The witch lived at the edge of the world.
Or at least, that’s how it felt as Aria trudged through tangled briars and frostbitten moss, each step drawing her farther from the known and deeper into something older than territory lines and council decrees. Mist clung to the trees like silk torn from a spider’s belly, and the air held a tension that made even birds fall silent.
“This place wasn’t on any map,” Zara muttered behind her, hand resting on the hilt of her blade. “That should tell us something.”
“It tells me we’re close,” Aria said, her voice low.
They walked another mile before the forest opened into a hollow carved by time. At its center loomed a crooked stone hut, half-swallowed by ivy and crowned with antlers—dozens of them, spiraled and cracked, some still red-tipped. The trees around it leaned in as if listening.
Zara drew her blade. “I’ll wait here.”
Aria nodded and stepped forward alone.
The door creaked open before she knocked.
Inside, the air was thick with incense and the iron-rich scent of blood. Candles floated without wicks. Bones hung from the rafters like wind chimes. In the center of the room, perched atop a stool woven from thorn branches, sat the witch.
She was neither young nor old—her face shimmered between centuries, her eyes the color of burned-out stars.
“You brought it,” she rasped.
Aria pulled the silver disc from her coat. The encrypted archive Elias had given her throbbed with dormant power. “I want it opened.”
“Many want things,” the witch said, fingers dancing in the air. “But all things have cost.”
“I figured,” Aria replied.
The witch tilted her head, studying her. “This object is sealed with tethered memory and locked behind betrayal. A true blood-price.”
“Name it,” Aria said, jaw tight.
The witch’s lips curled. “A memory. Not just any. One that anchors you.”
Aria tensed. “A memory?”
“One you cherish and curse. One that bleeds you when you sleep. A tether. Give it, and the lock breaks.”
Aria stared at the disc. Evelyn’s secrets—the council’s dirty heart—were inside. Every kill order, every deception, every name. If she could open it, she could burn their legacy to the ground.
“What happens to the memory?” Aria asked.
The witch’s eyes gleamed. “You’ll forget it entirely. Not just the moment. The scent. The touch. The heartbeat of it.”
A lump formed in Aria’s throat. “If I give it up, do I lose what I learned from it?”
“No,” the witch said. “Only the pain that taught you.”
That was almost worse.
That night, Aria sat beside the fire, Elara cradled in one arm, the disc in her lap.
Kael approached without a sound. He didn’t speak—just sat beside her, close but not touching.
“She wants a memory,” Aria said after a long silence.
“I heard,” he said quietly.
“She said it has to hurt.”
He nodded once, solemn. “Which one are you thinking of?”
Aria’s breath shivered in her chest. “The moment I realized I loved you.”
Kael flinched.
“It wasn’t the first time we kissed, or the day you marked me. It was quieter than that,” she continued. “You were brushing snow off my shoulders after that council meeting. I was exhausted. Cold. You didn’t say anything. Just took my hands in yours and warmed them. And I thought—this is what love feels like.”
Kael looked away.
“And then you ripped it all apart,” she said softly.
He turned back, pain etched into every line of his face. “Aria…”
“I’m not blaming you. Not now. But I remember that moment every time I hate you. Every time I try to forget you.” Her voice broke. “If I give it up, maybe I can finally breathe.”
Kael swallowed. “Then give it. I’ll carry the memory. I won’t let it vanish.”
Aria looked at him. “You already have.”
She returned to the hut at dawn.
The witch was waiting, fingers stained with ash, lips painted with some red herb that smelled like copper.
“I’ve chosen,” Aria said.
The witch beckoned her forward. “Then kneel.”
Aria dropped to her knees and held out the disc.
“Place your palm upon it,” the witch instructed.
Aria did. The metal was warm.
“Now speak what you offer.”
Aria closed her eyes. “I offer the memory of knowing I loved Kael Draven. I offer the warmth of his hands on mine. The quiet peace that lived inside that moment. Take it.”
The disc pulsed.
The witch leaned forward and pressed a finger to Aria’s forehead.
Pain—white-hot and blooming—shot through her skull. She gasped, nearly collapsing. A thousand images rushed backward: Kael smiling, Kael holding her hand, Kael brushing snow from her hair—
Then gone.
Like water through cupped hands.
Aria opened her eyes. Her chest felt lighter.
And emptier.
“It is done,” the witch said, standing. She placed a hand over the disc. The silver shell unfolded like a flower, revealing a spinning web of sigils and ciphered glyphs.
“It will take time to read,” the witch said. “But it’s yours now.”
Aria took it, hands trembling.
“What’s the cost to you?” she asked.
The witch smiled. “You’ve already paid it.”
Back at the outpost, Zara watched her approach with wary eyes.
“Well?” she asked.
Aria didn’t answer at first. She looked down at the opened disc, where glowing names flickered like embers.
“There are more kill orders than we thought,” she said. “And not all from Evelyn. Some came from Alphas still in power.”
Zara stiffened. “Names?”
Aria nodded. “Dozens. Maybe more. Some from StoneRidge. Even one from Kael’s father.”
Zara hissed through her teeth. “This changes everything.”
Aria looked at the horizon, where smoke from their fires curled into the gray morning sky. “Good. Let everything change.”
That night, she stood alone atop the ridge where the outpost overlooked the wild. The stars were dull through the clouds, but one hung bright above the forest line—a hunter’s star.
She didn’t remember why it made her chest ache.
Didn’t know what dream used to rise behind her ribs when she looked at it.
But the ache was gone.
And she could breathe again.
