“I know you are a witch.”

The queen of Rhune’s words echoed through Ivy’s head.

For a moment, she just stood there, embraced by the safety of the witch world. She pivoted on both feet, scanning her surroundings. A dozen dark voids surrounded her. Alaricite! Of course it was a trap.

“Iveriani?” the queen’s voice rang out. “Are you there?”

Ivy’s face twisted into a dark sneer at hearing the woman call for her. She could escape—easily—but she had tried running from her problems before, and they always caught up to her. That was why in Atrican she had decided to stop running. She had hoped to find allies here, but this was just as good. Rooting out these bastards from every corner of the world was the only way she could ever truly feel safe. She’d just have to do it herself. Again.

Her hand clenched around the hilt of her dagger, hand aching from the injury in Atrican that had never quite healed right. She lunged forward along a quivering line within the misty witch world before diving back out into the throne room. She reappeared less than a pace from the startled queen and jabbed her dagger at the woman’s gut. The motion was only a warning—for now—and didn’t even bite flesh. Still, Queen Angelica shrieked at the small pain inflicted.

Her guards mobilized an instant later, surrounding the dais with spears raised. Ivy spun the queen around, gripping her with one arm around her neck, dagger poking at her spine.

“No one moves,” she said. No one did. “Who are you, really?” She said nothing. Ivy shook her, hard. “Talk.”

“Y-you misunderstand,” she said, voice trembling, “I—”

“Who else knows?” Ivy asked. “Who told you?”

She was already going to have to kill her and all the guards—whom were probably hunters in disguise—but she needed to know who told the queen about Ivy. No matter her current feelings about Rose, she could never imagine the older witch selling her out. That was maybe the one thing Rose had promised that Ivy still believed.

“Drop your weapon!” one of the guards shouted, and the ring of men closed further in.

“You have ten seconds to answer me,” Ivy said, “or you die. All of you.”

“We don’t mean you any harm,” Angelica said, “please—”

“That’s enough,” a new voice like a wind chime in spring filled the chamber.

Ivy directed her eyes to the source of the new intruder, keeping the guards in her periphery. Past the dais, behind a throne, a woman emerged through a doorless portal cut into the stone.

“Grandmother!” Angelica shouted. “I’m sorry! I thought I could—”

“It’s quite alright,” the newcomer’s gaze passed over Ivy and Angelica to the encroaching guardsmen, “lower your weapons, everyone.” They did as instructed without question. “That includes you.” She had her eyes on Ivy, now.

Ivy only stared at the woman, having recognized her for what she was the moment she walked in. If the “grandmother” didn’t give it away, the woman’s ageless beauty framed by silken brown hair made it obvious. And unlike everyone else she had met so far in Rhune, she was not covered in furs. Instead, she wore a draped yellow gown that hung off one shoulder and fell to the floor, covering her feet.

Ivy frowned. This didn’t make any sense. Surrounded by witch hunters, she had thought the entire “free city” was merely a bait to lure hapless witches to their deaths. And yet, standing before her now was the supposed “immortal queen” Ivy had heard talk of in various taverns.

Ivy prodded the fake queen Angelica with her dagger, eliciting another yelp. “What is this? Why use a puppet to call me here?”

The witch queen scowled at Ivy.

“I would prefer if we could talk without you threatening my kin.”

“And why would I care about your preferences?”

The queen sighed.

“Rhune is not your enemy, Iveriani.”

Ivy let out a bitter laugh.

“You’re not my friend, either. There’s three people that know that name. None that I trust.” Her eyes fell to her feet for the smallest moment. “Not anymore.”

She knew exactly who had told the Queen of Rhune who she was. Ivy had loved Rose like a sister, and then she had found out her entire life had been planned out ahead of her before she was even born. Rose had just been using her the whole time. And this witch was a part of it.

“I don’t know what you think you understand, but—”

“I understand that you dose your guards. Do they know you’re feeding them poison?”

A hint of surprise flashed across the queen’s face, but then she just shrugged.

