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Chapter Text

“My problem, it's my problem 
That I never am happy 
It's my problem, it's my problem 
On how fast I will succeed 

Are you satisfied with an average life? 
Do I need to lie to make my way in life?” 

Are you satisfied? 
Maria and Diamond 

Chapter 1  

Manon Blackbeak wasn't sure where it had begun. When did a man turn into her prey for a moment's amusement. When had Manon started visiting the man whenever she left the castle of the Blackbeaks to hunt corchans? When hunting had become secondary, turned into just an excuse to fly through a star-studded night to the man. 

It wasn't love. Manon couldn't love. But she enjoyed his company. And it was so bad in itself that if Manon's grandmother ever found out, she would beat her up. And then she go after the man who had somehow managed to distract Manon from her most important mission. Which had made her forget about obedience, discipline and brutality. 

Human men were prey and could rarely be used to father witchling. That's all they were. 

And yet Manon flew through the night again, the red cloak behind her fluttering over the sleeping city. Rifthold was beautiful at night. As small yellow lights dotted the landscape and the moon cast its rays on the surface of the Avery River. 

Manon hadn't even noticed it the first time she saw the city. A year ago, when her grandmother ordered her here, Manon's only job was to track down corchans. Manon had found it hard to believe that even arrogant corchans would agree to live in the city. Especially not in Riftholdi. It was lively, full of dark and secluded alleys teeming with rats, drunkards, piss, and vomit. The city's slums were foul-smelling and the city centre was full of empty-headed people. Manon had come to hate Riftholdi. 

And especially the glass palace that rises in its heart. It was repulsively flamboyant, and towered over the city like a crown showing the people its place. Manon would have gladly torn down the entire glass castle with her bare hands. That and the walls made Manon feel like a trapped rat. 

The city was stuffy, cramped, and tested Manon's patience. In all the months she spent at Riftholdi, not once did she feel a clean stream of air on her face. All she could smell was the rotten smell of the city, which made Manon's head ache. 

In that stench, it was impossible to trace anyone. Manon knew that if she found a corchan in Riftholdi, the death of that bitch was going to be long and painful. Manon's iron claws wanted to maul throats and she had to fight with herself to maintain her patience. Her nerves were already so strained that Manon knew she would murder the first human if them glanced at her wrongly. 

The orders were orders, although Manon wondered if her grandmother had sent her to Riftholdi as punishment for something. There was no point in asking, Manon knew it. So Manon decided to languish in Riftholdi for a month and then return to Blackbeaks keep. Even empty-handed if I had to. Anything to get her out of these walls. 

It had been the penultimate night within Manon's self-imposed deadline. The stench of the streets had only worsened as the weather had warmed and the day had been filled with useless searching and rummaging. Manon hadn't caught a glimpse of the Corchans and began to seriously believe that was the Matron's punishment. And this punishment would be followed by another, as Manon would return empty-handed. 

Aware of her own failure, Manon had ended up in a run-down tavern that early spring evening. It stinked like stale beer, sweat and unwashed men. 

Manon was bored, frustrated, and hungry. She had pulled the hood of her red cloak to cover her head and white hair, that would undoubtedly attract attention. As she stepped into the bar, she kept her gaze fixed directly on the bar counter and the sturdy woman working behind it. She didn't look at anyone as she weaved past the tables that were close together. Conversations broke down as she passed by, and someone had the courage to whistle invitingly. 

Manon didn't look at any of them as she slid to sit on a tall bar stool. The bar hostess cast a searching gaze at her, trying to see faces from under the hood. Manon knew she was looking something between sixteen and twenty. It is clear that the bar hostess underestimated her assessment, as she asked in a hoarse voice: "Aren't you too young to come here, girl?" 

Manon was tempted to tear her throat open at such an understatement. She had to struggle with her self-control, so that the iron nails did not plunging out and spoil her chances of catching prey. 

Manon didn't answer the woman. She just tossed some silver on the table. "Whiskey," she said. The woman looked at the silver, then at Manon and made the right decision, taking the money. Moments later, a filthy glass was struck in front of Manon, with something at the bottom that was certainly not whiskey. 

Anger smouldered inside Manon, but she chose not to complain. She was not drinking here. She comforted herself with the thought, that at any moment she could tear open some foul-smelling old man's stomach and eat her spoiled internal organs. Manon was too impatient to be picky. Anyone was good enough for her. 

So when she was about to lift a filthy glass to her lips, to find out if the liquid at the bottom was even alcoholic, the young man's scent whiff up her nose, Manon believed that the three-faced goddess had for once felt sorry for her. 

"As you, I wouldn't drink that miss,” said a voice beside Manon. Manon lowered her glass just enough to glance at the human sitting next to her. The man was young. Eighteen or nineteen. A black cloak draped his slender shoulders and a hood was pulled over his head to cover his tanned face. Beneath the shadow cast by the hood stood out bright blue eyes, in the depths of which there was a hint of humour. 

Young, good-looking, and not yet so old that the guts are ruined. Manon felt her pale lips turn upwards into a seductive smile. “How so?" she asked, putting the glass down on the table. 

Manon's iron teeth almost plunged out of the gums, when the man, or perhaps more of a boy, tilted his head, baring his neck. Manon could almost see the pulse that was pulsating under his skin. 

How sweet the boy's blood would taste when Manon slashed open that tanned neck. How orgastic it would feel to see the humour and arrogance smouldering in the boy's eyes turn into fear. 

The boy's smile only widened when he heard Manon's question. He leaned closer like a conspirator and whispered: “They tend to drug a seemingly rich customer and then rob them." 

Oh. 

"And what makes you believe that I am wealthy in any way?” Manon inquired softly, drumming his glass with her fingernails. She did not touch the slop in it, even if it was not drugged. 

Manon had made sure she didn't look wealthy. She was not wearing his witch leathers, but plain soft breeches and a laced white shirt. The red cloak was ragged and faded. She had made sure to take nothing but a couple of silver coins and two knives with her. Wind-Cleaverin and others of her belongings, including an ironwood broom was hidden under the loose floorboard of the apartment she rented. 

The boy smiled mischievously and leaned his elbows on the bar counter. “I would consider myself very wealthy if I had such a pretty face." 

The boy flirted with her. The cue was lame, but this would only make Manon's job much easier. She leaned back and looked at the boy carefully. He was real eye candy. Manon's iron teeth tried to pop out of her gums, but she held them back. For a while, that's what she wanted to think. Then she would strike her teeth into that deliciously throbbing neck. 

"I'd be more worried about myself if I were you,” Manon said, after carefully examining the boy's appearance. The clothes were too fancy, too clean for it to be plausible that the boy would live in this part of town. He was clearly some spoiled boy from the better part of town, who longed for a little excitement in his boring life from the slums of Riftholdi, whose streets thieves and assassins walked. That would be the boy's last mistake. 

The boy chuckled softly and ordered a beer from the hostess. He tossed a gold coin on the table, which raised the barhostess's brows. The woman grabbed a coin and hurried to fulfill the order, ignoring the other customers. “I know how to take care of myself," the boy assured. Manon barely kept herself from snorting. 

Or did the boy know how to take care of himself. Fine clothes and the use of gold coins speak of arrogance and good luck that has gone on for too long. Tonight, the boy would discover that money and appearance could not cheat death. 

"So do I," Manon said, pushing the filthy glass away from her. The boy had gotten his beer, but hadn't even touched the bottle. “I believe it," the boy purred, giving Manon a charming smile. Manon replied to the smile just as seductively. 

Maybe she could enjoy him for a moment before letting her nails rip off that handsome, tanned face. 

"Well," the boy said. “What brings a beauty like you into such a hole like this?" 

Half an hour later, Manon found herself in a dark and filthy alley, with her back against a brick wall. The boy's warm lips were pressed against Manon's mouth and his hands were wandering along her hips. Manon had dipped his fingers into the black curly hair that had become visible after the hood fell off the boy's head. Manon's own snow-white hair was scattered out and shone in the dim moonlight, when she wrapped her legs around the boy's waist and pulled him closer. 

The boy kissed well, and if Manon had not so vehemently wanted the taste of mortal fear on her tongue, she might have succumbed to her other lusts. But at that moment, Manon could only think of the boy's pulse, the powerful heart that Manon was going to tear from the boy's chest. Perhaps the boy would still be alive when Manon would eat the organ into her iron-toothed mouth. 

When Manon was ready, not even the boy's mother would recognize him.  

The boy pressed against Manon, and Manon couldn't help the groans that erupted between her lips. The boy's fingers pushed into Mano's hair, while the other slipped under her shirt, stroking her flat stomach. 

Even closer, Manon thought, already feeling the taste of her prey on her tongue. Soon the boy would be so ecstatic that he would no longer understand what was happening. And that's when Manon would strike. 

The boy's warm hands pressed against Manon's neck, and the other rose higher along her side to groping Manon's breasts. Manon groaned softly and pulled her mouth from the boy's lips, only to press it to his tanned neck. Manon felt the warm skin under her lips and the pulse beneath it. There. Finally. 

The iron teeth fell into place, like armor. “Silly boy,” She whispered against the boy's neck. And slammed her teeth into the boy's throat. 

The boy's cry of pain was the best sound Manon had heard in a month. The taste of blood was heavenly as it spilled into Manon's mouth. It almost excited her more than the boy's recent groping. Through the darkness, she would come to enjoy this. 

And then, faster than Manon realized, it was something, not someone, who caught up with her...Many pairs of hands grabbed her with hard force and violence, pulling her away from her prey. A furious squeal escaped Manon's throat as she was slammed against the stone wall. Air escaped from her lungs, as wind wrapped around her throat, legs, biceps and wrists. 

Manon gasped, salivated, and groaned, fighting against the grip of the hands of which she was the owners...but when Manon again managed to set her sights, she realized that there was nothing but a bleeding boy in the alley. 

But Manon felt the hands. She felt their pinching...The boy slowly straightened up, rubbing his neck with his hand. Blood ran down the tarnished shirt, causing the white fabric to turn red. 

"I have to admit,"The boy said and let his hand fall off the wound in his neck, " I wasn't expecting that." 

Manon groaned and fought against the crushing force. The grip of the hands did not give up. A grip on hands that Manon could not see. "Who the fuck are you?” Manon saliva, "and what have you done to me?" 

The boy eyed Manon from head to toe. There was an appraising look in the blue eyes. Not a shred of fear. And that made Manon even more furious. When she was released, she would slowly tear the boy apart. She would make him scream and pray for mercy until he choked on his own blood. 

"I could ask you the same thing," the boy said. His tone was the same as in the bar. Flirty and arrogant. Manon grunted and tried to attack the boy. The hands did not give up an inch. 

"I'm Manon Blackbeak. Heir of the Blackbeak witch clan,” she growled. “And when I set free, I promise you a slow death." 

The boy chuckled. Really, he chuckled. Manon's insides burned with rage. “Free?" the boy said amused, raising his hand. The grip of invisible hands tightened abruptly around Manon. And Manon realized. “Magic," she groaned, though it was difficult for her to speak as an invisible hand squeezed her windpipe. 

The corner of the boy's mouth rose to half a grin. “That's the answer to your first question, witch." 

Manon growled. The boy only looked amused. Not the least fearful. Manon's stomach twisted nastyly, even though she tried to suppress the feeling. No matter how much the situation angered Manon, she knew she was at the mercy of the boy. The boy could snap his fingers to kill her, and Manon couldn't even defend herself. What a shame that would be? Die at mortal hands. For despite the magic that held Manon back, she had tasted the boy's blood. 

It was completely human-like. No sign of the great power that could potentially destroy the entire city around them. 

"Who are you?” Manon hissed her questions from behind her ironteeth, from which the boy's blood still ran down her chin. 

The boy just grinned and made a small bow. This theater infuriated Manon. “Sorry for being so rude,” the boy said and stepped closer to Manon. One of the invisible phantom hands forced Manon to raise her other hand, so that the boy could press a small kiss on the back of her hand. Manon's iron nails came out of her fingertips, but the boy didn't seem to care. 

His lips touched the back of Manon's hand lightly and as he lifted his gaze, blue eyes met Manon's golden eyes, burning with rage. “I, Manon Blackbeak, am Dorian Havilliard. Prince of Adralan." 

Adralan... Oh fuck! Manon stiffened. So outraged by the arrogance of the boy, Dorian, as well as the knowledge that he nearly killed the Prince of Adralan. It could have caused a war between humans and witches. In the past, Manon could have been sure that mortals would be defeated by witches, but now...There were few of them, and if the royal family had such power...Manon's mistake could have been fatal. 

Dorian looked at Manon closely, with a curious expression on his face. He no longer touched Manon with anything but his phantom hands holding her in place. 

"What do you want?" Manon grunted as Dorian tilted his head to the side like a cat looking at its prey. Manon had always been a cat. She was born a soulless and heartless killer whose only task was to destroy the corchanita and obey her grandmother. 

"I've never seen a witch before," said Dorian. "And you're definitely the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." 

Manon growled, and that would have caused the sane man to back down. But Dorian didn't look worried. He trusted that his magic would keep Manon in place. 

"I'm not a woman," Manon said in a low voice. Dorian nodded slowly and stepped back, as if looking at the artwork. “You really don't," he admitted. “You're far too gorgeous to be just a woman." 

"Was that meant to be a compliment?" Manon asked sarcastically. Dorian grinned smugly. “For many girls, it would be," he laughed. Eerily cold fingers touched Manon's face. Manon would bite at the spot where she had felt his phantom fingers, which made Dorian laugh. “I am a hundred years older than you, Princeling,”Manon snapped. "Don't call me a girl." 

Dorian raised his eyebrows, still smiling the stupid smile Manon wanted to rip off the boy's face. “Not then, witchling. What brings you to my city?" 

"Is this an interrogation?" Manon asked. She had given up her fight against ghost hands, but hadn't pulled her iron nails or teeth in. 

Dorian seemed to ponder for a moment, during which time he circled the alley in a small circle, keeping his eyes on Manon. “No. Just be curious," he finally said and stopped in front of Manon. "I'm not really interested in it." 

Then What did the prince want from her? Manon watched Dorian almost as closely as he had looked at Manon. The bleeding in his neck had stopped and the wound caused by Manon's teeth had closed. All that remained were scars that would never disappear. 

"Are you going to kill me?” Manon asked, staring slowly but too quickly at the scars forming for humans. If princeling killed her, her witch circle could find the culprit and avenge Manon's death.  

Dorian blinked his eyes, confused. It seemed as if the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Either the boy was a fool or he was a really good actor. "No," he said. 

"Then you're a fool," Manon muttered and leaned against the wall, phantom hands still around her. "So what do you want from me?" 

The prince thought about it for a moment. The gaze of his blue eyes did not for a moment elude Manon's eyes. “What do I want?” Princeling finally spoke. "I want to make a deal with you, Manon Blackbeak." 

Manon's neck hair immediately stood up. The agreements were dangerous. “What do you want?" Manon asked warily. Dorian smiled slightly. He wiggled his fingers and some of the squeezing phantom hands disappeared, until two powerful hands pressed Manon's wrists against the brick wall behind her. 

"I want to finish what we started before you tried to eat me,” Dorian said calmly. “I want to spend one night with you, and I'd love to do it somewhere other than this alley," Dorian raised his eyebrows at the filthy street. "And in the morning you can leave, and I won't tell anyone you were here." 

Is that all? Did the boy just want to fuck her? 

Manon tried to interpret the boy's expression, but she couldn't get anything out of Dorian's polite expression. “And if I refuse?" Manon asked. Dorian smiled. "I'll get out of this alley, call out the guards, and then you'll run away from them like a rat." 

Dorian was serious. Manon saw it through the eyes of the princeling. Whichever option Manon chose, Dorian would let her go. The question was which humiliation Manon could live with. 

"And do you trust me not to tear your throat open while you sleep?” Manon asked in disbelief. Dorian flashed Manon a smile. "Of course not." 

That was the only answer Manon received. She gritted her teeth, trying her best to find a way out of the situation. She would probably get away from the guards, but her getting caught sooner or later echoed in her grandmother's ears. The punishment that follows it would be humiliating and painful. But spending the night with the prince... Grandmother would never know. 

And even if she could... Manon had the right to sleep with human men at will, and Dorian..."Do you want to die princeling?” Manon asked in a still, dangerously seductive voice. Dorian offered his hand and at the same time Manon's wrists were released the wind strangling grip. “Only if it's by your hand, witch," Dorian hummed. 

Manon could have attacked Dorian again. She could have and many months later she asked herself why she didn't attack. Maybe it was Dorian's confidence or his fearlessness, but Manon found herself raising her hand and lowering it into Dorian's palm. 

"You are stupid princeling," he said. Dorian smiled. "Whatever, witchling." 

And she guess that's where it started. That night at the inn. It had been a battle of wills, a lap dance with death. When Manon tried to tear Dorian's throat open, when Dorian's phantom hands were to squeeze life out of Manon's lungs. And in some sickly sinful way, it was the best sex Manon had ever had. They were both attracted to danger. 

And, finally, when both had exhausted themselves, Dorian had muttered to Manon's hair: “Since I know you'll fade away as soon as I fall asleep, let me tell you one thing, witchling." 

Manon had glanced towards the boy lying next to her. “And what is it?” she had asked in a hoarse voice. There would be a glaring bruise on her neck the next day. Dorian smiled slightly. There were drops of red blood on his face from wounds that Manon had torn with her teeth. 

He pressed closer and whispered in Manon's ear: “You can come back at any time, witch. My room is in the older part of the castle, the tallest tower." 

Manon snorted and rolled towards the man. "And do you think I want to go back?" she asked challengingly. 

That infuriating smile remained on Dorian's face as he whispered: “I'd like you to come back." 

Manon had not answered anything. She had remained completely motionless until the boy fell asleep. Then she had gotten out of bed, gathered his things, and left. First from the inn, then from her apartment and finally from Riftholdi. 

Flying north, towards the castle of the Blackbeaks, Manon swore to herself that she would not return. And she managed to keep the promise she made to herself. For two months. That's where it had started and this is what it hade come. 

Manon neglected her duties in order to spend the night in Dorian's bed. It was stupid and Mano's grandmother would have say her as a soft-hearted. But, for some reason, the grandmother's opinion no longer mattered. 

::::::: 

Manon descended like a shadow on the stone balcony that protruded from the wall of the tower. An early spring breeze swung the blue silk curtains, which hung in front of the open balcony door. The glass castle cast a translucent shadow over the tower, allowing Manon to descend discreetly. 

She lowered her ironwood broom to lean against the balcony railing, then stepped the room through the blue silk curtains. The wind swept them around Manon, escorting her into a dimly lit room lit by only a couple of candles. 

The prince sat behind his desk, reading the papers in front of him. No voice warned Dorian of Manon's arrival, but he looked up as the witch stepped from the shadows of the room. The tired gaze of the blue eyes lit up when it hit Manon. Dorian leaned back in his chair and grinned lazily at her. 

"Did you finally come to kill me, witch?" Dorian purred. Manon's lips retracted into a cat-like smile and she stepped closer to Dorian, with the predator's light steps. 

"Would you like to die, Princeling,” Manon hummed and slid through the shadows cast by the candles, stopping in front of Dorian. The prince looked up to her without fear. It was infuriating, addictive and arousing. 

"Maybe," Dorian whispered softly. Manon felt the cold swipe of a phantom hand in her hair. The touch reminded her of the times those phantom hands had pushed Manon against the wall and teased her, until Manon had almost begged Dorian to touch her with his right hands. Almost, but not quite. 

It was their game.A dangerous, arousing game during which dominance could change from a single sign of weakness. When Dorian held her in place with his phantom hands, and when Manon sat on the man's chest, teasing Dorian with her iron nails. 

Whoever condescended to beg first lost. Maybe that's why Manon returned. Maybe she hadn't killed Dorian because of it. She wanted to defeat him. Dorian was infuriatingly stubborn in refusing to beg. He was as stubborn as Manon. Their game was an endless battle of wills that would only end when the other gave up. And after that, there would be no guarantee of what would happen. 

Manon's cat-like grin only widened as she slid to sit on Dorian's lap and inserted the exposed iron claws into her black curls. "Do you miss me?" Manon whispered. Doria's chuckle was soft as silk and sent chills down her spine. “Why do you think I miss you?” Dorian whispered, putting his hands on Manon's waist. 

Manon tilted her head. She ran her fingers through the black curls, enjoying their silky feeling. Her iron nails touched Dorian's face. A normal man would have recoiled. But Dorian just looked at Manon with those blue eyes behind which hid something dark and hungry. “Just kindly answer the question, Princeling,” Manon coo, moving her fingers from Dorian's hair to the prince's to the throat. 

"Maybe," Dorian gasped. Manon sensed the man's arousal and lust. She knew Dorian just wanted to rip her clothes off, press her to the table, and fuck her, until they both forgot their names and the fact that they had responsibilities. 

Manon grinned widely, exposing her iron teeth. She was going to dominate tonight. “That wasn't the answer," Manon purred, moving her hips slowly against the bulge in Dorian's pants. 

Dorian's expression tightened, but there was no other way he expressed Manon's influence on him. "What would you like to hear, witchling?” Dorian asked, barely keeping his voice under control. Manon narrowed her mouth thoughtfully. She leaned closer to Dorian until she could whisper in his ear: “Maybe I want you to tell me how much you missed me. Maybe I want you to beg me to visit more often." 

Doria's laughter was out of breath this time as she stuck her fingers into Manon's hair. 

"You're a greedy witchling,"Dorian took a breath. He began to wrap her hair around his hand. Manon growled whit warning. She tried to regain control, but it was already too late. Faster than Manon could even realize, Dorian had turned around in his chair and pressed Manon onto his back on the desk. Phantom hands grabbed Manon's wrists and held her down as Dorian leaned over her. 

