The Ruin of Snow

by Lacy Sheridan

  He stared at me, and I swore he looked years younger than he was. “Will it work?”

  “I don’t know, but I think it’s the best chance there is right now.”

  “What will happen if it doesn’t?”

  “Nothing, unless I royally mess up.”

  “How often do you mess up?”

  “Never.”

  He took a deep breath. “Alright. Go ahead.”

  “Look into the flame and keep still,” I said, sitting back and taking a breath myself. If this worked, they would be free. It would be over—the part of my journey with them. They could go back to their lives, and I could move on to deal with my family without guilt. It was going to be tricky, if it was possible at all. Careful, delicate work.

  It was a good thing I’d been born and raised for just that.

  Tamsin did as I’d ordered, and I closed my eyes and forced the tension out of my spine. Easy and relaxed. Just another spell. I felt not for that strange new magic that wrapped around my chest, but the magic I’d known all my life, the kind that could find what hid in every living thing. I listened to the pulse of the candle, of the stone and dirt , of the dried leaves I had beside me, of the silver mirror. And, tentatively, a new, whispering note of song joined. Something like a sharp and wary heartbeat. Tamsin.

  I sat and listened , familiarizing myself with its rhythm. It was there, so close I could reach out and touch it. I didn’t yet; I felt around it . It wasn’t the loose, airy power that lay in most things I used—this was knotted and dark, like tangled roots . Something oily wound around it and hissed at my presence. I shivered.

  The idea Wesley had unintentionally given me was sound; I could touch the magic in them and work with it. But I wasn’t the only one, and the witch who had touched them last had left a guard behind.

  No matter. I could play her game.

  “Hold your hand over the flame,” I said. “Don’t burn yourself, but make sure you can feel the heat.”

  He did, breaking his determined watch over it to look at me for confirmation. I nodded and watched the flickering candle as well, pushing its power toward him. The curse tensed but didn’t move. I whispered the spell under my breath.

  “Earth so deep and flame so bright,

  Lend your strength ’til morning’s light.”

  ’Til morning’s light. If I was right, it could take that long to drive the curse away. But the faint power circling around me obeyed, moving to the slick black curse wrapped around Tamsin like a rising tide. I held my breath as they collided, the curse writhing, and waited.

  Waited.

  It peeled away the slightest inch, clawing at the magic I’d sent. I snatched at what was beneath.

  Tamsin sat some three full feet from me, but I felt the tremor that shot through him. His presence felt like it had been put through hell and back: it was raw, scarred. I pushed and pulled at it, tearing at the knots. Around me, the fire and stone and curse struck again and again, echoing. My lungs felt like they couldn’t draw a full breath. Sweat pricked on my brow and the palms of my hands.

  A curse altered a person’s very life, the thing inside them that made them who and what they were. Not unlike the creature that prowled in me, that new magic I was discovering. This curse had latched onto Tamsin’s and leeched off it. Restrained it where it could do no good for anyone. If I could loosen it, the curse would have less hold. I could make something snap.

  I made the tiniest of dents in the knots of magic when the curse whirled toward me. The magic pounding against it stuttered and faded.

  Then that oily darkness struck.

  The magic vanished all at once. Tamsin yanked his hand from the candle with a yelped curse. I doubled over, coughing. Tears stung my eyes, and I gasped a few thin breaths, trying to reign in the burning that washed over me. My own magic stirred, itching to retaliate, but I squeezed my eyes closed and forced it to calm.

  Not now. Not now. One day, maybe, but calm for now.

  When it had settled and the tightness in my chest eased, Tamsin had moved, crouching beside me with one hand near my shoulder.

  “Neyva? Are you alright?”

  I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t hurt, but nothing had changed. I’d failed.

  Not good enough, not good enough, my heartbeat chanted. I wasn’t good enough to best the witch who’d cursed them.

  If I couldn’t best some nameless country witch, how could I best my sisters?

  How could I protect the only people I’d found to care about?

  I buried my face in my hands. “I’m sorry.”

  He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice, but it was there. “It didn’t work?”

  “I can’t do it, Tamsin. I can’t do anything else for you.”

  Twenty-Five

  “You’re really going?”

  “You keep asking that like I haven’t answered it already,” I told Kye, checking my bag.

  “There’s nothing that will convince you we can handle you staying here?”

  I paused, meeting their golden eyes. It hurt, and part of me wanted to tear myself away before the pain could settle in. “I’m sorry, Kye. I can’t break your curse and I can’t keep you safe.”

  “You know you being here has become more than just keeping a deal with Idris.”

  “That’s all it ever was. Just a deal. Like everything else.” Better to pretend than face the guilt and disappointment and heartbreak that wanted to collapse on me. They knew what I was doing, and though they said nothing, I saw it in their face as they leaned on the wall and returned to their notebook.

  I made myself ask, “Will you tell me one thing before I go?”

  “What?”

  “What are you always writing?”

  Kye paused. I wondered if they would respond. There was a storm in their eyes, focused on the page, and my heart wrenched. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. I wasn’t entitled to know, especially now. I had my secrets, they deserved theirs. The time to share our secrets was over and done.

