She was quiet for a long time before she finally shook her head. “No, little supernova, I’m just . . .” She clasped her hands together tightly, drawing in a long breath. “I cannot impress upon you how dangerous what you did was.”
“The Union found us.” Kanruo picked at a piece of lint on his blanket.
Notia bowed her head. “Did they get a lock on your magical signature?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like I asked them.”
“Fuck.”
Kanruo sat up. He’d never heard Notia swear before. “Will they come after us?”
“I don’t know.” Notia rubbed at her temples. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep us hidden. No one can manage a two-front war for long.” She looked over at him. Kanruo saw the exhaustion in her eyes, how it weighed her down. Guilt tore into him. After everything she’d done to keep them safe, he’d carelessly compromised it instead of leaving well enough alone.
Tears marred his face as a wail broke free from his throat. It rose to a wild crescendo that he couldn’t contain. He howled into his pillow, rage and fear competing within him. He should have never pried, never looked for his family.
They were exposed now, and a cosmic horror was going to follow him around for the rest of his life.
Notia’s hand stroked along his back as he cried. “Our destiny is not set in stone. I will do all that I can—”
“Why bother?” Kanruo muttered to Notia, his hands balling into fists.
“We never go down without a fight.” Notia put a hand over one of his, but he pulled away.
“How can you be so calm?” He wanted to rage and throw things, to lash out against something, anything. How could he have been so stupid?
“You’re not the first witch to have a bout of hubris.” Notia picked up the tea and offered it to him again. “We have recovered from adversity before and shall do so again. Witches are not bound by the rules of predestination as are others. We witches alone have the privilege of altering our fate. Of choosing our path.”
Kanruo glared at the cup, fighting down the urge to knock it out of her hand. “You were so certain the druids would die. You said that the Void has my scent! That I can never be rid of it!”
“And they will, if they do not take steps to change their course. Just as we must take steps of our own. There is a choice now, to wallow in despair, to fight, or to give in.”
“What happens if we give in?” Kanruo swallowed heavily, suddenly feeling a cold shiver race up his spine.
Notia looked down at the cup of tea. “You know what happens if we surrender ourselves to the Union. The Void, however . . . the tomes have records of witches who could not withstand its power. They burned up, their very souls ceasing to exist. Those who could contain it went mad. They were put to rest before it could take a firmer hold in this reality. But.” She looked at him, expression grim. “There are old stories, stories that tell of a witch who bonds with the Void and takes on the mantle of a Destroyer.”
“What happens to them?”
Notia didn’t answer him.
“Notia!” He grasped her arm. “What happens?”
“The Destroyer ushers in the death of the universe and all life within her. The beginning and the end. They reset the great wheel of time and the universe returns to its original state.” The cup trembled in her hands.
“Which was?” Kanruo asked, fearing the answer.
“Darkness. Nothingness.”
He slumped back, the breath squeezed out of his lungs by an invisible hand, the last of his fight drained out of him.
You’re perfect, little witch, the Void hissed, a white-hot spark in his mind.
“I’m sorry, Kanruo,” Notia murmured, but he couldn’t look at her. Pinpricks of icy pain danced along his limbs. “If I could take this burden from you, I would. Without hesitation.”
“But you cannot,” he whispered, turning away from her and curling up into a ball. “No one can.”
For a month, he’d not bothered to move from his bed, convinced that so long as he did nothing, the Void couldn’t possibly make things worse.
But the Void was undeterred by sloth. Its inky voice dripped into his mind. Notia had tried to talk to him, but he turned his back to her each time. There was no future for him, not one that didn’t end in death or destruction. He’d cried, softly when he knew Notia was in the house and loudly when she’d been away, spiraling further and further down into hopelessness.
Until one morning, bright light filled the room as Notia flung the curtains open.
Kanruo squinted against it, rolling and burrowing deeper under the blankets.
“Up.” She nudged at his huddled form. “You can’t stay in bed forever.”