"You're a greedy and naughty witchling," he hummed. Manon growled, but didn't fight phantom hands. She would avenge this later. "Are you going to kill me princeling?” Manon bared her iron teeth. Dorian grinned. 

"Oh, witchling," he said and supported his hands on either side of Manon's head. "I'm going to destroy you." 

Manon raised her chin defiantly. "Its when you try. I don't think your life means much to you." Dorian's eyes darkened and he brought his face right in front of Manon's. “As long as you hold the knife to my throat, Manon, I don't care about my own life." 

Manon chuckled. Phantom hands had begun caressing her inner thighs, rising towards between her legs. “I bear that in mind, Princeling,” She muttered and barely managed to hold back the moan. 

Dorian's mouth spread into a wolf-like grin.“Whatever, witchling." 

And then Dorian's mouth was on Manon's lips, and the prince's hands - Both physical and phantom hands- caressed, pinched, and pulled on her clothes. 

Manon hissed in frustration against Dorian's mouth, her wrists still pressed against the table surface. Her iron nails raked empty air. Phantom hands touched Manon from everywhere, making him moan and gasp sharply. 

"Are you going to plead with the witchling?" Dorian asked hoarsely. Manon growled and wrapped her legs around Dorian's waist, pulling him closer. “Never," she grumbled. And when the phantom hands finally let go of Manon's wrists, she attacked at Dorian, pushed him back into the chair and pressed her mouth against his mouth with force. 

The fabric was torn under her nails while Dorian pulled Manon's witch leather down from her shoulders. Leather, fabric and weapons fall to the floor as Mano and Dorian hungrily attacked each other's bodies. 

Only the moon's rays, which managed to break through between the curtains into the room,  witnessed the heir of the Blackbeaks clan unite with the crown prince of Adralan. 

::::::: 

Manon should have gotten dressed and left. 

Her grandmother had ordered Manon to return to the Blackbeaks keep without delay for a new mission. But still, Manon found herself lying in Dorian's bed as the sun rose over the horizon, illuminating the shreds of clothes lying on the floor and the papers that had fallen off the table. Dorian lay next to Manon, drawing lazy circles on her back. 

Manon's head rested on Dorian's shoulder. She had retracted her iron nails and now let her pale fingers run along Doria's abs. "I should go," Manon muttered sleepily. And to wash so that the grandmother does not smell the reason for Manon's lateness. Mano should have hunted all this time corchan witches. And she had done so. She had spent a whole month in the small villages of Melisande. Grandmother's message had reached her the day before coming to Riftholdi. But instead of obeying the order that arrived immediately, Manon had come there. Manon had never ignored her grandmother's orders or lied to her face. 

"I have work," Dorian muttered back. Neither moved. Manon felt warm and content. 

Manon had never stayed the night after fuck a stranger. Often she would slit the men's throats and then go in search of new prey. But Dorian was no stranger. Not anymore. He was amusement. Something Manon enjoyed. Manon knew it was nothing more. It was not to be anything else. There could only be lust between them. 

"When will I see you again?" Dorian asked. Manon lifted her head from the prince's chest to look at his expression. Dorian was serious. He was serious. 

Manon thought for a moment and then let her head fall back against Dorian's shoulder. “If I was smart, I wouldn't go back at all," she said. Dorian's heartbeat was calm and steady. It was... Special? Annoying? Dorian was not afraid of Manon. Or at least not as much as he should have. 

Dorian's tired chuckle trembled his chest beneath Manon's cheek. “If you were smart, you would have killed me that first night at the inn,” The prince said. He was not afraid of death. And Manon didn't figure out why. 

"I should have killed you in that possessed alley and eaten your heart.” Now Dorian was laughing, and Manon couldn't help the smile. 

"Maybe I should have let you kill me, witchling,” Dorian sighed and pressed his face into Manon's white hair. Manon hummed, running her nails on the boy's stomach. “Do you really want to die, Princeling?" 

Dorian did not respond for a moment. Manon looked up in confusion on Dorian's face, only to see a gloomy, serious look on the prince's face. “More often than I'd like to admit," he said quietly. A strange feeling flash inside Manon. She didn't want to study it or name it. She just pushed it to the back of her mind. 

With one quick movement, Manon climbed sat on the Dorian's chest. The iron nails were out and she caressed Dorian's throat with them. On his tanned neck were still visible the scar left by Manon's teeth. 

Dorian was her prey. Her killing. 

"Would you like me to do it now?" Manon purred. That same annoying feeling tried to take over Manon, but she resolutely rejected it. Doria's blue eyes flashed. He grabbed Manon's fingers and pressed it to his heart. 

"When you kill me," he gasped, "Tear my heart out of my chest, witchling. Take it and enjoy its taste while I die." 

"Poetic," Manon muttered, pressing her iron nails down slightly. Red blood began to flow. And Dorian didn't react. 

The emotion inside Manon struggled and screamed at Manon to notice it. Manon ignored it. 

"Are you going to kill me, witchling?" Dorian whispered. Manon pressed harder. "Do you want to die, Princeling?" 

Dorian stared straight into Manon's eyes. Straight into Manon's golden eyes and the shred of soul behind them. His lips parted as he was about to answer... 

A loud knock at the door made Manon, to her own shame, startle. She had been so focused on Dorian, on his chest, and on the heart beating beneath it, that she had not noticed the footsteps behind the door at all. 

"Dorian!" came the man's shouted. “Get out of bed! You're already late!" 

Dorian let out a couple of very fanciful swear words. Manon rolled away from the prince's chest, when Dorian got up and headed for the door, muttering: “Chaol," as if feeling the need to explain to Manon who had come to his door. 

When the princeling went to open the door, pulling on his trousers, Manon slipped out of bed and began collecting his own clothes, quietly. She should have gone long ago. She shouldn't have come at all. 

Dorian slipped out of the bedroom door into the living area of his apartment and Manon heard through the door how he opened the door. 

"Do you know what time it is?" was the irritated voice of the Chaol. “Your father was waiting for you for a meeting half an hour ago." 

Manon began pulling on her underwear, while listening to the conversation in the living room. “I had something else," came Dorian's ill-tempered reply. It was quiet for a while, and Manon had already got her pants on when Chaol muttered:“I see. Is that why you skipped training in the morning?" 

"That's why!" Dorian was already sounding angry. “Father wants me in a meeting? Fine. Tell him I'll be there soon." 

It sounded like Dorian was throwing Chaol out of the room. Manon pulled the shirt over her head and fastened the Wind-Cleaver in place. As she picked up her boots from the floor, Manon's attention was drawn to one of the papers Dorian had reading that evening. 

Manon bent down and picked up the paper from the floor. Her interest had been piqued by one sentence in a paper written in concise handwriting. 

Because of Terrasen's threat, Adralan must prepare for war.  

Next to the sentence was written in ink, in another handwriting: Exaggeration.  

At that very moment, the bedroom door opened, and Dorian slipped back in, looking grumpy. He had put his trousers the wrong way up, and now began swear to take them off and find something decent to wear in his closet. 

"Are you going to war with Terrasen?" Manon asked, and sat down on the side of the bed to put on her boots. If war was about to break out between the two kingdoms, the information could be useful to Blackbeaks. 

Dorian glanced over his shoulder to Manon, pulling out a clean white shirt from his closet. He looked very confused at first before noticed up the paper next to Manon. That's when his expression closed. 

He turned his back on Manon and began pulling the shirt on. “Exaggeration," he said, and his was a voice of frustration. Manon laced her boots and then began tying the other's laces. 

"Is this because of the new queen of Terrasen and her court of freaks?" 

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, a young demi-fea, had fled three years ago to Doranelle when her parents were murdered. She had returned a year ago with four fea warriors and her mate, Rowan Whitethrone. Aelin had marched back to Erlea and declared herself Queen of Terrasen. 

Manon didn't know much about the young queen. Only that she was younger than Dorian and that her powerful fire magic was believed to have originated from Mala, the goddess of fire. Aelin of the wildfire, Manon had heard some say, with awe in them voice. 

Manon didn't care who ruled Terrasen. It had nothing to do with her. 

Dorian snorted contemptuously and that was enough of an answer. Manon stood up and waved her red cloak over her shoulders. 

"My father and his courtier are afraid of Terrasen," Dorian said. He buttoned the last buttons of his shirt and then dug out his pants from his closet. “He is afraid of magic and despises fea. He believes that Terrasen is a threat to his power." 

Manon raised her eyebrows on Dorian's back. So human. “And what do you think?” Manon found herself asking. She was not particularly interested in the matter. At least Manon claimed so to herself. 

"Exaggeration," Dorian repeated, turning towards Manon with a frantic look in his eyes. “My father does not understand and does not want to understand magic. The only thing he understands is power and violence." 

There was a bitterness in the words that Manon could not think of an explanation for. “How, then, does he accept a boy with magical powers?" Manon raised one corner and leaned her shoulder against the bedpost. 

Dorian snorted and fastened his belt in place. “He doesn't know," was the reply. That was to be expected. Why tell a man who feared and hated magic that his own family had it. 

"So you don't want to go to war with Terrasen?" Manon asked. Dorian was indeed interesting as a human being. The prince shook his head. He fastened to his belt a sword that had leaned against the wall. “I know Aelin. I knew her parents. Aelin may be awkward, but I don't think war benefits Adralan in any way. It would just be a waste of life." 

Weak, whispered a voice in Manon's head. That voice sounded a lot like Grandmother. 

"So you're going to prevent war," Manon said rather than asked, but Dorian nodded anyway. "I will do my best to prevent it. I'm not going to sacrifice my people for a pointless war." 

Weak, said Grandmother's voice in Manon's head, but...Dorian cared about his people. He would one day become king and some part of Manon...some small part of her admired Dorian's determination and loyalty. 

Weak, grandmother's voice accused. Manon rejected it in the same way she had rejected the strange feeling of pressing her nails against Dorian's chest. Dorian... Dorian wasn't... weak. 

"I wish you luck, but I have little interest in whether war breaks out or not,” Manon said, indifferently. She had her own war, which had been going on for the last five hundred years. 

Dorian chuckled hoarsely. "I believe it, witchling." 

Manon flashed Dorian an iron-toothed smile and then turned his back on the boy. "See you, Princeling,” she purred over her shoulder as she stepped onto the balcony. 

To Manon's surprise, Dorian followed. “When will I see you next time?” Dorian asked as Manon got on her broom. Manon shrugged. "I don't know," she said vaguely. And then, perhaps because Dorian had opened up to her, Manon continued: “I have to appease my grandmother before I can return. If I keep doing this, she will start to doubt." 

A sudden understanding flashed across Dorian's face, but Manon wouldn't allow the prince to say anything. Instead, she blinked an extra eyelid into place, popped into the sky, leaving Princeling and Riftholdi behind. 

But, as Manon childishly found herself hoping for, not for the last time. 

:::::: 

The laughter was like hoarfrost on the grass.  

It echoed from the trunks of the tree and made the hairs on Manon's neck stand up. She could hear laughter all around her. The forest was filled with that clear, hoarfrosted giggle. Too cheerful for such a gloomy forest. Too young so deep into the shelter of trees.  

Laughter is a child's. A high-voiced girl child.  

It sparked something inside Manon. Shed light on her withered heart. Somewhere, in such a dark and gloomy place as this forest, someone laughed. It shouldn't have affected Manon. Nohow. Human's kids did not belong to her.  

Manon did not kill the children . Not even human children. It was an order and agreement in the Manon’s Witch Circle. Never children. But no child would laugh if she saw Manon and thirteen.  

The children were scared to death of them. This girl giggled. Teased Manon. Laughter bounced and bounced around until Manon was no longer sure where it was coming from. 

The shadows of the forest hid the child. The wind dampened the footsteps. There was only laughter. Just a hoarfrosted child's giggle.  

"You can't catch me," the child laughed. “Just try. You can't catch me!” More hysterical giggles. The shadows deepened. The cold wind picked up. And the child just laughed. Laughed. Laughed and laughed.  

Manon looked around as anger, curiosity, and fear fought inside her. But she did not reach the child. The child was too fast. Invisible. There was only a voice. Laughter coming from deep in the shadows. Light blooming in the middle of darkness.  

A darker shadow caught Manon's attention. It was as if a bird had flown over her. And when Manon looked up, she saw a black bird, a raven, sitting on a tree branch.  

The child's laughter belonged to the raven. The girl's laughter echoed from its opened beak .  

:::::::  

Manon startled awake. 

She was greeted by the first rays of the sun flooding through the thin walls of the tent. It was absolutely quiet. Only the rustling of the wind in the trees broke the silence of the forest. There were no sounds of other witches waking up, no rustling of animals in the trees. Not even the chirping of a bird. The silence was like a woolen blanket wrapped around the camp. Nothing broke it. 

Manon sat up to sit on her pad and moved away the blanket. She stretched her stiff neck, which was still stiff from the cold of the night. It was still early autumn, but there were already night frosts in the north. 

Manon and her entire coven had been sent to the Staghorn Mountains to track down a large tride of corcha that some lower coven had seen signs of. Grandmother had immediately called Manon to her and told her to track down the group. 

"If you come back empty-handed,” The Matron had growled at her last words. “You get to say goodbye first to your station, then to your coven, and finally to your own life. Don't come back until you have something to show."  

Manon knew she had returned too many times empty-handed. Grandmother had been clear that if Manon now failed in her mission, all thirteen members, including Manon, would be executed. 

Manon wasn't going to fail. This time, she wouldn't let Dorian influence her. 

They had been tracking corchans at Staghorn for almost three weeks. Manon's coven had found a couple of abandoned camps that still had the smell of corchanes wafting around. It had instilled confidence in Manon and her witches. They were going to find these corchans. And slaughter them all. 

Manon hoped they would catch up with the caravan soon. She wanted to return to the Blackbeaks keep to gather strength. Maybe it was due to the mountain air or night frosts, but Manon had noticed that she was getting tired faster than usual. She also slept heavier, which was not good. 

Normally, Manon did not dream. Not especially... such. She had no dreams of ravens laughing at her. 

Manon moved her feet to the floor of the tent and grimaced as the cold stung her legs. Hissing in frustration, Manon pulled her pants and then her boots on her foot. She didn't bother putting on leather protective gear, but climbed to her feet and out of the tent. 

Lin, who was sitting on guard, looked up as Manon stepped into the crisp morning air. Lin's dark eyes followed Manon as she trudged across the clearing deeper into the woods. Lin could see from Manon's expression that it was not worth saying anything. 

The day before, they had tracked the caravan away from the mountains and stayed overnight in the forest at the foot of the mountain. Today they would continue their hunt. The Corchans were heading towards the sea, and thirteen would go there as soon as they woke up. 

The frosty lawn crackled beneath Manon's boots as she walked up to the clear-water stream. It flowed calmly across the forest, towards larger rivers and the sea. Manon knelt next to the stream and broke the thin layer of ice that had formed over the water during the night. 

The freezing cold water woke Manon up properly and the last remnants of sleep faded as Manon sank his hands into the stream and splashed water on her face. Fresh, ice-cold water washed away every disturbing detail of sleep. A child's laughter and a black raven. 

These mountains and the cold drove her crazy. That would change as they got farther south. Closer to Adralan. Closer to Riftholdi. And Doriania. 

Manon grimaced as the boy sneaked stealthily into her mind. She shook the Princeling out of her mind, rolled up her sleeves, and began to wash her arms. 

She hadn't visited Dorian for almost a month and a half. The last time Manon had returned to Blackbeak keep, the Matron had first barked and eventually beaten Manon so badly, that she hadn't even been able to move her head properly for two days. The bruises had healed and the broken bones hardly hurt anymore. Manon knew she had been careless and indolent. She knew she needed to learn from her grandmother's feedback and stop being sluggish. She should stop visiting to Dorian. 

Manon had been almost imprisoned a whole month in Blackbeak’s keep before the Matron let her back to work. Manon could not afford to fail if she wanted to see her princeling one day. This gig. After that, a little rest in the Blackbeaks keep, and when Grandother finally averted her gaze, she would visit Dorian. 

Perhaps she would finally do the right thing and tear the prince's heart out of his chest. That stupid, human feeling that Manon didn't want to explore twitched in her chest, trying to create light in her withered heart. Manon buried the emotion deep in the back of her mind.  

A deep sigh escaped Manon's throat. She began to open her long plait. White hair fell on both sides of her head, heavy and dirty. It had been a long time since Manon had last bathed. 

There was weakness in longing for such a thing as a warm bath. But what would Manon give for an inn, a proper bed, and a hot bath to relax her aching muscles? 

Manon did her best, washing most of her hair with the cold water of the stream. When she decided that her hair couldn't get any cleaner, she braid her hair again. But instead of getting off the ground and returning to camp, Manon remained seated by the stream. 

It was probably just exhaustion and many weeks of futile searching fault, but Manon was forgotten in her thoughts. She stared at the stream. How it flowed under the ice. A small layer of ice could not hold back the current and before the day properly came, the ice would be gone. Washed along with the current. Lost. 

Grandmother said Manon was ice. She was a cruel predator who was born heartless. But all the ice could be destroyed. The ice could cleave. It could melt. Turn into water in flames. The ice was strong. But in the end, it was just water. 

The ice was cruel. Water was patient. And water would beat ice. Even if frost eventually freezing the entire stream, it would turn into water again when spring came. Ice was not eternal. Water was. Even after Manon's inner ice broke and she became part of the Darkness, the water would continue to flow. Forever. No matter how many forms it might be in. 

The silent footsteps, so quiet that human could not have heard them, awakened Manon from her thoughts. She immediately became alert and iron nails flashed in the sunlight before Asterin's familiar scent reached Manon. 

"Good morning to you too,” Asterin muttered, yawning, glancing at Manon's iron nails. If anyone else had addressed Manon like that, she would have personally ripped her tongue out of her mouth. But Asterin... well, she was Asterin and Manon's second. In that position, she was allowed to speak to Manon more freely. 

Asterin slumped down beside Manon on the streambank, still yawning. She scooped water into her palms and splashed it on her face.Asterin grimaced when she felt the cold of the water. “How do we continue today?” Asterin asked briskly, having woken up her other hemisphere of the brain. 

Manon looked up at the horizon and wondered how far they would get before nightfall. "We are heading towards the sea,” Manon decided and stood up, shaking the dust off her pants. "We eat and keep going. If darkness permits, we'll find the caravan before nightfall and feast on the horror of the corchans." 

Asterin chuckled approvingly and stood up next to Mano, pulling her golden curls off her face. “I tell others to prepare," she said. Manon just nodded. She still watched the sun slowly rising from behind the forest. 

The days were getting shorter and shorter. The winter was becoming cold and cruel. Manon really hoped that the Darkness would let them find the corchans before winter came. She didn't want to be under the open sky when the frosts got harder and snow started falling. 

A black shadow flashed in the corner of Manon's eye, and she turned her head abruptly towards it. The black bird flew in front of the sun's rays, casting a long shadow on the ground. Manon watched it. Watched as the bird, a valuable, black raven, landed on a tree branch. It turned its head. One big black eye stared directly at them. Directly Manoania. 

And suddenly, a dream that Manon had almost forgotten came back to her. A child's laughter, like a hoarfrost on the grass and a raven – a raven... it looked at Manon. 

"Manon?" Asterin's voice caused Manon to wake up from the trance into which the sight of a bird had caused her to sink. She turned towards Asterin so abruptly that the second was startled by a sudden movement. "Tell the others to prepare quickly," Manon grunted. "We will leave as soon as possible." 

If Manon saw the raven again, she would fry it for food. “Manon?” There was a rare concern in Asterin's voice. Manon ignored it and started stride towards the camp. She needed to get far away from the bird. 

“Manon,” Asterin's voice was now more demanding, and Manon sensed her coming. "Is everything okay?" 

"Yes," Manon grumbled, without even looking at the other. “All is well. Just focus on the task." 

Asterin was content with it, although Manon sensed each other's dissatisfaction. Manon continued her fast walk, glancing behind her out of the corner of her eye. Asterin came a couple of steps behind. Lin waited ahead, along with the other witches who had already woken up. And the raven... Manon refused to look at the bird flying among the trees alongside her. 

And, though Manon knew it was only imagination, she seemed to hear a hoarfrost laugh behind her. 

She didn't turn to see if she was right. 

Chapter Text

“But I'm in the trees, I'm in the breeze 
My footsteps on the ground 
You'll see my face in every place 
But you can't catch me now 
Through wading grass, the months will pass 
You'll feel it all around 
I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere 
But you can't catch me now 
No, you can't catch me now.” 

 
Olivia Rodrigo 
Can’t catch me now 

Manon and thirteen flew all day. When the sun is at its highest, Manon gave the order to land and begin tracking on the ground. 

After an hour of searching and reconnaissance, the green-eyed demon twins found the camp, where had clearly spent the night. When Manon saw it, she cursed the gods inside her head. The Corchans had a big head start that could take months to catch up. 

Realizing this, Manon told Vesta and Lin to find a place to camp, while she staying to study maps with Gishlaine, Asterin and Imogen. The rest remained on guard or to hunt for food. 

They camped a mile from the Corchans' camp. They roasted the deer Thea and Kaya had caught over a campfire and then tore the semi-raw meat out of the bones, hungry like wolves. Or the other twelve witches did so. 

Manonia had already felt sick, when the meat had been fried, and when she dipped her iron teeth into it, her stomach twisted so violently that she feared she would vomit. Manon forced herself to swallow, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible. 

"Are you okay Manon?” of course, Asterin had noticed something was wrong. Manon took another bite of the flesh and forced it down her throat before growled, "Yes!" 

