Chapter 7
Amara
The audacity of this man is beyond comprehension.
I warned him. The forest warned him. Even the creatures that dwell beneath these ancient branches made their feelings abundantly clear—leave. Yet somehow he interpreted every warning as an invitation.
Very well. I shall remedy that misunderstanding. I will show him precisely why mortals whisper my name with fear. I will remind him that Hoia Baciu is not a place one visits twice simply because curiosity proves louder than common sense.
The branches above me rustle overhead, not in agreement, but in unmistakable protest.
“Oh, do not begin.” I say, lifting my gaze toward the canopy.
The leaves answer with another quiet stir, as though attempting to persuade me that perhaps the troublesome human has suffered enough.
“He most certainly has not.”
The forest falls silent. Then the branches sway once more, slow and unmistakably smug.
“You are entirely too fond of him.”
No answer comes. It doesn’t need one.
“Traitor.”
Something warm stirs beneath my ribs, and I extinguish it before it has the chance to become anything at all.
Ridiculous.
For the briefest of moments, I allowed myself to admire him. Not because he is a man. Certainly not because he is handsome. Merely because… he laughed in the face of horrors that have driven stronger men to madness. That is all. Nothing more.
I have existed for centuries. I know precisely what men become the moment they learn what I am. They do not seek conversation. They seek power. My head. My heart. My blood. Whatever stupid tale they happen to believe this generation has embellished.
They always convince themselves that if they destroy the witch, they will somehow leave richer than they arrived. They always learn otherwise.
I refuse to let one infuriating, handsome, utterly impossible little man distract me from the purpose that has governed every waking moment of my existence.
The forest comes first.
It always has.
It always will.
Which is precisely why I know it is mocking me when a familiar voice echoes through the trees.
“Yooo, Pixie!”
I close my eyes.
No.
Absolutely not.
“You can’t keep ghosting me forever! Come on, tiny menace, I brought breakfast!”
My jaw tightens as the forest around me falls suspiciously quiet.
“…Did he just call me Pixie?”
A branch overhead trembles, not from the wind but from unmistakable amusement.
“I am an immortal guardian of an ancient forest. I have witnessed kingdoms rise and crumble into dust. I have survived curses, hunters, wars, and centuries of human stupidity.”
The leaves rustle. Then another branch shakes. A shower of leaves drifts lazily to the ground.
They are laughing at me.
“Pixie,” he calls again, somehow even louder. “You know, it’s generally considered rude to invite a guy back to your place and then ignore him.”
I draw in a slow, measured breath.
“I did not invite him.”
The forest remains infuriatingly silent.
“Oh, do not pretend this is amusing.”
“Pixie! I know you’re here! The creepy trees keep staring at me every time I say your name, so you’re obviously listening.”
My eye twitches.
Centuries.
I have endured centuries.
And somehow this insufferable little idiot has accomplished what armies could not. He has tested the very limits of my patience.
“Right,” he continues cheerfully. “If you’re planning to murder me today, could you at least let me finish the pastries first? They were expensive.”
Enough! If this foolish mortal insists on learning the difference between a witch and a pixie… Then I shall be delighted to educate him.
Every branch stills, the wind vanishes and somewhere in the distance, even the birds fall silent, abandoning their songs as though the entire forest senses what is about to happen.
“Uh…” His confidence finally cracks. “Pixie?”
I raise one hand.
The roots answer before my fingers have fully opened.
They erupt from the earth around his boots, thick as serpents, wrapping around his ankles before climbing higher.
One coils around his waist. Another traps his wrists against his sides.
They tighten with relentless strength until he cannot move anything but his head.
“What the hell—”
The forest jerks him downward, as his boots disappear beneath the moss.
He laughs.
He actually laughs.
“Okay, that’s new.” I hear him say.
Another root coils around his chest as the ground beneath him gives way, turning soft enough for his boots to sink without resistance.
His legs disappear to the knees.
Then higher.
The forest swallows him with slow, patient certainty, like wet sand pulling a careless traveler beneath its surface.
He twists violently, trying to tear himself free, but every movement only drags him another inch deeper.
“So…” he says, glancing down. “I don’t suppose this is your version of a hug?”
I tighten my hand, and the ground answers.
He sinks to his thighs.
