Chapter 14 #2
I was totally wrong about not sleeping. Exhaustion won, and I was out before Mal even stopped laughing.
***
The next morning, I woke to early light filtering through the tent and Mal’s amused face watching me.
“Sleep well?” he asked, grinning.
“Shut up.” I mumbled, my body sore from the spell and all the exercise we’d done the day before.
“You fell asleep in approximately four minutes.”
“I hate you.”
I did not. Tragically.
Emerging from the tent was one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life. The guards were professionally pretending nothing had happened. Their faces were carefully neutral as they packed up camp. Too suspiciously neutral.
“Good morning, Your Majesties,” one guard said, his expression giving nothing away. His voice was perfectly even. Not a hint of amusement. Very impressive.
“Morning,” I mumbled, avoiding eye contact.
“Ready to depart?” another guard asked, also with a completely neutral face, suspiciously devoid of any reaction.
“Yes. Let’s go. Quickly.” Still not looking at anyone. I would never look at anyone, ever again.
“Sleep well, Your Majesties?” a third guard asked innocently.
I shot him a look. He was suddenly very interested in adjusting his pack straps.
Mal was still grinning. I considered portaling him into a lake. Or a swamp. Swamp would be more satisfying.
We broke camp and resumed our journey. I walked hand in hand with Mal, trying to pretend I wasn’t still dying inside. The guards were absolute professionals. Not one of them made eye contact with me or said anything remotely suggestive.
I appreciated their discretion even as I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
“We are close,” Casimya announced as we walked. “Very close. The wards are strong here.”
The forest was getting stranger. Trees grew in unnatural patterns, their branches twisted and gnarled. The paths seemed to loop back on themselves.
Magic. Strong magic, laid deliberately to keep intruders away.
“How much longer?” I asked.
“Minutes,” Casimya said, her eyes focused on something I couldn’t see. “Perhaps less.”
Mal squeezed my hand, feeling my nerves through our bond. “Whatever happens, we face it together.”
“What if she won’t help?”
“Then we find another way.”
“What if there’s no other way? What if this is all for nothing and we can’t protect Killian and Igryside comes for him and we’re not ready and I can’t...”
“Take it easy,” he interrupted gently. “We will face everything together.”
I took a breath and nodded.
Casimya was breaking wards as we went, her hands moving in patterns I couldn’t follow. Sparks of magic flew where her fingers passed through the air. The forest seemed to respond, the trees shifting slightly, the paths straightening.
Then I saw it. A cottage, small and neat, tucked into the trees like it had grown there naturally. It was heavily warded, shimmering with protective spells. Nearly invisible if you weren’t looking directly at it.
We approached carefully. Mal signaled the guards to spread out, taking defensive positions. He and I stepped forward together toward the cottage door.
Before we could knock, the door flew open.
A woman appeared in the doorway. Older, with gray hair pulled back in a braid, sharp eyes, and a powerful presence that made the air itself feel heavier. Magic crackled around her hands, purple sparks dancing between her fingers. I’d never seen magic so visible before.
And she was ready to attack.
“Who are you? How did you find me?” she demanded.
I stepped forward quickly, holding my hands up. “Please, we mean no harm.”
“That is what they all say before attacking.” The magic around her hands intensified.
Mal moved protectively closer to me, gripping his sword hilt. “We are not attacking.”
“The wolf stays back,” Tyreen said sharply.
“No,” Mal replied flatly.
“It’s okay,” I said to Mal, touching his arm. Then to Tyreen: “My name is Gwendolyn.”
Tyreen stared at me, her eyes narrowing. “Gwendolyn? You look familiar. Who - No. What are you?”
“My grandmother’s name was Mary. My grandfather was Louis,” I said, watching her face. “I recently discovered I have witch ancestry.”
The change was dramatic. The magic around Tyreen’s hands dissipated like smoke. Her expression shifted from hostile to shocked.
“Mary,” she whispered. Then louder, “Marya. You look just like her.”
My breath caught. “So you do know her?”
Tyreen was crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was her second. Her friend. I helped her flee to Earth.” Her voice broke. “I thought the whole line was gone.”
She reached toward me hesitantly, and I let her. Her fingers touched my face gently, tracing my features like she was seeing a ghost.
“You have her eyes,” she said, voice barely audible. “Her cheekbones. Gods, it’s like she’s standing in front of me again.”
