One minute.

That was how much fighting it took for me to realize that this battle was a lost cause. Winning was hopeless. Running was impossible. The sky was dark and I felt the bullet rains slam into my back; a hundred little punches—raindrops the size of rocks. The swamp around us was in ruins. Trees over a hundred feet tall were felled and splintered and shattered. The floodwaters roiled below us like a legion of curling serpents, and its churning waves made me stumble over the uneven footing.

I ran over the water, panting. My shortness of breath made the sounds emerging from my bansuri sound frantic. Forced. Venti was nestled in my cloak pocket. The injuries she sustained had knocked her out cold minutes ago. My eyes darted to and fro, looking, but I didn’t know where Aami was. It didn’t come back after the Hag’s last attack shredded the shoggoth into a million pieces.

My brain failed to comprehend it, at first. One second, Aami was springing for the Hag, and in the next, it was destroyed.

We were outclassed.

The Hag knew arcanism. Textbook spellcasting. We attacked, and she made the world turn on us. Whips of water ripped my shoggoth apart and threw its pieces into the swamp. Streams of fire boiled the water and turned the rain to steam. Ice bloomed from the floods and caged us in, only to shatter into a storm of deadly shrapnel.

And the necromancy. That was the worst of it. I’d barely been able to dodge everything except for one spell—one that sapped the life from my veins.

My left arm hung limply at my side. Numb and withered and desiccated—shriveled flesh clinging to brittle bone. If I could still feel pain, there was no doubt in my mind that it would have been debilitating. That I would be screaming instead of playing my bansuri with one hand.

Weakened Galesong carried me over the water. It was the only song I knew that worked. All the others were silent. Unresponsive. The whispers of the world that always came to me so easily now seemed so far away.

No, they would not listen to me. Not to an amateur.

Not when I was battling a master.

“I will admit, child, that you are impressive,” the Hag said, her voice echoing all around me. I whipped around and steelwind smashed a nearby tree to pieces. It hit nothing but wood, and her voice continued, uninterrupted. “Your mastery over sorcery is surprising for your age. How long has it been since you first stepped into the in-between, hm? How many years?”

I leapt. Up to a branch, where I leaned against the trunk of a swamp cypress to catch my breath. From the water below, a spot of blackness no larger than a fist emerged from the flood. Aami. Reduced to less than a hundredth of its mass. The shoggoth crawled to my shoulder and worbled weakly, unable to even speak.

But at least it was alive. I scooped it up and it hugged my fingers, refusing to hide inside my cloak. I shook my head. There was no point hiding Aami now, anyway. I’d already lost. I let myself lean against the tree and slide down, sitting on the branch as I stared out into the storm. My legs wouldn’t even move anymore. My uninjured hand was trembling uncontrollably, and my teeth were chattering.

My body was shutting down from fear alone.

The woods around me were unnaturally dark. Through the howling curtain of rain, the shadows seemed thick enough to turn solid. Creeping obsidian cornered me. Boxed me in.

Bravado was all I had left.

“Are we really having a chat now?” I asked, shouting into the darkness. “When you’re trying to kill me?”

A raven flew out from the shadows and landed on a branch opposite me. Just a few meters away. The small bird bloated up and its flesh twisted, turning back into the towering Hag from before. She watched me, the previous tension from her posture gone. She knew, now. She knew how weak we were—how there was no danger in fighting us. She grinned with her needle-row teeth.

“Kill you?” she cackled, shaking her head. “If I wanted you dead, you would already be a corpse. I knew you were young at a glance, but you’re clearly even younger than I imagined. I don’t kill toddlers, boy. There are few enough of us as it is.”

The Hag took a step forward, and the wood under her feet writhed like a mass of worms. It grew outwards, creating a path for her to walk on as she approached.

“No,” she said. “I won’t kill you. I only wish to take what’s yours.”

“No chance in hell.”

I grit my teeth and forced my hand to move. I raised my bansuri. Played. Galesong answered—the wind howled to my will.

.̵̯͓̀.̴̩̓̆͝,̶̥̭͇̽̄̈́;̵̯̂̒̃.̵͚̞̾͊;̶̡̙̓̔͝ͅ'̷̹̂,̷̜͒;̵̨͛'̸̡̩̰͛̈͝.̵̩̅̄̆;̵̣͑̂'̶̧́̀ͅ.̶͙̳̙̋,̷̜͒;̵̨͛'̸̡̩̰͛̈͝.̷͙̈̃̆,̵͓̀̑;̷͕̭̤̈́̂̅'̶̹̩̆̀̅.̵͉̝̮̒͋͋.̶͉̫̊̃͌ͅ,̸͓͆̾̆,̶̹̲̓.̸̛̝͔͉͐̐

Blades of wind tore towards her like saws. Shredding gusts that could grind stone into dust. But instead of letting it strike her, the Hag only curled her fingers and spoke. She countered my sorcery with her own.