“Watch me,” he grumbled, shoving his head under the pillow.
How could he alter his fate when each of his options was worse than the last? What was the point of even trying?
He hadn’t even been able to take comfort in the books Notia left on his bedside table. More of the same romance novels. He knew she meant well, but reading them had only sent him spiraling further down into an endless parade of terrible, however unlikely, scenarios. Try as he might, Kanruo couldn’t pull himself out.
Lying next to the romance novels was a grimoire dedicated to the art of self-warding. Another silent recommendation from his adopted mother that he leafed through as guilt nipped at him, weighing him down further in the pool of depression.
“Kanruo.” Notia sat on the edge of his bed. He peered out at her from his nest of blankets and pillows, distracted from the latest terror his mind had concocted.
“What?” he asked sourly.
“Have you forgotten who you are?” She took a cloth and soaked it in a bowl of herb-infused water. Wringing it out, she dabbed at his face.
“A witch,” he mumbled as she scrubbed at the grime in the corners of his eyes.
“Yes. We hear the universe’s heartbeat more keenly than most. Our powers, they can be a blessing or a curse. We alone decide which they shall be.”
“The Void is a curse. You said yourself there is no stopping it.” Kanruo sat up, his shoulders hunching under the blanket he had draped over him.
“Have you no fight left in you?” Notia put the cloth back in the bowl of water, resting her hands in her lap. “Have you given up?”
“How can I win against something like the Void? Why even bother trying?” he sighed, scratching at his greasy hair.
Notia cupped his face in her hands. “If you give up, you surrender your destiny to the fate of others. And sometimes . . .” Her fingers stroked his face gently. “Sometimes, winning is as simple and arduous as surviving.”
“Notia.” He pulled away from her touch, his hands going to clutch at his pendant. “Aren’t you afraid?”
“I’ve been afraid many times in my life, little supernova. Everyone is. But if you let fear rule you, everything you have worked for will be for naught. Is that what you want? To give up after having fought so hard to reach where you are?”
Kanruo shook his head. Of course he didn’t want someone else controlling him.
Notia smiled kindly. “It is easy to let others make choices for you, to follow and be told what to do, how to live. But as witches, our calling is greater than that. Each of us has our own path to follow, our own design to carve into the matter of the universe.”
“But I don’t know what my destiny is. I don’t even know what I want,” Kanruo whispered. “How am I supposed to?”
“It’s all right not to know. It will come to you with time as you grow.” Notia patted his leg. “Just as you gained insight into your magic, you will gain insight here. Now up. You’ll miss the midsummer festival at this rate. Alrik’s been asking after you.”
“He has?” Kanruo perked up. Alrik had asked about him?
“Yes. Now go wash up. He’ll be waiting for you at the town square.” Notia stood, pausing for a moment to smile at him. “He seems to be very fond of you, Kanruo. And .
. . you always look so happy when you’re with him. Good luck.”
Good luck? Did that mean . . . ?
Kanruo scrubbed at his face, trying to hide the joy that had sprung up in the place of despair. Not even the Void could bring him down, despite its manipulative whispers. He had a festival to prepare for.
11
They had already raised the maypole by the time Kanruo reached the square. The festive spirit filled the air as the people of Umeå came together in the millennia-old celebration of the summer solstice. Even if they’d stopped worshiping the Norse gods long ago, the tradition persisted despite the Union’s attempts to stop it.
The sun was bright and high in the sky, and holograms of flowers and woven garlands covered every available surface. Folk music played as people laughed and danced. Amid the revelry, four-legged bots with reversed knees roamed the square with platters of food and drinks balanced atop their bodies. Trilobite-shaped trash collectors scurried underfoot, gobbling up scraps of food and trash that were dropped.
“Kanruo!” Alrik came running up to him, a plate of pickled herring in one hand and a schnapps drink in the other, his cheeks bright pink from the alcohol. His hair was blue today, offset by a lopsided crown of greenery with pink and white flowers. Kanruo felt his heart skip a few beats.
