White Witch, Black Magic
Chapter Fifteen: I Learn Black Magic

When I wake, light is just peeking over the treetops of the Sylvian forest. It’s right before sunrise. If I don’t show up soon, the witches will come after me. After my friends.

I slide out of bed. Quietly, so as not to disturb Jake, I dress and pull my hair back into a ponytail. I forgo wearing the boots for now; they’ll make too much noise. I have one hand on the doorknob, boots tucked under my arm, when I glance back. Jacob is sprawled across the chair, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. His brown hair is a mess and hangs into his eyes. I realize, if I leave and never return, they won’t know what happened. I can’t do that to Jake. To any of them.

I set the boots down beside the bed, pick up a spare piece of parchment, and write a note. Dearest friends, I begin. Then I scribble that out, because it sounds silly. I think for a moment before starting again.

Jacob,

I know you will be the one to replace this. Tell the others what I’ve done.

Last night, at the ball, I saw her, the witch leader. Jardaine. We’ve met her before; she was the dragon. I can’t let her hurt you. Any of you. And she will if I don’t go to meet her—alone. I don’t know what is going to happen to me, but you will all be safe. Wish Avaysia good luck with her wedding. Tell Bella that, eventually, she will replace a way home. And Wren, when you get back to Regnum, please try to get King Dominic to let my family go. Tell them what happened. Tell them I’m sorry. And tell them that I love them.

Jake, I know you are going to want to come after me. That’s just who you are. But don’t. Please don’t. I couldn’t bear it if you were to get hurt. So stay away. That’s my final request. Stay away, and stay safe.

I don’t know if I will ever see you again.

I’m so sorry.

All my love,

`

Emma

I set the letter on the bedside table, where I know Jake will replace it. I turn to go again, but Jake mutters something in his sleep and I glance back. He shifts in the chair and mumbles something that sounds like no. I wonder what he’s dreaming of. Gently, I brush back the hair that has fallen into his face. He looks so peaceful. On impulse, I lean forward and kiss his cheek.

“Goodbye, Jake,” I whisper.

Almost in reply, he whispers something back. I smile. Then I glance out the window again. Time is running out. I fly on silent feet out of my room, down the hall, and to the kitchens. I grab a cold roll from the night before and dash off again.

I burst through the front doors and dart down the sweeping stone steps. The sun is coming up much too fast. I run to the stables, the ground cold beneath my bare feet. I forgot my boots! But there’s no time to go back for them.

Neverard! I cry.

Emma?

We have to go!

I run to the gate and swing it open. Neverard gallops towards me, past me, and I swing the gate shut again. I leap onto Neverard’s back and we steak off towards the woods. Somehow, we both know where we need to go.

As we disappear into the trees of the Sylvian forest, I whisper Jake’s last words to me. The ones he won’t remember, because he was sleeping. But he’ll hear them from me, because I wrote them in that letter. Stay safe.

I will try to be safe. I will. But when you’re dealing with witches, it’s sort of hard to make promises like that. But I will try.

Just as Jardaine said, I know the way. It’s as if there’s a faint glow around the bushes and trees, marking out a trail. Neverard seems to sense it as well, because he follows the path without hesitation. Once, I glance behind us. The glowing trail isn’t there. It must disappear as we pass. The message of this is clear.

There’s only one way to go, I think. Forwards.

Neverard moves as quickly as he can through the tangle of trees, but I worry that the brisk trot won’t be fast enough. The sky is lightening, the shadows lengthening, and the colorful clouds are starting to pale. Will they know I’m coming? Or will they just nip off to the castle and kill my friends?

What if we’re too late? I ask Neverard.

We won’t be.

Can’t you go faster?

You’ll be no help to anyone if I twist an ankle and you hit your head.

But Neverard breaks into a canter. His hooves beat the ground. I hunch over, staying low, trying to avoid branches and minimize wind resistance.

The sky is blue now, and all traces of the colors are gone. But the glow of the trail is brightening. We’re close. I can feel it. Neverard splashes through a stream, leaps over a knoll, and bursts into a clearing.

