Chapter Text
On a cool afternoon towards the end of fall, Kiwi and Miriam walked home after lunch at the Crazy Raven. The anniversary of their journey for the Earthsong had come and gone several weeks ago. Kiwi insisted on doing something special to commemorate it, and Miriam insisted on confirming the world wouldn’t try to End again before they celebrated. In truth, the anniversary of the End brought up rough and complicated feelings for her: dread, anger, a strange kind of grief. She waited until those feelings faded before agreeing to a quiet lunch for two.
Kiwi trotted a half-step ahead, humming. Leaves parted before their feet like waves before the prow of a ship. Miriam watched the phenomenon from the corner of her eye. She wondered how much Kiwi recognized their new powers; if they even noticed them at all. She was certain they could sing the sun and moon out of the sky if they wanted. But there was no polite way to ask, have you noticed you’re something of a demigod? Especially since Miriam was sure she couldn’t keep a tinge of jealousy out of her voice. She didn’t begrudge Kiwi’s abilities, but all the same, she wished she’d gotten anything from their journey.
Anything more than a stupid lightning scar, that is.
Kiwi rubbed a hand against their sternum. A slight look of discomfort flitted across their face. Miriam snapped out of her thoughts. “You okay?”
“Mh. Yeah. It’s the change in temperature, I think. My scar always aches when a cold front comes through.”
Miriam pictured the remains of Audrey’s fury beneath Kiwi’s clothes: a radial of bruise-colored fractal branches emanating from their heart, soft at the edges like the feathered tips of ferns, but unmistakable as the touch of lightning. She rubbed at the back of her neck, where a similar fractal bruise spidered down her spine. “Has yours faded at all?” she asked.
“Mmm… maybe an eensy little bit. What about yours?”
“Not in the least.” Miriam’s fingers squeezed her hidden scar in frustration. Lichtenberg figures— the marks lightning left behind— were supposed to fade within a few days. That’s what Clyde had told them, at least, during an after-apocalypse checkup. But it had been nearly a year since their initial injuries. Divine lightning played by different rules. Miriam hated it. She wanted every last scrap of Audrey Redheart to vanish from her life.
“…What do you think happened to Audrey?” Kiwi asked, their voice suddenly quiet and serious.
Miriam wouldn’t meet their gaze. She’d given the matter plenty of thought, and found a certain amount of peace in the answer she’d reached. It wasn’t the kind of thing she liked to talk about with Kiwi, though. “I think she got what she wanted. Oblivion.”
Kiwi nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe. I think… well, I really hope she’s alive.”
“Why? So she can ruin things a second time?”
“No! I mean— Eyala lied to her too, Miriam. She said as much on Mount Ichor. I just wish she’d get a chance to make her own choices. A chance to change. Mask and I have talked about it a lot. They say… sometimes it’s harder to face what you’ve done. That facing up to it, and changing, is more painful than any other divine judgement.” Kiwi worried the cuff of their gloves. “I, um, actually had a dream about it the other night. Eyala was there. She asked me what I thought should happen to Audrey. And I told her to give Audrey a second chance.”
Miriam’s brows pinched slightly. “Do you think it was really Eyala?”
“I don’t know. I almost forgot the dream entirely. I had to think about it really really hard when I woke up.”
“…Have you asked Mask?”
“Yeah. They, uh, said something kinda cryptic and then… didn’t want to talk about it anymore.”
Miriam cursed inwardly. “Great. Now I’ll have to ward the house against angels, I guess. I wish Eya would keep her blessed nose out of our business.” She turned towards the path that led to her cottage. “Are you okay walking home on your own? I could give you a ride back to Langtree.”
Kiwi flushed. They gave Miriam a giddy smile. “Actually, Mask said they’d meet me at the caves. They wanted to try something with the acoustics. What about you? Are you sure you’ll be alright alone while Grandma Sapphy’s on vacation?”
Miriam scoffed. “Please. I hope she stays in Tatango for another month. She deserves it, after everything she did to protect Delphi. I’ll be fine without her.”
Kiwi leaned in close with big, knowing eyes. Miriam scowled. The tips of her ears went pink.
“Okay, okay, I could use some company eventually! You’re welcome to stop by tomorrow. Bring Mask, if they’re not too busy being cryptic on a mountain. Tonight I have very serious plans with a very serious book.”
“Is it the romance novel Francine lent you?”