Manon realized how aggressive she sounded when her witches' backs straightened. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Manon tossed her piece of meat on the ground and stood up. “I'm going to sleep," she said. “Tomorrow we have to wake up early to continue our journey. I recommend it to you too." 

She was already stridening toward the tents when Asterin said: “Not going to eat?” Manon glanced over her shoulder, feeling a tantrum bubbling beneath her skin. Asterin, second, had the right to question Manon within certain limits. But her eating..."I’m not hunger," Manon growled. It was a lie, and Manon realized Asterin knew it when the blond witch squinted her eyes. However, she did not give the other a chance to continue asking questions, and she slipped into her tent but closed it behind her. 

Manon slumped down on her pad and listened to the sounds coming from outside the tent. For a moment she heard nothing but the faint crackling of fire and the quiet singing of night birds. Then a quiet speech began, which after a moment turned into a subdued roars of laughter. 

Manon gusted and pulled her shoes off. The witches could have fun as long as they were ready to continue their journey in the morning. Manon didn't care about anything else. Find the corchans, prove to the grandmother that you still deserve the status of heir, and then rest after this gig. Long. Manon might not get out of bed for several days. Or a week. 

And then she would return to Riftholdi. Manon didn't know when it had become an integral part of her to-do list, but the plan sounded tempting. Despite all her assurances to herself and others, Manon... she missed Dorian. 

As she lay down on the pad of the tent and pulled the blanket over her, Manon heard her grandmother's voice again in her head. It insulted her as a weak and soft-hearted who had forgotten her most important task. 

"I haven't forgotten anything," Manon muttered, not knowing who she was talking to. “I've just got more to remember." 

And although Manon had imagined that she would sleep badly because of an empty stomach, she fell into a deep sleep in an instant. 

::::::: 

Manon walked down the corridor of Blackbeak's keep. She held in her hands the box in which rested the heart of the witch of the corchan. Behind her, a blood-red cloak fluttered and witches dodged her way. 

Manon's feet made no sound in the stone hallway as she walked toward her grandmother's study. The matron would be pleased with this booty. Manon had proven her worth . She walked to the door, knocked, and stepped in only to realize...The trees of the forest cast dark shadows on the ground in the moonlight.  

Manon stared at the trees in shock, and then turned around, looking for the door she had come from . But the forest was everywhere. Dark shadows obscured the animals hiding on the ground and the closed flowers.  

The forest was quiet. Only the rustling wind in the trees broke the complete silence. And Manon just stood there. In the middle of the forest. Alone. In her hands a box in which rested the heart of the corchan she had hunted.  

Not only that... Hoarfrost laughter filled the forest. It was not audible around Manon. No. It heard from in front her. Right in front of her and... Manon didn't have a box.  

She squeezed a black raven in her hands, from whose beak laughter could be heard. Manon failed to suppress the scream that escaped her mouth. Her grip on the black bird loosened, and the raven flew to the branch of the nearest tree to laugh. 

"You almost caught me," the raven mocked. Its black beak opened when it giggled.“But not quite. You can't caught me. I'm in the air. I'm in the earth. I'm in the trees. I'm in you. In you. And you still can't catch me."  

The raven laughed. Laughed and laughed . Manon wanted nothing so much as to make it stop and suddenly there was a bow in her hand.  

A long bow made of dark wood, and in her hand, tuned to a tendon, a cruel iron arrow . “ Kill it," Grandmother's voice commanded from behind her. And Manon obeyed. Raised the bow.  

The raven's laughter died. It stared at the bow for a moment. Then Manonia.  

"Are you going to kill me?" the child's voice was confused and fearful. "I'm just playing."  

"Kill it!" Grandmother's voice urged. The raven began to look frightened. Manon aimed her arrow at the bird's heart. All she would have to do was lets go of the tendon...”But I'm just playing," the bird said again, fluffing its feathers. 

"Kill it!" Grandmother screamed. The bird soared into the sky and Manon...  

Manon bounced upright on her pad, a feeling of discomfort swirling in her stomach. She barely got out of the tent before she vomited. 

Manon leaned heavily on the tree and panted her forehead against the bark. Just a dream. She assured herself. Just a dream. Not real... 

"Manon?" it was rare for either of the shadows to speak. When Manon turned to look at Briar sitting on guard, the witch snapped her mouth shut. Manon didn't know what kind of expression was on her face, but it was enough to make Briar's eyes widen with fear. 

Manon wiped the back of her mouth and grunted: “If you say anything about this to anyone, I'll tear your tongue out of your mouth." 

And then Manon went back to her tent. She slumped down on the sleeping surface and pressed her head between her knees until the nausea passed. 

Should have eaten the night before, after all. All that helped now was to drink water to starve. They had agreed to continue their journey first thing in the morning without breakfast. So Manon got up and started dressing, ignoring the howling hunger in her stomach. 

::::::: 

Two days passed. Every useless day of flying strained Manon and Thirteen's nerves. They had found camps, but they were always at least a day old. It was as if the corchans were deliberately teasing them. The witch caravan still passed as a group, but at any moment it would inevitably disperse. And then Manon would have to divide her own coven. 

Based on how the camps were set up and how many tent depressions were found on the ground, Manon realized they were tracking down the coven. A whole coven of corchan. If they succeeded in this...If Manon would get thirteen corcha hearts to her grandmother at once, she would regain the trust of the matron. 

Just so she could betray it again right away, something inside Manon pointed out. Manon ignored it. She had earned her amusement. 

Thirteen had travelled along the coast, where the wind was strong and the smells disappeared into the sand. Manon didn't know if the Corchans had realized they were being hunted. That could explain the route along the coastline. 

Only the remnants of the old camps indicated that they were heading in the right direction. On the evening of the third day of flight, Manon was so stiff that she had trouble getting off her broom. She had divided her own coven and sent them in troops of two and three witches to explore the terrain. 

They had pre-arranged a meeting place where they would also set up camp that evening. A small coastal cave provided some protection from the ever-increasing wind howling outside. A storm was coming. Manon had smelled it in the wind. Lightning, rain and thunder. She had told her witches to gather in a cave before the storm hit. 

And there they sat now. They were hovering around the little campfire that had kindled with great difficulty by Ghislain and Imogen. It had taken many measly minutes and a lot of swearing. Three hares hunted by Vesta were roasting on top of the fire. 

When Manon smelled it, bile rose up her throat. She hadn't been able to eat properly for two days. She used to tear flesh from bones in the same way that people crumbled bread in their fingers. Now the mere sight of the flesh made Manon feel sick. She had forced herself to eat the previous two nights. A couple of bites of meat until she had retreated to her tent, citing fatigue. 

No one had dared to ask the reason for Manon's loss of appetite after the first night. And even if Manon had been asked, he wouldn't have been able to answer. She was hungry. So hard that that morning, as she slipped into the woods to vomit, she had eaten half-dead lingonberries from the ground. 

Their tangy taste had eased hunger and nausea. Otherwise, Manon had been living on water for the past two days. The lack of food had made her even more grumpy than usual, and she bark at everyone without reason. 

Although Manon ate little and could hardly concentrate due to hunger, she fell asleep as soon as she lay down. And the dreams Manon had... They got worse night by night. The two previous nights, Manon had been running in the dark forest, trying to hunt a black raven while Grandmother screams and tells her to bring a bird's heart. 

The bird no longer laughed. Instead, the child's voice sounded almost tearful as it kept saying, “ but I'm just playing, ” And, "Are you really going to kill me?"  

Manon had mixed feelings for the bird. She wanted to kill it. Grandmother told her to kill it. But at the same time... the voice of the child. Little girl's voice... Manon didn't know what to do and whenever she woke up, she staggered out of her tent as steadily as possible, and then deep into the woods to vomit her guts on the moss. There was nothing but water in her stomach and bile was burning when its came up. 

Despite sleeping more than before, Manon woke up as tired as if she had stayed up all night. Perhaps she had fallen sick. It could have been possible if witches could get sick. Witches did not get circulating diseases. If any of them fell sick, it was a deadly disease. Or, if the witch was pregnant, she might occasionally have a fever, but that was normal. Carrying a witchling took its toll on the witch's powers. 

Manon stared at the rabbits ripening over the fire. Their smell was good and should have made Mano feel hungry. Instead, her stomach twisted, as if someone had hit her with a fist. Bile stinged in her throat as a gust of wind found its way into the small cave and threw the scent of rabbits into Manon's face. 

She felt sickened. In the confined space, the smells were strong, and as the wind swung Manon's hair again, she could feel the pressure gathering in the bottom of her stomach. 

"Are you okay Manon?" Asterin asked, noticing Manon's rigid posture. Manon was tempted to snap in responsei, but if she opened her mouth, she would vomit. Instead, she glare Asterin at out of the corner of her eye and focused then the rabbits. She had eaten rabbits before. Raw. How it differed from eating male guts? But that thought alone only made the nausea worse. 

Manon closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe calmly. The nausea would be transient. Everything would return to normal. Soon. She wanted to believe so. 

“Manon?” The concern in Asterin's voice made Manon's eyes flutter open. She turned towards her cousin, whose smooth forehead was now frowned. “You're pretty pale. Are you sure you're okay?" 

Manon wanted to tell her cousin to take care of her own business, but when she opened her mouth to give a stern answer, the smell of the rabbit's fried meat spread across her tongue. Manon stumbled to stand up and barely made it out of the cave before she vomited in the sand. 

The burning of bile brought tears to Manon's eyes as she vomited the small amount of food out her stomach. 

Manon's whole body trembled as she straightened her back. Exhaustion weighed on her muscles and nausea still lingered in her stomach, even though she had just vomited. 

Outside, the wind and wind swept Manon's hair off her face. It bit through her clothes and made Manon shiver. Still trembling from the cold and muscular effort, Manon returned to the cave. To meet only her coven. The twelve witches had stood up, and seemed to be in two minds as to rush after Manon or wait. 

When Manon stepped back into the cave, everyone's expression relaxed. “What?" Manon growled and wrapped her arms tighter around her, stopping at the entrance of the cave. The gazes of the other twelves made her nervous. The iron teeth were snapping into place as Manon assessed the danger. 

It was Asterin who stepped forward and spoke: "You've been acting weird lately, Manon," she began. Manon's other members of the coven glanced at each other. Asterin was traversing dangerous waters, and Manon's irritation last day may have made it dangerous to irritate her. 

Manon squinted her eyes and straightened her back. “It's none of your business,” she growled, and stride straight up to stand in front of Asterin. Vesta muttered a prayer to the three-faced goddess. 

"I'm fine." 

Asterin slowly shook her head, keeping her eyes in Mano's eyes. “That's it," the blond witch said quietly. "You're not." 

Complete silence descended into the cave. The witches of thirteen seemed at a loss as to what to do in this situation. Some fiddled with their weapons, while the other tried their best to blend into the shadows. They, although they did not show it, were afraid of Manon's reaction. 

Manon bared her teeth and growled warningly. "I'm fine." 

“Manon,” Asterin said firmly, positioning herself in front of Manon with head upright and back straight. “You're even more grumpy than usual," she began. Manon snorted and raised one brow derisively. “And you find that weird," she grumbled. 

Asterin didn't seem to hear Manon's words, but continued: "You don't eat. You feel sick when you see meat. You vomit in the morning..." 

Manon gleare toward Briar, whose face was turning pale, but Asterin said: “She hasn't said anything. I noticed it myself." 

"It will pass,” Manon said with a sigh and rubbed her forehead. Her head ached. "Think what you think," Manon said, getting tired of the argument suddenly. There was confusion in Asterin's expression as Manon gave up the fight so easily. "I need to go to sleep." 

But before Manon could step past Asterin, she said: “You talk in your sleep." 

Manon stiffened. Spoke in her sleep? Manon had never spoken in her sleep. She never slept soundly enough to dream—but a raven. Child. Laughter. And grandmother's voice. What had she said? 

Manon stared straight into Asterin's eyes, her face expressionless. Asterin answered the Manon’s gaze without blinking. There was not an ounce of fear in her gaze. Only iron determination and – and worrie. So worried that it made the hairs on Manon's neck stood up. 

Asterin was her second, yes, but they were witches. Irontooth witches. Thirteen, whose name alone aroused fear. They had no heart. No compassion. And yet Asterin looked her in the eye with open worried. 

Manon took a breath, trembling. She made a small movement with her chin, commanding to her continue. Asterin's expression relaxed, while the other witches behind her breathed a sigh of relief. Manon hadn't killed Asterin that seemed to calm the mood. 

"You don't speak clearly," Asterin said quietly. “But I've heard how... you muttered in your sleep." 

Manon raised her other eyebrow. “It's none of your business, Asterin!" she growled lowly, suddenly regaining her desire for contention. She had allowed each other to continue, but now she had spoken enough. “You don't have to worry. Everything is fine!" 

Manon was about to step past Asterin when a powerful hand grabbed her arm. Iron nails flashed in the light of the flames. Weapons were pulled out and iron teeth clicked into place as the other  witches reacted to Asterin's arrogance. 

Most of Manon's attention was focused on Asterin, but she noticed that no one seemed willing to slam their knife into Asterin's back. "You have no right to take care of me!" Manon hissed. Asterin did not back down, but continued to shake Manon's hand. 

"Who are you hunting?" she asked in a low voice. Manon knew Asterin meant: who are you hunting in your dreams. What had she said? 

Perhaps it was a shock. Or fatigue, but Manon replied: “Raven." The exhaustion what Manon heard in her own voice shocked her as much as it shocked others. 

For a hundred years in leadership, Manon had never shown her exhaustion. She had never shown weakness. But now...Manon was tired and just wanted to crawl into her tent to sleep. The first drops of rain fell from the sky on the stones. The moment Manon stared into her seconds eyes, dragged on. Somewhere in the distance, thunder thundered, and a strong gust of wind swung Manon's hair. 

And then something in the expressions of Manon's coven changed. Sorrel, who had been lurking behind Asterin, abruptly straightened his back, her nostrils trembling. Vesta's eyes widened, and Lin stared at Manon as if she had seen her for the first time. The shadows moved, as if intending to step nearer to Manon. Felline and Fallon, green-eyed demon twins, pushed their knives in sync to hide. Ghislaine tilted her head to the wind, as if trying to be sure of the scent she felt. Imogen pulled her nails in and clenched her hands into fists, while Thea and Kaya, standing next to her, took a breath at the same time. 

But the strongest reacts to Asterin. Her grip on Manon's arm loosened and she took a shocked step back. It all happened quickly, so fast that Manon's brain couldn't keep up completely. 

“What?" she growled angrily as the twelve witches just stared at her without saying anything. Too upset to speak. Manon's gaze wandered from one witch to another, as she tried to understand their expressions. Confusion, shock and - now it was on the faces of others as well - worry. 

"That explains a lot," Ghislane broke the oppressive silence with her mutterings. “What?" Manon growl and turned to stare at the dark-skinned witch. “What are you talking about? What...” 

"Haven't you figured it out yourself?” Manon had never heard her seconds sound like that. Asterin's quiet voice was full of emotions that Manon couldn't decipher. Her expression was similar. A mixture of many emotions that further confused Manon. 

"I haven't figured out what?" Manon asked dangerously quietly. Asterin's gaze was unblinking as she stepped closer to Manon. Her eyes never averted her gaze from Manon's when second stopped in front of her. 

"You're pregnant." Asterin would breathe. 

It was as if time had stood still. For a moment, Manon felt like she was hanging on top of the abyss. How, then, would all the ropes holding her have broken and she would have plunged into darkness. 

Pregnant. 

Manon wanted to argue against. To hit Asterin for such an assertion. But... It was possible. Not possible. When the words had left Asterin's mouth, Manon had known they were true. 

She was pregnant. When she returned to the Blackbeaks keep a month and a half ago, her grandmother had beaten her, and it had taken her thoughts elsewhere. Manon hadn't taken the tonic, which would have prevented pregnancy. Not that she was very specific about it anyway. 

It was harder for witches to get pregnant and even harder to stay pregnant. Manonin would now be almost in the second month. If it survived another month... 

“Manon?” There was a strange gentleness in Asterin's voice. Manon realized that she had been staring at the wall as she a fool, and turned her gaze abruptly towards Asterin. Asterin was - she looked - Manon didn't know. The expression on the second face confused her too much. 

"What do we do now?" Asterin asked cautiously. That was a good question. Manon knew what her grandmother would want her to do. She wants Manon to return right away and take care of the growing witchling inside her, but... 

"We will continue hunting,” Manon said coldly. Asterin's strange expression disappeared and was replaced by shock. “Manon...” she began, but Manon waved her iron nails hand, causing her to remain silent. When she spoke again, Manon addressed all the members of her coven. 

"We're going to keep hunting as we used to," Manon said. The fatigue had disappeared and had been replaced by ice. A flash of lightning outside, and after a while there was a thunder rumbled. Inside a Manon, something was petrified. Maybe it was her heart. 

"We will find the corhcans and kill them,” On Manon's orders. “But what about the witch..." Vesta tried to ask, but Manon's gaze made her pause. 

"No one talks about it,” Manon said quietly, staring directly at Vesta, but addressing her coven. "Not a word more." 

Manon's order was received with silence. She took a slow breath and stepped past Asterin, toward her tent. Fatigue had taken over her and it was worse than ever. The exhaustion put pressure on Manoni's muscles and it just seemed to double, now that she knew why. 

"If I survive another month," Manon said, not particularly to anyone, “Then I rethink the situation." 

The witches behind her were silent. No one said anything when Manon crawled her tent. She threw herself down on her sleeping surface. Her head was spinning. And so did her stomach. 

Nausea rolled over Manon like a wave hitting the shore. What the hell is she supposed to do? Only now, alone, in the dark, did the news really sink into Manon's consciousness. All this time – almost two months! 

"I hate you, Dorian Havilliard," Manon whispered into the darkness. She should have killed the boy. She should have - but it was no use thinking about what she should have done. 

Done what done. 

Manon had imagined that because of the turmoil of her mind, she would not be able to sleep. But, as always, sleep demanded her almost as soon as Manon closed her eyes. 

::::::: 

Manon didn't hunt raven. The raven hunted her. Manon ran across the shady forest, dodging trees and rhizomes. The branches tore at her hair and the mocking voice of the bird followed her: “Where are you running?" It screamed.  

The flapping of wings could be heard over Manon's head . Sharp bird claws tried to get a grip on her white hair . Manon tried to flail the bird with her iron nails, but it dodged, laughing at its hoarfrost little girl's laughter.  

"You can't escape this," it scoffed. "You can't escape this."  

"Leave me alone!" Manon shouted, clearing her way through the dense branches of trees . " You are disappointed!" Grandmother's voice came from somewhere in the depths of the forest. "I'm disappointed in you!"  

"Run, run, run!" The raven screamed. "Run that evil witch won't catch!"  

"Leave me alone!" Manon shouted, running even harder. “Leave me alone! Let me..."  

Manon startled awake. 

It was still dark outside when Manon struggled to her feet and rushed out of the tent. There wasn't much to vomit on. She just coughed stomach acid into dead ground. Manon was still so confused after her sleep that she didn't immediately notice Vesta. It wasn't until the red-haired witch pulled her hair back that Manon realized she wasn't alone. 

Manon spat on the ground and straightened his back, shaking Vesta off her. "I'm fine," she said in a hoarse voice. The nights got colder by the day. Manon had been freezing all night before in her tent. She had not been able to sleep until the wee hours of the morning. Only to wake up after a while to vomit. 

They had gotten closer to Riftholdi in the last three weeks and every night Manon thought about flying to Dorian and - what? Will she rip the man’s throat open? Telling him about her pregnancy? Manon didn't know what she wanted. 

She felt like she didn't know anything anymore. For three long weeks, Manon had somehow managed to hold her head high. She had eaten what she could at the evening campfire, though the flesh sickened her. She slept soundly. Had nightmares about a bird. Some nights the bird hunted her. Some nights Manon hunted for it. 

Every morning she woke up earlier and earlier to vomit. And every morning Asterin asked the same damned question: “ Are you sure you want to continue? ”  

Manon grumbled each time in the affirmative, and then ordered her witch into the air. They were still on the trail of the Corchans, and Manon still vaguely hoped that they would find a witch circle. 

Although – and Manon refused to admit this even to herself – she didn't think she could kill a single corchan. Still, Manon continued obsessively. She preferred to focus on hunting rather than the child growing inside her. To her child. 

Whenever she thought about it, Manon was shaken by pure panic and fear. For the past hundred years, Manon had not been so afraid as she is now. 

Grandmother would be happy with Manon. Of that she was sure. She was supposed to labor her daughter on behalf of her witch clan and be proud of her achievement. Manon wasn't sure what he felt. 

Obedience. Discipline. Brutality. 

How should Manon deal with them and her daughter? How was she supposed to be the cruel heir of the Blackbeaks and mother the same time? 

Did Manon even want to be a mother? 

Manon refused to consider those questions. She reminded herself that this was an honor and good for Blackbeak. That is, if she managed to give birth to a living witchling. 

She hadn't had a miscarriage, which Manon unwittingly wondered about. How could the creature inside her still be alive without being nourished? The fetus for some reason rejects the normal diet of witches. Manon refused to wonder what was wrong with it. What was wrong with her. Because something was wrong. 

Manon had watched the pregnancies of other witches from a distance and heard some stories. She had never heard that the body of an expectant witch had begun to reject flesh. The night before, Manon had only glanced at the birds ripening by the campfire and immediately pressed into her tent, even though her stomach was crying out for food. 

Manon didn't care. Didn't care that her behavior might cause a miscarriage. On some level, she hoped so. Hoped it would die so she could carry on as before. 