It’s about fifty feet across and is perfectly circular. In the exact center is a fire pit with a huge black cauldron hanging over it. The perimeter is lined with nine little shelters. The one directly across from me is the biggest, and probably the most important. Shelters two and three, to the left and right of the large one, are about half the size. All the rest are barely large enough to accommodate a single person.

Jardaine steps from the biggest tent. Her golden hair is braided down her back and she’s dressed in a red velvet gown with black around the hem, neck, sleeves, and waist. Her dark purple eyes stand out against her pale face.

Another person emerges from the shelter and stands just behind Jardaine. It takes me a moment, but I recognize her. It’s Kitara.

“Hello, Emma,” Kitara says. “I told you that Jardaine would never give up. We always win.”

“Were you comfortable in that box?” I ask.

She bares her teeth and is about to reply, but Jardaine interrupts her.

“Enough,” she says, raising a pale, long-fingered hand. “I will not have this quarreling. Kitara, if all goes as I hope, Emma will be your sister. Put aside your petty squabbles and treat her as such.”

“Yes, Jardaine,” Kitara murmurs.

“Thank you.” Jardaine turns to me. “You were very stubborn about coming. But I finally found your weakness—the same weakness all decent people have. You wish to protect those you love. Now that you are here, I would like you to meet your sisters.”

“I have only one sister. Her name is Hattie.”

Jardaine’s smile is pure evil. “Future sisters, then. Girls?”

The witches begin emerging from the tents. The one with the silvery white hair I recognize immediately: she’s Malinda, the veela. She holds the black cat that cropped up so many times during our journey. The cat glows brightly and transforms into a girl with brown hair. There’s a girl with snow colored hair who I recognize as well. She’s the one who pretended to be Winter.

There are ten of them in all. They form a half-circle facing me. Jardaine leaves her place in the center of the semicircle to stand next to me. She smiles reassuringly and indicates one of the witches.

“My name is Sara,” the girl says. She flips her glossy black hair over her shoulder. “S-A-R-A. No ‘h’. I’m glad you’ll be joining us. It’ll be nice to have a new sister.”

The girl to her left extends a hand. “Loraine,” she says. I look at her hand, then up into her pale purple eyes. This is the girl that pretended to be Winter. I don’t take her hand, and after a moment, she drops her arm to her side.

The girl next to her has red hair. It isn’t quite as vibrant as Vicky’s or even Arista’s, more of a reddish brown. “Ginny,” she tells me with a smile. Unlike Sara and Loraine, she seems genuinely pleased that I’m here. I accept her handshake but don’t return her grin.

I refuse to smile at or shake hands with Malinda the Veela. Jardaine passes over her spot and onto Kitara, who I also stare at coldly. The black cat girl is next.

“Carinthia,” she says. She doesn’t smile or offer to shake hands, as though indifferent to me. She ignores the icy glare Jardaine shoots her, so I give her a small nod.

Melissa has auburn hair and a friendly, freckled face. Raini is a stereotypical witch. Everything about her is black: the chin-length hair; the shirt, leggings, miniskirt, and combat boots; the fingerless gloves; even her lips. She’s gone so far as to wear a pointed black hat and paint her fingernails black. She ignores me, so I ignore her.

Elizabeth is as different from Raini as day from night. She’s a chubby blonde with rosy cheeks and a big grin. Her hair sticks out from her head in wild corkscrews as she shakes me hand.

This clearing is feeling smaller by the moment. I can feel the animosity radiating off of almost all of them. Only Elizabeth and Ginny seem at all friendly and the general aura is one of extreme hostility.

“So,” I say, trying to think of something to follow it up with. All I can think to do is keep them talking, to buy myself time while I seek an out. “What can you each turn into?”

“Show her, girls,” Jardaine says.

There’s a flash of bright light and almost all the girls disappear. I look around the semicircle the same way the girls were introduced. Sara has become a snake; Loraine is again a snow white horse; Ginny a black bear cub; Malinda the veela; Kitara a unicorn; Carinthia the familiar black cat; and Melissa a butterfly. Raini stands, unchanged, and Elizabeth is gone completely. Then I realize that the round maple to my right wasn’t there before. Elizabeth turned into a tree.

“You, too, Raini,” Jardaine says.

