nudged him. “And none of those old books had any clues about your parents or anything? No, like, hidden prophecy code or something?”