“It’s literature!” Miriam shrieked, her face gone completely scarlet. “It is very historically accurate and has excellent representation of witches!”
“And a buff lady knight with a sword!” Kiwi said brightly. “Well, have fun! Before I go, though, I should give you this!” They reached out to take Miriam by the hand. They sang a few bars of a simple song. Energy flooded through Miriam’s bones; deep, earth-shaking, a single drop of the infinite potential of the Wandersong. It was the kind of power any coven would kill for.
A bright, sunlit smile broke across Kiwi’s face. “This should help you ward the house against angels, okay?”
Maybe they did know, Miriam thought, her extremities tingling with magic. They knew, and thought nothing of it. She recognized, not for the first time, how Kiwi alone could have saved the universe. Of course the power of creation could only be held by someone who already shone like the sun, by someone who never wanted any of it for themself. Maybe her divine prize was the gift of being their best friend. Miriam offered Kiwi a wry smile in return. “Thanks. Say hi to Mask for me.”
As soon as Miriam got home, she set the locks and pulled all the blinds. She pressed her hands against the door. She visualized Kiwi’s gift flowing out of her as threads of power that wove around the cottage in a snug net, encircling and encasing it entirely. She thought of Eyala, too, and the enmity she felt towards Eya’s messenger. She charged her net to keep the unwanted angel out. It might not shield her forever, but it would certainly send the right message.
Then she brewed herself a cup of tea and sat down with a copy of Dawn of the Laterose.
Hours passed. The autumn sun slipped below the hills. Miriam’s body grumbled about dinner. She begrudgingly put a pot of stew over the fire to reheat, and kept reading.
The sound of frantic knocking shattered the silence.
Miriam startled at the intrusion. Her head snapped up from her book. The world had gone dark beyond the curtains; the various light-crystals glowed dimly in the rafters. Miriam glanced at the clock with a grumble. She clambered out of her chair. Few people would dare to knock at a witch’s door; fewer still would dare it this late at night. She knew for sure it wasn’t Kiwi. They knocked light and fast, like a polite, eager bird. Whoever graced her doorstep sounded like they were trying to wake the dead. Miriam swung the door open before her visitor could put a dent in the wood. She took a breath to launch into her “this better be serious” speech—
And froze.
Staring back at her in surprise was none other than Audrey Redheart. Eya’s chosen, the Hero destined to destroy the universe. The egotistical, self-serving bully who had nearly killed Kiwi. The person Miriam despised most in the entire world—
That Audrey Redheart, who, until now, Miriam had quietly assumed was dead.
Miriam blinked back the fog of rage before she did something rash. She noticed, with a hint of pride, that Audrey too was speechless, ogling her with a mix of shock and terror. Good. She deserved a little terror in her life. Might teach her a bit of humility. Miriam scowled.
“No,” she snapped, and moved to slam the door.
“Wait!” Audrey cried. She lunged forward, catching the doorframe. She sunk against it. “I need a witch, okay? The people in town told me one lived here. If I had known it was you, I never would have bothered. But I’m here, and you’re here, so… let’s just get this over with.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I need a potion!”
“Of what, power? I don’t brew for people who try to destroy the universe.”
Audrey let out a shuddering breath. Her head dipped in the dark. “Okay, okay. Fine. Whatever. Can I at least… crash here for the night?”
Miriam opened her mouth to spit, there’s an inn in town, turn around and start walking, but a little flicker of Kiwi’s secondhand kindness made her pause. Audrey did, admittedly, look as though she had been walking for days. Mud crusted her boots and flecked the hem of her pants. Dark circles hung beneath her eyes, deeper than what shadows alone could cast. Her hair was windblown and frizzy. The bottom half of her shirt was stained with an oblong blotch, and even her scarf showed streaks of crusted gunk. Miriam sighed. Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible idea to invite Audrey in. At least then she could hex the Hero if things turned sour.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll set up the spare bed.”
Audrey heaved herself over the threshold. A wry smile flashed on her face. “Wow, I can’t believe you trust me that much.”
“Trust? Mm, no. Touch anything and you’ll wake up as a toad.”
Audrey blanched. She removed her hand from the doorframe. She took a couple of casual swipes at the mark she’d left behind. Miriam rolled her eyes.
“Close that door before you let in any bugs. What are you doing here, anyway?”
Audrey shrugged with strained nonchalance. She propped herself against the door until it swung shut. “Oh, you know. Fighting monsters. Hero stuff.”