If grandmother ever found out that Manon wished for something like that, she would be furious. But the grandmother was not here, and she had no right to influence her thoughts. 

Manon only drank water for breakfast before wrapping her red cloak tighter around her and ordering her witch to fly. They flew all day. Found an abandoned camp, they tracked down for a while until they returning empty-handed. 

Manon couldn't care. Exhaustion made her weak. She just told to find a good place to camp for the night. Again, Manon just wanted to sleep. 

:::::: 

The air was warmer. No matter how long autumn was, the air was warmer near Riftholdi. Or maybe it was just imagining. They had set up their camp on a high hill from which the city could be seen. The Corchan witch circle had finally dispersed and so should they, Manon thought. 

She sat on a large rock near the camp and looked down at the city. And in the silhouette of the falling sunlight rose a glass castle. It was risky to be in such an open place, but the day had been hard and no one had had the energy to look for a better place to camp. 

So close to the city, Manon felt as if a string was attached to her spine and jerked her toward the city. Towards the castle and the tower there. Towards the prince. It had been almost three months since Manon had last seen Dorian. 

Manon fingered the folds of her red cloak and watched as the rays of the setting sun stained the Avrey-river blood red. Like her cloak. Like the blood she should have shed a year ago. So many mistakes with Doria had led Manon to this moment. 

She sat on a rock, watching Riftholdi like an empty-headed person. Her stomach cramped. Manon had to swallow the bile that had risen in her throat. Manon had to swallow bile that had risen in her throat. Manon's stomach was swollen only by the water she had drunk to her hunger. 

What would grandmother do when she learned that Manon couldn't eat meat? Would she force Manon to eat and keep the food in, or would she let Manon look for alternatives? Manon believed knew the answer. A child should not grow to be as weak as its human father. That's probably what grandmother would say. 

But Dorian was not weak. He may have been stupid, but never... weak. Manon sighed and pulled her knees against her chest. The child was still inside her, no matter how badly Manon had neglected her own health. And that meant the witch child was strong. Or stupid when trying to survive. 

Manon didn't know. But she knew nothing more these days. Even the hunt had lost its excitement. She was stupid for continuing. She felt it in her bones. This kind of "playing with one's own life" had never been typical of her. 

But she had never left man alive before. Like it or not, Dorian had changed Manon. She was born without a heart, so her grandmother had said. Blackbeaks were born without a heart and rejoiced in it. But if Manon had anything that resembled a heart, Dorian had softened it. She had softened Manon's icy core. Made a crack in it. 

It was weakness, and Manon knew she should be whipped for her thoughts. What would become of a witchling? What would it inherit from Manon? And, perhaps scarier, what would it inherit from Dorian? Could a witch child inherit magic? The same kind of raw magic Dorian had. 

The idea was absurd. The irontooth witches did not have such powers. But if there were as much human in it as there were witch, that could explain...Manon paused her own thoughts before they could develop any further. 

She took her broom, which had been laid beside her, and jumped down from the rock. 

The camp had been set up around a cheerfully crackling campfire. The witches had gathered around it to warm up and talk quietly. Asterin and Imogen were hunting. 

When Manon sat down in the circle, the conversation died instantly. She didn't seem to notice it. Nor how her coven watched her. Wary and worried. It was good that Asterin had gone hunting that night. She had not ventured further than five feet from Manon in the last three weeks. It was frustrating, but Manon hadn't found enough strength to tell the second to stop. 

Manon stared at the flames.Listened to the wind, and to the silence of her witches. Sorrel sat closer than normal. They all acted as if Manon could die at any moment. That, too, was frustrating. 

Manon didn't know how long they had been sitting quietly, but the soft footsteps coming from the edge of the forest broke the silence. Manon looked up from the flames and saw two shadows parting from the edge of the forest. Asterin and Imogen. They both carried prey in their hands. Imogen had two rabbits and Asterin...Manon had to fight not to vomit in the campfire. 

Asterin also had a rabbits, but besides that, she carried a large black bird in her hand. Ravens. 

It's not the same bird, Manon said herself as the two approached the campfire. It wasn't the raven of her dreams. 

And at that moment, everything seemed to fall apart around Manon. 

She couldn't sit by the fire another night staring at the roasting meat and battling vomit. She could no longer stand Asterin's constant patronage. She couldn't take it anymore. 

Manon stood up so fast that she frightened her witch. She stride out of the circle. Away from the warmth of the campfire with a red cloak behind her. She squeezed the broom in her hand as she leapt towards the stone on which she had previously sat. 

"If any of you follow, I will raise her to hang from her bowels on a tree,” Manon growled. She got up on her broom and glanced over her shoulder, golden eyes burning. “And I mean it," she hissed low. Then she sprang off the ground at speed and soared into the sky with her cloak fluttering around her. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 3  

“And I was runnin' far away 
Would I run off the world someday? 
Nobody knows, nobody knows 
And I was dancing in the rain 
I felt alive and I can't complain.” 

Aurora 
Run away 

Manon hadn't known where she was going when she left. But when she flew over one of the glass palace gardens, she realized where she had come. Whether it was fate or a subconscious command, Manon did not know. But she had returned to Dorian. For the first time in three months. 

What had she come there to do? Manon didn't know that yet. She flew the familiar route, remaining in the shadows until the balcony railing took shape in the darkness. Soft as a cat, Manon laid her boot-clad feet on the stone railing and got off her broom. 

She jumped down from the railing and took a deep breath to see if Dorian was there. 

After all, he was. But not alone. In addition to Dorian's scent, another scent floated into Manon's nose. The smell of a woman mixed with a large amount of perfume. Manon wasn't prepared to feel rage because the smell. But when she realized Dorian had another woman in the room, it made her want to rush into the room and grate open that slut's throat. 

Violence was nothing new to Manon. She was born to inflict pain. But to such feelings she was not used. Manon wasn't used to... jealousy. 

Did Manon really feel jealous? Dorian? Princeling meant nothing to her. And still she was here. 

Manon should not have come. Rage and jealousy evaporated like water into the desert. Manon had no right to be jealous of Dorian. They didn't mean so much to each other that Manon had reason to feel that way. 

She tightened her grip on her broom and was already climbing back into the sky when a sound from the room stopped her. 

"I'm not getting married, Mother!" 

Dorian's voice. Fierce and intense. 

Manon froze in place. Mother. Not another woman, but Dorian's mother. Queen Georgiana. 

"Dorian," the queen's voice was persuade. It's like she's talking to a child, not her adult son. "I know you don't like the idea, but Adralan..." 

"I'm not going to marry," Dorian's voice was unflinching. Manon raised her eyebrows at Princeling tone. She had never heard Dorian so vehemently. 

"Don't be stubid, Dorian!" The Queen didn't sound so persuade anymore. “Because of the unrest in the north and your father's paranoia, Adralan needs stability. We need another heir." 

Dorian snorted bitterly. Manon heard footsteps moving from one side of the room to the other. “Hollin is out of the question." That was a statement. Manon didn't know much about Adralan's second prince, but given Dorian's tone of voice, the boy wouldn't be king. 

"Dorian," said the queen. “Adralan needs stability. If you had a wife, it would give people confidence that everything would work out. If war is really coming..." 

"We will go to war if my father's paranoia drives us to it!” Dorian snapped. "Terrasen is not a threat. Aelin has no interest in conquering our lands." 

Dorian's words met silence. For a moment, Queen Georgiana said nothing. 

"You can't know that,” The queen said so quietly that Manon found herself leaning closer to hear everything. “Aelin Galathinus is an fea. And we can't trust feas." 

Dorian sighed heavily. "You mean neither you and father trust fea. Terrasen is not a threat." 

The queen groaned in frustration. “But that doesn't change the fact that you need a bride, Doria. I know of a couple of noble families with unmarried daughters..." 

"You know I'd like to marry for love,” Dorian interrupted his mother rudely. Manon gritted her teeth and listened to the princeling’s footsteps walk through the room. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. Full of sadness. “I was ready to get married a year ago," there was a lot of emotion in his words. Emotions that Manon couldn't or didn't want to interpret. 

The queen sighed. “I know her departure still bothers you, but..." 

Again, Dorian interrupted. "She didn't leave mother. And you know it." 

The silence was teeming with held back words and feelings. The Queen's shallow breathing reached Manon's ears. She heard the woman's pulse. "She was a traitor," the queen finally said. Dorian snorted. “There was no evidence of that, Mother. And to whom would she have passed the information?" 

“Dorian...” Georgiana started, but Dorian didn't want her mother to finish her sentence. "Father believed that she was passing information on to Terrasen. There is no evidence of that." 

"It's not that she's dead either. She just disappeared until..." 

"She just disappeared before she could be brought to justice. Mother, we both know Dad killed her." 

Silence. Manon bit her broom, her knuckles white, as she went through in her mind what she had just heard. There had been someone else. Before Manon. Someone Dorian had loved. And whom his father had killed for treason. 

Manon had asked if Dorian wanted to die? Now she understood the reason why he wanted to die. 

"And we both know that your father's reign won't last much longer. Adralan needs a queen and heir,” Queen Georgian said earnestly. Dorian's sigh was discouraged. 

For a moment he again did not speak, until finally he said: “Which one is more important. Heir or queen?" 

Queen Georgiana let out a frustrated sigh. "Dorian, we need both. You need a woman by your side who can give you an heir." 

"I don't want a wife!" Dorian hissed. "Not yet." 

"Well, then get heir to Adralan!" The queen snapped. “If we go to war, the existence of an heir is vital." 

Dorian's laughter was quiet and bitter. “And how do you think I will get Adralan an heir without a wife?" 

The Queen's voice strained as she replied: “Even a bastard is better than nothing. Find a street girl and get her pregnant. It doesn't matter if there's someone we can give the crown to if you die." 

"So you don't care what kind of woman I have a child with," Dorian sounded mocking. Georgiana groaned, sounding annoyed and exhausted. “Dorian,” she said discouraged. “I'm not as young as I'd like to be anymore. I want to live long enough to see my grandchildren." 

Dorian was silent for a long time. Completely silent. If Manon hadn't heard the prince's breathing, she could have imagined Dorian disappearing into thin air. "I'll think about it." 

The answer was stiff, but it was good enough for the Queen. "Thank you," she said quietly. There were a couple of knocking footsteps on the stone floor, the sound of the door being opened, and then a quiet bang as the door was closed. 

Many long minutes passed, during which Dorian showed no signs of life. Then Manon heard a heavy sigh. "Heir,”Dorian muttered to himself. Manon heard the man's shoes hit against the stone floor as he started coming towards the balcony. 

For a moment, Manon hesitated. For a moment, he considered staying where he was and facing Dorian. For a moment, a silly moment, she considered telling him she was carrying his child. That, carried... 

"Oh fuck," Manon whispered. Without her century of education, Manon wouldn't have moved fast enough. Quietly as the wind, she jumped on the stone railing, and got on her broom. She jumped down from the balcony just as Dorian stepped out from between the curtains. 

Their eyes met for a moment. Dorian's blue eyes spread in astonishment and he opened his mouth. But Manon was already gone. She told herself that she did not run away. 

:::::: 

The cool night breeze whizzed in Manon's ears as she speeded across the countryside. She had always been a good flying. Every stream of air, every gust of wind – Manon sensed them all. 

But now even the night winds could not calm her down. Manon's heart pounded in her chest, as if someone was chasing her. Blood was pounding in her ears. Manon's iron nails squeezed the broom, making scratches on the ironwood handle. 

What had she been thinking when she went to the glass palace? Why couldn't she shake off her stupid, human-like longing? What had she been waiting to find? 

Dorian's , a small voice inside her whispered. You wanted to see Dorian. Your child's father. It wasn't Grandmother's voice. It wasn't a hoarfrost child's giggle. It was Manoni's own, still, exhausted voice. 

Manon had become weak. Soft-hearted. And it was all due to one mistake. For one mistake, which now caused Manon to fly over the fields at night, where the grain floated like golden ponds. Small cottages dotted the landscape like drops of blood. Grey smoke rose from the chimneys, towards the star-brightened sky 

There had been a time when Manon would have randomly chosen a house from above and hunted down the inhabitants to the last. There had been a time when hunting and killing had made her relax and forget her worries. Now the mere thought of a human's guts and killing made her feel sick. 

The creature growing inside her made Manon dislike what had once been her greatest pleasure. What kind of witch grew in her womb? 

The air whizzing up in the air made Manon tremble. It penetrated like knives through her clothes and pricked her skin. She should not have left the camp. Manon should have stayed. She should have been by the campfire eating and planning the next move. But instead, she flew completely in the wrong direction over the quiet countryside. She just wanted to run away it all. Her coven, who looked at her with renewed caution. Dorian, who was pressured to marry and have an heir. Doriania, who had been in love before meeting Manon. Doriania who wanted to die. Dorian, whose child she carried. 

Manon had to land. It was all too much. Her thoughts and the emotions that quarrel inside her. And, as if with the blessing of a three-faced goddess, the full moon shining in the sky reflected from the water of the lake. Manon didn't think twice as she headed to the lake. She landed on the dead grass and stumbled off her broom. 

She took a few tentative steps toward the lake before collapsing to sit on the cold ground. The water before her looked silver. Even though the wind swayed the branches of the trees, the surface of the water did not vibrate. It rested calm and peaceful in the midst of everything, as part of the eternal flow. It seemed to mock Manon with its serenity. 

How could everything be so calm when her whole life had been turned upside down? 

First Dorian, whom she did not kill. And then the witchling. Who persevered with her life, even though her mother was unable to maintain the condition of her body.  

Mother... 

Manon sighed and buried her face in her palms. She had known that someday it would be ahead. That one day she should get an heir for Blackbeak. That's what her grandmother expected of her. That's what everyone expected of her. A heir. But she had never thought about what that would mean. Manon had never thought about becoming a mother. Or what that word entailed. What it meant to be a mother. Someone on whom another's life depended. 

Manon was obedience. Manon was discipline. Manon was brutality. She had been raised that way. That's how her grandmother had raised her. Manon didn't have a mother to emulate. She only knew how her grandmother was raised and...Manon ran her fingers through her hair. What should she do? 

Manon looked at the lake. Looked over it to the opposite bank. The trees were only black trunks and unspecified figures in the dark. It was as if Manon was looking to her own future. Blurry characters and darkness. She was expecting a witchling. Heir to Blackbeaks. 

But the matter was not so simple. 

A slight breeze vibrated the surface of the pond and touched Manon's face like cold fingers. Like phantom hand. Manon plucked the tuft grass from the ground and tossed it into the wind. Manon's witchling would not only be the heir to the Blackbeaks. It would also be Dorian's heir. Heir to the throne of Adralan. Just the bastard that Queen Georgiana wanted. Actually, it shouldn't have mattered. The child was at Manon and that was enough to make the daughter born Blackbeak. But still... the thing bothered Manon. In her womb grew Adralan's bastard princess, who could one day claim Adralan's throne. 

Heir and princess of the Blackbeaks. Manon stared at the lake. The combination was dangerous. Both to Manon and to the unborn child. What would a grandmother do to a witchling if Matron ever found out about her family heritage? What would she do to Manon? 

It would be better if the witchling was never born. It would be better if she never had to face the merciless world of witches. But who would it be better for? Manon hated herself, realizing the answer. 

It would be better for her if the child was never born. 

It would be best for Manon if she never became a mother. Slowly, Manon looked up to the moon. Ironically, the moon was full. Maternal womb. It was as if the gods themselves wanted Manon to remember where she had driven herself. 

How weak and soft-hearted she had been in allowing herself to visit Dorian for so long. Was this the punishment of the three-faced goddess for her? Did darkness want to punish her by weakening her once and for all? 

Manon threw herself on her back on the grass, next to her iron-wood broom. The sky twinkled and flickered as the stars danced with the moon's rays. The exhaustion weighed on her body and made Manoni feel drowsy. She should return to camp. Manon vaguely thought that her long absence would worry her witches. Soft-hearted fools. Manon knew how to take care of herself. Still, she would do well to return. 

Manon sighed and closed her eyes. She would return. Soon. But before that, she rested. Just for a moment. 

But almost as soon as Manon let her body relax, fatigue took over, dragging her into a deep, dark dream. 

::::::: 

The forest was quiet . Manon's footsteps were the only sound among the trees . It was dusk . A moment before dawn . And Manon walked alone in the forest, the silence of which was filled with peace and serenity.  

A quiet breeze passed through the trees, carrying the scent of morning dew into Manon's nose. In the past, this forest had been a place of shadows, darkness, and fear. But now the sun was rising. Manon didn't know what that meant, but she followed an unmarked path among the trees.  

A rustling sound in the branches caught her attention, and when Manon looked up, she saw a black-feathered raven watching her. It wasn't the same raven, Manon felt it. This was a different bird.  

Manon watched as the bird, after observing for a moment, soared on its wings and started flying towards the rising sun . As if it were leading the way . Manon's mouth was suddenly dry as she slowly followed the raven. She didn't know what would be found at the end of the path. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to know. However, Manon seemed to have no choice.  

She walked through the shadows of the forest, towards the slowly rising sun, which turned the black shadows into gold and made the drops of dew sparkle like diamonds. The end of the path was now visible. Manon stepped into the spring meadow.  

The grass swayed in the early spring breeze, and the flowers still budding nodded like drunks . The rising sun dyed the meadow golden, filling it with light as if to apologize for the gloom of the forest. Had Manon been on her way here the whole time?  

The raven let out a cry and flew over Manon's head. She hadn't noticed when the bird had been left behind, but now she watched its flight with a look. Manon watched as the bird flew across the meadow, toward a large tree that had just gained its leaves.  

No. Manon realized. No tree. But the person sitting at the foot of it. Manon was not alone in the meadow.  

Slowly, Manon stepped out of the forest into the clearing to see properly the figure sitting in the shade of the tree. The child sat at the foot of a tree, with long black hair, cascading along her slender back. The child was wearing a white nightgown with thin straps that barely protected her narrow shoulders. Both of the child's shoulders sat a bird. On her right shoulder sat a white dove. It had stuck its head into the child's black hair, as if to protect itself from the light.  

The black raven that had brought Manon here had flown into the child's left shoulder. It sat there as if it belonged there. The child sat in a crouched position. Not because of the weight of the bird. No. The child had something in her hands.  

Manon took another step towards the tree and the child sitting underneath. Little dark-haired girl. The girl did not react to Manon's approach, although Manon was sure that the girl had noticed her.  

Manon stopped behind the little girl. The birds on their shoulders had woken up and turned to look at Manon on the alert. White dove and black raven. Both birds looked suspicious and seemed to be investigating the threat posed by Manon.  

The girl did not seem to be worried. She was too focused on what she was doing. Or so Manon thought. "It took you a long time.”  

The girl's voice was high but warm. Despite the bluntness of the words, Manon heard the laughter on the background.  

"I didn't know I was in a hurry ,” Manon said stiffly, glancing at the birds on the girl's shoulders as suspiciously as they were watching her. The girl chuckled. Hoarfrosted laughter. So familiar. Manon was shudderingly familiar with it . 

"I'm no’t hurry," she said. There was a confidence in the girl words that should not have been in such a young person's voice. The girl was maybe four, at most six, Manon wasn't sure. She still hadn't looked at Mano. She kept her eyes on whatever she did. 

"Why were you waiting for me?" Manon asked. The gaze of the two birds made her nervous . The girl let out a "hmm" sound, but did not avert her gaze from her work. Manon dared to peek over the girl's narrow shoulder and dove, which she did. The girl's fingers had twigs, grass, and white apple blossoms, which she braided together with quick, dexterous fingers.  

"I didn't expect you," The girl said and wrapped a long piece of golden hay around the branches. “Thou hast sought me. I'm just surprised it took so long."  

Manon didn't know what to say to that. She felt insecure, confused, and irritable. She had never been alone with young children. At least not by those who acted like she was anyone. “ Sit down," she said cheerfully, picking a new white flower from her white hem. “I think like our game is over."  

Slowly, Manon sat down on the ground next to the girl. She felt inappropriate. Manon was not fit for this meadow in her witch leather, red cloak, and Wind claver fastened to her back. She was not fit to sit near this small, innocent girl.  

"What game are you talking about?" Manon asked. The girl's long black hair covered her face. Fingers worked diligently on the flowers wreath, as if it were the most important thing in the world. "You caught me," she said calmly. “Although," she added, with a hint of loudness, "I could call this a surrender victory."  

Manon shook her head and then chuckled. "I don't understand."  

The girl sighed impatiently and waved strands of hair over her shoulder. Manon caught a glimpse of reddish cheeks, a round nose, and curved eyebrows. "Of course not,” she said, glancing at Manon out of the corner of her eye, before returning her attention back to the flowers wreath . She tied two blades of golden grass to a flowers wreath and then lifted it up to examine the result.  

"It turned out pretty, didn't it?" The girl said thoughtfully, examining the flowers wreath. Or maybe  branches crown was a more correct word to describe the wreath. Manon watched it, unable to really admit to herself that she was curious. The branchescrown was made of apple flowers, apple tree branches and hay. In the light of the morning sun, it looked almost made of real gold.  

"It's beautiful," Manon admitted. The girl chuckled. “Of course it is," she said smugly. “I made it." Manon snorted, and the girl laughed her hoarfroster laugh.  

"I guess you're being pretty arrogant," Manon said quietly. The girl turned to face her. And now Manon saw the child completely. The dress made of white lace was dirty, like girl would be floundering in the woods with it. Her pale bare legs were bruised and scratched. Arms as well.  

Only now did Manon notice that the girl's black hair was mess and dirt on her face. “I’m many things,” The girl said and grinned so that all the perfect white teeth were exposed. “And if I'm being described, I prefer the word assertive. I know my value. And you should know yours too. Your true value."  