.̵̯͓̀.̴̩̓̆͝,̶̥̭͇̽̄̈́;̵̯̂̒̃.̵͚̞̾͊;̶̡̙̓̔͝ͅ'̷̹̂,̷̜͒;̵̨͛'̸̡̩̰͛̈͝.̵̩̅̄̆;̵̣͑̂'̶̧́̀ͅ.̶͙̳̙̋,̷̜͒;̵̨͛'̸̡̩̰͛̈͝.̷͙̈̃̆,̵͓̀̑;̷͕̭̤̈́̂̅'̶̹̩̆̀̅.̵͉̝̮̒͋͋.̶͉̫̊̃͌ͅ,̸͓͆̾̆,̶̹̲̓.̸̛̝͔͉͐̐,̷̜͒;̵̨͛'̸̡̩̰͛̈͝.̵̩̅̄̆;̵̣͑̂'̶̧́̀ͅ.̶͙̳̙̋,̷̜͒

The attack fell apart. One second, the wind was steel—a solid weapon, a force of death. And in the next, it was a breeze again, harmlessly blowing over her shoulders. The Hag shook her head. “You are strong, but that is from a mortal standpoint. You’ve practiced your songs for years. I’ve practiced my sorcery for centuries. You don’t possess a fraction of the skill needed to harm me in a way that matters.”

I clenched my fists and my eyes burned. Hopelessness. Frustration. In front of her, I felt like a child, unable to fight or resist in any way. But still, I dug my nails into my skin. I would not cry. Father didn’t raise a son that would crumble under futility. No, I would not break. Not to something like this.

I grabbed the fear flooding my body and I tore it to shreds. I set it ablaze like coal in a furnace. I fed the flames, and the fear turned into anger. Hot and controlled. A forge’s measured fury, an alchemist’s white-hot flame.

I brought my feet up from under me. My legs shook, but I tensed my muscles. Forced them to obey. I stood on my two feet.

I raised my head and looked the Hag in the eye.

“If you take Venti a second time,” I whispered, and my voice changed. It was somehow louder than when I spoke normally. It echoed into the world, infusing itself into the howling wind and the roaring rain, as if nature itself was bending to my anger. “If you take her again, then you better kill me. Because I’ll remember. I’ll come back, and I’ll come back to kill you when I do. All of you selfish, heartless immortals—you and the Fae both. I’ll kill every single fucking one of you.”

The Hag towered over me. Fifteen feet tall. A giant. But at my words, her face turned dark, and her previous confidence gave away to a cold anger. It was like an iceberg; black, vast, lurking beneath the surface of the sea.

“Do not compare me to the Fae,” she growled. “I am not like them.”

She spoke only a few words, but the weight of her voice was crushing. The sound of it was steel, blackstone, and cold iron. But she wasn’t the only one who felt wronged. I strode up to her and glared, my knuckles white against my bansuri.

“No,” I said. “You’re worse. The Fae make trades. You only know how to take.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. Not even a fraction of it. Close your mouth before I close it for you.”

“Why? Because I’m right? Because you hate it when people point at your faults?”

The Hag loomed over me, “Don’t make me hurt you, child.”

An instant of silence passed between us. A moment of rain and storm and churning flood. I looked at her. Into her ugly, green eyes.

She was like an adult talking down to a child. That was how she spoke. How she acted. Ignoring her own mistakes, her own hypocrisy, and only seeing things from her own selfish perspective. Ignoring everyone around her. Doing whatever the hell she wanted, just because she could. Just like a typical tyrant.

Just like mother.

At the thought, I felt my heart sink into my chest, into a pit of ice water. My eyes darkened. My body moved by itself.

I pushed her. With my one working arm, right into her stomach. The Hag stumbled back a step despite her size, and her face distorted into anger.

“You insolent—”

“Shut up!” I roared. I cut her off, and the Hag was stunned into silence. I advanced, glaring, and she involuntarily took another step back. “You listen, you wrinkly old hypocrite. Look around you! Listen to the words you say! Speak with open ears, look me in the eye, and threaten me again. Tell me to shut my mouth. Say you’re better than the Fae.”

She raised her hand in anger, but the sight was more than familiar to me already. I didn’t flinch. Not anymore. I only watched her, my eyes burning into every action she took. She was shaking, now. Trembling with fury. I was too. Without any regard for myself, my anger took control of my mouth. My entire body. I threw fuel into the flames.

I looked her straight in the eye. Just like I wish I’d done to mother when she left, all those years ago.

“Go on, you wrinkly old bitch. Hurt me!” I pushed her again. “Prove me right!”

The Hag breathed heavily, as if her heart was about to stop from anger alone. Her hand stayed in the air, waiting to strike me.

But it never moved.

Slowly, she lowered her hand. Her breathing slowed to faint, subtle breaths, and the Hag’s shoulders slumped down in defeat. Her entire being seemed to grow older, in that moment. As if all the energy had been drained out of her. As if the weight of all her years, all her immortality, were just an illusion hiding the frail, old woman underneath.

“No,” she said, her eyes clouded. The Hag’s was voice soft, and her eyes looked beyond me. Past me, and into something far, far away. She shook her head, “I couldn’t do that to you. I would never hurt you, Eiah.”

She spoke, but not to me. It was like I was invisible to her, now. Like she saw someone else where I stood. I stared at her, blinking in confusion as the Hag turned away. Feathers began sprouting from her skin.