I was crying too. “I need your help. Igryside is hunting us.”
Tyreen’s expression darkened. “So they never stopped.” Then her tone softened. “Come inside. All of you, even the dogs. We have much to discuss.”
She lowered the wards with a gesture, the shimmer of protective magic fading. Mal and Casimya followed me inside, pointedly ignoring the dogs comment. I found it funny. The guards stayed outside, keeping watch.
The cottage was cozy but cluttered with things.
Herbs hung drying from the rafters in neat bundles.
Crystals lined the windowsills, catching what little light filtered through the trees.
Books were stacked everywhere, ancient tomes with cracked leather bindings piled on every available surface.
It smelled like lavender and old paper, which tugged at my chest. It felt like home.
My grandma used to smell like this sometimes.
Tyreen couldn’t stop staring at me as she prepared tea with shaking hands. Every few seconds, her eyes would find my face again, like she couldn’t believe I was real.
We sat around a small wooden table, the four of us. Tyreen served tea, the ceremony giving her time to compose herself.
“My name is Tyreen. I was part of your grandmother’s coven, like I said. Marya was incredible,” she said finally, her voice warm with memory. “Powerful beyond measure. And so dramatic.”
I smiled despite my tears. I missed my grandparents so damn much, I was starving for any detail, anything to keep the memory of them alive. “Dramatic how?”
“She once portaled someone’s dinner into a lake because they insulted her shoes.” Tyreen laughed through her tears. “The man’s roast chicken, right off his plate. Gone. He never said another word against her fashion choices.”
That startled a laugh out of me. “Casimya told me a similar story. My grandmother’s moods were legendary.”
“They truly were. She could hold a grudge like no one I’ve ever met.
But her love was just as fierce.” Tyreen looked at me with such fondness it made my chest ache.
“You have her spirit. Her fire. I can see it in the way you hold yourself. The way you walked up to my door even when I had magic ready to blast you. That was pure Marya.”
Mal, who’d been quiet, spoke up. “She is very fierce indeed.”
Tyreen turned to look at him properly. “You treat her well, dog king?”
“Wolf. And yes, with my life.”
“Good.” Tyreen nodded with satisfaction. “Because I know twelve curses that target specific anatomy.”
Mal’s eyebrows rose. “Noted.”
“Tyreen!” I protested, trying not to snort.
“Just establishing expectations,” she said primly.
She stood and moved to a shelf, pulling down a small wooden box worn smooth with age. Inside, nestled in faded velvet, was an old necklace. A simple silver chain with a stone that pulsed with faint purple light, the same color as my portal magic.
“A coven token,” she explained, holding it out to me reverently. “Your grandmother wore one just like it. This one belonged to her sister, who passed it to me before she died. It was meant to return to the family line.”
I reached out and touched it. The moment my fingers made contact, warmth flooded through me.
Not just warmth. Connection. Like suddenly hearing a song I’d known my whole life but had forgotten.
Images flickered at the edge of my vision.
Faces I didn’t recognize but somehow knew.
Voices speaking in languages I shouldn’t understand but did.
Heritage. Family. Power that ran deeper than I’d ever imagined.
“I feel it,” I breathed, my voice barely a whisper.
“Blood calls to blood,” Tyreen murmured, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Keep it. It was always meant for her line. It was always meant for you.”
I slipped the chain over my head, feeling the weight of it settle against my chest. The stone pulsed once, twice, then settled into a steady glow that matched my heartbeat. It felt right. Like coming home to a place I’d never been.
We talked for hours. Tyreen shared stories about my grandmother, about the coven, about the old days. Mal watched me the whole time, his expression soft as I lit up hearing about my family.
But then I remembered the reason why we actually came here, and the conversation turned serious.
“Have you ever been hunted by Igryside? How did you fight them?” I asked.
“They hunted us down for years.” Tyreen’s face fell. “But we didn’t fight them. That is the truth. We ran from them, never faced them.”
“But you were a powerful coven,” I protested. “Casimya said...”
“Like I said before, I was second-in-command of the coven,” Tyreen interrupted softly.
“We were maybe fifty witches at our strongest. Igryside is a kingdom. Thousands of soldiers and a mad king obsessed with power. It was not a good combination.” She looked at me sadly.