The roots pull from every direction, dragging him deeper as the soil folds around his body without resistance, as though welcoming him home.
“You wished to find the witch.”
Another inch.
“You wished to mock her.”
Another.
“You insisted on calling her…” My jaw clenches. “…Pixie.”
The forest shudders with my fury.
He drops to his waist in an instant, as his smile finally begins to fade.
The amusement leaves his eyes as he looks down and realizes the earth is not merely holding him. It is taking him. Slowly. Without the slightest intention of giving him back.
His mouth opens. Whether to apologize, make another ridiculous joke, or utter that insufferable nickname again, I have no intention of finding out.
“Am—”
“Silence!” My voice cracks through the forest with such force that the branches shudder overhead. “You have spoken quite enough, you pathetic attempt of a man.”
The echo rolls between the trees until the entire forest seems to repeat the command.
I raise both hands, making the earth stir. Not with roots. This time, with something far older.
The ground parts in dozens of places. Dark shapes begin slipping through the soil, scales glistening as they emerge one after another.
Snakes.
Small ones.
Large ones.
Black.
Brown.
Grey.
The forest breathes them into existence until they cover the ground around him like living shadows.
He cannot step away. He cannot run. Buried to the waist, he has nowhere to go.
One serpent glides across the roots, binding his wrists.
Another slips over his shoulder before disappearing behind his back.
A third crawls slowly across his chest, its tongue flicking against the fabric of his shirt.
None of them strike. They do not need to.
Fear is a far more obedient servant than venom.
Then… The largest of them all lifts its head. Its scales are black as wet obsidian, its golden eyes fixed entirely upon him. It slides over his shoulder with agonizing slowness, across his collarbone and up the side of his neck.
I watch without blinking.
The serpent pauses beneath his jaw, tongue flicking once against his skin. Then it wraps itself around his throat. One coil. Then another.
The muscles beneath its scales tighten just enough to remind him how fragile a human neck truly is. Not enough to choke. Not yet. Just enough that every swallow becomes a conscious decision.
“Now,” I say, my voice quiet enough to make the forest lean in with me, “perhaps you will finally learn the meaning of a warning.”
I raise my hands and the serpent coiled around his throat senses my intent before I move another inch, its powerful body tightening just enough for his breathing to become shallow without stealing it entirely.
It would be so easy.
One command.
One thought.
The forest would finish what it started long before he ever had the opportunity to make another joke.
After centuries of protecting these woods, I have never once regretted removing a threat before it had the chance to become a greater one.
He is no different.
The decision settles comfortably inside me, and just as I inhale to give the forest its final command, a gunshot tears through the silence. The echo races beneath the canopy, sending every bird into the sky at once.
Another follows.
Then another.
Not the clumsy, panicked firing of frightened travelers. This is deliberate. Disciplined. Searching.
My entire body stills.
They have come.
The serpent around the man’s neck immediately relaxes, sensing my attention shift elsewhere, while every creature in the forest waits for my next command.
I listen.
Voices.
Several of them.
Moving deeper into my forest.
I close my eyes for the briefest moment before letting out a slow, frustrated breath.
“So…” I murmur, more to myself than to the man standing before me. “It appears you are destined to survive today.” My gaze settles on him one last time. “You are fortunate beyond measure, little man, because you have managed to inconvenience me at precisely the right moment.”
The roots binding his body loosen at once, no longer dragging him downward but lifting him with surprising ease until the earth reluctantly releases its hold.
Soil crumbles away from his clothes as he is returned to solid ground, and the snakes retreat just as quickly as they appeared, sliding from his shoulders, chest, and neck before disappearing beneath the moss until not a single scale remains in sight.
He says nothing. For the first time since our paths crossed, he seems to understand that silence is the wiser choice.
“Leave,” I tell him, my voice carrying through every corner of the forest. “Do not return, and pray that our paths never cross again.”
The mist begins curling around my feet.
“I have something far more important to deal with than you.”
Without waiting for a reply, I step backward into the trees, and the forest immediately opens a path before me. The branches fold together again the moment I pass, leaving nothing behind but silence.
By the time he remembers how to breathe, I have already vanished, leaving him alone in the heart of the forest with nothing but the distant crack of another gunshot and the unsettling certainty that, whatever those people have come looking for…
They are looking for me.