Rem tried to answer but resorted to shrugging. It was maddening not being able to even say ‘thank you’.
“At least the truth is out now,” Nia added, the tugging on her hair subsiding. “You’re done, too. You just need shoes, and you’re finished. Don’t forget a pelt. You humans seem to turn into ice blocks with the slightest cold wind.”
Rem turned around and smiled at Nia, giving a single, slow nod to reveal her gratitude. In her heart, Rem wanted to say, ‘I owe you for paying attention, and being willing to fight for me against that warg,’ but she couldn’t. Soon.
Nia said, “Alright, well, I will let you get dressed. I will be back shortly.”
Once the door was shut, Rem took in a deep breath and looked around the room. The change in her heart was night and day now that Fiona had been found out. It was like she had been stuck underwater, panicking with every second that she remained alive and unable to breathe, only to surface and wake up in a boat.
The world was suddenly in color, the details pristine and visible like never before.
She really was staying here, among these creatures. She was going to become one of them.
And soon, I will speak again.
For this day, she wore leather pants, a long black tunic with a leather corset around her waist, a black fur shawl over her shoulders, and black boots. She had grown up wearing browns and grays, black only reserved for laborers or hunters.
Now she wore black in a land where her old life and its ways didn’t matter.
Rem followed Nia out of the home and into the backyard of the Warden territory. Erected in the middle of the expansive green was a pyre with Fiona attached to it. The grass was cool and wet, but the wood looked dry.
At the sight of Rem, a haunting melody came out of Fiona’s lips, like that of a dying animal praying to its god. Tania approached Rem with a blade, the Arch Elder’s wild, white hair hanging over her shoulders. “We need a little of your blood for this. Witches, when dying, can leave lingering curses. For whatever reason, she has chosen to die rather than speak. So, to protect you, we will stain this crystal in my hands with your blood and place it at Fiona’s feet. Once the fire is nothing but smoldering ash, the crystal can be worn as protection.”
Rem nodded, her heart racing at the thought of alingeringcurse. She did her best not to flinch as the metal blade sliced her palm, Tania rolling the crystal in blood while Rem sucked cool air into her lungs. Ronan carefully watched on, standing nearby; Rem was determined to gain his respect.
A torch was given to The Arch Elder as she neared the pyre, holding a bloodied crystal in her palm, placing it at Fiona’s feet.
The wailing song of the Elder Witch grew louder.
Rem looked around for the queen, noting the sovereign’s absence, along with Deacon’s, which made Rem’s skin itch with a need to find him.
All that was present were those of Warden, Tania, and Imari.
The Arch Elder placed her torch into the wood, which immediately caught fire. Tania walked away, her lips moving in a silent prayer as she glided among the grass with graceful steps, the breeze blowing the flames and giving them life, carrying embers into a swirling dance. Fiona desperately pulled at her bindings, especially as the fire burned her clothes. Shrieks of utter pain haunted the grounds, and Rem watched on, disgusted with herself for finding some ounce of joy in witnessing Fiona’s death.
And yet, for what the Elder Witch did to Oliver… No, Rem shouldn’t feel sorry for Fiona.
The fire consumed her to where she was a squirming black figure among the wood. The Elders around chanted lowly, the screams of the witch crying out like a banshee, echoing in ways only carried by a magical death cry.
Rem’s skin raised with gooseflesh. She refused to look away or show how disturbing the scene was to her.
A leader of a pack wouldn’t, and neither would a Luna.
Something changed in her, a gentle piece of her soul dying with the fire.
Rem’s throat burned, and she grasped it, panting as a guttural sound came out. The howls of scorching pain drowned out, the roaring fire claiming Fiona’s life.
Rem grunted, and when she heard the sound, she looked at Nia, speaking with a croaking voice, Ronan moving his gaze to her. “Back in Warden. My brother. They have my brother at Murphy’s Orphanage. Deacon knows. All the Callons know. We have to find Deacon.”
Nia frowned, blinking incessantly. “What?”
“Nia,please, Ronan has to know. They’re plotting something against him.”
She nodded but Ronan was already nearing them, watching with shrewd eyes as Nia hurriedly translated. He looked at Rem, and Nia echoed what he said, “Okay, tell it to me again so I can translate it.”
This was it.
This wasthemoment.
