When Bryony -- herbalist extraordinaire -- goes missing, Bella knows one suspect stands above the rest. The village's aspiring second witch, Daphne, comes from a family that's tried to take Bryony down before, and Daphne seems determined to carry on...
Green flames shot upward. Bella gasped, but it wasn't fire. It released no heat, and the peat beneath it didn't burn. It moved like fire, though, creeping outward in all directions. Low-wafting Wights were engulfed. Each flashed brightly and dropped, seeking shelter closer to the bog's surface, flickering like candles. And still the green flames spread. Bella watched them, mesmerized. A pocket of baby Wights sparked tiny lightning as the incandescence reached them. All tumbled to the ground. One by one, their lights winked out.
That wasn't right.
Bella's eyes darted to the closer bog-edge, where the flames had settled to a simmer. Less than half the fallen Wights here remained. Had the rest fled to the forest? She hadn't seen them move. The remaining ones didn't look well enough to escape. They flickered feebly, guttering in the green-lit mist. Even as Bella watched, several more faded into nothingness. Wights' lights only went out when they...
Bryony stood at the edge of the bog, watching her flames spread. Something glistened on her cheeks. She was crying. Her expression, though, was settled, like she'd been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.
"Your mother—" began Bella.
"She's gone." Bryony didn't even look over. "You can't find a body here after so many years."
She wasn't here to find her mother's body. So what was all this for? The flames burned silent, ever spreading, eating over the bog. Marching inexorably towards the dancing, swirling Wight-cloud at its center. There was something else between the crickets now. A high, thin sound, from wherever the flames had burned low.
The Wights were screaming.
"Bryony?" said Bella. "Is it supposed to do this?"
"It had better be. I've spent years on this."
Horror seeped through Bella at the coldness of her keeper's tone. "You're killing them."
"They killed my mother. So many people, Bella. You wouldn't understand."
Bella froze, stricken speechless. She had always tried to understand. She'd been kicked out her family for the curse of being Wight-touched. Lost those family members—many to Wights—before any were willing to reconcile. She'd been there when Bryony got the news about her mother. She'd stayed by her side.
What did she not understand?
"I don't want her body back," said Bryony. "I want her to rest in peace. That won't happen for as long as this bog's Wights are alive."
"You're killing them."
The screaming was everywhere now, the wail of a winter storm without the wind. The Wights in the bog's middle clustered together as the flames advanced on them, following whatever patterned paths of potion Bryony had laid. Now the ones in the fog above the flames were also dropping. The fire must release a smoke of sorts, poisonous as the flames themselves. A path to the forest remained on the bog's other side, but the Wights seemed confused, their instincts telling them to stay until the night ended and baby Wights were all that remained.
Bella struggled to her feet. Bryony might be grieving, but that grief had marred her judgment and tampered with her sense of empathy. She would see sense when the grieving passed. But the flames had to stop in the meantime. Bella couldn't stand by and watch a massacre.
"Don't," said Bryony as Bella spread her wings.
"I can't—"
"Would you rather save the creatures who killed my mother than stand with me?"
Bella's words deserted her.
"You should have just stayed home," said Bryony, her voice cracking. "Don't you see? I didn't want you to see this. I let you stay because you said you'd support me. Please, Bella. Just stay. After tonight, it'll all be over."
"You can't just kill them all!"
"Then they shouldn't have taken my mother."
"Is half enough? You can just end it now."
"There's no way to stop it, Bella. I set it up to burn on its own."
She was smiling now, a sad, broken kind of smile still streaked with tears. Her expression could only be described as tormented peace. Bella's heart and chest constricted as the Wights in the bog's middle continued to gather, darting in increasing panic with the creeping flames' advance. A night's sky of lights had already died.
"Don't tell anyone, Bella," said Bryony. "Please. I don't want to lose you, too."
On the bog's far side, a shout rang out. Glass shattered. Then shattered again. The Wights in its vicinity startled, then moved. In a moment, they were streaming off the bog. This quickly reached the central gathering, which began to siphon away towards the forest in the direction of the sounds. The Wights were escaping.
"What was that?" demanded Bryony, voice sharp but eyes wide.
Something stood in the direction of the Wight-lights' flow. Bella strained her eyes as the creatures brightened the forest's edge. Her heart lifted. There, standing on a rock and waving her coat in the air, was Daphne.
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