“It’s a tool. We’ve had an…incident in the past. You can never be too careful. That weapon of yours is alarcite too if I’m not mistaken.”

“‘If I’m not mistaken.’” Ivy rolled her eyes. “As if you don’t know. Is it just you and Rose or are all of you ancient witches this annoying?”

The queen stared blankly at Ivy for a second before replying.

“It appears Rose did not exaggerate in her…colorful description of you.”

Ivy had already guessed it, but hearing it confirmed further soured the taste in her mouth.

“I won’t dance when you tell me to like this one.” She jostled Angelica again.

Instead of replying, the queen glanced behind her, and five—five—more witches entered the throne room. Just like the queen, Ivy could not mistake them. They filed out around their queen, glaring at Ivy, who could not mask her wide-eyed stare. Upon their entrance, the room became as warm as an Atrican summer, and she understood how none of them were dressed in typical Rhune attire.

One—a tall, buxom redhead—flicked her wrist in Ivy’s direction, and her right arm seized in place.

“You are safe now, Angie,” the red-haired witch said.

Ivy still held Angelica from behind with her left arm but had been so shocked that her right had essentially stopped working that she let the false queen slip away. Angelica turned, slapped Ivy in the face, and ran to her compatriots. The slap meant nothing, and Ivy barely felt it, still reeling from the loss of her arm.

“W-what did you do to me!?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, dropping into the witch world. Her first instinct was to step toward the witch who had crippled her and kill her as soon as possible, but for the first time in a while, she wasn’t sure she could do that. What if the next time she left the witch world, her whole body became paralyzed? She swore to herself she would never let herself be captured again after enduring both the hunters’ and the church’s confinement.

Shouts from the other women rang against her ears, but she did not hear them. Her attention belonged to the thousands of translucent webs of power encased around her right arm. The redhead’s power still clung to Ivy here, though somewhat muted. It felt like moving her arm through mud and tar.

She wrestled her dagger out of her semi-rigid right hand with her left and tried hacking at the other witch’s magic. While her weapon did manage to cut the dense blob of power, it was so thickly layered and regenerative, that it would take ages to sever it all. Unless…

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A thin band of power threaded through the mass attached to Ivy and drifted across the open space between herself…and one of the other witches. Without pausing to think, she knew that it linked her to the witch who had done this to her. She studied the wavering band of light that seemed to bend the rest of the witch world around it. In essence it appeared no different than the many strands encircled her arm, only delicate, and fragile.

Without a second thought, she took her dagger and sliced through the tendril of power. Her vision exploded into an all-encompassing blinding white that threatened to sear her eyes from her head. Somewhere, someone was screaming at the top of their lungs, but Ivy’s other senses were drowned out by the eruption of pure power.

She clamped her eyes shut and shielded her face with both arms, yet it still pierced into her skull. It hit her worse than any of her awakening days, if only for a moment. And then it was gone.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself back in the expelled from the witch world, having fallen backward, but still at the top of the dais. Beyond it, the other witches were crouched around the redhead who had attacked Ivy. Her face was a ghostly, pallid white, and her breaths were coming in heavy and ragged. She looked unconscious as far as Ivy could tell. Served her right.

“What have you done to her?!” The witch queen shouted; reddened fury plastered on her face.

“I…don’t know,” Ivy said. She truly didn’t.

“I take it back, You are far worse than what Rose has told me.”

Ivy got back to her feet, though stumbled a bit on wobbly legs.

“Any other insightful tidbits from your pen pal you’d like to share?,” she said.

“We are on the same side, you foolish girl.”

Brushing the edge of her dagger against her tunic as if cleaning it of the other witch’s power, Ivy snarled at the queen.

“Same side? Is that all you have to say? I don’t even know what you people want.”

“The destruction of the church of course. You cannot say you desire otherwise.”

Ivy rolled her eyes.

“Rose told me what she can do. How can you stand it being a thrall in her game?” She gestured to other witches as well. “All of you! It makes me sick just thinking about it.”