She stepped in front of her, still smiling . She held a branchcrown in her hands.  

The girl was small and could only look Manon in the eye because Manon was sitting. “I know my value,” Manon said quietly. The birds on the girl's shoulders rise into the air, and sat up on a tree branch. The girl's frowned. "Do you know?" she asked, looking Manon straight in the eye. Girl's eyes- big and full of innocence– made Manon cringe at the same time and the desire to touch the child. The girl's eyes were a different color. The right eye was blue and the left was golden.  

And just now, a tear rolled out of the girl's left eye. She raised her hand, and Manon couldn't resist when she placed a branchescrown on her head . The girl took a step back and folded her arms on her chest. “You know what to do," She said firmly, raising her small chin. "Make the right decision."  

She took another step back. Another tear fell down the girl's cheek.“Make the right decision," she pleaded. She held her head high even though her voice trembled . “You're not the only one having to live with that decision," she whispered. Then she turned and sprinted for a run.  

"Wait!" Manon screamed and jumped upright, trying to grab hold of the girl's arm. But she was faster. “What do you mean? What do you want me to do? Come back!” The last one was an order, but the girl just ran farther. 

Laughter filled the wind . “ Try to catch me!" was the reply. A bright light flashed, and a black raven rose into the sky, whose beak had opened in laughter. To a hoarfrost child's giggle.  

::::::: 

Manon startled awake. She was still lying by the lake, and the sunrise was not just a imagination. The first rays had already reached the lake, making the water shine. Manoni's muscles were stiff when she sat up. Had she slept here? By the lake? All night? 

Asterin would be furious that Manon had just disappeared like that. Manon sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her hand. Despite sleeping place, she felt properly rested for the first time in several weeks. 

Manon let her hands fall into her lap and raised her head to look at the lake. And all the way to the opposite shore. Now, in the light of the sun, she separated the birches that had dropped their leaves. Manon could see them all the way to her seat. 

A strong wind passed over the surface of the lake, distorting the image of the forest, before the water calmed down again. It touched Manon's hair, flaunting it around her shoulders. Her hair had opened sometime during last night's flight and she hadn't noticed it. Now Manon's white hair was shaggy and full of debris. It would take many painful minutes to sort them out. 

Grunting in frustration, Manon pulled her hand through her hair to see how bad the situation was. Something smooth touched her fingers. Embarrassed, Manon pulled her fingers out of her hair to see what had remained in her hand. White petal. As if detached directly from the apple blossoms in the branches crown. 

It had been a dream. Just a dream, Manon assured herself of it as she examined the petal resting on her palm. The meadow, the birds, the crown or the girl was not real. It was all just the product of Manon's troubled mind. Not only that... The wind caught the petal and lifted it into the sky. It joined the autumn foliage on the surface of the lake, standing out as a white spot among the yellow leaves. Manon looked at the petal, which she separated effortlessly. It had only been a dream. But still...Slowly, for the first time in all the time she had known she was pregnant, Manon laid her hands on her flat stomach. 

There was no bulge yet. No movement or anything that would have told the outside world that she was expecting a child. But Manon felt it. She felt her daughter's spirit inside her. It's like she's just eaten something warm. 

Last night she had flown far from the Riftholdi too messed up to think clearly. Last night, she had considered her pregnancy a punishment for her weakness. Manon had never planned to get pregnant. When you were immortal, you didn't care much about things like procreation. But still—Manon took a deep breath—yet every witchling was a blessing. They were holy. Valuable. 

Manon's witchling would not only be valuable to witches. She would also be valuable to people. Adralan's bastard princess. Heir to the Blackbeaks. Manon's iron and Dorian's magic came together in the child growing up inside her. The girl could become something the world had never seen before. Something powerful. Perhaps Manon's flesh and Dorian's blood could finally solve the Western Wastes problem. Perhaps this witchling would be the weapon they would use to get their homes back. 

Cold shivers ran down Manon's spine as the last thought came to her. She didn't want her daughter to be a weapon. That's what she would become. That's what she would have to become in order to stay safe. From other witches as well as people who could try to take advantage of her. 

Manon stood up. It wouldn't matter that she wasn't ready to have a baby. Manon might never be ready to be a mother, but – But she wanted this witchling. 

Manon had wanted to deny her pregnancy. Wanted the child to disappear like it never existed. Now – now Manon was ready to accept the coming change. And that wouldn't necessarily be a bad change. 

Manon didn't know what to say or tell her grandmother. How to face the coming months from the Blackbeaks keep, trying to keep their children alive and themselves in good shape. Manon should return to the Blackbeaks keep. She should stop this hunt and fully focus on pregnancy. 

She was now responsible not only for herself, but also for another life. 

Manon bent down to pick up her broom. There was a new caution in her movements. As Manon's fingers wrapped around the broom stem, her attention was drawn to something next to the broom. Manon froze. 

Next to the broom was an apple. Large red apple. First the petal and now this. She grabbed the apple cautiously, as if it could explode. It felt cool in her hand. An apple had been brought beside her sometime during the night when she had slept. 

How stupid she had been! 

Anyone could have sneaked up to him during the night and struck a knife in the throat. She was lucky when she was still alive. 

But whoever had found her sleeping by the lake had left her an apple. 

The wind swept Manon's hair, and she could smell the scent in the air. It came from the forest behind her. The aroma was fresh. 

Someone was watching her. 

Manon glanced over her shoulder, gripped her broom. She didn't see anyone. Manon knew what the smell of the wind belonged to. Knew what she should have done. 

She didn't budge. Just squeezed the apple in her hand and pulled the fragrance into her nostrils. No hostility. At least not yet. Just cautious curiosity. And maybe because the pregnancy had softened her or else– as she preferred to think - The person lurking in the shelter of the forest was not worth risking the life of a witchling, Manon did not attack. 

Manon swung her leg over her broom. Before taking off, she looked into the forest one more time. “Thank you," she said quietly, addressing the corchan witch who was hiding. Then she soared into the sky. 

If Manon had glanced down, she would have seen a brown-haired witch emerge from the edge of the forest, looking up at the sky after her. The red cloak fluttered in the wind as the witch of the corchan gave herself a small smile. 

:::::::: 

Manon knew as soon as she saw the camp that no one had slept all night. When she got off her broom, Asterin hurried to her, looking exhausted, but with her eyes burning. 

"Where the hell have you been?” she was already shouting from afar, rushing at the Manon, who landed on the edge of the camp. All the tents were still standing, but judging by the others weathered hair and tired eyes, they had all flown all night in search of Manon. 

Manon felt only a small sting of guilt, internalizing the condition of her witches. Vesta came right after Asterin, the red plait messy. Imogen and Ghislaine stood up from where they had studied the maps. The twins, who had apparently been about to take off, landed back on ground. Sorrel, Edda, and Briar came from behind the nearest tent with brooms in hand. Lin jumped off a rock from behind Manon. She must have been on watch for the night. 

Thea and Kaya were nowhere to be seen, Manon vaguely noted when Asterin reached her. Her cousin's powerful hands grabbed her by the shoulders and her black eyes looked at her worriedly. 

"Where have you been?" Asterin screamed, squeezing Manon's shoulders. Far too hard. Asterin had no right to demand answers, Manon mused. But perhaps Manon's pregnancy changed their dominance. 

"It's none of your business," Manon said rudely and pushed Asterin away. "I'm fine." 

That's what she'd been saying for the last three months, and Asterin didn't seem very confident in the explanation. Manon did not let it bother her, but turned to investigate her coven. "Where are Thea and Kaya?” She asked sharply. Asterin replied, folding her arms to her chest. "Looking for you. When you didn't return, we thought you were captured." 

Asterin did not say that they had imagined Manon dead. And, most likely, her witches are looking for a murderer. There was no worse crime than harming witchling or a pregnant witch. Harming Manon would be a crime for which the punishment would be cruel even on the scale of the Iron tooth witches. 

"Get them back," Manon ordered. “They need to rest. Just like yours.”  Edda and Briar, who already had brooms in their hands, hurried to obey the order. 

Manon watched as they soared into the sky. Her stomach ached with hunger. The apple she ate on the while flying, having found it harmless, had only exacerbated her hunger. 

That's why Manon had stopped at Riftholdi on the way and done something she wasn't even going to admit to herself. She had visited the baker. She had bought bread and an apple pastry that she—or the witchling—couldn't resist. After that, gritting her teeth, she had gone to the market and bought a large pile of fruit from the early market vendors. Or just apples, actually. 

Manon coveted apples. If she had to have pregnancy cravings, why did she have to focus on apples? 

"We rest for this day,” Manon said firmly, letting her gaze roll around her witches' faces. It stopped at Asterin, who was standing in front of Manon with her hands still clasped. She was dissatisfied with the situation. "Tomorrow we will begin our return journey," Manon said. 

She stepped by her second and headed toward her tent. And not because she needed rest. At least not very much. Despite the fact that Manon had slept well the night before, the plane ride had exhausted her completely. 

Nor did sshe want to show her coven what she had fallen into buying and what she eating her starving for. Grandmother wouldn't like this. But Manon knew she needed nourishment, even if she had to eat like a human for the rest of her pregnancy. 

"So shall we return to the Blackbeaks keep?” Asterin's voice asked behind her. Manon didn't turn around when she said, "Yes." 

That would be better. Manon wanted to return before winter. 

There was silence for a moment, and Manon assumed the questions were over when, "Why now?" 

Manon stopped. For a moment she did not move. Asterin had no right to ask it. None of it. Manon was under no obligation to respond. She could go to her tent to eat and get her stomach full. 

But at the same time, Manon felt she owed some sort of explanation, having caused her coven unnecessary concern all night. She glanced over her shoulder and noticed the thirteen members in the square glancing at her warily. Asterin looked defiant. That she was ready to take the blows if Manon decided to attack. 

"Because I'm not going to pretend anymore," Manon said earnestly, meeting second eyes. Asterin's confidence faltered. She saw it in her cousin's eyes. Whatever she had expected, she hadn't expected Manon to say that. 

Manon turned her back on her witches and headed towards her tent, not wanting to know what reaction her words had provoked on the faces of others. Before entering the tent, however, Manon paused again. 

"I want my daughter to have as good and safe a start in life as possible," Manon said quietly, still feeling Asterin's gaze on her back. She didn't turn to look again, but slipped into his tent to be alone. 

As Manon sat down on her pad, she made sure by listening that her orders were obeyed. The small camp was filled with the soft sounds of footsteps as the witches set off. Manon sighed softly to herself, and then her stomach growled demandingly. 

Manon closed her eyes in frustration as she reached for the bag that contained all the food she had purchased. Better to eat properly now and figure out what she would tell her grandmother. 

She was never going to talk about Corchan. She was never going to reveal to anyone that her blood enemy had found Manon unprotected by the lake. Sleeping like a fool. No one would ever know that Corchan had spared Manon's life. Or how grateful Manon was for that. Much to her annoyance. And the corchan left an apple next to her. Like an offer of peace. No matter how short it was, Manon had grabbed it. 

Manon would be allowed to give birth to her daughter in peace. Nothing would stop her and her witches from returning to the Blackbeaks keep. 

::::::: 

Even if Manon didn't want anything more than to eat the entire contents of the bag at once, she forced herself to eat calmly. One bite at a time, she made sure the food would stay inside. Manon had never been a cautious eater if she was sure food was harmless. Now she ate slowly, enjoying and tasting every mouthful. 

Food was not supposed to be enjoyed. It was the function that gave the witch powers. Only when hunting human and devouring their guts do witches enjoy. 

Manon was sure that she had not enjoyed any meal as much as she now enjoyed the apples she bought at the market. Next to her pad was already a small pile of apple seedcase. She had to eat sparingly, even if it meant going hungry. Manon didn't know when she could sneak in again to get herself food. 

It would have to be done on the way before they could get to the Blackbeaks keep. Manon had no doubt that her grandmother would lock her in her room for the next six months to keep her and the witchling safe. 

Thirteen would be overprotective. Manon knew it. They wouldn't let Manon disappear again, especially since she gave them vague permission to be caring. Manon would have liked to call her coven tender-hearted, but wouldn't she have done the same if one of them had been in the same situation? 

If anyone in Manon's coven had carried a child, she would have thrown herself into her own sword to protect her. So Manon would let them take care as long as they remembered who their leader was. 

Manon tinkered with a piece of bread she had bought. It was still warm and downright melted in my mouth. The bread would spoil quickly, so Manon would have to eat it first. Apples she could save. For a while. 

Manon sighed softly and glanced at her bag. Another loaf of bread, twenty apples and an apple pastry, which Manon decided to eat in the evening. Perhaps it would keep her satisfied until morning. Manon put another piece of bread in her mouth before putting it in a bag with the rest of the food. 

She threw herself on her back on her pad. Manon was still hungry. She would probably be constantly hungry for the next six months, but now Manon knew she could cope. The grumpiness of the weeks had subsided and she felt satisfied. After a long time. 

Manon's eyelids pressed. How much could she sleep? At that moment, it felt like no matter how long. And how much. If Manon could, she would stay there until the end of time, and not rise. 

Manon had just closed her eyes and decided to see if she would sleep on a full stomach as restlessly as before, when noises from outside the tent woke her up. Manon sat up, suddenly alert. Her hand reached for the knife hidden under the pillow as she smelled her second familiar scent. 

Manon sat up properly just as Asterin peeked into the tent. “What?" Manon asked, watching her cousin on the alert. Asterin's expression was inexplicable as she moved the tent canvas completely aside. The light of the sun penetrated the twilight of the tent and made Mano to blink. 

"We need to talk," Asterin said. Manon stood up cautiously. She half expected to vomit if she made even one sudden movement. But the food remained inside. 

"From what?" Manon asked, standing up. Asterin swallowed. Manon saw the movement of second throats.“Not here," Asterin said, stepping aside from the entrance of the tent. Manon hesitated for a moment. Just a moment. Then she cursed herself. Her instinct for protection was stronger than ever. Manon's life would really be going to hell if she couldn't trust Asterin. 

"Alright," Manon said, stepping out of the tent. Asterin took a deep breath and glanced towards the other tent. Manon followed Asterin's gaze and spotted Sorrel in front of the tent. Sorrel nodded slightly, which immediately aroused Manon's suspicions. Something was going on, and Manon wasn't sure how to react. 

Asterin turned back towards Manon, her expression serious. “Come," Asterin said. “You need to hear this now before you decide what to do with your witchling." 

::::::: 

Asterin led Manon farther from the camp, toward the hills that rose above Rifthold. It wasn't until the camp was left behind the top of the hill that Asterin stopped. She had walked with her back to Manon all the way, leading them through the undergrowth to a place where they could not be heard. 

Now she turned towards Manon. 

"It's important that you listen without interrupting," Asterin said. The heir of the witch clan could not simply be told to obey. But there was no challenge or defiance in Asterin's voice. She answered Manon's gaze firmly, black eyes as deep like forest pool. 

Manon nodded slightly, signaling that she was listening. 

Asterin took a deep breath. Then she said: “Eighty years ago, while hunting for corchans, I was caught in a storm. I was about a hundred miles from the nearest villages when I fell. When I hit the ground, I knew before I lost consciousness that my arm had been broken in two places and my ankle was twisted and rendered inoperable. The next time I woke up, was in the cabin. My broom, of which there was nothing left but shrapnel, was next to me. There was a man in the cabin besides me. Hunter. He was riding home when he saw me fall. If I had been in better shape, I might have killed him." 

Asterin had begun to walk back and forth in front of Manon. Manon followed the second movements, unable to say anything. Eighty years had passed since then, and Manon hadn't heard of it. 

"The next time I woke up, the hunter gave me food and I - no longer considered him prey. I spent five months there. I healed. I found ironwood and started carving a new broom. I helped him track game," Asterin swallowed. She took a trembling breath and wrung her hands. Manon had never seen this side of Asterin. She had never seen her cousin nervous like a human. 

Asterin continued to talk: “We both knew what I was. He was human and I was long-lived. But then we were the same age, so I didn't think much about it. I knew I would have to return. When I left - I promised to return to him. I promised to return." 

Asterin closed her eyes. She had stopped. She didn't look at Manon as she continued: "When I returned to the Blackbeaks keep, I was pregnant in the first month." 

Asterin stared at the city beneath them. Manon stared at her cousin. She hadn't known about this. She hadn't known Asterin had been pregnant. That, decades ago she had been in the same situation as Manon is now. 

"I survived the first four months," Asterin narrated, and didn't look at Manon. "When I was sure that the baby would stay in my womb and I could no longer hide my pregnancy, I told my grandmother. She was very pleased. She told me to rest so that nothing would interfere with my pregnancy. I spent the next few months in the Blackbeaks keep like a spoiled prisoner. You even visited the keep twice, but you didn't know I was there. Your grandmother was not going to tell you until after the child was born." 

This was not unusual. Witches were overprotective of pregnant witches and witchling. And Asterin was of matron lineage. Her pregnancy was precious. 

The wind swept across the meadow, swinging the blades of grass still standing. Asterin's gaze was blank as she recalled things that happened many decades ago. “I made a plan," Aster said after a moment of silence. “When the child was born and the other witches looked away, I would take my children to their father and introduce them. I thought that a peaceful life would be better for my child than carnage with us. Thought... I thought that kind of life would be better for me too." 

Asterin swallowed. Her eyes gleamed. Manon was unable to look at her cousin. She had never thought - she would never have thought that Asterin longed for a peaceful life. That, longed for a human man—just like Manon. 

"I gave birth," Asterin said. “The witchling almost tore me to shreds as she pushed out. I thought it was because the child was a fighter. Genuine Blackbeak. I was proud of her. Even though I screamed and bled out, I was proud of her." 

Asterin fell silent. She swallowed a couple of times, trying to keep her voice steady. Her eyes shone brightly, in the light of the slowly setting sun. "The witchling was stillborn. I waited and waited for her to crying but...” Tears ran down her cousin's cheeks. “It was absolutely quiet. And then... Then your grandmother hit me. She said it was a disgrace to every Blackbeak witch who had ever lived. That, the death of the witchling was my fault. I had disappointed her. I just wanted to see my daughter. I cried and prayed to see her, but she..." 

Asterin turned to look at Manon. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Giving birth to a dead witchling was the witch's greatest sorrow and shame. But grandmother's actions... 

"She told the witches to burn my daughter's body," Asterin whispered. Mano's breath was taken away. Asterin's tears flowed down her tanned neck, and Manon couldn't avert her gaze. Not when Asterin slowly unbuttoned her jacket. Not when she took off her shirt and undershirt, exposing her lower abdomen... 

Manon's knees failed and she collapsed to the ground. A word was burned into Asterin's beautiful golden brown skin. One stark, painful word. 

UNCLEAN  

"She beat her brand on me," Asterin said, running her fingers along the letters. “She heated the iron in the same flames where my daughter's body burned. She said I shouldn't try for a child for the Blackbeaks clan anymore. That men would recoil when they saw the word.” 

Manon couldn't look away. Eighty years. Asterin had been hiding this for eighty years. And Manon hadn't known. She hadn't known... 

"I was ashamed of it. I was so ashamed that I didn't tell anyone. Sorrel... Sorrel knew because she was there. She fought for me. Petitioned your grandmother for mercy, but she cut off Sorrel's hand and sent her away. When she was finally done with me and threw me into the snow to die, Sorrel found me. She picked up Vesta and they took me to Vesta's cabin deep in the mountains." 

Now Manon understood Asterin's and Sorrel's gaze before they had left the camp. Sorrel had known. Vesta had known. They had kept this a secret from Manon. Manon didn't know what to feel. How should she interpret this secrecy? 

Asterin looked at Manon. She looked down and her mouth twisted into a small, sad smile. "They took care of me when I couldn't get out of bed,” Asterin said. She pressed her hand to her lower abdomen, as if she could still feel the pain of the burn marks. Or the movements of her witchling. 

"And then," Asterin said, meeting Manon's gaze, "One day I just stand up. I began to train and strengthen my body. I didn't think about it anymore and went hunting for corchans. I returned to the keep with two hearts of corchan. If your grandmother was surprised to see that I was still alive, she didn't show it. You were present when I returned. You raised toast to my honor and said you were proud to have me second." 

Manon couldn't look away from Asterin's brand. She was still sitting on her knees in the grass. She had pressed a hand to her own stomach without noticing it. On top of a witchling growing up there. Emotions ran through Manon, the intensity of which would have made her collapse had she not already hunched on the ground. 

Asterin sat down in front of Manon. She placed her hands on her knees as she continued: "I never went back to the hunter. I didn't want him to see the brand. I was afraid that he would treat me the same way your grandmother did. I still flew over the cottage every year. He never married. He, even as an old man, sometimes sat on the steps of the cottage. It's like he's waiting for someone." 

Something inside Manon cracked open. She still pressed her hand against her stomach. Her children. Is that what would happen to her if the child were stillborn? Or else different? 

Manon was unable to move. No consolation, as Asterin began to put on, still crying quietly. As she buttoned her jacket shut, she said: “Stopped caring. Everything became a joke and I wasn't afraid of anything anymore." 

The wildness of Asterin, her impetuous character – It was not about a free spirit, but about a broken soul who had gone to hell. A soul that survived by living life fiercely, fearlessly and wildly. 

"I promised myself then that I would devote my life to serving you. Not your grandmother. Your. I knew she was keeping me and my pregnancy hidden because she knew she would fight for me. She's afraid of what you become or could become. She's afraid she can't control you completely." 

And there, behind the words, was something that Manon had already known deep down. Why hadn't she returned to the Blackbeaks keep as soon as she realized she was expecting a witchling. Only now did she open her eyes to realize everything she had always known about her grandmother, but looked elsewhere. Manon's child really would be a weapon, but not against corchans. No. 