They awkwardly embraced as Alrik tried not to spill his plate. “I didn’t think you’d make it. Notia said you’d been unwell.”
“I’ve . . .” Kanruo paused. “I’ve been working through some things.” He didn’t want to delve into what had happened, so he changed the subject. “How’re things with that college boy?”
“Ah, nothing was ever gonna come of it.” Alrik began to shepherd him over to a stall handing out cups of strawberry cake. “Something more important came up.”
“Oh?” Kanruo took one of the sweets, dodging a serving bot that came to have its platter refilled.
“Yeah,” Alrik hummed, swaying in time with the music. “Let’s dance.”
“I just got this cake,” Kanruo protested.
“It’ll still be here.” Alrik set down his plate and drink. “Come on! It’s väva vadmal!”
“You can’t be serious!” Kanruo dug his heels in as Alrik grabbed his hand and pulled him into the crowd. Väva Vadmal was the weaving dance for couples. Did that mean . . .
Alrik stopped and looked back at him. “Please, dance with me?” His hand gripped Kanruo’s tightly and his eyes were bright. Warmth filled him from head to toe, chasing away the chill that had followed him for weeks despite the rising temperatures summer promised.
“All right.” He gave Alrik’s hand a squeeze back, watching as his face lit up, the joy rivaling the sun overhead.
They joined the two lines of dancers as the music picked up.
“Did you pick flowers last night?” Alrik asked as they stamped in time, moving apart and together.
“I forgot,” Kanruo admitted as they joined hands and ran down between the lines. It had been hard to think of anything other than the danger he had put everyone in. About the Void lingering in every dark corner. He’d forgotten about the midsummer tradition of silently picking seven different types of flowers to place under one’s pillow in hopes of dreaming of a future spouse. But the tradition had faded since the war, the radiation damaging the already decimated bee and wildflower populations.
They made their way back up the line, each in turn dancing a few beats with other members aligned. There was an innate magic in the simple music and footwork that allowed the participants to become lost in the whimsy of the moment.
Coming together again at the end of the lines and joining hands, Alrik grinned. “Thanks to you and Notia, we have wildflowers for the first time in decades.” He pointed at the crown of flowers adorning his hair. “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
“Who did you dream of?” Kanruo asked as they spun and wove, then stepped apart.
“You,” Alrik whispered as they ducked under the neighboring couple’s arms.
“Me?” Kanruo’s voice was a squeak as they joined hands in a ring, dancing and stomping around in a circle before weaving through each other’s arms again.
His head spun. It had to have been from the number of times they’d gone around and around. Alrik was laughing as they danced, almost losing his flower crown as they ducked under another couple. He grabbed Kanruo by the waist, leading him around in a circle of skip-hop steps.
Kanruo barely remembered the rest of the dance. It felt like he was floating. The threats of the Void and the Union were far, far away. Alrik had dreamed about him! And here they were in the center of the weaving dance.
The romantic thing to do, if Notia’s vast collection of novellas had taught him anything, would be to kiss Alrik as the dance ended.
But his courage failed him when the moment came and the music quieted. Alrik was still holding his hand.
“Did you want to go back for your cake?” Alrik asked.
“Yeah. Yeah, that would be good. I need a drink too, not schnapps.” He turned away an overly-helpful bot that offered him a drink of the strong liquor. His entire body felt too warm. A cold drink, something without alcohol, would help. He just had to calm down, to approach this carefully.
Alrik vanished into the crowd, leaving Kanruo to wander back to where they’d left their food. The cake was sweet and fruit filled, melting in his mouth as he waited for Alrik to come back.
Maybe the universe was finally giving him a break? He’d liked Alrik for as long as he could remember. It was hard to discern exactly when it had changed from a friendship to a crush. There were risks associated with entangling oneself with nonmagical people. But Alrik’s family had made the alliance with the witches generations ago. They celebrated Yule together, for spirits’ sake!