  When I was about to find the words to drop the subject altogether, they pulled their gaze to me and murmured, “Nobody’s ever wanted to know that badly.”

  “None of the others?”

  They shrugged. “They’ve asked, here and there, but when I don’t answer right away they assume it’s a journal. My way of staying sane through all this.”

  My attention flicked from the book, to them. “Is it?”.

  “It’s a lot of things. Sometimes it’s a journal.” They turned it in their hands before holding it out, and I hesitated.

  This was a piece of Kye that had always been off limits to me. A secret, private piece I’d wondered about but never intended or expected to see. I hoped I imagined the tremor in my fingers as I took it. The book was small, not much bigger than my hand, the cover smooth and worn. I opened it gingerly to see the first page was blank, but the edges softened with use. I turned and my breath caught; the next held a drawing, beautifully detailed given the small space—tangled treetops spreading into mountains in the distance. The pages that followed held a thousand different things: tiny sketches of plants or animals, notes on hunting or gathering food, on supplies, a map of the tunnels, disconnected thoughts scrawled along the edges. Some were filled with writing. One page held nothing but tallies, row after row of little marks.

  On the page beside it, numbers. Two sets of numbers, the first jumping by dozens and sometimes more, the second crawling upward. Several were paired with a letter, no pattern to them that I could find—R, A, E, T, E, I, W, R, and T most recently. The sight made something heavy settle in the pit of my stomach.

  “What’s this?” I asked, breathing the words.

  Kye’s voice hitched. “Every day it’s taken longer than usual to shift, and by how long.”

  “You’re tracking it.”

  They tapped the most recent row: 417, 94, T. “Ninety-four seconds before Tamsin changed back,” they whispered. “The longest ever, by far. And that was only with your ma
gic. It’s getting worse, and it’s getting worse faster than it used to.”

  I swallowed and turned to the other pages. “What’s the rest of it?”

  “They’re partially right. Some of it is purely to pass the time, drawing whatever is in front of me or whatever might be useful to remember, but the rest is whatever keeps me sane.” I looked over to them, waiting for more, and they looked away, “Other than flying…writing whatever goes through my head clears it.”

  “Can I read it?” I wasn’t sure what prompted me to ask. I had no right to Kye’s innermost thoughts—and surely they had no desire to give me access to them.

  They startled and replied, “There are things in there you don’t want to read.”

  I did, but I closed the book and held it to them. They took it. “You didn’t have to show me even that much,” I said.

  “I know.”

  I closed my bag and slung it over one shoulder but didn’t stand. “How long until it’s too late?”

  I couldn’t break the curse, and if I couldn’t, I wasn’t sure anybody could. Their time was going to run out, and there was nothing anybody could do. Another strike against Kye and I—they were on an unnegotiable time limit. I didn’t want to think about how aware of it everyone had to be, but I needed to know.

  They shrugged. “You’re the witch.”

  “Most shapeshifting curses don’t last a year.”

  “What happens when it’s over? What’s it like for the cursed person?”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. “They become the animal. Entirely. Their human mind, who they were…it’s gone.”

  They said nothing, and I stood and started walking. They followed . The others waited in a loose group near the entrance, with various looks of defeat. I’d told them of my last idea to break their curse and how it had failed; the magic binding them was too strong. It was too difficult and precise of work to rush, and there was no way to undo it before the curse retaliated. Not without risking more than what the curse would take. At least when it arrived fully on them they’d have their lives intact.

  “You don’t have to leave,” Rayick said.

  I swallowed. “Yes, I do. My sisters will use you to get to me, kill you or worse.”

  “We’re willing to take that risk,” Aurynn put in, folding her arms. “All of us.”

  “I’m not giving you the choice.” I blinked before my eyes started stinging and forced a smile. “Thank you, for everything. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

  Tamsin shook his head. “You tried. That’s more than anybody else has ever done.”

  Rayick pressed his lips together, blinked, and pulled me into a hug. It was so sudden, I stiffened before wrapping my arms around him. “I’ll miss you, kid,” he said.

  “I’ll miss you, too.” I would.

  “Can you handle your family on your own?” Wesley asked from his spot deeper in the shadows. He still looked terrible, but he didn’t appear to want to kill me anymore. I was glad, because despite myself, I was going to miss the dumb raccoon.

  I had no idea how to answer, but I buried that thought and gave him the fiercest grin I could. “Of course I can.”

  “And if you can’t?” Tamsin asked.

  “Then I’ll do as much damage going down as I can.”

  Aurynn laughed and kissed my cheek. “Good girl.”

  I returned it and then stopped in front of Tamsin, placing my hands on either side of his face. “Get out of your head sometimes, Tam. Promise me. You’re better than whatever you’re afraid of.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “And Wesley,” I said, facing him. “Try to find a way to be alright, please.”

  He nodded, something in his eyes softening. “I’m working on it.”

  “Good.” I took a breath before going to Idris. He leaned on the wall, arms folded, the whispers of sunlight catching on his piercings and auburn hair. I could see the wheels turning his head, trying to find another way to help his family now that I’d failed them.