“You didn’t transform,” Raini grumbles.

“Emma already knows what I look like as a dragon. She tried to play the part of the brave little witch and even managed to, ah, remove one my claws.” Jardaine holds up her damaged hand. She says it like it doesn’t bother her, but I notice her expression has become rather fixed. “Go on, Raini.”

“Fine,” she sighs.

She’s every parents’ teenage nightmare. She stalks into the shade of a large oak tree, flips back her hair, and transforms into a bat. The bat flaps its wings and hovers in the air for a moment, then turns back into a girl.

“Thank you.” Jardaine sounds irritated.

“You aren’t welcome.” Raini’s expression is sour. Her attitude is even blacker than her clothes.

Jardaine turns to me. “You see, Emma? There is so much to be gained by joining us!”

Yeah, I think. Who wouldn’t want a whole team of psychopathic sisters who dragged you here by threatening those you love? I say nothing.

“It’s the smart thing to do,” Jardaine continues.

“Yeah? Well, I’m not known for doing the smart thing.”

“You are not known for anything.”

Ouch. “That’s not true,” I tell her. “I’m fairly well known for my stunt at the tournament. Ask just about anyone in Regnum. They’ll tell you the whole story, and probably with a wealth of detail.”

“Yes. You’re feared. But wouldn’t you so much rather be revered?”

“And joining you will do that?”

“Of course.”

“It doesn’t seem to me that anyone cares much for any of you. Do the people in Flumen even know you’re out here?”

“We could make ourselves known to them if we chose.”

“And why do you choose not to?”

“We like our privacy.”

“Because they’ll never worship you, Jardaine, and you know it. All you can do is make people fear you. I bet that drives you crazy. I’ll bet you don’t even know the first thing about deserving someone’s respect.”

In the distance, I hear thunder rumble. A warning? Or is Jardaine loosing control? Maybe someday I’ll be known for getting underneath people’s skin. The thought makes me smile, which seems to aggravate Jardaine even more. Her eyes flash and I think, Well, that’s it. They’ll just do away with me, now.

Then she takes a deep breath, calming herself. “Emma, this is going the wrong way. I didn’t bring you here to argue with you. I wanted to show you how to embrace yourself. To teach you all the things you can do.”

“Like turn into an animal? Or plant?”

“Exactly.”

“What other reasons would make me stay?”

“What do you mean?” Jardaine asks. Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Why wouldn’t you stay?”

“I have a family and friends waiting for me. You want me to stay here with you. So there’d better be something really amazing about this…Witches’ Coven if you think I’m going to leave all of them for you guys.”

“There’s the power,” Raini says.

“The admiration,” Malinda adds.

“I want no part of your admiration,” I tell her. “You are a cruel person who delights in tormenting others.”

“There’s wealth and fame,” Ginny cuts in.

“This is what you call wealth and fame?” I gestured around the clearing. “Hiding in the woods, living in little tents barely large enough for one person?”

“That’s not true!” Elizabeth protests. “Jardaine and Kitara have a more spacious shelter.”

“Yes, your leader and her second-in-command have adequate housing. And the rest of you?”

“We could make them bigger if we wanted to,” Sara insists. “We just…don’t want to?” It sounds more like a question than a statement. “So is that enough for you?”

“No. Do any of you even want to be here? Or is Jardaine just forcing you all into it?”

They all become very interested in their own toes. Elizabeth’s face is red and Ginny is shifting from foot to foot.

“Emma, imagine what would happen if you went back to Regnum,” Jardaine says, trying to direct the conversation in a desirable fashion.

“The king would let my family go, as he promised.”

“Would he?”

“Yes.” My answer sounds sure, but suddenly, I’m not so confident. Would King Dominic really let them go? Or would he keep them as more leverage? Wouldn’t he love to have a witch fighting for him?

Jardaine must see the uncertainty on my face. She smiles. “Oh, Emma, don’t be so positive. Kings are just men with fancy crowns and more money and power. He only wants to control you.”

“Nobody’s controlling me.”

“Really? Would you have come on this mission if it weren’t for you family? If it was still optional, would you have risked your neck for a little gold?”

