“They came to rescue you, if you’ll remember.” Brigitta’s tone doesn’t change. “And you are not the sole deciders of these events, warrior. We appreciate what you two are doing, but you cannot,will not, be the only ones who take risks.”
I want to argue. But all of my arguments stem from exactly that place: that Otto and Ishould bethe only ones to take risks, because we have been given the greatest responsibility. But if we fail in this mission to stop my brother, everyone will suffer.
We came on this mission with friends, with support.
We have to trust in them.
It would be far easier to believe they have a chance at being safe if they could access wild magic, too,I think. The idea springs fully formed into the midst of my struggle. I pause, expecting a wash of…something. A reason to dismiss the idea. Even a comment from Holda, but that is what she wants, and I realize the thing I am imagining is not other witches deciding to sever from the Well and open up to wild magic, like I did. I am imagining there being no need to sever at all. I am, in one errant, unexpected flash, imagining a world where all magic is wild and free, and we do not have to worry about rules holding us back at all.
A world where no matter what horrors are thrown into our path, everyone has the power to face them.
I prod at my mental defenses. I’m still wearing the charm Cornelia gave me, so none of this is Dieter. And it doesn’tfeellike him, slimy and self-serving. It feels…hopeful.
But it is too close to what he wants.
We do not know what would happen if the Tree broke, if that dam opened.
But…what would the world look like if it was saturated in magic again, as it was before the goddesses funneled magic into the Origin Tree and told witcheswild magicwas bad? What could witches do with that kind of power?
“…has abandoned the city,” Brigitta is saying. “A handful of hexenjägers remain, but most of his numbers are gone, and we heard that their archbishop is dead. With the flash flood now too, Trier is in shambles. But—”
Otto flies to his feet.
I stagger in the absence of him and follow him up, but I’m hit with the wash of his feelings before I even need to ask.
Guilt. Fear. Such fear, intense and choking, and his eyes snap to the west, toward Trier.
But he hesitates. His indecision is an iron chain tugging him one way, another. He wants to help his city; he will stay with me and see this through.
“No one remains to help the people there,” he says. “We cannot linger, I know. But Johann—and I—”
He stops. His lips thin, and I grab his shoulder.
Brigitta stands, too, and her eyes are holding on Otto, her tone and posture still that of a commander. “The city may have no leadership now, but Dieter’s form of leadership was cruelty. They are better off without him; we can all agree on that. And with his influence gone, whoever remains highest in power—some clergy, likely?—will be able to wake up from whatever fog he put them under. The city may be suffering the aftermath of his madness, but they are far better off now.”
Otto’s shoulders relax. I hadn’t noticed how stiff he had gotten. So much of him is still tied to Trier’s fate.
I’m hit with that image again. Of a world saturated in wild magic, so ripe with it that anyone—anyone? Even non-witches?—could tap into it.
Otto wouldn’t have to worry about Trier anymore. He wouldn’t have to stretch himself thin with trying to protect everyone.
The image is spiraling out, my heart racing at the idea of a world that doesn’t have tofear.
But for every innocent person who could access magic, there would be someone with ill intent too. And before all of that,we do not know what breaking the Origin Tree would do. It could destroy everything, the whole of the Well and Black Forest flattened; it could obliterate all magic, or something far worse.
These fantasies are just that—fantasies.
But Otto’s fear is a potent instigator, and I want nothing more than to make real a world where he never has to fear again.
Otto nods at Brigitta, eyes dipping to the ground in deference.
“So Dieter has left Trier with the water stone,” I say.
What if we are wrong about the Alamanni lands? What if we go to this ancient, long-dead settlement, and not only is Dieter not there, but the air stone isn’t as well?
Holda? What can you tell me of the air stone, of the Alamanni, of—
Nothing, she cuts in. She has barely spoken to me since yesterday and has been so consumed in her grief that she didn’t even react to my thoughts about destroying the Origin Tree.
