Luck alone gave me the strength to stay conscious after my outburst, but even though I could stand, I did so on shaky legs, threatening to give out at every step.

On those weak legs, I stumbled out of the study in search of someone to help. Having spent almost my entire Aura creating ice to freeze Griste in place, I had no way of getting him out. As much as I wanted to leave him trapped, I knew it was in poor taste to abandon him.

My eyesight fared little better than my legs, and things blurred together, doubling as they faded in and out of view. Having lost the ability to see straight, walking became an arduous task I risked failing, and I surprised

I surprised myself at how far I got before it became too much and I fell to my knees, holding back dry vomit.

“What the hell are you doing out of the study, young lady?” Dragoslava’s voice called out to me, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

I could not have been happier to see, or rather, hear, my maid, and I threw myself in the direction I believed her voice came from.

There was comfort to be found in her hands, though when I fell farther than I expected, I learned she was farther away than expected. If she was a step further, I would have hit the ground.

“I did it again,” I mumbled, the words sounding like a jumbled mess to my ears.

“I can tell,” she replied as her rough hands helped me find my balance.

“More ice, a lot of ice,” I continued.

“Don’t worry about it; I’ll take care of it later. What set you off this time?” she asked.

“Griste…he said…horrible things.”

“As skinwalkers do. Pay no mind to him. Were it not for their—well, never you mind. I expect you to stay in bed for the rest of the day mis-”

“Are we disgraced?” I interrupted, causing Dragoslava to stop.

“So that’s what it was,” she muttered.

“Did Andreaki’s death disgrace us? It wasn’t our fault. We didn’t kill her; you know we didn’t. Why are we being blamed for it?” I repeated, my questions not directed toward my maid in particular.

Dragoslava let out a long sigh, “Guinevere, sometimes when there are complicated problems, people want simple answers, and the simple answer to Andreaki was that we are responsible. I know it doesn’t make sense; I don’t expect it to, but that’s how it is.”

“What can I do?”

“Pardon?”

“What can I do? I’m a part of the family, so if the family is disgraced, then surely there must be something I can do,” I elaborated.

My maid struggled to look me in the eye upon hearing me, and this created a hard pit in my chest that I squirmed to avoid or remove with no success.

“As things are, there is nothing we can do to wipe the shame from your family’s name. With our lifespans much shorter than that of a dragon, others will remember the failure for much longer than we will live. The best thing we can do is catch those responsible and turn them into her family. It won’t be a perfect fix, but it’s better than nothing. It’s what your father has been obsessed with. All you can do is wait,” she explained.

“Can’t I help? Help find her? I know what both of them look like,” I pleaded.

“You are far too young, Guinevere. Leave this to the adults; let us take care of this.”

“I want to help, why won’t you let me-”

“Sleep child. The depletion of your Aura is making you delirious,” Dragoslava said as she raised a glowing hand to my face, making my eyelids heavier than they had been moments prior.

As hard as I tried, I could not resist the suggestion, and a deep sleep welcomed me. Her words became my last thoughts before sleep took over everything, and no matter how I looked at it, the answers she gave me did not sit well in my mind.

—

When I woke up, there was no fanfare of me looking around, confused by what happened, nor did I rub sleep out of my eyes. I knew where I was and wasted no time throwing off my blankets and headed straight for my door.

I threw open the door to come face-to-face with my mother.

“Are you sure you used up most of your Aura dear? You would never think as much if you’re already on your feet,” she exclaimed.

“What can I do to help?” I asked, skipping the pleasantries I would have normally engaged in.

“What do you mean, dear? Help with what?” she asked back.

“What can I do to help find Andreaki’s killer?”

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The look on my mother’s face clouded just as Dragoslava's had, and she shook her head.

“Guinevere, this is something you need to leave to us. You are nothing but a child, still learning how to use magic. You do not stand a chance against someone who has killed a dragon,” she answered, using an identical tone to what my maid did.

“Then what can you and father do? Both of you always go on about how powerful and important dragons are. What chance do you stand?” I demanded.

“There is more to your late tutor’s death that our investigation has revealed. We are still unsure of the specifics, but her death was not accomplished by brute force. It was a poison of sorts, designed specifically for dragons, not humans. This Winter Witch is well within our capabilities to handle, dear. I know it's hard to hear we are disgraced, but we are working to fix things the best we can,” she explained.

To silence further arguments and pleas, my mother placed a finger over my mouth, offering me a smile of condolence.

“I want to do something,” I whispered.

“If you want to do something, continue your magic lessons and continue to progress. That’s all we want from you, dear.”

“I don’t think Griste will have me back, though,” I noted, feeling my cheeks redden as I recalled why I was in my room instead of the library.

“Don’t worry about that, dear; skinwalkers are used to abuse; it comes with the territory of steali—of what skinwalkers do. He won’t be leaving. While we might be…strained in our options for tutors, it goes both ways. We were the only ones who would hire Griste. He has just as few options as we do. Don’t let him get under your skin. Can you do that for me?” my mother laughed.