The witchilng would be a weapon against Manon herself. Asterin had said that her grandmother was afraid of her. Feared what she could become. Feared that one day she would no longer be able to control Manon. If Manon returned pregnant to Blackbeaks keep, giving birth to a living witchling, she would stretch out her greatest weakness directly into her grandmother's long-nailed hands. 

Manon didn't expect the blind rage and protectiveness that came over her. It wasn't the love Asterin had described feeling for her witchling. No. It was Manon's built-in instinct. A protective instinct that overshadowed everything else. It was her duty to protect her witchling. Anything that could ever harm a witchling. And Manon knew she would kill anyone who folded a hair from her little one's head. 

"I, Vesta and Sorrel have known for a long time what your grandmother is capable of,” Asterin said quietly, attracting Manon's attention. She stood over Maon, with a sad expression on her face. She knew what Manon was thinking. What she had figured out. 

"Why didn't you say anything?” Manon hoarse and stood up to look at her cousin directly. She was a couple of centimeters taller than Asterin. "Why are you only telling me all this now?" Manon asked. 

“We were afraid you would be in danger if we told you. And... I decided to tell you because of what you said." 

Manon blinked, confused. "What did I say?" she asked. Asterinin smiled sadly, and that smile made a crack in the same ice that Dorian had already broken. Dorian had cracked her icy heart. But Asterin's story had broken it. Completely. Manon's heart, for she had a heart, was now warm and soft. Vulnerable, weak and useless... 

"You said you wanted your witchilg to get the best possible start in life,” Asterin said, reminding Manon of her own words. 

Vulnerable, weak, useless. Obedience, Discipline, Brutality. Manon's useless heart beat in her chest and was filled with new, unrecognized emotions.  

"Are there others my grandmother has treated like this?" Manon asked. “Not among the thirteen," Asterin replied. “But in other coven, lower coven, yes. Most of them submit to death when the matron abandons them." 

Manon swallowed and averted her gaze from Asterin's eyes. Her gaze stopped at Riftholdi. The city where her change had begun. “Do the others of the thirteen know anything about this?" she asked, looking at the glass palace still towering over the city. “As much as you do now," Asterin replied unexpectedly to Manon. She turned to look at her cousin, who had a familiar grin playing in the corners of her mouth. 

"How so?" Manon asked. Now Asterin turned her gaze towards Riftholdi. “When I brought you here to talk, I told Vesta and Sorrel to tell the others. So that we're all on the same page when you decide what to do with your witchling." 

Manon snorted. Or maybe more sobbing bitterly. She wouldn't start crying, even though Manon's eyes were stinging menacingly. 

"And what should I do?" Manon asked. “Winter is coming, Asterin. I can't carry a witchling all winter without good protection." 

If Manon had calculated correctly, the witchling would be born in early spring. If it had been spring or early summer, Manon would have considered hiding until the witchling was born. 

"We'll keep you protected," Asterin said firmly. "We will not abandon you, even if you decide not to return." 

Manon shook her head and rubbed her forehead. She did not want to return, but winter? Winter or matron? Manon couldn't decide. 

"Or," said Asterin, sounding reluctantly, "you could go back to your witchling's father." 

Now Manon chuckled. "That's not an option," she snorted. 

"So is he dead?" Asterin asked. Manon shook her head and turned her back on Asterin so she wouldn't see her expression. “Then why not? Even if you went there for the winter, we'd stay close." 

Manon knew it. No matter where Manon sought shelter, her coven would follow. And not just out of obligation, she realized. They would follow because they were loyal to Manon. Because it seemed like an honor for them to protect her and the unborn witchling. 

It could have been a possibility if the father of the witchling was a normal farmer or merchant. Manon knew that Aster thought it was so. That the father of Manon's child was some random peasant. 

"His father doesn't like magic," Manon muttered, looking into the city. Asterin chuckled softly. “Accidents always happen. The old man would not be the first to be eaten by a witch." 

Manon couldn't help but grin. “No," she admitted, looking at the glass palace. “But it could cause a war between the witches and Adralan." 

For a moment, Asterin was silent. Then: "Manon? You mean... You mean father is..." 

Manon turned to look at Asterin, who stared at her with horror and impression alternating across her face. “Dorian Havilliard? Yes. I've been visiting him for the past year." 

Asterin swore. The tears were gone. So did Asterin's earlier melancholy. It had been replaced by obvious shock and amusement. 

“Dorian Havilliard,” Asterin said, staring at the Riftholdi in front of her with new eyes. “Is that why she is still alive? Because she's a prince?" 

"He's alive because he managed to get me off his bouquet before I could eat him,"Manon growled in response.Asterin laughed. Not wildly like when flying or hunting. This laughter was lighter. More human. 

"So there you have been," she exclaimed. “I wonder why your catches have been poor for the past year." 

Manon's face was hot. She stared intently at the city in front of her, waiting for Asterin to stop cussing. “I don't want others to know," Manon said. The sun's rays reflected off the Avrey River. 

"I understand," Asterin said, laughter behind the words. “You expect nothing but Adralan's bastard princess. Your grandmother would kill you if she knew." 

Manon snorted. "Do you think I don't know?" 

It made Asterin became serious. For a moment she said nothing, until finally she asked: "What are you going to do?" 

Slowly, Manon shook her head and turned to look at Asterin. "I don't know," she admitted. Uncertainty was weakness. Manon had always known what to do. She should obey her grandmother. She should return to the Blackbeaks keep and gladly hand over her weakness into the hands of her grandmother. 

"That witchling will be extraordinary,” Asterin muttered, as if hearing Manon's thoughts, while staring at Riftholdi. Princess, heir, witch, human... 

"I know," Manon said and sighed. 

Somewhere in the distance came the cry of a raven. 

:::::::: 

Asterin and Manon didn't talk about the short walk back to camp. Manon could hardly see what was happening ahead. She was too engrossed in her thoughts, and Asterin sensed it. She guarded Manon's back, which allowed Manon to really tackle the problem at hand. 

Winter or matron? 

Which one would she survive? Which witchling would survive? What choice could she live with? 

"You're not the only one who has to live with that choice."  

The little girl's words last night came back to Manon's mind again and again. The girl is just a dream, but it had put into words the contradiction inside Manon. What was she willing to sacrifice for her daughter's safety? 

Manon knew the answer: everything. However, it did not make the decision much easier. If they returned to Blackbeaks keep, Manon would receive treatment throughout the pregnancy. She would have shelter and witches who knew how to safely midwife a witchling into the world. But at the same time, her little one would fall under the influence of a grandmother. 

Manon didn't try to fool herself into thinking she could be an active part of her witchling's life. When the witch child would no longer need Manon all the time, the grandmother would send her away. Would alienate her daughter from her mother and hold an invisible knife to her little one throat. 

But if Manon didn't return... A witchling would be safe from the matron, yes. But winter would be harsh. Manon didn't know how far south they would get until the snowfall began. It would be warmer in the south, but there were still too many variables in the plan. Too many dangers. 

Manon woke up from her thoughts when Asterin stopped. Manon also stopped, only half a step ahead of the other. They had returned to camp. 

Witches sat in a circle around a lit campfire. When they spotted Manon and Asterin, everyone stood up. Sorrel stood in front of the crowd, Vesta beside her. The others were grouped behind them.They either looked at Manon - who found herself again holding a hand on her stomach – or Asterin, who stood behind Manon with her arms wrapped around her. 

No one's expression was rocky. Manon had never seen so much emotion on any of her witches' faces. Never. But there they stood before Manon, their faces mixed with worry, rage, and despair. 

Manon didn't know who to look at. What to say. She could only stand there, her hand on her stomach, unable to put it down. She was unable to reveal her weak spot even to her own witches. 

"What are we going to do?" Sorrel's voice broke the oppressive silence. Manon slowly shook her head and swallowed the lump that had risen to her throat. Her eyes stinged again. She met the steady, calm gaze of her thrid, even though there was concern in her eyes. Manon slowly turned her attention to Vesta, whose forehead was wrinkled. She met Manoni's gaze as steadily as Sorrel's. As steadfast as everyone else. No one averted their gaze. 

They waited for Manon's decision. A decision weighed on Manoni's shoulders. Which option could she live with? Really live? 

Mano's gaze returned to Sorrel. She waited patiently. Quietly like everyone else. Manon was the one who averted her gaze. Lowered her eyes to the hand that rested on her belly. 

"I don't know," Manon whispered. “I don't know." When she looked up, Manon refused to look at anyone directly. She looked somewhere over Sorrel's left shoulder, saying: “I have to think about things. I'll tell you my decision tomorrow." 

She wouldn't start crying at here. In front of them all. 

Manon felt the stinging in her eyes only get worse. She couldn't stop the tears from flowing for much longer. “Manon...” Sorrel started, but Manon put her hand up, interrupting her third. 

"Tomorrow," Manon said, regaining a touch of her authority in her words. “I'll tell you my decision tomorrow." 

Before anyone could put any more pressure on Manon with questions, she stride into her tent. 

Manon slumped down on her sleeping mat and pressed her hands to her face as the first tears streamed down her cheeks. Hidden from the eyes of others, Manon allowed herself to cry. 

It was an impossible decision. 

::::::: 

Manon knew as soon as she opened her eyes that she was dreaming.  

She was at a party, standing in the middle of finely dressed people like a ghost . The large ballroom was adorned with three chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the hall with their orange glow. Humans talked, drank and danced.  

At the front of the hall was a podium on which stood two thrones. On the other sat the king. King of Adralan. Manon knew it instinctively. The second throne was empty. Manon's gaze found the Queen among other ladies of the same age gossiping. Manon followed the conversation for a moment until she found it trivial. She turned her eyes away, and her gaze caught Dorian in the hustle and bustle of people.  

An unruly blackhair with a crown resting. Neat clothes and a polite smile on his face as he socialize a couple of young women. Manon couldn't help the sting of jealousy. And then...A bright, hoarfrost laugh could be heard over the playing of the silent violin orchestra. Laughter even more familiar. Manon's gaze snapped in the direction of the sound and she saw a little girl pushing through the hustle and bustle of people. Her black hair was lifted into a bun over her head and golden flowers were braided into her hair. The dress was bright red and low-heeled dancing shoes were on her feet.  

From her place, Manon did not see the girl's face when the girl - estimated at eight or ten – slipped up to Dorian and wrapped her arms around his waist . Dorian immediately stopped talking to the young women and looked down. Dorian's polite smile melted into a genuine, loving smile when he saw the girl.  

"What now, sweetie?” Dorian's voice seemed louder than all the other voices in the hall. As if nothing mattered but what Dorian said. The girl muttered something blurry with her face against Dorian's coat.  

Dorian didn't give the women another look as he led her away from them. On the other side of the hall. Closer to Manon.  

They stopped almost in front of Manon. Everything around the two seemed to blur. The rest didn't matter, Manon felt it. So she watched and listened.  

"Would you say again?" Dorian urged gently, stroking the girl's hair. The child muttered something indistinct into Dorian's coat again, refusing to look up. “Sweetie,” Dorian's voice was still gentle, but now it was demanding. "I can't make out what you're saying."  

The girl's shoulders trembled slightly and then she turned her face towards Dorian. "Other kids are mean,” The girl said in a clear voice that cut the sound of the hall like a knife. Dorian raised her eyebrows. "Really?" he asked. The girl nodded emphatically.  

Manon couldn't see her face, but could imagine a stern look on the girl's face. "Yes," she said, pressing her face back against Dorian's coat. Dorian chuckled softly. He carefully removed girl’s hands from his waist, and then landed on one of his knees to look her in the eye.  

"And what did you do when the other kids were mean?” Dorian asked. From her place, Manon saw Dorian's face, on which a knowing expression had risen. The girl chuckled, but suddenly disguised it as a burst of coughing. “Nothing," she said. Even Manon knew that the girl was lying, even though she could not see her face. Dorian raised his other eyebrow. "Don't you?"  

For a moment, the girl said nothing. Then..."They deserved it."  

"What did you do?" Dorian asked. The girl moved restlessly, as if afraid Dorian would get angry. “I put a little wine in their drink. They are now extinguished in the garden."  

Dorian's corner descended. His mouth opened a little . "You did what?"  

“I soldered them,” The girl said quietly, fingering the front of her dress . "But they deserved it. I wasn't the only one they bullied."  

Dorian looked for a moment at the little girl in front of him, on whose narrow shoulder he had laid a hand. Then he looked up and looked at Manon over the girl's head.  

"She reminds you, Manon , ”  Dorian said softly, giving Manon that annoying arrogant smile. “She's as stubborn and thirsty for vengeance as you are."  

Manon blinked, confused, not knowing what to do when she heard a voice behind her: “Just like that. Look how its blood drains, girl."  

Manon turned around and was no longer in the ballroom. Instead, she stood in the middle of a snowy forest. The trees were sparse, dead upright, and the branches were heavy of icicles. It was snowing and it clung to Manon's red cloak. Breath steamed in freezing temperatures. As well as the carcass of a large wolf.  

On the ground, not far from Manon, lay a large, dead wolf. Blood was still pouring from its neck onto the white, snow-covered ground. Two figures were bend over the wolf's carcass. The second was small and graceful.  

The black cloak seemed too big for narrow shoulders, and the black hood completely drowned the child's head. Manon saw only her hands. The long fingers of the child clutching a sharp bloody knife. Next to the girl, tall and magnificent, stood Manon's grandmother, with a cruel smile on her face.  

"Exactly," Grandmother purred, stroking the girl's hood-covered head . “Well done, little one." Grandmother's iron-nails fingers curled possessively around the girl's narrow neck. The girl was not startled. She was completely motionless. Waiting for the next order.  

"Taste it," Grandmother urged . “ Taste blood. Let that life force flow through you."  

And the girl obeyed. Dipped her finger into the wolf's wound. Let the blood wet her fingers .  Except that there was no wolf lying on the ground anymore. It was Dorian, whose red blood slowly spilled onto the snow. When the girl raised her hand, the body was Asterin's. And from there it turned into the body of Vesta, and then Sorrel. The girl pushed blue blood-stained fingers into her mouth and the grandmother tightened her grip on the child's neck. The body was now Lin's, transformed into Imogen.  And from there to Ghislain. Faline.   Thea. Kaya. Fallon. And then the Edda. And Briar. 

And in the end, it was Manon's own body. Grandmother laughed . “She reminds you, Manon," the matron exclaimed, turning to smile at Manon, her rusty iron teeth flashing . “Sh e's as thirsty for vengeance as you are."  

"No," Manon whispered, taking a step back as the girl straightened up .  Looked at her from under the hood. Young girl's face. Maybe something between ten and thirteen. Completely expressionless and cold. There was no humor in the eyes of different colors. No clue about the hoarfrost laughter.  

"Which reality can you live with?"  

Again, a voice from behind Manon. She turned around and... The sun was shining .  The meadow flowers hung from the weight of their buds, and in the center of it stood a girl. Not the six-year-old little one. Not a twelve-year-old monster. This was older. Maybe fourteen at most sixteen. The girl's black hair, dark as night, ran freely on her hips. The pale face was beautiful. Graceful and sensitive, like an fea. The lips were blood-red, and the eyes of different pairs above them were outlined with a dark kayal.  

The girl's powerful hands were in a gust .  Crossed over a red shirt. On the belt, the girl wore two long knives and a purple cloak on her shoulders. It quarreled badly with the bright red shade of the shirt.  

"Which reality can you live with?” The girl asked again, ice in her clear voice. "What do you hope for the future?"  

Manon couldn't answer. "I... I don't..." 

"Come on!" she grumbled.  “ Now don't give up! Ask yourself which reality you can live with!"  

Manon shook her head fiercely. "I don't..."  

"It's late," she said, looking over Manon's shoulder. "Now it's too late."  

Manon looked back. The meadow was dead .  There were only stones around them. No. Manon realized, no rocks. Ruins. They were in the ruins of the city. “What..." Manon's question was interrupted when she turned to look at the girl again.  

Blood was pouring from the girl's nose. Made slow journey towards the chin .  And then she smiled and Manon realized that her teeth were covered in blood too. In red blood. But it was the girl's own blood. It was no longer just pouring out of the nose, but also from the mouth. Eyes. Ears. And from the girl's throat. From a long incision that had been pulled across the girl's throat.  

The red shirt darkened more and more by the moment . Blood spilled to the ground on old stones, in the ruins of the former city. And the girl just smiled. Smiled, even though she cried for blood. Even though she was dying. “I'm not the whole solution," she said in a choking voice, blood clogging her throat. “But I'm part of it. Which reality can you live with?"  

The girl's smile fell away. The mouth opened and a huge amount of blood cascaded to the ground . She fell backwards, hit rocks, and a sickening sound was heard . Darkness flooded like a tidal wave from beneath the girl's body. Pushed out of the crevices of the stones, sucking the power out of the girl's dying body. It trundle toward Manon, and Manon couldn't move.  

Couldn't avert her gaze... the stiff hand of death clung to her hand, and when Manon looked beside her, she saw..."Which reality can you live with?"  

Darkness trundle over them, and Manon scream.  

::::::: 

Manon had never been so terrified. She jumped up from her pad, unable to feel her other hand. She had slept on it all night, but Manon still seemed to feel the cold dead touch on her wrist. And she scream. At first, Manon did not realize that the scream was coming from her. For a moment she thought the camp had been attacked. That, her witches screamed. 

But it was her. Manon screamed in sheer terror. Girl. Clinging to Dorian. Bending over the body. Leaking dry in the rubble. "Which reality can you live with?"  

The darkness, the blood, the gurgling voice of a dying child as blood blocked her throat. Manon trembled. She couldn't move. She did not control her body. And that's when the tent doorway swung open and someone rushed in. Blond hair. Iron nails bare. Manon was confused, still in the grip of her dream in order to properly register what was happening. But it happened quickly. 

First, Asterin stood before Manon, ready to defend her against an invisible threat. And in the next moment, the cousin was on her knees in front of her. Pressed hands on both sides of her face, black eyes wide. For fear, Manon thought confused. “It was a dream," Asterin said, as if seeing everything she needed to know through Manon's eyes. "It was just a dream." 

Manon forced herself to stop screaming. She stared into her cousin's black eyes. Golden dots glowed in the first rays of dawn. Was it already morning? 

"It was a dream, Manon," Asterin said gently, without breaking their eye contact. "Just a bad dream." 

Manon took a shaking breath. She wrapped her arms around her, trying to stop her body shaking. She was covered in cold sweat. “She took her away from me," Manon whispered. She didn't know if she meant her grandmother or the darkness that was pouring around girl body. Her daughter. Asterin seemed to see this on Manon's face as well, for her powerful warm hands wrapped around Manon's shoulders. The cousin's body was warm and sinewy under Manon's cheek. Her heart was pounding fast, but was calming down. 

So did Manon's heart. It had only been a dream. At least Manon stubbornly wanted to believe so. But the dream had made Manoni face the facts. Think carefully about their choices. Accurately and again. 

Which reality could she live with? 

Mano's instincts slowly returned. Her field of vision expanded. She now saw her tent. And the light shining through the tent canvas. She felt Asterin's body, curled protectively around her. Manon heard Asterin's quiet voice as she calmed the other witches gathered around Manon's tent. They were all there, Manon realized. Her scream had caused them all to rush to save her. It was loyalty Manon never thought she could experience. 

Manon's screams must have frightened them, for she sniffed over her own fear their fears. And the smell of fear penetrated Mano's mind and completely woke her up. Suddenly, everything, absolutely everything, was clear. Manon knew what reality she could live with. 

She knew what she should do. 

Manon gently pushed Asterin away from herself and stood up. She stepped out of her tent and her witches let her pass. Manon needed fresh air. Asterin came just a couple of steps behind and stopped among the other thirteen. 

It was still early morning. The sun barely peeked out from behind Riftholdi. The ground was covered in frost and it stung the soles of Manon's bare feet like shards of glass. She wasn't the only one who had rushed out of her tent without shoes and - in the case of Thea and Kaya – without pants. 

Manon watched them all. Took note of every detail. 

Everyone had a knife in their hands or had exposed their iron nails. Seeing them as such, loyal, frightened, and worried, reinforced Manon's decision. She knew she could trust her life into their hands without fear of betrayal. 

Manon took a deep breath and looked once towards the rising sun. Towards the glass palace. And the princeling who lives there. 

“Imogen, Lin,” Manon said, turning her gaze toward her coven. The witches mentioned straightened their backs when they heard their names. “You return to Blackbeaks keep and tell the matron that the hunt will be delayed. We will probably have to continue hunting all winter and return in spring at the latest,” Manon said firmly. “I'll write her another letter so she believes the story is true." 

Imogen and Lin nodded. Manon continued to talk, with a plan forming in her mind. “You will come back here," she said. “Make sure you are not followed. Someone will come and get you." 

New nods. 

"So what are the rest of us doing?" Asterin asked. A silent hope had appeared on her face. She knew what Manon had decided. Manon smiled softly as she replied: “We will fly as far south as we can before the snowfall," she replied. “In the south, winter is milder. We are looking for some place to winter. A place that is easy to defend but hard to find,” Manon explained her plan. 

"And where you can give birth," Asterin pointed out. Manon nodded her head once. “Its time only sometime in early spring,” She muttered, wrapping white hair around her fingers. “Until then, I just have to focus on keeping my body in good shape." 

"The shelter should be close to human's villages," Vesta said, glanced towards the other witches. "If Manon continues to be just as picky about her food." 

Manon glanced at Vesta murderously, but Vesta just grinned apologetically in response. Manon sighed. "This does not like meat,” she muttered and patted her stomach. "So the idea makes sense." 

