Such is the nature of landvættir—they take the form that best allows them to protect what they have pledged to guard.
The enchanted animals are now giant horned monsters of rage and ruin, with leathered skin to protect them from blades, and ravenous fangs ready to tear their enemy apart. They stand in line with Marigold, their commander, as she calls to the water of the lake and brings forth a giant wave that bends over the very top of the wildfire. The water comes crashing down upon the trees, drowning every last flame before the isle is entirely consumed. As she keeps her focus on controlling the water, the landvættir are after Versa.
But the witch does not back down.
Even as they attack her, biting through her delicate skin, snapping her old bones, she is smiling. When one of them throws Versa into a pile of her own ash, she laughs wildly.
“I poisoned you all once. I will do it again,” she swears as she flings her ash into their faces. Marigold watches in horror as their eyes gloss over into milky white spheres.
“Attack her,” Versa commands, and the landvættir turn to Marigold with promises of pain in their eyes.
“No,” she cries as she is still trying to control the water. If she breaks focus, the fire may not be extinguished, or the water could flood the entire isle. She holds her position as long as she can, and then she drops her arms and only prays that she has done enough. The landvættir grab her, each holding one of her limbs with a punishing grasp. They betray themselves as they are forced to bow to Versa’s command. They bring her before the Ash Witch and pin her to the ground, where Lottie is weighed down by her chains. The earth beneath them starts to crack, creating a deep chasm where the stone path used to be. Marigold is held hovering over the edge, and Lottie is just out of reach, now covered by the clouded smoke.
“Is this how you dreamed it would end for you?” Versa screams.
It is. This is her nightmare, only worse because Lottie is suffering right next to her and there is nothing she can do.
The landvættir push her face down farther into the chasm. “Look at your fate, foolish girl. Look at the grave you have made for yourself and the girl you claimed to love.”
Marigold sobs in agony. Versa’s ash swarms all around her, and it breaks her very soul. Every ember is a fragment of Innisfree that has been destroyed. She was not strong enough to stop it, and now she is not strong enough to save it. The wildfire reignites, making a wealth of endless ash that ensures Versa’s victory.
This is where it stops. This is how it ends. People do not often dream of dying, but they should. They should dream of a warm supper at a big table where every seat is full, then lying in their bed made of fresh linens, and the final page of a book that they will read before blowing out a candle for the last time. They should dream of being old and soft and blissfully tired, of having made so many memories that their heart cannot hold any more, of being ready to walk away from their body and into a world of stars. That is what death should be—not this. Not this shock, this unspent grief, this infinite pain consuming the last of her. She can hardly see Lottie through the smoke that is thick enough to feel of heavy fabric, but that may be for the best. Lottie does not deserve the pain of watching her die. Versa stands over Marigold with a bolt of fire hovering in her hand.
“Stop!” Lottie screams, throwing herself in between Marigold and Versa. “I’ll do anything you ask if you let her live.”
Marigold tries to say no, but no sound comes out. She shakes her head, blood sloshing in her ears. The wildfire rages behind them.
“Don’t,” she whispers, but Lottie does not hear.
Immediately, Versa retracts her magic back into herself, eliminating the gray-green glow from the air. “I knew you would break for her.”
Lottie tilts her chin so that the light brushes her feathered jaw. “So did I.”
“This is the offer: You accept your magic and join me. Innisfree is ours, forever. Marigold can live if and only if she obeys my command. She will keep the isle alive for us. Otherwise, she dies.”
Lottie looks down at her with glassy eyes. “I cannot let you die without knowing how it feels to finally love you the way I know I am meant to.” Turning back to Versa, she says, “I accept. Do what you must.”
Chapter Forty-One
The landvættir remain trapped in their monstrous forms, poisoned with ash. Chesha keeps her unwavering grip locked on Marigold. Her wrists are probably broken by now, but her body is starting to go numb. She had to use the rest of her energy to put out Versa’s wildfire—once a fire that big has started, even an Ash Witch will lose control. Summoning a rainstorm was the only way to stop it. She’s now held under the wisteria tree, barely able to stand, watching her world fall apart. Odessa and Talaya take all that is left of her honey and dump it into the lake so that Marigold will have to maintain the isle using only the magic in her blood. Exhausting herself like that, with no honey to restore her, will keep her weak—too weak to fight back.
The Ash Witch ritual is a dark mirror to what Marigold performed with Althea. The tip of Versa’s finger ignites, and she presses the flame onto Lottie’s waiting palm. Lottie winces as the witch presses the sharp point of her long fingernail into her skin until she draws blood. As it pools in her hand, it starts to bubble and boil against the flame, and Lottie screams. Her knees buckle beneath her and she falls to the ground, but Versa keeps a firm grasp on her hand.
“Power is pain. We burn for it,” Versa bellows. Lottie claws at her throat with her other hand until suddenly, she ceases. Her eyes frantically take in the world around her. Can she see the beauty that Marigold sees? Or is there a hidden darkness making itselfknown to her? Versa utters something under her breath, and her eyes glow as the air grows warm around them. Marigold’s skin is burning up as it feels like her blood is boiling in her veins.
“What are you doing to her?” Lottie screams, but Versa gives no response. Marigold is then hovering just above the ground, gasping for air. Her heart feels like it could explode inside her and tear her body to pieces. Black smoke spills out of her mouth as she falls back onto the ground, the impact forcing the rest of the air from her body. As she lies there, unmoving, she feels a weightlessness that she has not felt since before accepting her magic.
The curse is broken. Turning her head slowly, she meets Lottie’s eyes that are filled with worry. Marigold can see the moment her heart gives way to all the love that has been waiting there for so long. Lottie tries to pull away, but Versa will not let her go.
“I love you,” she mouths to Marigold.
Marigold struggles against Chesha’s grasp, unable to break free, unable to get to Lottie’s side. “I love you,” she shouts.
Versa laughs. “Look at what love has made you both.” She picks Lottie up by her hair and walks her over to Marigold. “So weak,” she says, flinging her forward. She clings to Marigold, hugging her waist tightly. “It was always going to end this way, Honey Witch. Your grandmother knew that, too. The only way to win is if you have not a heart to lose.”
She starts walking toward the cottage. “Come, pet. Help me reclaim our home.”
“What about Marigold?”