Alrik returned with a glass of water and sat down next to him, stealing a whipped cream covered strawberry from Kanruo’s cake.
“Hey!” Kanruo swatted at him with his spoon.
Alrik grinned and stole another strawberry. “Come take it back from me.” He popped the berry into his mouth.
Kanruo ignored the bait, biting at his lips. “Were you serious?”
“About what?”
“The dream? You weren’t poking fun at me, were you?” He steeled himself for an awful joke. If he was already disappointed, then it wouldn’t hurt as badly. But jokes like this weren’t typically in Alrik’s nature.
Alrik scooted a little closer to him. “Look.” His speech slurred a little bit. “I . . . I’ve never asked anyone to dance väva vadmal with me before. I know I . . .” He tried to straighten his flower crown but only succeed in making it tilt more haphazardly.
“Let me.” Kanruo set it upright on his head.
“Thanks.” Alrik caught his hands, holding them loosely in his. “I know I fuck around a lot. But I started thinking about it. And the more I thought about it, the more right it seemed.”
“What do your parents think? I’m not exactly built for politics.” Kanruo rubbed Alrik’s palms with his thumbs. It took all of his self-control to not throw his arms around the other boy.
“If you wanna talk politics” —he leaned closer to Kanruo— “think of the oomph we could bring to the world stage.”
“World stage?” Alarm bells clanged in Kanruo’s head. Even in the sanctuary of Umeå, only a handful of people knew that he and Notia were witches. To openly declare an alliance was noble but utterly suicidal. “Alrik, that would make us targets. The Union—”
“I’m not afraid of them.” Alrik raised his chin. “I’ve got the ability to take a stand for what I believe to be right, and I’m going to take it.”
Kanruo was quiet for a moment, considering it carefully. Whatever he decided would change his life. But how could Alrik hope to face the Union when even the Druids had limited time?
He wished more than ever that he had the gift of natural second sight. He couldn't just pause their conversation so he could ask the ether what all the possible
outcomes were.
“I don’t know if I can do what you’re asking,” he admitted. His heart writhed in his chest. This was everything he’d ever wanted, and here he was, too afraid to take it. “You might not be afraid of the Union, but I am.”
Coward, the Void piped up.
Kanruo ignored it. Of course, now it would offer its opinion. Well, he didn’t need that, certainly not from a world devouring eldritch entity. He didn’t need the Void. He could achieve his own bright and shining future just fine without its help.
“We can expand the sanctuary pact. If we lead by example,” Alrik pressed, clutching Kanruo’s hands, “we can help other people, save lives—”
“You can’t face the Union alone, don’t you get that?” A leaden weight settled in Kanruo’s stomach. Alrik was drunk, and his good intentions and kind heart were going to get people killed. “The Union will obliterate not just Umeå, but the entire country! They’ll make an example out of you!”
He wanted to shake sense into the other boy, but he could barely hold his own emotions in check, torn between the joy of Alrik’s proposition and the gut-wrenching terror of the Union bombing them out of existence.
Alrik bit his lip, deflating at Kanruo’s words. “I just wanted to help.”
“I know. I just . . . I can’t. I won’t risk it. I won’t risk you.” Kanruo leaned against him.
“What if I promise to keep the politics out of it? What if I just dated you ’cause you’re cute and sweet and my best friend?” Alrik cozied up to him, their legs pressing against each other.
“You promise?” Kanruo hardly dared to hope.
“Cross my heart.” Alrik traced over his chest. “So, what do you say?”
“Yes.” The word left Kanruo breathless, and he was certain his heart stopped when Alrik kissed the back of his hand.
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of drinks, food, and dancing. They talked to countless people, something Kanruo usually avoided. But standing hand in hand with Alrik, he found himself laughing with them. A warm, bright feeling burned within him that nothing could extinguish.
The Last Moon Witch Page 12