"Finding such a place will not be an easy task," Sorrel pondered aloud. “We must take into account the threat from humans and also corchans. They could very well take advantage of this situation." 

"Corchans are not a problem," Manon said firmly. She stared at her witches seriously, and none of them asked follow-up questions, although they were certainly curious. 

"I'm more worried about other iron tooth witches,” Manon continued. "I don't care if the corchans find out about my pregnancy, as long as Grandmother never finds out about it." 

The words were received with silence. Manon knew what caused the silence and the dismayed expressions of others. She had just admitted that she considered the Matron of her own clan to be a greater threat than their blood enemy. 

They did not know, and would never know, the tacit offer of peace that Manon had accepted. Despite the fact that it was possibly short-lived. The Corchans already knew she was expecting a child. And they had left her alive. 

Manon could spend the winter and spring hiding in the forests. None of corchan would attack her. It didn't matter if Manon deserved it or not, but the witchling needed it. 

Asterin stepped forward. Her face was serious, but her eyes were shining. “The matron will never know," she vowed. "Never." 

The other eleven witches nodded as if in one. Manon smiled. Didn't grin as when killing, but smiled with relief and gratitude. 

Light began to creep across the ground, casting a long shadow over their camp. It's as if the gods were trying to hide Manon from the eyes of humans and other witches. 

Manon didn't know what winter would bring or what to expect from her future. But things were changing, Manon along with them. She pressed her hand to her stomach, even though she knew it was too early to feel any movements. But the time would come. At last. And she wouldn't have to face it alone. 

Hope for a better future had been sown. And Manon was willing to kill to keep it — her — safe. 

"Get ready witches," Manon said. "We have a long flight ahead."

Chapter Text

Chapter 4  

“Every step, every word 
With every hour I am falling in 
To something new, something brave 
To someone I, I have never been 

I can't decide 
What's wrong, what's right 
Which way should I go” 

If Only  

Descendants  

Pants felt cramped. It was the first sign of changes in Manon's body. When she examined her belly in the early sunlight, she could already discern the bump between her hips. It was still small and inconspicuous, but Manon was terrified at the mere thought of how much her belly would grow over the next few months.  

But at the same time, that small change in Manon's body filled her with warm feelings that were long and still unknown to Manon. Manon had been raised by her grandmother to suppress her emotions. The only things that mattered were obedience, discipline and brutality. And for a long time, Manon had relied on it. For a long time, it had defined her whole life. Hunt corchans. Obey grandmother. Keep Blackbeaks in check. Do not be weak. Don't be gentle. Manon was supposed to be the cruel heir to the Blackbeaks witch clan. That's what Grandmother had taught.  

And then there was Dorian.  

Grandmother would kill him. Would tear Dorian into small pieces before Manon's eyes. After which the grandmother would slaughter Thirteen. She would force Manon to watch. And after that, she would take Manon's wtichling. And would probably kill Manon after that.   

With a sigh, Manon pulled the shirt over her head to cover her bulging belly. Her pants still closed, even though they tightened her waist. Manon left her belt in the tent and swung the Wind claver on her back instead. The Manon had become overcautious the past two weeks as they had flown south, avoiding human’s villages and other witches as best they could.  

They hadn't come across an iron tooth witch, which was good. Corchans, on the other hand... Manon knew they were being followed and watched. She hadn't said anything to her coven. And she wouldn't say as long as there was no threat from corchans. So far, they had remained respectfully distant from Thirteen.  

Manon exited her tent and pulled her lungs full of acrid cold autumn air. They were now in Melisande. Far from the cold winds of the north, but Sorrel and Asterin were adamant that they should still continue. Manon was exhausted from constant travel and each day of the flight increased her fear of losing a witchling. Although she had technically survived the most risky time, Manon couldn't help the fear of having a miscarriage.  

Mortality among witchlins was common. So was the mortality rate of witch mothers. Manon would have to thank the three-faced goddess if she and the child survived the birth.  

Asterin had said Manon shouldn't fret. The witchling had already survived the worst of times in a situation where many human children would not have survived. It just reminded Manon how she had neglected her body during the first months of her pregnancy.  

A frozen, dead lawn crackled under Manon's boots as she walked across a sheltered wooded clearing to a small campfire. Ghislain sat next to the fire and studied the map she had spread on the ground. Next to her was Vesta, who was nibbling at the remains of a fish caught by Faline the night before. The smell of fish hadn't made Manon feel sick, but Ghislain had said she couldn't eat it.  

There were some fish that Manon could eat safely, but pike caught in the river was not one of them. Manon had been content to empty the contents of his bag, which still consisted mostly of apples. The bag had already seemed worryingly empty the night before, and Manon knew she would have to stop by the next village to buy more food.  

If Asterin had been allowed to decide, she would not have allowed Manon into the human village at all. But Manon was adamant in her decision. She would go and take three members of her coven with her. Of course, it did not suit the Thirteens (each of whom was willing to come), and the matter was disputed by the campfire long into the night. Eventually, Manon could no longer stand arguing and grunted out to her coven:“ If we all go, we will only attract attention. We must keep a low profile. And besides,” she had continued, seeing Asterin's quarrelsome expression, “ I know best what I can eat."  

Asterin had still seemed willing to argue back, but Manon didn't give her a chance to do so. She had gotten up and gone to her tent. She fell asleep almost as soon as she laid her head on the pillow. Manon no longer dreamed, although she sometimes was heared a hoarfrost giggle on the border between sleep and wakefulness.  

The mornings were often long. Manon had found herself enjoying sleeping for a long time, and none of the Thirteen wanted or agreed to wake her up before sunrise. Which was a day by day later.  

Still, Manon was constantly tired, but that was normal for Ghislai, and according to Asterin. Manon relied on the information of the oldest witch in her coven and her second, who had once gone through the same. Asterin had said that Manon should sleep as much as possible now, because towards the end of her pregnancy she would not get a good night's sleep.  

So Manon slept, even though it frustrated her. She was also more grumpy than usual in the mornings, which is why none of the witches spoke to her until Manon had eaten. Even now, Ghislain and Vesta just glanced up quickly as Manon sat down beside them.  

Her bag of food lay near the fire and she grabbed an apple from inside it. Manon dipped her teeth into the cold fruit. An apple was barely enough for a few mouthfuls.  

"Where are the others?” Manon asked, threw the apple seedcase on the ground and began to look for another. There were only a couple of apples left in the bag.  

Ghislain waved the messy plait over her shoulder and glanced at Vesta, who pushed the last pieces of fish into her mouth.  

"Thea and Kaya went out in the morning, as you ordered, against Imogen and Lin,” Ghislain began her report. Manon nodded and struck her teeth into the apple. “Edde and Briar fly ahead and make reconnaissance for the continuation of the journey. The twins are hunting and Sorrel and Asterin went to village us in the morning."  

Manon squinted her eyes and Vesta muttered: "I told them you wouldn't like it."  

Ghislain ignored Vesta, and so did Manon. She stared at Ghislain, waiting for the witch to continue. And so she did with a long sigh. “Manon," Ghislain said seriously. "You're pregnant."  

"I know," Manon said, glancing meaningfully at the apple she was holding in her hand. “But that doesn't make me defenseless," She continued, her voice sharpening.  

Ghislain and Vesta glanced at each other quickly before their gaze returned to Manon. “We try to stay hidden from our own clan. We're trying to keep you hidden," Ghislain said. The tone of herr voice was not offensive, but still Manon felt anger. But she kept herself cool and listened to what Ghislaine had to say. It would be no use throwing a tantrum. After all, she was right.  

"You're not defenseless, Manon and we know it," she continued, clearly noticing Manon's tension. "But that doesn't rule out the fact that our instincts demand to protect you, Manon. That, we're honored to keep you and your witchling safe."  

Ghislaine's words were calm. A note. And yet Manon felt her throat choke. She hated pregnancy hormones. She began to cry for the slightest reason. It was infuriating.  

"I know it's a matter of honor for you," Manon said. She threw the half-eaten apple into the air once and then grabbed it back in her hand. "And I would do the same myself if it were any of you," she admitted in a quieter voice.  

Ghislaine's expression softened and she smiled at Manon a before returning to her map.“I've been thinking we could try Ellyween. If we could get to the south coast, we would be safe from the worst frosts."  

Manon nodded, chewing on her apple. It tasted icy and clammy. “Then we should find some more protection. Time must be reserved for that, too,” Vesta pointed out. “I suggest we stay away from the coast and head inland. There are more places to spend the winter. And possibly longer."  

She glanced at Manon. "What are you going to do after the birth of a child?"  

Manon hadn't thought about it. She was focused on her pregnancy and the birth that lay ahead. Manon hadn't really thought about what she would do then. How long could they stay hidden before Grandmother went in search of her heir and her coven?  

And how long would Manon be able to hide before the matriarch found them? And a witchling, if she would survive. An image flashed through Manon's mind of a little girl with Thirteen corpses lying at her feet. A little girl held by the matron.  

"Let's think about it later," Manon said and stood up. "When Sorrel and Asterin return, they, Vesta and I will go to the village."  

Vesta nodded. Manon turned to look at Ghislain. “We will continue our journey tomorrow. Staying inland sounds reasonable,” She glanced at the sky. Heavy gray clouds glided in front of the sun. “And find the fastest flight route to Ellyween. We're running out of time."  

It would only be a matter of time before snow started falling.  

:::::::  

The market in the middle of the village was teem with people. And so it was better, Manon thought. In the crowd, no one would be surprised at the four women dressed in tight leather suits were traveling with each other. In the best-case scenario, no one would even realize they were there. In the worst case, they would run into a predatory irontooth witch. Such small villages were exactly where predators like Manon tracked down corchan witches. Now Manon had to glance over her own shoulder, afraid someone had noticed her.  

Perhaps she should have left the red cloak in the woods and put on the Vesta spare cloak. Manon attracted too much attention. If there were an irontooth witch in the village, she would at best mistake her for a corchan. In the worst case, she would be identified and Manon would probably be dragged back to the Blackbeaks keep.  

Grandmother would most likely lock Manon in her own room and forbid anyone to visit her. Based on Asterin's account, Manon believed her grandmother would do something like that. She wanted to control Manon, and no other witch should realize her fear her own heir.  

Clearly, the same things were running through Asterin's mind as well, as she constantly remained almost attached to Manon. Sorrel walked a couple of steps behind them, making sure they weren't being followed. Vesta walked a couple of steps ahead, making sure they didn't get ambushed.  

Asterin and Sorrel had checked the village in the morning and had not detected anything suspicious then. Still, they would have liked Manon to have agreed to take more witches with her, but Manon had not relented. Vesta, Sorrel and Asterin already caused enough headaches. They were overprotective and looked at every person they came across as if they could be a potential enemy.  

Manon knew that under normal circumstances she would have behaved the same way. She would have been just as prejudiced. As ready for battle as the three witches who came with her. Now... she felt strangely calm and calm. Which confused Manon, as she had been constantly nervous and restless for the past four months.  

Perhaps the witchling felt at ease and it somehow radiated to Manon. Was it normal? Pondering her own pregnancy, Manon had realized how little she ultimately knew. And that was likely to make her more nervous than Asterin, who glares around her like a hawk.  

"I feel like that poor woman isn't going to attack us," Manon muttered to Asterin as they passed an old woman selling buttons, whom Asterin had glare with great hostility. The woman's wrinkled face had turned pale, and she had retreated to the cover of her thick cloak.  

"You never know," Asterin muttered back, hands on the handles of her two hidden knives. After much discussion, they had decided to leave their swords in camp. They would only attract unnecessary attention.  

"Yes," Manon muttered sarcastically, while trying to peer out from the hustle and bustle of people at a food stall that would sell apples. By this time, all the food stalls she found had sold bread, beer or something else that didn't really interest Manon. She wanted apples. As if she hadn't eaten them for nearly two weeks.  

"You could get a bruise from a button,” Manon continued, keeping her face in basic readings. Asterin glanced at her angrily. "You're not taking this seriously enough," she grumbled.  

Manon made no reply. She had just noticed a small stall, further away from the rest of the market, where fruit was sold. Manon sharply turned aside and Asterin stumbled a couple of steps, trying to follow. Manon noticed that Asterin bumped into an oncoming young woman while trying to follow Manon to the food stall. Vesta and Sorrelkin lagged behind, however, they were not far behind.  

Besides, Manon felt completely safe when she approached the stall and the old woman standing behind the sales table. The woman looked up when Manon stopped in front of her.  

The woman's face was soft and wise. And the old ones, although age was not visible on her face. However, her hair was white and plaited in a tight plait. The brown winter cloak did not weigh down the woman's posture, but she met Manon's gaze uprightly. The bright, blue eyes of the mountain pond met Manon's golden eyes curiously.  

And Manon knew - she knew that there was a corchan witch standing in front of her.  

The witch met Manon's gaze without fear, with an appraising look in her eyes. Manon swallowed and her hand moved instinctively. Not for two hidden knives. But for a rounded belly. First instinct: protect the witchling. The old witch's gaze followed the movement of Manon's hand, and her mouth twitched into a melancholy smile.  

"Congratulations are perhaps in order, Manon Blackbeak."  

So she knew who Manon was. It was difficult to say whether the statement was a threat or a statement. “Thank you," Manon said rigidly, still reserved. The old witch still smiled and gestured with her hand to the baskets in front of her. “How can I help you?"  

Manon was so embarrassed by the corchan's behavior that she took her eyes off her face and quickly skimmed through the fruit on offer. Oranges, plums, cherries and...”How much does a bag of apples cost?” Manon asked, meeting the corchan witch's gaze again. The old witch narrowed her mouth and seemed to think. "Pregnancy cravings?" she asked.  

"How much does a bag of apples cost?" Manon asked the question again. The witch smiled again and held out her hand. "May I see how big the bag is?"  

Manon held out her bag without saying a word. Whether it was a child or pregnancy hormones, Manon didn't feel threatened around an old witch. He was suspicious, but there was no immediate danger. The old witch looked at the bag thoughtfully before saying: “Three gold coins and one truth. That's the price of it."  

Manon blinked. "Excuseme?” She must have heard wrong. Even though she knew she wasn't. The witch looked at her directly, repeating her words: “Three gold coins and one truth. You get a bag of apples for that price."  

For a moment, the two witches just stared at each other. Manon knew that at any moment Asterin would find her and the corchan, and Manon didn't know how to explain the ongoing situation. She could try to bargain, or fade away, but her instincts told her to stay and listen. And Manon was used to relying on her senses.  

"All right," Manon said. She wasn't sure, but Manon seemed to see a surprised flash in the witch's eyes. But it was gone in an instant and she started packing a bag of apples. At the same time, Manon dug three gold coins out of her purse and laid them down on the sales table in front of the witch.  

In an instant, the bag was full and the witch placed it between them, next to the gold coins. A blue gaze nailed Manon to her place, and Manon noticed her body bending over. Not for attack, but for protection. The old corchan noticed it too. Her melancholy smile widened a little:“I have no intention of hurting you or your witchling, Manon Blackbeak. I just want to know...” The witch leaned forward, "Why didn't you go back to your grandmother?"  

Manon stared at the old witch, without saying a word. Of course, it interested the corchans. Why didn't Manon return despite being in such a vulnerable state? The moment of silence seemed to stretch for hours as Manon considered her answer. Thought about her words. She knew she shouldn't think too long about her answer. She knew why.  

"I don't want the child to be used as a weapon against me,” Manon said and reached out her hand towards the bag. She grabbed the strap of the bag, but before she could pull it up to her, the corchan's hand also grabbed the bag.  

A grunted escaped Manon's throat, and she met the gaze of blue eyes again. Corchan ignored Manon's grunted. Her voice was calm when she asked: “Is that really the only reason?” The tone was almost gentle.  

“Manon!” Asterin shouted from somewhere in the crowd. Time was running out. And Manon needed these apples. And its peace and promise of security for the winter. She met the old witch's gaze. There was nothing in the blue eyes except curiosity and sadness. And a touch of light that Manon might have called hope.  

For a moment, Manon couldn't say anything, even as the truth tickled her throat. She heard Asterin's footsteps as they approached. And a couple of steps followed by the footsteps of Vesta and Sorrel.  

"I don't want my daugheter to grow up to be a monster,” Saying it out loud felt alien. I don't want my child to grow up to be a heartless killer. I don't want her to enjoy bloodshed. I don't want to... I don't want her to be like me.  

And somewhere inside Manon, Grandmother screamed and cursed Manon's weakness. But Manon didn't listen. She just stared at the old witch whose eyes were shining. It was satisfaction. Joy, as if that was exactly the answer she was hoping for.  

"There is a cave a couple of miles west of here," the witch said suddenly. “It's hidden, but I think you'll find it. I think it fits your needs."  

Corchan let go of the strap of the bag and Manon stepped back, colliding with Asterin. Manon rolled over and grabbed each other's arms before she could fall. Sorrel and Vesta rushed to the scene when Asterin straightened up, swearing and staring angrily at Manon. "You should have waited," she growled. Manon sighed irritably and lifted her bag. “I only picked apples,” she said sharply and stepped past Asterin. “I wasn't in any danger."  

"Still," Asterin said, still angry, as she took her place beside Manon. "You should have waited."  

Manon didn't say anything about it. Instead, she accelerated her steps. She still wanted bread. And maybe some pastry. Then she would return to camp to study maps. Corchan's clue about the cave would be worth checking out, but Manon agreed with Asterin that they should still continue to Ellyween. Corchan witches could attract irontooth witches.  

Manon had already reached the middle of the market square when something white fell from before her eyes. It was the third time on the day that Asterin nearly fell when Manon stopped abruptly. “What..." Asterin began, but fell silent when she realized what had caught Manon's attention.  

Slowly, Manon raised her gaze towards the sky, from which the little white flakes were making their slow dance toward the earth. They landed on the warm backs of horses, on people's hair, on the roof of market stalls. They clung to Manon's cloak.  

Sorrel sweared to Manon's left and Vesta muttered a prayer to the three-faced goddess. Their time had run out.  

The snow rains had begun.  

:::::::  

The cave mentioned by Corchan was no longer an option. That was the only chance.  

The snowquickly fell and whipped Manon's face as she led her witches west across the thick forest. She trembled despite her many layers of clothing.  

After Manon had returned to camp with Asterin, Vesta and Sorrel, Faline, Fallon, Ghislain, Briar, and Edda, who were in camp, were just finishing their meal. Thea and Kaya are currently making their way to Riftholdi and it would probably take a week for them to reach their destination. Imogen and Lin had been told to wait in their former camp until then.  

Now Manon was wondering if she should send one more group away to tell those absent about the changed situation. It would be nearer fourteen days before the Coven of Thirteen would be assembled again. Maybe for a shorter time, as Thea, Kaya, Lin and Imogen didn't have to track down corchans. All they had to do was stay hidden.  

Manon did not want her coven together for her own safety. She just wanted to be sure that no outsider could find them anymore with the help of her own witches.  

The smell of fried meat still hung over the camp when Manon landed in the camp, Asterin right after her. Snow had slowly fallen on the ground, covering the dead lawn with its whiteness.  

Ghislein had risen as soon as she saw Manon, and came to her, her face pale with worry. "What do we do now?"  

Manon had had no answer other than a possible clue from the corchan about a nearby cave. She didn't explain exactly where she had heard about it, and no one asked. Manon ordered her witches to eat and then assemble camp. They should start the journey as soon as possible, before the snowfall gets worse.  

As the others hurried to obey Manon's orders, Asterin remained beside her. When Manon turned to glance at second, she noticed Asterin looking at her with a worried frown.  

"What?" Manon had asked. Asterin had glanced at the sky and then at the belly hidden under Manon's shirt. “ This may be the last time you fly a broom this fall .” The cousin's words were gravely serious. Manon turned to face Asterin, facing second's gaze directly.  

"If we can't find the cave, we have to keep going," she pointed out sharply. Asterin's gaze was relentless. "Still, " she said firmly. “ Flying is far too dangerous for you in this weather."  

Manon's eyes narrowed to streaks. "It's dangerous all the time, Asterin."  

Everything strenuous was dangerous for the pregnant witch. Asterin took a deep breath and glanced at the sky. The number of snowflakes had doubled during their short flight. “ I lost my child, Manon. I won't let you lose yours. And that means you have to let us take care of you and you have to stay put."  

Asterin's eyes gleamed and Manon's stomach twisted disgustingly, which had nothing to do with pregnancy. She turned her attention back to the camp and to her witches who were hurry through the square. Each of them was there out of duty and loyalty. Manon slowly pulled her lungs into the full air. The tangy smell of frost and snow spread to her tongue.  

"You can't force me to sit for five months,” she said. Asterin grinned softly. “ I don't forbid you to walk."  

After that, Manon and Asterin began helping clear the camp. After a quick meal, all nine witches soared into the sky. They didn't have time to fly long as the snowy rain worsened. They had a headwind that tore Manon's cloak, causing the cold to bite into her bones and cores.  

Manon's fingers seemed frozen on the handle of the broom. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to land and curl up at the foot of a fir tree, sheltered from the freezing wind. But Manon gritted her teeth and pushed against the wind, while peering at the ground, looking for some sign of the cave mentioned by the corchan.  

They wouldn't have a better place to go. If the cave was not found or turned out to be a lie, Manon had no backup plan.  

She always had a backup plan. Without it, she felt like she had to work with one hand tied.  

“Manon! Look!” Vesta's voice came from behind, over the roar of the wind. Manon averted her gaze and saw a red-haired witch pointing to the forest beneath them. Manon wouldn't have noticed it without Vesta.  

Almost directly below them was a grey rock formation partially covered with trees. It wasn't necessarily, but... should check. With the wave of her hand, she gave the order to land and, racing through the falling snow, the witches descended towards the ground.  

