Shadows of the Woods

Chapter 9

As dawn broke out above the treetops, I huddled in the shade of a tree as a sharp wind rose and tossed the pungent smell of smoke and ash around the clearing. Apollo and Hayane moved slowly around the wreckage, looking for any clues as to whether or not Androgena could have survived the fire. They'd insisted that I didn't help, stating that my wounds could open up again, but truth be told, I didn't want to help anyways.

Privately, I thought the chances she could have survived were very low.

I probably would have been more hopeful if it wasn't for the message burned into her yard. Only a sadistic person would do that, and I seriously doubted a sadistic person would let Androgena live. It was frustrating though - with my forearms still dully burning, I wanted answers. Who had used me? And why had they been desperate enough to use my own blood to communicate their message?

I thought back to what Apollo had described to me. I'd drawn rough figures with stretching wings, and upside down v's, or arrows. He said I'd also tried to write some words down, but my fingers had scribbled the words incoherently. I frowned and bit my lip; what did they mean? Apollo explained that the figure was Castrone - his black wings were infamous, apparently - but he was at a loss for the arrows and the scribbled words.

If he was drawing a blank, then I was absolutely useless.

Across the clearing, Apollo said something softly to Hayane, and they bent to examine something. I stared at Hayane's back - how was he doing? He'd carefully wiped the stricken look off his face as soon as what had happened here sunk in, and he had been cool and aloof again as he and Apollo herded me off to the side. He had a master poker face that was even better than Apollo's - unlike Apollo, his crystal green eyes didn't communicate anything.

The sunlight winked off something on the ground, and I took a step forward to investigate. It was the picture frame I'd seen earlier; carefully shaking off the soot and broken glass, I turned it over to look at the picture it held.

Three figures stood in someone's kitchen, and it was immediately clear they were all witches. The figure in the middle was the oldest looking - she was tall and willowy, with silvery hair that streamed passed her hips. Her eyes were her witching mark - the irises were a wide, astonishing blue with orange pupils. Despite her alarming eyes, she looked gentle and kind; soft lips parted to reveal an even and kind smile.

The man next to her was remarkably handsome, with blonde hair that swept attractively to the side and pretty almond shaped blue eyes. He smiled happily at the camera, and I had to look closely to find his witching mark. There were diamond-like facets to his skin, and where the light hit his skin he sparkled. I didn't recognize him from anywhere, but my heart jumped when my eyes moved to the beautiful young woman on the older woman's other side.

Ivory, feathery wings were furled behind delicate shoulder blades, and long blonde hair curled to her waist. She was astonishingly beautiful, the young man's twin except feminine and without the sparkling skin.

She had to be Magenta.

"Hayane!" I called out, cautiously pulling the photo out of the cracked frame. It was relatively unharmed, except for a few smudges of ash from my own fingers. "Is this Androgena?"

He was at my side immediately, his delicate fingers taking the photo from me calmly. He looked down at the photo, and I saw something flicker in his eyes. "Yes." He nodded. "And that's her goddaughter, and her younger brother."

"Her name is Magenta?" I asked him, and across the clearing, Apollo looked up quickly. "And the man - is he Malius?"

"Yes." Hayane looked at me quizzically. "How did you know that?"