Asher screamed as white hot fire seared through his hand and up his arm, and the strange, spiritual fire enveloped the vial, curling through his fingers and around his skin. Sharp knots pulled tight in his gut, and bile hit the back of his throat as he finally pried his fingers open and the metal dropped to the ground. Asher’s knees caved with it and he fell against the table, fighting the urge to throw up.

The ringing in his ears was broken by Iain suddenly chuckling. ‘You’re a witch.’

Asher fought to catch his breath, pain still ripping through his arm that he could barely think through. There was nothing on his hand, not even a red mark where the metal had burned, but it felt like he’d been flayed. His heart pounded against his ribs.

‘You really part of the guard?’ Iain asked. ‘A spirit witch for a town guard. Now you’ve made my day.’

White wisps of flame danced around the metal on the floor, the silver veins now alive and swarming like ants. It wasn’t silver anymore, though. It was grey dust, flaking under the movement. There was spirit dust in the metal.

‘You’re a witch,’ Asher returned.

‘No, I’m not,’ Iain said. ‘But you tell anyone and I’ll take you down with me.’

‘I won’t tell anyone.’ Asher forced the words out as another bile taste hit the back of his throat. ‘If you’re not a witch, then why is there dust in your shop?’

‘Oh, there is?’ Iain asked. ‘I don’t see shit.’

At the mention of it, the spirits snapped into focus as though they had been waiting to pull the curtain back. Prickles of light rippled across the workbench like a river on a clear day, and some tools on the wall smoked with a white haze, though no part of them were red as the pokers in the fire.

Asher turned and saw a wooden crate behind Penn, filled with other strange contraptions and trinkets, each designed with the same silver lines, and the whole box pulsing. It wasn’t breathing, and nothing in the box was moving, but there was a feeling in the air around it, and Asher was sure that if he pressed his hand against the wood, he would feel a heartbeat.

‘What did you do to become a spirit witch?’ Iain asked. ‘Fall into fairyland? That explains your friend.’

‘What?’ Asher turned back to Iain, finally finding the strength to stand up straight.

‘That’s what this is, isn’t it?’ Iain asked. ‘You’re a spirit witch, and he’s a fairy.’ He jostled the clamp at Penn.

Asher had no idea what the difference between a regular witch and a spirit witch was, but there was finally a dialogue happening and he didn’t want to lose it by sounding like an idiot. ‘What are you?’ he asked instead. ‘Witch of the Smith?’

‘Forge Witch,’ Iain corrected. ‘Amateur. Answer the question.’

‘Penn is a Nakati,’ Asher said.

‘Yeah, that’s what I said,’ Iain said. ‘How’d you meet him?’

Penn wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. Instead he had picked up the vial and was catching the spirits with his hands, easing them with clenched fingers into the hole at the top. Asher had no idea what this thing was supposed to do, but if it helped Penn then he would find a way to use it, but not at the risk of making the bear-man in front of him even angrier.

‘I disappeared with everyone else,’ Asher said. ‘And I ended up in the Under… in Le Torkani.’

Iain laughed, harsh and loud. ‘What?’

‘It’s true,’ Asher said. ‘And Hadley pulled me out. That’s why I want to know.’

Iain’s face pinched together in a quiet rage. ‘What did you just say to me?’

‘I—’

‘Hadley is dead,’ Iain growled. ‘What the fuck are you saying to me?’

‘It was her,’ Asher said. ‘She had red hair and a lot of birds, and she sent me to Gershwin and Sara—’

‘You’re insane, boy,’ Iain said. ‘Hadley sent you to her murderers? I’d believe that when the Sleepless Three wake up.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Asher demanded.

‘What? They didn’t tell you?’ Iain asked. ‘Those two got into witchcraft and took it way too far. They broke part of the Gate, and threw Hadley through it so they didn’t have to pay. She is dead, boy. You’ve come here on a lie.’

‘I saw her,’ Asher pressed. He didn’t want to believe this side of the story, though now he could only remember the women’s guilt, and how relieved they had been to think she was alive after so long. Gershwin was on the Black Scroll; something had to have gone wrong, intentional or otherwise. ‘I didn’t even know who she was. That’s why I’m asking.’

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

‘You must be new,’ Iain said. ‘Fuck that. You are new, since a simple surface level spell nearly took you down. The Underlands mess with your head. Nothing in them is real. What you saw was a hallucination, and you’re using it to drag up this shit.’

‘Why would I hallucinate a woman I had never met and had no connection to?’ Asher returned.

Iain stammered, his mouth clamping shut and his jaw clenching. He twisted the clamp around in his hand, then threw it onto the table with enough force to make his other tools jump. ‘Why did you come here?’ His voice was suddenly quiet. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘Hadley’s not the only one who’s trapped in there,’ Asher said. ‘All of Valenda is gone. Dalvany is a mess. There’s people I care about who were taken by monsters out of my nightmares.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Iain said. ‘Someone very special is in there, and you’re going to rescue her.’