“We could not win. So we ran. And after your grandparents left, I ran for decades, until I got too tired and too old. I settled here, and have been here ever since. When I felt your tracking spell, I stayed. I figured my time had come, and I was done running. So I waited for death.”
“And instead, you got me.” I grimaced. “So what should I do? Run from them as well?”
“No,” Tyreen said firmly. “Do not make the same mistakes we did. You have a huge opportunity, something we didn’t have - Because you are not just a coven. You have a kingdom, an alliance with six other kingdoms that have your back. You have the winning hand here, Gwendolyn. Do not throw it away.”
“But Wen does not want war if we can avoid it,” Mal said, his fingers finding mine under the table.
“There may be another way,” Tyreen said thoughtfully after a moment. “The Igryside Prince. He is different from his father.”
I leaned forward. “Different how?”
“He cares about his people. Does not support his father’s obsession. If you could dethrone the King, the Prince might agree to peace.”
“Might?” Mal asked.
“Politics are never certain. But it is possible.”
Hope filled my chest. Yes. An opportunity. That was all I asked for.
“How do we dethrone a king?” I asked.
Tyreen’s smile was grim. “Carefully. And we will need to meet with the Prince first, gauge his willingness.”
“It’s dangerous,” Casimya said quietly.
“Everything is dangerous now,” Tyreen replied, shrugging, her face stony. But I knew she believed the odds were on our side, and she was right. It made sense, we had the bigger numbers. But if we could avoid the bloodshed? Perfect.
We talked through possibilities and strategies for hours, thinking of every single possibility, every weakness Tyreen could think about Igryside. There weren’t many, unfortunately. Finally, Tyreen stood and began packing.
“I will teach you everything I know,” she said, pulling items from shelves.
My shoulders sagged with relief. I had been dreading inviting her to Lytopia, because I didn’t want to face her rejection.
Now that I’d found a link to my past, I really didn’t want to let it go.
So the fact that she willingly suggested coming with us?
It felt like destiny. “You and your son.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice thick.
She looked at me with soft eyes. “You are family, Gwendolyn. Never doubt that.”
It took me a few minutes to swallow down the lump on my throat. Tyreen packed quickly, just one bag with personal things she’d gathered over decades of running. Not much, but meaningful.
“Ready?” I asked when she’d finished.
“Ready,” she confirmed.
Then I stood in the center of the cottage and focused. Time to open a portal home. No swamps, no chicken coops, preferably no naked noblemen. Just home.
“Okay, Ravenor throne room, I can do this,” I muttered, concentrating hard.
Tyreen moved to stand beside me. “Feel the destination. Not just see it. Feel it. Feel what you think you’d feel standing there in this moment. Go through your senses, one by one. What you see, what you smell, what you hear…”
“I’m trying,” I said, frustrated as the portal flickered uncertainly. It was doing that thing where it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be.
“You are thinking. Stop thinking. Feel.” Her hand rested lightly on my shoulder, grounding me. “Close your eyes. Remember what it feels like to be there. The temperature of the air. The echo of the stone. The smell of the torches.”
I closed my eyes and tried again. Not thinking about the location but like she said, feeling it. The cool stone of the throne room beneath my feet. The high ceilings that made every sound echo slightly. The familiar energy of home, of our kingdom, of safety.
The portal opened smoothly, rock-solid stable. No flickering or uncertainty. Just a clean, perfect opening to exactly where I wanted to go.
I opened my eyes and stared at it in shock. “I did it.”
“You did it,” Tyreen confirmed, smiling proudly. “You have the power. You always had the power. You just needed guidance.”
Casimya was watching Tyreen with undisguised fascination. “Your teaching method is remarkable. I have been working with her for weeks.”
“Feel, not think. The body knows what the mind forgets.” Tyreen shrugged modestly. “I have had centuries to practice with Marya.”
“I would like to learn from you,” Casimya said, and there was respect in her voice I’d rarely heard before.
“That can definitely be arranged,” Tyreen said warmly. “If there’s something I have, it’s time.”
Tyreen took one last look around her cottage. Then she picked up her bag and walked toward the portal without looking back.
Mal walked outside to call all the guards in, and we all stepped through together. The portal shimmered and held steady as we crossed back to Lytopia. Back to planning and figuring out how to contact an enemy prince and dethrone a mad king. Just the usual.
But this time, we had a real chance.