The queen’s face darkened.

“That is—"

But Ivy gave her no time to speak.

“Did you know she wanted me to rescue a demon for her? And give it to her. A demon. Sorry, her demon. She wanted to be more powerful. Rose needs to control everything. And you’re no better.

She knew she was venting but didn’t care. It was a year ago now, yet she could still feel the heartbreak of her departure from Atrican.

“You’re right. I want the church gone, but should I submit to some fucked up mental slavery to do it? I know you old witches believe I’m something special. It’s related to the demons. But no one trusts me enough to tell me a damn thing. So why should I trust any of you?”

Her rant over, she made to get out of there as fast as possible, but when she reached into her heart, she found her power…exhausted. Whatever she had done to obliterate the redhead’s magic had also drained her of her own.

Three out of the five healthy witches were standing now, all giving Ivy glares that could kill. Which maybe they could. She had no idea what any of these witches could do.

“You are not as bound by causality prediction as you think you are,” the queen said.

“What?”

“It is why things are so chaotic even at this very moment. Witches—you in particular—blur Rose’s ability.”

“Sorry I didn’t fit into your perfect world.”

Ivy began to back away until she hit the closest wall. The guardsmen were still lingering around but appeared loath to get in the way of a conflict between witches. The queen and her lackeys, however, advanced onto Ivy’s position.

“Why must you be so obstinate?” The queen asked. “We can help each other.”

“Let me make this clear. I don’t want your help.”

Ivy pulled at the trickle of power at her core, just enough to slip through the wall of the throne room out to…the open air.

“Shit!”

She flailed her arms wildly, grabbing for any hold against the castle’s exterior to stop her descent. She caught a lip of stone beneath a windowpane with one, and then both hands. She kept hold of her dagger, though it hindered her grip more than anything. Her lucky save stopped her from falling a hundred or so feet to her death, but…she was still stuck a hundred feet up with no way down.

She hung there for a minute or two, arms burning more and more with each passing second, praying that she recovered a bit more strength to do…something. Maybe she could pull herself up a bit, smash the window, and…find herself right back in the throne room.

“Uh…ah, w-would you like some help?” Ivy flinched, almost losing her grip when a small, sweet voice came to her from above. If the queen’s was like a melodic chime, this new voice could be a warm breeze past her ears. For a moment, she considered Rose’s voice, and then her own. How did others hear her?

No. She had no time for such silliness. She craned her neck up and saw a blonde girl clearly younger than even herself, just floating a few feet above her. Like every other witch, she couldn’t be called anything other than pretty, with shoulder-length locks of wavy hair above a smock of white fur thrown over her shoulders.

“Perhaps,” Ivy said.

“Oh…uhm, I see. Are you sure?” The girl looked down at her with concern shining in her eyes.

Ivy’s fingers started to slip down the stone ever so slightly. Her shoulders, arms, and sides cried out at the effort of keeping herself from falling.

“If I accept your help, I’d like it if you didn’t take me back to that pretentious queen of yours.”

“Oh,” the girl twisted her lips, “I think that might get me into trouble.”

“Is that a problem?”

The corner of the girl’s mouth turned upward.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I’m okay with it if you are,” Ivy said, her hands slipping further. She had only the tips of her fingers still hanging on.

“You’re going to fall,” the girl said.

“I’ll figure something out.” Ivy had maybe ten seconds left before she ran out of strength. She turned her head to give the young witch a pointed look. “Well?”

The girl rolled her eyes.

“You old witches are so stubborn.”

Without warning, she closed the distance between them, her body simply moving through the air by some unseen force. Her arms wrapped tightly around Ivy’s waist, and a little yelp escaped her lips when the girl took her airborne. But Ivy recovered from her loss of autonomy in a moment, and could only smile at the cold wind hitting her face, dozens of feet above the city.

It all ended too quickly when the girl dropped her at the apex of a shallow steeple on the top of the palace. The other witch collapsed beside her, lying flat on her back.

“Ugh, you’re heavy,” she said.

