“Hells were you—” she tried again. Another kiss.
“Thinking?!” Then she kissed me, flipping me around and pinning me hard against the ground. Her kiss was anger, terror, and relief all mixed into one. I didn’t mind if it never stopped, if I lived out the rest of my days being dominated by Hesper here on the floor of a long-forgotten cottage where an ogre and a gardener almost ate shite while the entirety of Dwindle watched.
Oh.
The entirety of Dwindle was watching. Dozens of faces and bodies smooshed into the front door, trying and failing to avert their gaze from the debauchery playing out before them.
“Nothing to see here, folks!” Angus cleared his throat and began shooing folk away. He side-eyed us and gave a hearty thumbs-up. “No need to stop your… um. Clesper, I mean Hara. Damn it all to hell. I’ll clean up the market and you two just carry on.”
“No, wait!” I said. Hesper hopped off me and offered me her hand. I took it.
I needed to check on the town. What happened when Thanadyn trapped me? Were people hurt? What had been destroyed? The momentary hope from Thanadyn’s death turned brittle in my bones.
“Everything is all right. Well, itwillbe all right…” Angus trailed off, and a heady weight hit my buoyant heart. “No casualties,” he assured me. Relief eased the increasing tension. “But the town. Well…”
“Show me,” I said. Because I knew that no matter what Thanadyn had managed to do, we all could rebuild it. And if Dwindle had lost their hope, I’d hope for them as they did for me. Hesper, still holding my hand reassuringly in hers, led me out into what was left of Dwindle.
The sun shone brightly, but a cloud of sadness filled the air. The market tents were destroyed. Cottages were caved in. Bits of earth were marred from what looked to be fire. Newly repainted shoppes were sucked of their color. The fresh flowers and produce that had adorned the town were now withered away into nothing. Dwindle was in worse shape than it had been when I arrived. A shattered storybook of a town that had tried over and over again to be anything other than broken.
But fear could not be found in Dwindle that day.
The townsfolk were scarred, perhaps, but not daunted. They were all tending to each other, ensuring everyone was taken care of, all wounds were seen to—all the damage could be repaired. A few people whose cottages were still standing had their doors wide open, beckoning people who needed rest and shelter inside.
“What happened?” I dared to ask. Hesper and Angus both shared a look.
“Withering magic took folk,” Hesper finally said. “You went into that house, we lost all the light, and then… then people turned inward. As they did in Starfall—” Her voice broke off; the grip she had on my hand tightened. Angus finished out the rest of the story for her.
“It was horrible,” Angus said, his usual geniality replaced with despondence. “I only knew darkness, and I couldn’tremember who I was or—or anything good—and, I, well, we were the ones to, uh…” His words came in broken shambles. “To, um, we did this.” Shame filled his voice.
“It was not your fault, Angus.” I gripped one of his shoulders, but he would not look me in the eyes. “Angus,” I repeated his name firmly. “You are one of the reasons Dwindle has survived for so long. Your unbreakable spirit and kindness saved this town countless times. Do not let someone else’s evil dictate your own worth.”
He nodded, his eyes glassy.
“This one,” he said, pointing to Hesper, trying to regain composure, “saved many of us from… us.”
I turned to Hesper, and my heart broke for her. She had to relive a nightmare today.
“I am thankful I am immune to the withering magic since I fought it off before,” she said, her words pained. I gave her hand a squeeze.I’m here. I’ll always be here.
“How could we have missed his attack?” I asked. It was so sudden.
“There were signs.” Hesper shook her head in disappointment. “The nestleberry bush rot. Folk bickering with each other. Mabel’s absence. And then today, it was a domino effect. His magic took hold of only a few folk, but the despair others felt watching it happen opened them up to the fear he feeds on. It was the—”
“Perfect storm,” I finished.
The town was in shambles; everyone’s hard work had gone up in flames.
I patted Angus on the shoulder.
“Do not worry. We will fix this together. I don’t know howlong it will take,” I said. My magic felt old and new all at once. I had just freshly learned how to grow a proper garden with the magic; today, I defeated an evil entity with the magic. Tomorrow, perhaps, I could manage to repair cottages. But in this moment, I was drained.
“All in good time.” Angus smiled at me, tears rimming his eyes, then spilling over, creating delicate, wet lines down his soot-covered cheeks.
“All in good time,” I repeated for him and for myself.
Angus turned around to leave us, but a harried woman covered in flour stopped him.
“You’re alive!” Giddy exclaimed. “I thought when I saw the folk go haywire and the sun disappear that we would all be dead. I hid in my kitchen like a coward, then I heard people screaming, so I tried to get out of my door, but it was barricaded by dark things! And I saw fire outside, and all I could think was ‘Not Angus! Not my Angus!’ But you’re alive! You’re so alive!” She squealed, hopping up and down. A small plume of white dust surrounded her, like she was a walking pastry.