I think about it. I’d gone to that tournament hoping to win, hadn’t I? That had been before my family was taken hostage. No one made me.

“Yes, I would have gone,” I say to Jardaine. “But not for gold. For the sake of my country. Avaysia told me that King Louis was going to attack if his demands weren’t met.”

“He’d never get through the Sylvian forest.”

“I have a feeling that traversing the wood isn’t that dangerous. It was only because of you that we had a hard time. If I were a normal girl, Wren, Avaysia, and I would have made it with plenty of time to spare.”

“What makes you say that?” she asks.

“You sicked the giant on us.”

“If that giant weren’t so stupid, he would have grabbed you instead of Avaysia,” Jardaine grumbles. “But Carinthia didn’t do her job well enough. She told him to take the sparkly one.”

My hair had been sparkly that day, like it had been laced in dew. But Avaysia was always glittering because of all the gems she wore.

“Did you make my hair gleam?” I demand.

“No. That’s something that happens to every girl who becomes a witch. All it takes is realization and a first spell.”

“Were the wolves you?”

“Of course not. We wanted you alive, not ripped to shreds. And Avaysia’s swim was her own doing.”

“And the ogre? The rainstorm and the unicorns?”

“The ogre yes; the other two no. But, as you know, Winter bolted with you intentionally. I was the dragon, and the veela was Malinda. And Kitara was a plant, of course.”

“What about that net that caught me?”

“That was all you. It was quite…impressive.”

“I’m more powerful than half of you,” I guess. I peer closely at all their eyes. Mine are a darker purple than everyone’s, except Jardaine’s. Kitara’s are about the same. “More than almost all of you.”

“Emma, what makes you say that?”

“My eyes. Only yours are darker. Kitara’s are similar, but everyone else’s—even Malinda’s—are lighter.”

“So?”

“The darker your eyes, the more powerful your magic.”

Jardaine smiles. “Discovered that, have you? Just imagine what sort of creature you could become. Something as powerful as a unicorn.”

“But not as strong as a dragon?”

“You mustn’t push yourself. If Ginny tried to turn into a unicorn, she would kill herself. She is too weak. Of course, I could become a bear cub if I chose.”

“So?”

“There are so many things you could become by joining us. The power you would wield would be incredible. With you by our side, we might even try to take over. To show the world who is in control. Make them run and hide for hundreds of years. You could live in comfort. Wear beautiful clothes…” Jardaine waves her hand. “Be the envy of every girl.”

My clothes melt into a dress. The fabric is light and soft. The design is intricate with swirls of black over the dark purple. It billows around me, and I know I must look beautiful. But still…it’s a dress. What’s more, it’s an illusion, because underneath, I can still feel the well-wore fabric of my own clothing.

“What of my friends and family? Would you chase them off?” I ask.

“No. They could stay with us. But we will outlive them.”

“Why?”

“The more power a witch has, the longer her natural life will be. I won’t begin to grow old for another fifty years. Even once I start aging, I won’t die any sooner than anyone else would.”

I try to wrap my mind around that. Staying young for fifty plus years. Watching my friends age and die. Being this age when Hattie is a grandmother.

“Imagine going up against Dominic. Taking back your family. You could punish him however you see fit: lock him in his own dungeon, force him to live in a cave, even kill him. If you really wanted, you could send him off to a different world. To Bella’s world.”

I remember the terrifying place I saw when we first met Bella. Sending anyone there would be horrible. Does anyone, even Dominic, deserve that? Despite how eager Bella is to get home, I get the feeling that anyone who didn’t grow up in the place would never belong.

“You can do that?” I ask.

“Not yet. But once we’ve taken over we will be able to. You are stronger than you know. Team up with us, and we will build a new empire. One that will last a lifetime.” She laughs. “A witch’s lifetime.”

“What would happen after that?”

“Who cares? You’ll be gone by then.”

“But what would happen?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the empire will fall. Or maybe more witches will arise to take it over. Maybe it will last for the next thousand years. Even witches cannot tell the future, but this is a likely possibility.”

Something rises up in me. I want this. I want to make Dominic pay, to take control. To rule the world with my sisters. What will it be like when I’m in charge? I’ll end royalty. The six little daughters will go free. Avaysia will marry whom she chooses. Bella can go home.