Miriam gave her a quick once-over. She arched an eyebrow. “Right. I figured somebody like you would be off in the spirit realm eating ambrosia salad with Eya, instead of tracking mud into my house.”
Audrey’s expression hardened. She wouldn’t look at Miriam directly. That said more than enough, given the situation.
“Did Eya take you off the payroll?” Miriam asked icily.
“Something like that,” Audrey muttered. She wiped her boots on the mat.
Miriam bit back the next snippy remark perched on her tongue. A sliver of pity was starting to wriggle into her mind. She didn’t like it. Instead, she shuffled Audrey to a table in the main room and dropped a bowl of stew in front of her guest. “Here. Grandma Sapphy would kill me if she found out I didn’t feed you.”
Audrey undid her scarf and let it fall to the floor. She poked at the lumps of vegetables. “What is it?”
“Cream of toad,” Miriam said blithely. She pointed at the pearl onions. “Those are newt’s eyes.”
Audrey looked queasy. Miriam smiled to herself in silent delight. She served herself a bowl of stew and went about eating it with exaggerated gusto. Audrey reluctantly forced herself to taste a few spoonfuls.
“So,” Miriam drawled. “I see you’ve got a new sword.” She waggled her spoon at the greatsword strapped to Audrey’s back. The Hero’s face darkened. She shifted in her seat, as if she could hide the weapon.
“Yep.”
“What happened to the old one?”
“Eya took it back.”
Miriam arched one eyebrow. Now there was some interesting news. Audrey with any sword was a dangerous prospect, but now she’d be confined to close-quarters combat. Miriam would have the advantage next time they fought— provided she kept her distance. Audrey seemed to be aware of this, because she sulked more sullenly over her stew. Miriam polished off her own bowl with renewed reassurance. Neither made any further attempt at conversation.
“Well, this has been absolutely riveting,” Miriam muttered. “I’m going to go set up the spare bed. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
“When have I ever done anything—” Audrey coughed, winced, made a face. “—stupid?”
“We’ll be here all night if you want a full list. I meant sampling the potions behind my back. Keep your hands to yourself, or you really will wake up as a toad.”
Audrey paled to a lovely shade of grey. Miriam stalked down the hall to the guest room.
It felt strange to set up the space for someone other than Kiwi. Bits of them lingered in the decor: sheet music in the bookshelf, a glass vase stuffed with feathers they’d found. Miriam frowned. It almost seemed sacrilegious to let Audrey spend the night here. She’d have to give the place a thorough cleaning before Kiwi visited again. Maybe a good dose of salt. And an exorcism.
Miriam smoothed the blankets on the bed. She plucked a feather from the vase; a tiny one, from a songbird. She twirled it between her fingers. What kind of potion did Audrey want, anyway? What would happen now that she wouldn’t get it? Would the Hero go somewhere else?
Would she find her way to Langtree?
Would she find Kiwi?
What would she do, when they welcomed her with open arms and dreams of change?
Miriam shoved the feather back into the vase. Now wasn’t the time to be worried about that. Audrey was under her roof and her rule. Miriam wasn’t helpless. If it came down to it, she’d knock Eya’s Special Girl straight into the cargo hold of the next ship out of Delphi.
Miriam returned to find the Hero half-dozing in her chair. Miriam gave a sharp rap on the table to announce her presence. “Hey. Bed’s ready.”
Audrey startled awake at the noise. She gasped, then winced. She put a hand over her stomach and let out a low hiss.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Audrey said. “Just a stomach ache. Probably because of all those toads you fed me.” She pushed the bowl away, stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be gone before sunrise.”
Miriam didn’t protest. She watched the Hero shuffle off down the hall. Then she stood there a while longer, contemplating the fire, before moving to clean up the dishes. She found Audrey’s scarf still in a messy heap on the floor. Miriam let out a disapproving cluck. Eya’s own Hero couldn’t clean up after herself, the egotistical wretch. She stooped to pick it up. Maybe she’d do Audrey a favor and clean those crusty streaks— not that her guest really deserved another favor.
Something about the stains caused Miriam to pause. She tilted the scarf in the firelight. Tested it, carefully, with the pad of her thumb. The truth offered itself up in cold clarity. Miriam let out a hissed swear. She tossed the scarf aside and sprinted down the hallway to the guest room.
It wasn’t dirt that stained Audrey’s clothes.
It was blood.