“Yes, I think I can,” I answered after a few seconds of consideration.

Satisfied, my mother gave me a smile and ruffled my hair. “Dinner is in thirty minutes.”

Despite what I said, a pit grew in my chest as she walked away, growing with each step.

“I don’t think I will though,” I continued.

Turning around, I headed straight to my dresser and started rifling through my clothes to find a coat and shoes. Throwing them on and mimicking how Dragoslava buttoned them. It took a few tries, but I managed it. After making sure everything was correct, I turned my attention to the window.

The pit from before ripped open as I unlocked the latch. This was the first time I had ever disobeyed my parents so directly.

Like any child, I got in trouble, but it was over minor things: lying about a broken vase, staying up beyond my bedtime, and refusing to eat my food—things you would expect from any child.

But with big things—staying out of places I was supposed to, staying out of their hair when they worked, keeping magic within the mansion walls—I listened.

Leaving the house without permission crossed a line I had never considered stepping across, and to say it left me uneasy would have been akin to saying fire was hot. Yet I pushed past my uncertainties and vaulted out of my window into the garden.

The moment my feet touched the ground, paranoia found roots in my mind, and I felt invisible eyes drill into the back of my head. It could have been from birds flying overhead or any of the statues posing within the garden grounds. Even the grass and trees had eyes on me.

No one is watching you; focus on finding the Winter Witch, I told myself, my eyes training themselves on the woods.

I had no reason to believe the witches would reside so close to home, but knowing it was the best place to start, I took a deep breath and took off toward the trees.

—

Being in the middle of spring, mud made my travel more difficult than it would have been in the summer or winter. Every step I took threatened to steal my shoes or trap me in place.

Prior to starting, I believed it would take me a few minutes to reach the woods. Now I was questioning whether I would make it within the hour—something that did not fit the time limit my mother gave me and before people would begin wondering where I was.

As time drew on, I grew desperate, and it showed in the condition of my attire. Mud clung to my coat in quantities sufficient to weigh me down, and I lost one of my shoes in the swamp that was the field I walked across. Dirt found its way under my fingernails, into my mouth, and into every other nook and cranny. This was the dirtiest I had ever been, and having spent so many years indoors, it was new to me.

I did not hate the sensation, but I was not comfortable struggling so much while accomplishing so little. In the beginning, I tried to keep myself somewhat clean through magic, but as time went on and more and more dirt became unwashable through my efforts, I gave up, resigning myself to the filth to save my magic for later.

It took me halfway to my destination for me to enjoy the dirt and mud. Instead of seeing the mess as a lack of progress, I saw it as my progress, of how I was taking matters into my own hands, and it was proof I was accomplishing something.

By the time I made it to the forest, I almost forgot why I went and found it tempting to turn around and return to show my parents what I had accomplished. But my reasons for going in the first place came back to me, and I pressed on into the forest.

Being alone among the trees was one of many new experiences for me, and one I disliked. In my mind, there was a monster behind every tree, a beast waiting to gnaw at my bones the minute I turned my back, and I looked over my shoulder at every moment.

Such behavior resulted in me spinning around in circles at the slightest sound. At first, it had no effect, as I could orient myself using the edge of the forest. But as I went deeper, my landmark disappeared, and it did not take me long to become all turned around, unsure of what direction I came from or which way to go.

Only then did I realize how ill-prepared I was. I did not know what I was doing, and my plan, if it could be called that, was to head into the forest and find Illthic. I did not know how I would find them, whether I would find them, or what I would do once I found them.

These facts did not deter me from my goals, and I pressed forward, knowing in my heart I would find what I was looking for.

Even the setting sun and falling temperatures failed to cast doubt on my mission. To solve both problems at once, I created a ribbon of fire far enough from my body so I wouldn’t catch myself alight that wrapped around my shoulders. While not my original intention, it also gave me confidence against whatever beasts lurked in the woods who had less than pure intentions.

What started eating away at my confidence, however, was the knowledge that my family would look for me. Thoughts that were once focused on nothing but finding the Winter Witch wandered to what kind of punishment I would receive once I returned or whether I could find Illthic before they would find me.

No time for those thoughts; they’ll forgive me once I find and bring her back. They’ll have to; I just have to find her, I reasoned, swallowing my fear.

As if my thoughts incurred the wrath of some god, a powerful gust of wind caused the surrounding forest to shudder, providing enough force to throw me off balance and extinguish my sash of fire.

Once I regained my footing, I started to re-concentrate to regain my source of warmth. To my dismay, I found I couldn’t. The draining sensation was happening, and it didn’t feel plugged. Instead, the mana coming out dissipated into nothing, leaving me with little to work with.

“To think the little witch would come to me.”