When she lifts her head, her eyes are full green. No whites. No pupils. Just endless forest staring out of a face caught between two forms.
“Well,” she rasps, “that was fucking unpleasant.”
So this is what a heart attack feels like? I have to bend over to catch my breath.
“Ash.” Orion’s voice cracks on her name. “Ash, we’re going to get you out of there, just hold on?—”
“Don’t bother.” She wipes blood from her upper lip with the back of her hand. “The barrier’s solid. I already tried punching through it.” She pauses, wrinkling up her nose. “Didn’t work.”
“The glamour must be removed,” Morrigan says. Her voice has lost some of its ancient certainty. She sounds almost...defensive. “You cannot face what’s coming while still wearing?—”
“You put this on me,” Ash tosses at her. “Twenty-eight years ago. You wove it into my essence without my consent, and now you’re upset that it won’t come off when you snap your fingers?”
“The magic should respond to its creator?—”
“Well it doesn’t.” Ash’s thorns flare beneath her skin. Sage green light spirals up her arms, and for a moment she looks fully Fae—tall, sharp, crowned in power that makes the candles gutter. Then it flickers and fades. Her human features reasserting themselves like a mask being pulled back into place.
“Because it’s not yours anymore,” I say.
Everyone turns to look at me.
I step closer to the barrier. Study Ash through the shimmer of ancient magic. The way her appearance keeps shifting. Fae bleeding through, human pulling back. It’s almost pulsing, breathing.
“The glamour responds to threat,” I continue, the pieces clicking together. “That’s what you designed it to do. Hide her when danger approached. Protect her from discovery.” I meet Morrigan’s storm-grey eyes. “You built it to keep her safe. And right now, you’re the threat.”
Morrigan’s jaw juts out just so, grinding slightly.
“She’s fighting us,” Badb says slowly. “Not the magic. Us.”
“Because you attacked her.” Orion hasn’t stopped pressing against the barrier. “You dragged her out of bed, naked, trapped her in a circle, and tried to rip off pieces of her identity. How exactly did you expect her to react?”
“The glamour is survival magic,” I press. “It won’t release while she feels threatened. While she’s being forced. You can’t strip it away. She has to choose to let it go.”
Silence.
Morrigan stares at me like I’ve said something she should have realized centuries ago. The mother who pushed too hard and broke something she was trying to fix.
“Then how?” Macha asks. “If we cannot remove it, and she cannot release it while threatened?—”
“She needs to feel safe.” The words taste strange in my mouth. Safety isn’t something I trade in. Shadows don’t offer comfort. I was raised to be a weapon, not a shelter.
But looking at her—bleeding, shaking, fighting her own skin—I want to be one anyway.
“Truly safe,” I continue. “Not protected, that’s different.Safe. The kind of safe where you can stop surviving and start living.”
Inside the circle, Ash makes a sound. Half laugh, half sob.
“Great,” she says. “Wonderful. Just have to feel safe. In a Faerie realm where everyone wants me dead. While trapped in a salt circle by war goddesses. With my glamour actively fighting my own body.” She spreads her arms. “Anyone else want to add impossible tasks to the list? Maybe I should also achieve world peace and learn to juggle.”
“Ash—” Orion starts.
“No.” She holds up a hand. “You don’t get toAshme right now. None of you do. You—” she points at Morrigan, “—decided to perform magical surgery without asking. You—” she points at Badb and Macha, “—helped. And you two—” she looks at me andOrion, “—are standing out there arguing about me like I’m not right here.”
“We’re trying to help,” Orion says.
“Then stop.” She takes a breath. Another. She forces her shoulders down, her hands to unclench. “Everyone just...stop. And some one get me a fucking robe.”
“The circle should remain intact,” Morrigan says quietly. “Until we know what emerges when the glamour finally falls.”