“I—” she stopped, hesitated, then released another shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

She transformed into a raven and flew away.

Just like that.

The Hag left me there, staring out into the empty storm. Stunned. I didn’t know how long I watched the darkness, listening to nothing but the sound of the Drowning Rain. It fell around me, the victor. I had won. Somehow, my words alone managed to make the Hag leave us.

I rescued Venti. I drove our pursuer off. I could leave at any time.

But I didn’t feel free.

There was a weight over my shoulders. Over my shriveled arm and bruised body, like gravity, pulling me down, rooting me in place. I remembered the look on the Hag’s face. That vulnerability, under her immortal’s mask. The genuineness of the look she gave. It was something I didn’t think she could show on her cruel face. I wanted to see it again. I knew that I should’ve left already, escaped like planned, but my feet refused to turn around.

They refused to let me leave. I ended the fight, but I didn’t feel like I won. I smiled bitterly. I knew what this was.

I was hoping.

I’d never argued with mother. I didn’t think I could win, if I did. But if I could sway the Hag, get her to turn away, to be real—to have a chance of getting through to her with words, then perhaps…

“I’m a fool,” I muttered.

I was stupid, for doing what I was going to do. But I had to do it. I had to push and prod and poke; to, for once in my life, see the consequences of speaking my mind. To see what I could have done, had I the spine to do so before.

I had to see what happened next.

The bansuri rose to my lips, and I played. Galesong, once again. But I didn’t use it to run away like I always did. This time, the winds brought me forward—brought me north. To the Ancestor Tree in the distance. To the lonely house in the flooded swamp, sleeping silent under the rain.

To the Hag, once again.

The storm raged as I traveled.

I found her house near the base of the Ancestor Tree.

Even after the rains flooded the swamp, swallowing the trees that were over a hundred feet tall, the water failed to reach the massive tree’s body. It stopped halfway up the roots, still rising, but I couldn’t imagine the rains ever making it to the trunk. That was how vast it was. A wall of calcified wood, bone-white, standing stark under the rain. A pillar of marble bark, stabbing through the storm clouds overhead.

And there, attached to the tree like a spider, was a house.

Eight, wooden legs grew out from underneath it. They hooked into the crags of elderwood bark. The house was more of a hut than a cottage—made of thatch, brick, and vine-infested wooden walls. One side of it was blown open by an explosion. Scorch marks marred the melted stone and the splintered wood. And deeper inside, the faint glow of firelight flooded down from a staircase above.

I flew up to the hole in the house. My feet planted themselves down onto the scorched cobblestone of the basement, and I looked around. An alchemy station, ruined and melted. Jars of ingredients, turned to ash. Cupboard filled with nothing but dust.

I walked past it all. I made for the stairs and stopped, just as I reached the base of them.

Aami and Venti were inside my coat now, sleeping. Injured. Alive. And I was awake and alone, standing inside of the Hag’s home. No one could save me if things went wrong. And yet, I still took that step forward. I didn’t see myself doing anything else.

I climbed the stairs.

I suddenly felt like a child again. I remembered the basement back home, where mother worked. How I often climbed the stairs to leave her, upset at something she did.

As I climbed the stairs now, it felt different. I wasn’t angry this time. My heart felt something else. I wasn’t really sure of what exactly it was at the moment. Nervousness? Fear? Hesitation? None of them seemed appropriate. The light at the top of the staircase was warm and lonely and the crackle of the hearth felt like a patient thing, reminiscing of times past.

I was drawn to it. To the sight of a possibility I’d never entertained.

I couldn’t help but leave the shadows. I stepped into the light. And there, at the top of the stairs, a living room waited for me. Shelves, full of books and scrolls. A comfy red carpet and a kitchen counter, just barely out of the shadows. And a hearth. A fireplace, glowing with orange light. In front of it were two chairs and an old woman, sitting in front of the fire.

I almost didn’t recognize her. She was small, now. Inside her house. Barely over five feet tall. Here, the Hag was a frail old amarid, covered in liver-splotches and sagging wrinkles. She sat on the chair, a small portrait in her hands—the framed picture of a girl I didn’t know.

My steps creaked under the floorboards as I approached. I stopped beside her, standing next to the chair, staring into the fire. The Hag didn’t look up.

“You’re here,” she simply said. “For what?”

I sat down next to her, on the other chair. Bruised and battered, with my withered arm resting limp over my lap. I released a long, tired sigh.

“I got my bird back,” I said. “But there’s still that other thing you promised. Tea.”

Silence passed over us. It almost seemed like she would ignore me, until the old lady beside me released a wispy breath. She looked up from the picture in her hands and stood. She set it down on a shelf over the fire and grabbed the walking stick next to her chair.

The Hag hobbled towards the kitchen. From where I sat, I heard the scratch of flint against steel. The fwoosh of another fire flaring to life. Then the clatter-clang of a kettle, being set to boil over the crackling flames.

I heard her place two jars down on the counter, and the faint scent of teabags filled the room. The Hag met my eyes.

“Choose, boy. Jasmine or sweetpea?”