Then I shake my head. What am I thinking? Why would I end royalty? Once my Witches’ Coven is in control, we will be the royalty, and petty things such as marriage won’t matter any more. The people will be far too busy serving my sisters and me to worry about that.

My Witches’ Coven? a voice in my head asks.

Yes, they will be mine, I answer it. I’m stronger than Jardaine. We’re almost equals now, when I’m young and raw and untrained; she’s old and practiced.

A warm feeling washes over me. I glance down and see that I am literally glowing. Power surges through me. I lift my arms and throw my head back. Light streams from me. I could take over everyone! I could rule the world! I could—

Wait, part of me thinks. This is wrong.

Every other part of me argues back, insisting this is what I’ve always wanted. What I deserve. That this is meant to happen. But something inside me refuses to listen. Something wants me to jump back onto Neverard and ride as fast and as far as I can.

But that’s such a tiny part. I know my magic is taking me over. It’s running away with me, as Avaysia would say. Avaysia! I think. Can I really do this to her? Take everything she knows?

She was never kind to you. Not until she discovered what you could do. She isn’t worth the mud on your boots.

She cares for you, the small part of me argues back. She trusts you. And what of your other friends?

There are no friends, only power!

Think of Wren, Bella, your parents, Will, Tom, and Hattie. Innocent little Zoë, Alex and Arista, and all the little princesses. Avaysia’s siblings. And Jake.

My head hurts. I feel as though my heart is being torn in two. The magic is pulling it one way, the hope and love the other. This must be why the other witches are all as dark as night, even the ones who seem decent enough. Magic is black, and they have allowed themselves to be completely consumed by it. The power takes over, washing away concerns, melting resolves, and pulling you in deeper and deeper. There is no good magic. There are no white witches. It’s only black magic. A swirling dark cloud that engulfs anything in its path, blocking out the world, making everything go away. All that’s left is a thirst for power.

I don’t want this! I think frantically. This isn’t me. This isn’t who I am. I’m not meant to turn evil.

But it’s so hard to fight. The pull keeps getting stronger and stronger. I can’t stand against this. There isn’t enough strength in me for that. Or is there?

Thunder rumbles again. A storm is rolling in, bringing the dark clouds that threaten to consume me. The others must have discovered I’ve left. They’ll know what I’ve done. Hopefully, they have respected my final wish and aren’t coming after me.

And then, in the distance, I hear someone calling my name. The wind picks up, carrying the words away from me, but I’m pretty sure it’s Jake. He’s nearby. Despite the letter, he’s come to replace me.

“Emma!” he calls. “Emma, where are you?”

Though I told him to stay away, that small part of me that is still fighting is glad he came. His voice gives me the strength to hang onto myself. He cares from me enough to risk his neck and defy my last wish. He is, without a doubt, the most loyal person I have ever met. How can I give in to this magic when he is still fighting for me? How can I give up on myself until he has quit?

I can’t.

I tear my eyes from the gathering gloom in the sky and stare around the circle of witches. Each of them is gathering their own darkness. It’s like the reverse of putting off light; their auras devour any speck of light near them. They shimmer in their personal puddles of black misery.

“I won’t join you!” I scream over the wind.

Jardaine’s face contorts. “You will!” she shrieks. “Whether you want to or not, you will!”

Her aura ripples as she reaches her arms up, making a V. She pulls her arms in and cups her hands over each other. I see a flash of darkness between her palms, then she puts the heels of her hands together, pivoting her fingertips away from each other and towards me. A stream of the blackness shoots from her hands and hits me in the chest, knocking me flat on my back.

Jardaine is leeching my power, making it even harder to fight. I struggle to my hands and knees. Jardaine hisses and another black stream, Kitara’s, joins hers. I fall back again.

“Help me take her down!” Jardaine screams at the rest of the witches. “Take her out and we shall all have her power. She will be one of us, and we are all one and the same.”

They close the gap they had left earlier and creep ever closer, forming a tighter and tighter circle around me. Each performs the same spell and adds their own streams of black to the others. Some aren’t that powerful, but their combined force is more than I can bear.

