WITCHFIRE
Freya
The afternoon sun filters through the courtyard trees, scattering light over stone and grass.
Finn stands in the middle, a wooden staff in hand. He swings clumsily at another pup his size, their sticks clacking together before both burst into laughter and tumble to the ground.
I stand at the edge of the courtyard, watching them, my heart tightening and softening all at once. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him laugh like that.
He’s safe. For now.
Jax did what I asked him to do. He went to Kade quietly, mentioned the Conclave, hinted that the High Council might find it improper for the children to stay with Izel—or with me.
Said it would look better if they were neutral, always kept in the nursery, away from either of us, until the Conclave was done.
Kade, in his typical pride, had thought it his own idea. And now, for the first time in months, Izel sees the children only rarely.
I still remember the way she had snapped at Finn that night—too cruel for a boy his age. The memory makes me grip my cloak tighter. Seeing him smiling now, even if only for a few moments, feels like balm over a wound that refuses to close.
Finn spots me before I can decide whether to call out. His little head jerks up, bright golden eyes widening. Then he drops the staff and runs straight to me.
“Mama!”
The word hits me like sunlight after endless winter. My throat closes with a gasp.
He wraps his small arms around my waist with all the force he can muster. I bend down, gathering him up. He’s heavier than I remember, taller too—his legs dangle past my knees now. My little boy isn’t so little anymore.
“I missed you,” he says, his voice muffled against my shoulder.
I press my lips to his blonde hair. “And I missed you every day.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Jax leaning against a pillar, arms folded. He’s watching us quietly. When he catches me looking, he gives the faintest nod. It almost looks like a smile.
I lower Finn back to the ground, brushing his hair from his face. “Come on,” I say softly. “I’ll walk you back to the nursery.”
He slips his hand into mine, and we walk through the courtyard path lined with climbing ivy and carved stone wolves.
He chatters the whole way. “Atlas says when he grows up, he’ll be the best warrior in all Silvercrest! But I told him he has to beat me first!”
“Oh?” I tease gently. “And will you let him win?”
“Never!” He grins, missing a front tooth.
His laughter fills the hallway as we approach the nursery doors. My heart feels lighter than it has in weeks—until Nyx’s voice slices through my thoughts like a blade.
Save her.
The air leaves my lungs with a gasp.
‘Save Ivy!’ she roars again, so loud it rattles my bones.
I freeze mid-step. “What—”
Then I smell it. Smoke.
“Finn!” I grab him, scooping him into my arms before he can protest. I run.
The corridor fills with shouting voices and the faint sound of crackling flames. Smoke thickens the air as I reach the nursery doors. The chemical stench hits me first, tinged with something unnatural.
Green light flickers under the door. I kick it open.
“Stay here!” I shout, dropping Finn outside before dragging my eyes back to the smoke. “Ivy!”
Flames crawl up the drapes, eating through silk and wood, burning an eerie green. The stench of roses, almonds, and blood is thick enough to make me throw up, but I hold myself steady. Ivy is on her bed, crying, her eyes closed.
Without a thought, I run straight through the smoke.
“Nyx!” I call.
Power surges inside me. My vision floods silver. A translucent barrier bursts to life around us, shimmering like glass. The flames slam against it and scatter, heat roaring around but never touching. The shock swallows my senses momentarily.
This is what it means to be High Luna.
I grab Ivy, clutching her against my chest. Her small arms cling to my neck, her sobs shaking through me. “You’re safe,” I whisper, coughing. “You’re safe, baby.”
Guards rush in then, splashing buckets of water, their shouts enveloping us. The flames die slowly, hissing, leaving blackened curtains and smoke curling through the ceiling.
I fall to my knees near the doorway, holding both my children close. Ivy sobs against me and Finn clings to my arm, eyes wide in shock. My body shakes uncontrollably.
Ivy could’ve died. My sweet little girl could’ve died.
Where were the guards?!
“What happened?” Kade’s furious voice cuts through the noise. He strides in, Jax close behind him.
I lift my head, still coughing. “The fire was green,” I choke out. “It wasn’t an accident. It’s witchfire.”
The guards exchange uneasy looks. One mutters, “It—it looked normal at first, Alpha. Then—then it changed.”
“Changed?” Kade’s tone hardens. “Why did it take you this long to act?”
They look dazed, confused, like men waking from a dream. “We… we didn’t see or hear anything,” one stammers. “It was as if—something fogged our minds.”
Jax crouches near the scorched drapes, fingers brushing the singed fabric. “It has an odd smell.”
“How could this happen?” Kade demands. “Who let this happen in my house?”
A new voice answers, smooth and calm. “Perhaps a candle fell.”
Izel stands in the doorway, her auburn hair falling in ringlets around her shoulders. “I came as soon as I heard.”
I stand, still holding Ivy. “Witchfire doesn’t come from falling candles.”
For a heartbeat, something flashes in her eyes—just enough for me to see satisfaction buried deep under her mask. Then it’s gone. “Witchfire?” she repeats softly, almost laughing. “You’re frightened, Freya. You must have seen it wrong in all that smoke.”
“I know what I saw,” I say. “And what I smelled.”
Kade glances between us, suspicion warring with denial in his eyes.
Jax steps closer to him, murmuring something low I can’t hear. Kade’s expression tightens.
“Enough,” he says finally. “I don’t want excuses. The children are moving out of here tonight.”
Izel blinks. “Out? To where?”
He looks at me. “With Freya.”
Her mask slips, and I catch the flicker of anger in her face before she schools it back into softness. “Of course,” she says tightly. “If that’s your wish, Alpha.”
“It’s not a wish,” he replies. “It’s an order.” He turns to me.
Before he can say more, I cut him off, “I want to reopen the Queen’s wing. My children will be safe there.”
He groans loudly in frustration before finally nodding. “Fine!”
I nod, still breathless and shaking, soot streaking my sleeves. “Thank you.”
As Kade leaves with the guards, Izel lingers one moment longer, her gaze burning into mine. “This,” she murmurs, “is exactly why I kept her with me. Some mothers invite disaster wherever they go.”
She glides away before I can speak.
I look down at Ivy and Finn and whisper to them, “Not anymore.”
Nyx stirs within me. ‘We’ll burn brighter than her fire.’