Ivy stared down at the girl, baffled at the comment. Ivy had hardly ever run into someone her size. The girl herself had several inches on Ivy.

“Did you just call me heavy?” she asked, her look turning into a glare, though she doubted the girl even noticed from her position. “And old?”

The young witch sat up, took one look at Ivy, and then began to giggle. The giggle became a laugh and then, whatever came after that. A cackle? It sounded like a cackle. Yet somehow it was also infectious, and Ivy found herself grinning as well. And then even joining in.

“Sorry,” the girl said in between breaths, “sorry, I just…it’s hard with someone else. And well, the age thing. You know.”

Ivy clicked her tongue. “I’m only about as old as you can see.”

The girl raised an eyebrow, assessing.

“So, like, a hundred?”

Ivy flinched.

“Ugh, no. Have they been keeping you cooped up this whole time with only other witches?”

“Ha! They couldn’t if they tried.”

“Good. I’m twenty-one by the way.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“There’s no way you’re barely older than me.”

Ivy wasn’t sure how much she agreed with the “barely” part, but she still wondered at the girl’s shock.

“Why’s that?”

The younger witch flipped her body around in one fluid, aerial motion so that instead of sitting with her legs out to one side, she was now sitting perfectly cross-legged, facing Ivy directly.

“The way you talked to Queen Daphne! I’ve never seen anyone do something like that. And then…then, whatever you did to poor Azalea! I just…oh! Is she going to be okay?”

“Uh…”

“Sorry, I just, I’ve never met another witch my age. It’s exciting. And one so strong! Oh, and my name’s Anemony.”

“Right. I’m…Ivy. And the only other witch I’ve met before today was Rose.” Anemony wrinkled her nose at the name. “What was that?”

“I never liked her. She’s only been to Rhune once which I know of, but everything changes when she’s around. She may not tell off the queen like you did, but it’s like everyone walks around on eggshells around her. It’s uncomfortable.”

Huh. For the longest time, Rose was the only person in the world that Ivy could be comfortable around. She knew better now, as did everyone else, apparently.

“I know what you mean. I lived with her for years.”

“Ew.”

Ivy couldn’t help but chuckle again, but then she noticed a change in Anemony’s expression. Her eyes lost focus for a minute, as though she were somewhere else.

“Are you alright?” Ivy asked.

The strange fog lifted, and Anemony smiled.

“Yeah, just that trouble we were talking about.”

“What do you mean?”

“The queen, she can, uh…talk without speaking.”

And then Ivy heard it. Coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, not unlike how the demon in Atrican had spoken to her, except without the searing pain.

Come down with that foolish girl and let’s talk. We can start over.

Yeah, no thanks.

“Well, I guess It’s time for me to go.” She felt for the well of power deep in her heart and judged she should be able to at least make it to the ground now.

“Where?”

“I don’t really know.”

“You won’t give her another chance?” Ivy brought her glare back out, and Anemony threw up her hands, palms out. “I’m just asking. She’s…not so bad.”

Ivy thought back to when she had first arrived in Atrican, and how Rose had taken her in, basically saving her from what she had thought a doomed life. This Queen Daphne had likely played the same role in Anemony’s life.

“I get it,” Ivy said, “I really do. But I just can’t right now.” She stood and turned to leave but glanced over her shoulder one more time. “Will you be alright?”

Anemony waved off the concern.

“The queen loves me. She’d torch the whole city before letting anything happen to me. Probably do the same for you, if I’m honest.”

Ivy let out a sharp huff of air.

“Alright, alright. I’ll think about it.”

Ivy called on her power and fell into the witch world.

“Whoa!” Anemony’s voice called out from behind her. “Ivy? Iv—”

Ivy took a step along a path that guided her from the palace, and Anemony’s voice vanished in the wind. There was a lot to think about, the encounter had left Ivy reeling. She had finally found what she had been looking for, yet in the worst way possible. Her search for a new purpose had led her right back to where she had come from. It seemed like there was no escaping Rose’s web.