‘I’m going to rescue him, yes,’ Asher said. ‘Him and everyone else, but I need to know what happened.’

Iain laughed again. ‘Is this what this is for you? Going to pull the love of your life out of the bad place and have a nice kiss at sunset and ride off to a happy little life in the mountains?’

‘No,’ Asher said. He hadn’t thought anything about his argument with Navarre or what led to it, but it slammed into the forefront of his mind with enough force to make him want to throw up all over again. ‘He’s a friend. None of them deserve to be in there, and it might get worse before it gets better.’

‘A “Friend,”’ Iain chided. ‘Now it’s making sense.’

Asher glowered, but he didn’t want to talk about the technicalities of still considering Navarre a friend after their fight, especially not with this man, and that was enough for him to realise this was bait. Forcing the lump in his throat down, he met the bigger man’s gaze. ‘Valenda wasn’t the first,’ he said. ‘And if the first place to disappear was a year ago, then it’s really strange that Hadley disappeared at the same time.’

‘I already told you,’ Iain said. ‘She’s dead. If you want to know why, go talk to her so-called friends out on the farm.’

‘I’m asking you,’ Asher said.

‘No. You have my answer. You’re done.’

Asher opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. He didn’t know what he was expecting to get out of this conversation, and Iain still held that heavy metal clamp in his fist. Maybe he would need to talk to Sara and Gershwin again, if he could find a way back out there. The thought made him feel guilty though, the idea of dragging them through their past just for answers. The same as what he was doing right now.

When had he decided this was okay?

‘Alright, I’m sorry,’ Asher mumbled. He glanced at Penn, who was holding the vial in both hands, pressing his palms into it as though forcing it to contort. ‘Can I buy the… the thing, from you?’

‘I don’t charge money for that,’ Iain said. ‘I’m not stupid. I’m starting to think you are.’

‘I’m leaving,’ Asher said. ‘I just… he’s not going to give that back.’

Penn glanced up from his task, a low growl bubbling in his throat.

‘You want to pay for it?’ Iain asked. He grabbed a small metal bowl from his bench and threw it at Asher. Asher’s fingers bent painfully as he caught it. ‘Fill that up.’

Asher turned the bowl over in his hands, his mind going blank. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘You’re a spirit witch, aren’t you?’ Iain said. ‘That’s what you’re good for. I’m gonna need dust to replace what you’re taking. You can get it. Fill the bowl.’

Asher regarded the bowl in his hand. Gershwin couldn’t see the spirits either, from what he could remember. If that was the case, then he needed to ask if Hadley could see them or not. If she couldn’t then no witchcraft would have happened without Sara. Unless something besides the dust made magic work, but he hadn’t found anything to suggest that was possible yet.

He didn’t want to think Sara was guilty. He also didn’t want to push anything aside because of his own opinion of her. If he did that, he really wasn’t any good at any of this anymore. How much had he changed?

Slowly, he placed the bowl down on the edge of the fire pit, then glanced around to find something spirit-like. He ended up reaching for one of the smoking tools on the wall, holding it over the bowl. The smoke danced upward from no and every point on the crowbar. Asher held his other hand up, awkwardly balancing his crutch under his elbow as he did, and as his palm met the smoke, it turned to ash and gravity took its hold, raining down into the bowl. When the bowl was full, he pulled his hand away and slowly lowered the crowbar onto the edge of the pit.

He was a witch. He could feel the thought sinking deeper and deeper into his mind, part of him already accepting it was true. A witch who didn’t know what it meant, who didn’t know any more about this than when he started. He had his chance to be gentle about this conversation, and he hadn’t even stopped to think. He tried to imagine if someone burst into his home, or anywhere he was comfortable, and started asking questions about Navarre without an explaination. No wonder Iain was mad.

‘I’m sorry,’ Asher said. ‘For all of this. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry.’

Penn tugged at his sleeve, holding out the metal vial. The spirits clinging to it were gone now, the inside filled with misty, spectral flame. The silver veins running around the thing were still wriggling like millions of bugs forced together.

‘Wolf,’ Penn said.

Asher regarded the metal thing in front of him. He’d had no answers here, none that put him anywhere except where he’d been sitting since he came back. He’d stormed into this man’s life and asked all the wrong questions, and if he didn’t pull himself together soon, he would deserve to be thrown into Le Torkani.

‘What do I need to do?’ he asked Penn.

Something shifted in Penn’s expression that Asher couldn’t place, followed by surprise. For all his pressing and nudging, he hadn’t actually expected Asher to help at all. Slowly, he held out the strange vial, his thumbs pressed against the top to trap the insides in place.

‘Word of advice, kid,’ Iain said. ‘You don’t want to do that. You don’t understand it enough.’

Asher already couldn’t turn back. He thought about telling the man that, but decided against it. Sara had said something similar, that if he went in deep enough, he wouldn’t be able to turn around. There was real danger in committing to this. Though, if he didn’t get to the bottom of all of this, it would only get worse. Raulkada could be next, or the rest of Dalvany.

Asher reached out and grabbed hold of the vial.