I can’t think. I can’t move. It’s a struggle to breathe. I can barely keep my eyes open. It would be so much easier just to give in. To let the magic carry me away. As I start to let go, I feel my body lighten somehow. I manage to lift my head and look around myself.

I’m glowing again, but instead of white, the light around my body is inky black. My aura matches those of the other witches. I begin to lift off the ground. I float up, as though I’m being pulled up from my waist: my head, arms, and legs hang down.

Seven feet off the ground, I start to tip. My feet drop as my head comes up, so I’m standing on nothing. The black streams are still funneling into me, taking a bit more of me every passing second, channeling their power into me and mine into them, like an infinity loop of power.

Then I begin to change. My body shrinks. My fingers lengthen and webbing sprouts between them. My toes become curved little claws. I’ve become a bat, just as Raini can. As soon as I complete the transformation, I start to change again. My body flattens, my wings and legs tucking up to my sides and disappearing. I turn into a long, thin line—a snake. Immediately, my form twists again as I am forced to experience what it is like to be turned into all the things the other witches become. I go from snake to butterfly to black cat. Then my four little legs lengthen and strengthen. I develop into a horse with snow white fur. My coloring darkens, horn sprouts from my head, and power surges through my body.

I think it’s finally over when I return to a human form, but it isn’t. My skin is pasty white and flawless, and my hair is a sheen of silver. I’m the veela—and then I know what’s coming next. I haven’t yet turned into a dragon.

Up until this point, the transformations hadn’t hurt. But now, fire rips through me, burning me up from the inside out. I remember what Jardaine said, how if one of the others were to try to become a dragon, they would die. Is that what’s happening? Is this last change going to be the literal death of me?

Jardaine must see my strength cracking and the pain mounts and the power flows through me. She lets out a cackle as she stares into my face.

“What happened to all the defiance, Emma? I thought you were so sure of yourself. Or was that all just a show? Are you not the brave little witch you pretend to be?”

Beneath her taunts, I hear my name again, echoed around the clearing. Or maybe it’s just in my own head. Either way, it’s Jake’s voice, screaming for me. He sounds lost and afraid and so much younger. I remember how much loss he has faced. The pain he let slip when he told me his past and the relief it brought him to confide in someone. Can I let him go through that torment again? If I give in, he will be alone in the world again.

The pain is tantamount to everything I have ever felt compiled together, but I will survive this. If not for myself, for my family, and for my friends, then for Jake.

Jardaine is still shrieking with cruel laughter, her last words ringing in my ears.

Brave little witch.

“No!” I shout back at her.

Her laughter dies in her throat but that grin is still there, lips curving in an evil smile. “What did you say, little girl?”

Brave little witch.

“I am not.”

“Not what?”

“I am not a brave little witch. And I never want to be.” Her smile falters as disbelief creeps in. Now it’s my turn to grin. “You heard me. Because to be brave is never face your fear. To deny that you are afraid at all.”

Jardaine screams in fury. The burning intensifies as the blackness darkens further. I grit my teeth as my arms grow. My fingers move farther apart and curve down. Webbing fills the gaps between them, creating huge, powerful wings. I have four legs instead of two, glittering gold talons, and a thick blue hide.

I am a dragon, the symbol of unstoppable power. But it is a power I have no desire to control.

Jardaine is grinning up at me again. Her face is flushed from exertion. The others share her eager expression and reddened cheeks.

“We will have you, Emma! You’re heroics will amount to nothing!” Jardaine calls over the growing wind. “There will be nothing left of the brave little witch, and there will be nothing left to fear.”

I can’t open my mouth to answer. I’m too focused on staying myself. I don’t want to give in to the magic. The dark streams keep getting blacker and blacker, sucking more of whom I really am. Draining me away.

I concentrate on all the people I love: my family and friends. A warm feeling sweeps through me, barely noticeable beneath the cold of the black magic and the chill of the wind. I capture that heat and urge it to grow, to uncoil itself inside me.

I remember the storm in the Sylvian forest, how we huddled together and confided in one another. And another storm, one that seems a lifetime ago. A lesson my mother wanted us all to learn and remember.