  He held out a hand. “It was a pleasure, Miss Morningspell.” No point in hiding it anymore, though from his barely-there reaction when I’d told the rest of them, he probably had suspected it.

  “Neyva,” I corrected him, unable to help the tiniest of smiles. He reciprocated. “And the pleasure was mine.”

  I gave them all one last glance, then continued to the entrance, Kye hovering beside me. One final look at them, taking in their face, the way they stood, quiet and proud. The way they looked at me, full of longing and sorrow.

  “Thank you,” they whispered.

  “For what?”

  “For feeling.”

  I shoved down the tears that wanted to choke me, stared at where their fingers brushed mine, and traced the hints of ink visible past their sleeve. “You have the whole world, Kye Emris. There are better things than me in it.”

  “Are there?”

  “Maybe one day you can fly away and find out.”

  I stepped into the sun. We stared at each other. A breathless, beautiful, terrible moment of waiting, watching, wishing, and then they followed, soaring past me in a gilded arc.

  There were no more goodbyes as I followed Kye’s shadow through the trees. I listened to the wind and the creak of frosted branches , keeping my gaze firmly ahead. No looking back. No second guessing. No doubting. One foot in front of the other.

  Home. I was going to finish this, and then find a home. It had been a mistake to ever consider those dark caves my home. I didn’t know where my place was, but it wasn’t—couldn’t—be there. I would find somewhere better, better than Acalta, somewhere safe and right.

  I repeated it like a mantra , refusing to let myself look at Kye, though I felt their eyes. They remained at a distance, the golden gleam of their feathers in sight if I moved my head to the right. Watching, ensuring I was safe, but not interfering. I’d made my choice and they were respecting it, even if they didn’t like it.

  More than I could say for my real family.

  But that was it, wasn’t it? They’d never been a family to me. Kye, Idris, Aurynn, everyone—they were something closer.

  All the more reason to keep them away, I reminded myself.

  I stopped at a crunch behind me, soft and distant but unmistakable. I searched for any sign of life, but the forest was empty but for Kye perched in a tree, likely stopped by the noise as well. I watched them for any sign of worry, any tenseness as they readied for danger, but they looked away.

  “Come out, Aurynn,” I sighed.

  Tamsin, Wesley, and Idris were too light on their feet to let themselves be heard, and Rayick far too big to go unnoticed. There was a beat of silence and then the wolf slipped into view, shaking snow from her fur.

  “I don’t need to be followed,” I said. She stared at me, an unspoken argument. “I’ll be fine on my own.” She gave Kye a pointed look, which they didn’t return. “I’m a Morningspell, in case either of you forgot, as much as my sisters are.”

  A branch waved in the distance, and I moved my attention to Wesley bounding along. He had paused above Aurynn and I folded my arms. “How many of you followed me? Tamsin?”

  A soft sound from a shadow confirmed that he was with them. Then he wound his way into the open. I looked between the three, searching for words. “Is that it?”

  Wesley nodded.

  “Let me guess, Idris had no intention to join you and Rayick wanted to but knew he’d be too noticeable?”

  Another nod.

  I let out a long breath and turned away, continuing. Everyone followed. “I don’t need escorts, and all we owe each other is done. I promised to do what I could to break your curse and I have. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough. There’s no point in following me.”

  Tamsin fell into step beside me, staring at me with the green-gold cat eyes that somehow managed to be as round and wide as his human ones, and I stopped. His answer was clear, as much as I didn’t want it to be. They’d followed because they cared, the same reas
on Kye would never have tolerated my leaving without letting them watch over me. Even if they knew I didn’t want or need them to, they were going to. Though part of me bristled, another part warmed and weakened.

  “The sooner I’m away from all of you the better,” I said.

  None of them argued. I pressed on, and though I was sure they would follow me when they thought they could now, they remained in place.

  I tried not to let it hurt. I tried to shove everything down, where it could go until I could deal with it. Being cold and empty would be so easy. I hated it, but it was. Feeling was so much trickier than anything could have prepared me for.

  I was too preoccupied to let my magic flow around me, probing for danger. A low warning howl came behind me and I stopped dead. Distantly, I heard Kye circling closer, but I couldn’t move. I looked around, searching. I loosened my magic, but it didn’t have a chance to search before a voice broke the quiet.

  “Neyva.”

  The single word made everything in me go cold. Not from the biting winter but from the voice itself, gentle and resigned and so familiar I closed my eyes.

  Weeks ago I never would have dared. Weeks ago I would have spun to face her, mind surging into tactics and logic and plans. How to win, how to live, how to take every advantage. Now my feet were frozen to the spot, like the ice beneath me had rooted within my veins.

  The others shifted. Light paws broke the snow, and I felt the warmth of Aurynn’s thick pelt as she pressed one flank against my leg, and there was the faint creak and skitter of Wesley moving nearer. And Kye—

  A whisper of wind said they’d circled back, and I let out a breath.

  I turned.

  Tulia stood in front of me, like some spirit of the forest. The warmth of her skin, her hair, woven into a long braid, like earth, and her eyes like new spring leaves. She’d exchanged her favorite white lace for a dress better suited for travelling, and her fur cloak brushed the ground as she stepped forward. Half a step, and then stopped.