It’s okay to be afraid, Emma, Mama’s voice says. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to admit that you’re frightened. But don’t give in to your fears. You must always have courage.

“I am afraid,” I yell into the wind. “But I’m not afraid to admit it. And I am stronger than you. Than all of you!”

“Don’t listen to her!” Jardaine screams. “She’s raving! We’re getting close to our victory!”

“I am strong enough to face my fears and to triumph. I have something you will never have, something you have always wanted but have never understood.”

The warmth within me is growing, blocking out the blackness, giving me new determination. Jardaine stares at me with a hunger in her eyes. Despite what she told the others and her warnings not to listen to me, she wants to hear what I have to say. Somewhere deep inside, there’s a burning need in her to know more.

“And what’s that?” she demands.

“I love and am loved, and I will always have the capacity to love. And, because of this, I have the strength of those who love me, something that is with when I need it most.”

The blackness has all gone from me, and still, the warmth is growing. I take the heat and push out from myself. The steams begin to lighten. Starting where they touch me, they brighten, from black to dark blue.

I look Jardaine straight in the eye and say, “I have courage.”

She hisses as I take a deep breath and push against the black again. Slowly, bit by painful bit, I create a halo of white light around myself. The black still streams into it though. It’s still pulling on me.

“What are you doing?” Jardaine snarls.

I throw back my head; arms spread wide, fingers stretched apart. The white brightens and begins to creep up the black. They fight back. I can feel them trying to push the black towards me. But I refuse to give in. I force it towards them. With every centimeter of black the white takes over, I move a little closer to the ground. When the tips of my toes brush the grass, the black is all but gone.

“I can’t let go!” Raini screams. She’s desperately trying to break her connection with the streams of light, but it holds fast to her hands.

“Neither can I!” Sara cries out.

They’re all trying to pull their hands away. All but Malinda, Kitara, Loraine, and Jardaine. The lack of help from all the others makes it that much easier to push the white that last little bit.

I free myself and destroy all the black magic in them. Lightening flashes and thunder booms. My feet hit the grass and I topple face-first into the dirt. I think I black out for a minute. When I open my eyes, the rain has begun to fall. The six witches who didn’t fight at the end are all still there, but they’ve been hurled backwards to the edge of the clearing. The other four are gone.

I stagger to my feet. I don’t think any of the six will pursue me once I’m gone, but I don’t want to be here when they wake. I teeter towards the trees, arms stretched out for balance. I fall into a pine, then bounce off several maples. I’m so dizzy. And tired…so tired.

I’ve completely lost all sense of direction. I stagger around blindly until I stumble back into the clearing. The witches are still unconscious, thankfully. I run across the clearing as fast as I can. My feet pound the ground, arms still stretched to the sides. Suddenly, my feet have risen off the grass. I glance down and don’t see bare toes but talons. I flap my arms—no, wings—and soar above the grass.

Then I’m falling. I hit the dirt and roll. I’m a human girl again. I clamber to my feet and take off. I manage to make it to the top of the knoll Neverard leaped in one bound on the way here. But I’m too worn out to make it any farther. I stand atop the hill, swaying. The rain is pouring down. Lightening flashes. When the thunder booms, I almost jump, but I’m too tired to.

“Emma!”

Someone is calling for me. I turn my head in the direction the noise came from. I hear a horse nicker.

“Emma, where are you!”

Neverard. I think. What happened to Neverard?

I try to remember the last time I saw him. Did he disappear before or after I started transforming? I can’t think straight. All I know is that he wasn’t there when I left. The wind whips past me, beating the rain into my body. My eyes slide close.

“Emma!”

Is that Jake coming for me?

“Emma, where are you?”

Or is it my own imagination?

Emma, Emma, Emma, my thoughts echo. Where are you? Are you? You…you…you…

I open my mouth to cry out to him. Even if he isn’t real, I fell like I should acknowledge him. I want to tell him all the things I never go the chance to say. I want to see my friends again. And my family.

My legs give out and I collapse. I roll down the other side of the hill and splash into the creek. Mud fills my open mouth. Water runs up my nose. The current pushes me over onto my side, facing upriver.

I manage to think, After all that, I’m I going to die here.

Then I pass out.