There were no leaves left on the trees, but the branches were still dense and it slowly Thirteen to reach the ground. Rising into the air would be just as difficult if this wasn't the place they were looking for.  

From above, what looked like a mere pile of stones turned out to be a rock, which rose a few meters above the ground. The trees around it were like a dense, natural wall. Now, on the ground, it took Manon and Thirteen only a moment to find the entrance to the cave.  

It was partially hidden, behind a bush that had dropped its leaves. The cave behind it looked dark, empty, and unattractive. “Is this the cave the merchant was talking about?” Edda asked, sniffing the mouth of the cave suspiciously. Like Manon, the Edda did not detect any suspicious odors at the entrance to the cave.  

"I don't know," Manon admitted. Although, given its location, the place may have been right. “No matter what," Briar muttered, her arms tight around her. "I want shelter from this wind."  

She wasn't the only one. No one in Manon's coven seemed willing to continue the journey in the snowfall and biting wind. If nothing else, this cave could provide Manon and her witches with a moment of shelter.  

"I'll go ahead and check the place,” Asterin said, clearly following the flow of Manon's thought. She glanced quickly at the witches around her, nodded sharply at Sorrel, and then beckoned to Ghislaine's on her side. Sorrel settled in Asterin's normal place next to Manon. Vesta appeared on the her other side. Manon held back a sigh. She would go crazy if she had to stay in a small, confined space for the next few months with overprotective witches.  

Asterin was lit by a small storm lantern that normally had no use. However, it was standard equipment on long hunts. Witches could see well in the dark, but stepping into a pitch-black cave relying only on one's own eyesight would be foolish.  

The Shadows stood guard behind Manon, while Feline and Fallon climbed fastest, agile movements on top of the cliff to peer at the horizon for potential danger. Asterin waved her wrist, revealing her iron claws, while the silent Ghsilain drew her sword from the sheath. Despite the cold, their movements were graceful. Deadly.  

Manon wrapped her cloak tightly around him and watched silently as her second entered the cave with Ghsilaine as a shadow behind her. The light of the lantern stained the walls of the cave reddish as far away as Manon could see from her place. Asterin and Ghsilain moved silently forward. Manon followed their movements until she lost sight of them.  

No one said anything. They just waited. Sorrel nervously fingered her sword, while Vesta stared unblinkingly in front of her. Due to the snowfall, visibility was poor, but they still heard well. Manon listened, too. She listened to the wind. Some sign of her cousin. Or a hint of danger.  

Nothing special was heard. There was only a cold breeze that was only a little more bearable on the ground. Manon wrapped her arms around her as tightly as she could, trying to keep the cold at bay.  

And then the silence of the forest was broken by a clear rustle in the top of the trees. Mano's gaze rose upwards in lightning, and there, among the white branches, sat a raven. Its one big eye was aimed directly at Manon and Manon could have sworn the bird had winked.  

Then the raven spread its black wings and soared into the sky so gracefully that there was no sound.  

"What are you looking at?” Vesta's question woke Manon back down to earth, and she turned to look at the red-haired witch with a sharp answer on her tongue, when she realized what she had asked.  

It was as if there was a giggle coming from somewhere in the woods. Hoarfrosted, familiar giggles. So there she was again, Manon found herself thinking. So there she was.  

Manon was spared the answer, for Asterin's voice came from the cave: “No danger! Just come in. That merchant was right. This cave is perfect!"  

:::::::  

The cave was much bigger than it looked on the outside. The entrance was barely the width of two witches. Behind it waited an equally narrow passage, which continued for a couple of steps, and then made a sharp left turn. Around the bend, a shining light led Manon and the other witches left out forward. As they stepped out of the narrow corridor, they reached a large dome-like space barely illuminated by Asterin's storm lantern. Ghislain was in the process of lighting another lantern when Manon stepped with the others into the room.  

"What do you say?" Asterin said, examining her surroundings. “Shall we spend the winter here?"  

Indeed, Manon thought looking around. The cave wasn't small, but it wasn't very big either. It was perhaps ten metres wide and the same amount high. The roof of the chamber was made of smooth stone. No stalactites or moisture. Manon couldn't see the back wall of the cave, but heard water flowing.  

"There's a little creek running down the back wall," Asterin said. “The current is small, but I believe we can expand the water inlet opening."  

"Is the water cold?" Vesta asked, exploring the cave like the living room of some castle. Asterin snorted."It comes from outside the river. Of course it's cold."  

Pity, Manon thought. Vesta sighed irritably and muttered something about a warm bath. So Manon wasn't the only one craving such luxury.  

The floor of the cave was fine and soft sand. So Manon would have to brush the sand off all her clothes, but that would be a small price to pay for a soft sleeping pad. The cave was also shaped in such a way that it would warm up quickly. It was also so spacious that they wouldn't die from the smoke. This was solid, safe and hidden. Just what Manon had been longing for. “Well?" Asterin asked, and walked beside Manon. "Will we spend the next few months here."  

As soon as Manon figured out how to heat the water, she would be pleased. “Yes," she said, putting her grocery bag down on the ground. Her witches needed no more as a sign of approval.  

That night, witches gathered a campfire in the middle of the cave and lit lanterns and torches to illuminate the space. The tents were not pitched for the time being. Instead, the sleeping mats were assembled around the note in a semi-arc. Manon slept furthest from the cold entrance, which should be covered in some way, and the twins slept closest to the doorway. They had always slept best in the cool.  

While Asterin and Sorrel shared night shifts, Manon took off her clothing layers. Each layer of clothing thrown away made Manon feel calmer and more relaxed. Eventually, all she was wearing was a white loose shirt and leather pants, which felt tight around her belly.  

"You make me uncomfortable," Manon muttered half-aloud as she unfastened her pants. When she looked up, she noticed all the witches sitting around the campfire staring at her. When she looked up, she noticed all the witches sitting around the campfire staring at her. She raised her other eyebrow. "What?"  

Ghsilaine cleared her throat. "I guess you know your baby can hear you?” For a moment, Manon said nothing, and then she looked down at her bulging belly. Or did the witch-child hear her? Should Manon start talking to her belly more? It felt so... Stupid.  

Once again, Manon came face to face with the fact that she knew almost nothing about pregnancy. “Oh," Manon muttered, wondering if the witchling heard everything she muttered. Or what was happening around. For if she heard...Manon should ban certain topics of speech in that case. Then Manon realized that the witchling understood absolutely nothing. Not yet. She was still far too small.  

"She will also hear us if we are near,” Ghislaine continued, as if knowing exactly what Manon was thinking. “All right," Manon said. She took off her boots and, after a moment's hesitation, her pants as well. Her condition improved immediately.  

Manon leaned her hands on her pad and let her gaze wander from witch to witch. “Surely you don't start talking to my belly now?"  

Ghsilaine frowned her eyebrows. “No, but you should talk to her more. So that she gets used to your voice."  

Oh. "And... what am I saying... on my belly?” Manon asked very slowly. Ghsilain sighed, Edda and Briar glanced at each other, the twins looked amused, and Vesta chuckled. Sorrel's expression was stone, but Manon saw a twinkle in her triplet's eyes.  

Asterin was the one who moved. She walked up to Manon and sat cross-legged before her. The cousin said nothing to Manon, but fixed her black, gold-speckled eyes on the small belly mound that stood out from under her shirt. “Listen, little witch, I'm going to be your favorite aunt and we'll do all the stupid and nonsensical things while your mom sleeps."  

“Asterin!” Manon yelp and her face was hot. "Not now," Asterin grinned. "You have to teach your little one that there's something fun about being a witch."  

Manon rolled her eyes and sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Go to sleep, Asterin," she commanded. At least Manon would go. But before she crawled into the sleeping bag, she lifted the hem of her shirt and said to her belly: “And you don't listen to what Asterin says."  

Vesta laughed again and the twins grinned. Manon had never seen twins smile except while hunting or torturing. Now they grinned at Manon, but not aggressively. She felt completely safe as she crawled into her sleeping bag and closed her eyes.  

The sand under the pad was warm. She is surrounded by the scents of Thirteen. And somewhere in the distance there was the cry of a raven, mixed with the girl's unrelenting hoarfrost giggles.  

Sleep! Manon commanded the laugher inside her head, and before falling asleep, she seemed to hear an irritated sigh.  

:::::::  

Lin, Imogen, Thea, and Kaya arrived a week later after Manon and the others of the Thirteen had settled in the cave. During the week, Manon and her coven had made the cave habitable for the winter.  

Lanterns had been hung on improvised brackets and a single tent cloth had been hung up in front of the door to prevent the cold wind from blowing in. The rest of the tent fabrics were spread under the witches' pad. Manon wasn't the only one frustrated with the amount of sand. Despite its softness and warmth, it was infuriating to shake it off clothes in the morning. When Faline came up with the idea of putting tent fabrics for protection, the situation had improved.  

Manon was not allowed to do any heavy work, for which she had been content to sit still and unravel the seams of her trousers. While the rest of her witches, led by Asterin, magnified the water inlet in the rock, Manon sat by the fire sewing her pants again. Manon was never good at sewing. She knew how to fix her clothes when needed, but loosening the waist of her trousers without breaking her pants apart seemed like an almost impossible task. Manon thought irritably that she should hand over her pants to Thea. She was the best seamstress in Thirteen, which wasn't much either.  

While Manon tried her best to use the sewing needle correctly, she was talking to her witchling. It had felt awkward to talk to herself at first, but soon it had become a habit. Whenever the attention of her coven was elsewhere, she would talk to her belly. And it felt strangely reassuring.  

Sometimes Manon – or actually quite often – complained about the overprotective behavior of her coven. The witchling showed no signs that she was listening. But somehow talking to the little one made concrete the fact that Manon was pregnant.  

Every day, despite opposition from Asterin and the rest of her coven, Manon went for a walk outside in the woods. Overnight, the whole world was covered in white snow and frost. Manon didn't particularly like the cold, but refused to sit still all day long. Often her walks were accompanied by a frustrated Asterin or a quiet Sorrelin. Manon no longer improvede her fighting skills with the rest of the Thirteen, about which she also complained to her witchling with the words: “ Do you know how strenuous you are when you stop me from doing anything?"  

Asterin, who had heard Manon's comment, glanced in her direction, or rather at the witchling:  “ Don't listen, your mother. She's just grumpy when she has to be sit still."  

If Manon had a knife at hand, she probably would have thrown it at Asterin. Now she contented herself with casting a murderous look on her second, to which Asterin replied with a grin.  

During the week, Manon had already gotten bored several times, so the return of the four witches was a good change from the similarity of the days.  

Thea and Kaya both looked exhausted, but they had made it through the journey without any confrontation with other witches or human. Lin and Imogen in turn...  

"Your grandmother didn't like the news,” Imogen said and handed the Matron's answer to Manon. The bruise around her eye had only just begun to heal. The lip was also cracked and the bridge of the nose was bruised. Lin looked just as bad.  

Manon swallowed her guilt and rage when she saw the situation of his two witches. She had sent them to the Matron, knowing that Grandmother might vent her rage on them. Grandmother's days had been numbered since the day Manon found out what she had done to Asterin and now this...  

She had assaulted two of Manon's witches because they had brought bad news. “Don't blame yourself," Lin growled, seeing Manon's enraged expression. “We all knew this might happen."  

That didn't diminish Manon's fury in the slightest, but she could push it aside. For another situation. For the moment she would strike her Wind Claver into the Matron's chest.  

Manon sighed and shifted her attention to the letter. It seemed to smoulder with rage, which Grandmother had barely been able to hold back after reading Manon's letter. Manon's lie.  

Manon tore open the letter and picked up a short message inside.  

It exuded the same cold anger as Lin and Imogen's bruises. They were a reminder. And the threat. What kind of punishment would it be if Manon failed.  

No hurry, Manon. Just extend your hunting trip, as long as you have something to show when you return. Don't disappoint me.  

Manon gritted her teeth. She knew that when she returned to the castle of the Blackbeaks empty-handed, Grandmother would not hold herself back in punishing her and the Thirteen. The beating of Imogen and Lin was just a foretaste of what was to come.  

But the bruises left by the grandmother were a small price to pay for the safety of the witchling. Manon stuffed the letter back into the envelope when a thought, a small, dangerous thought, entered her mind. What if she didn't return?  

"What does your grandmother say?" Asterin's question stirred Manon from her thoughts. She glanced at the second, whose gaze was fixed on the letter in Manon's hand.  

Manon shook her head with a tight expression. “Nothing important," she said. Grandmother just threatened. Manon wondered how her grandmother's behavior would change if she returned to Blackbeak's keep on the fourth month pregnant. At least Manon would be able to postpone her own abuse.  

Asterin nodded her head and added another log on the campfire. Manon watched as flames licked the bark of the tree. Without really thinking or planning anything, Manon threw her grandmother's letter into the fire. The paper immediately burst into flames.  

No one said anything. Thirteen watched silently as the letter curled. How grandmother's cruel words went up in smoke.  

“We are Thirteen,” Manon said quietly. “From now until the Darkness claim us.”  

All her witches, again assembled, nodded.  

What would happen in that cave during the winter would remain in that cave. And in the minds of the Thirteen, guarded, cherished and loved memories.  

Manon felt as if a bird's wing was softly flicking at her, from the inside of her belly. She blamed it on exhaustion.  

Chapter Text

“Hold on, I still want you  

Come back, I still need you 
Let me take your hand, I'll make it right 
I swear to love you all my life 
Hold on, I still need you.” 

Hold on 
Chord Oversteer 

Chapter 5  

Building a hot water pool was Ghislaine's idea. Manon had nothing against a warm bath. After two weeks of washing in cold water, Manon was ready to give her soul to the Darkness in exchange for one warm bath. It was stupid, said her rational side. Wanting something as trivial as a hot bath was stupid. 

But Manon couldn't help dreaming of immersing herself in warm water. Especially since the freezing temperatures outside were getting harder. Thirteen still hunted for their own food in the forest and fished for it in a nearby river. Asterin had given the order to roast the meat outside, and Manon had not resisted. In general, as her pregnancy progressed, she had allowed Asterin to take more responsibility for the entire coven. Manon was constantly exhausted and hungry, and she could not find the extra energy to command her witches. 

The cold had crept even into the cave, despite the fact that they had blocked every possible gap through which cold air could have slipped in. Manon woke up every morning cold and with a stiff back. Still, she insisted every day that she could leave the cave for a short walk. Although it was more uncomfortable by the day. 

Manon's pants were simply too cramped for her growing belly, which now stood out from under her clothes. It wouldn't be long before the shirt might be too small. Putting on the witch leather was a pain, as they were far too tight for Manon's swollen body. 

Thea had cautiously suggested over the campfire that Manon should get new clothes. Pregnancy clothes, to put it better. Manon instinctively wanted to argue against, but Thea was right.  

She agreed that the next group that would fetch her food from the village would also bring her something else to wear. And preferably warm, as Manon was constantly freezing. No matter how many layers of clothing she wrapped around her, the cold somehow found her. 

That was also a side effect of pregnancy, and Asterin said Manon should just try to stay as warm as possible and eat something more than just apples. The veggie pie Vesta had bought Manon, she had ate in one sitting and then glare around murderously, warning her witches to shut up. 

No one had said anything, but Asterin had looked pleased. When Manon started eating more, she noticed that she was getting better, but it didn't help much with the cold. 

So Manon really had no objection to them building a hot water pool. 

"We need to divert the stream water to another place," Ghsilaine explained, drawing a plan on the ground with a stick. “We can't use all the water because we still need a separate source of drinking water." 

Vesta leaned closer to investigate the drawing, reddish-brown brows furrowed. "We could develop some kind of water rationing system," she said. “Something that would stop the water coming in when the pool was full." 

Ghsilaine nodded thoughtfully and drew a new line in the sand. "How did you think to handle water heating?” Fallon asked, stretching her neck to see the plan. “With fire," Ghsilaine replied absentmindedly. "We dig one pit and pave it with stones. Then we dig ditches around the pool, fill them with wood and set them on fire." 

Asterin, who was sitting next to Manon, frowned. “Are you sure it works?” she asked. Manon did not participate in the discussion. She listened, while trying to find a good position on her pad. Her back ached. 

Ghslaine glared sharply up from his drawing, confronted with Asterin's doubting gaze. "I've seen it work," she replied. "And if you want a warm bath, follow my instructions and don't ask stupid questions." 

Asterin raised her eyebrows at Ghsilaine's tone of voice, but said nothing. There had been a time when Ghsilaine would have been beaten for giving orders to second in her coven. Now no one cared. Ghsilaine had an idea and was the smartest and oldest of Manon's witches. Knowledge was her trump card. She knew what she wanted and how to achieve it. 

No one questioned the idea again as Ghsilaine leaned over her drawing and began to explain in detail how to act. Thirteen listened carefully and occasionally asked clarifying questions. Manon didn't bother to say anything. She had just found a good position in which she was good. However, she knew that she would not be allowed to participate in digging or carrying stones. 

Without noticing, still listening to the conversation going on, Manon raised her hands to her belly. Under the rough fabric, the stomach felt warm and swollen. Can you hear them witchling? Manon thought absentmindedly as Thirteen began to divide tasks among themselves. No one seemed very eager to go to the village to buy shovels and more food for Manon. 

Manon sighed when she heard it. Her appetite only grew. It was normal, Asterin kept telling her. Manon ate for two. Manon felt like she ate one army's worth of food a day, but she said nothing about it to Asterin. She still felt uncomfortable eating in front of her coven. 

Manon didn't like being pregnant. It limited her life far too much. Watching Briar and Imogen spar yesterday, Manon would have given anything to do the same. She was constantly bored and bored made her grumpy. 

The only sign of the existence of the whole baby was just a bulging belly, which Manon instinctively and obsessively protected. 

Despite knowing she was pregnant, Manon still couldn't think of her witchling as a living, breathing, and intellectual being. Until now, pregnancy had only been a state of being. Unpleasant being. 

The construction of the hot water pool took many days. The only work Manon was allowed to do was grind the rocks smoothly or make sure that the stream from the wall was evenly distributed in the two basins that gradually formed. The first was small and natural. A deep, nature-shaped stonewell filled with ice-cold water. One was going to be a big, warm pool that should hold thirteen witches at once. 

Manon watched as Thea, Kaya, and the twins began to place the stones, led by Ghislaine. She sat cross-legged—the best position that morning – and nibbled on a small pastry that the group that had visited the village had brought in the morning. It was still partly warm and Manon enjoyed the sweetness of the pastry. Asterin sat behind her and, with accustomed movements, massaged Manon's stiff muscles. 

"What position are you sleeping in?" Asterin ask while massaging Manon's lower back. "In a comfortable position," Manon muttered, barely holding in a satisfied grunt. The touch of Asterin's warm hands on Manon's lower back was heavenly. Asterin sighed and continued rubbing. Manon hadn't asked for it. Her pride didn't allow her to ask for help, but she knew how to accept it. For a century, Manon had been the feared leader of the Thirteen. The change from having to let his witches pamper her was... bothersome. Difficult. Strange. 

Manon did not resist when Asterin suggested that she try to rub Manon's back muscles open. She did not resist much these days. Unless you count the pregnancy dress Briar brought to the cave. Manon hadn't agreed to put it on, until she noticed the morning before that her pants had become too small. 

Swearing to herself, Manon had changed into a white, loose-fitting dress. It had been the warmest garment Manon had worn in the last three weeks. 

A cold breeze passed through the cave and made Manon shiver despite her warm dress. Asterin growled softly, immediately noticing Manon's discomfort. Manon glanced over her shoulder sharply, telling Asterin to restrain herself. In a way, Manon understood Asterin's overprotective behavior. It was much more powerful for her than for the other witches of Manon. Still, Manon had to restrain herself at times so as not to hit Asterin when she as she spun around Manon. She was not going to punish Asterin for this concern. Manon wouldn't do that because she understood where the fear came from. 

Asterin was a mother who had lost her child. She didn't want Manon to experience the same pain. None of the Thirteen wanted that. 

Briar and Edda entered the cave, shaking the snow from their cloaks. Briar had let the black color of her black hair slowly fade back to the white like the moon. Edda, on the other hand, continued to dye her hair black. Briar had explained that in the snow, white hair would not stand out as easily as black hair.Edda's hair was black because she needed to be able to patrol at night. They were no longer Shadows, Manon thought as she looked at her cousins. They were like the two faces of the moon. 

It was just one thing that had changed in the Thirteen. 

"Nothing to worry about," Edda announced, throwing off her snow-covered cloak. Asterin lowered her hand from Manon's lower back, which was unfortunate. "How far did you go?" Asterin asked. Manon should have done it, and some part of her became agitated, as if believing Asterin was trying to oust her. Manon forced that instinct down. It was her grandmother who had taught Manon not to trust anyone. Not even to her own coven. 

"We went all the way to the edge of the village," Birar reported, pulling the cloak off her shoulders. "Nothing. A couple of human hunters and three moose tracks, but that's about it." 

Manon sensed her cousin's relaxation behind her. She wasn't the only one who feared that some other coven would find them before spring. “Good," Asterin said, nodding at Briar and Edda. The two threw their cloaks brooms over the pile and walked across the cave to the campfire. Next to it steamed the remnants of the previous evening's food. "Did you see Imogen and Vesta on the way?” Sorrel asked. She sat by the campfire and watched the fire. The campfire was not allowed to go out, because despite the sheltered location of the cave, it would instantly grow cold if the fire did not keep burning. Briar and Edda shook their heads.“We could smell their tracks," Edda said. "But we didn't see them." 

Imogen and Vesta had gone at the same time as the Shadows to get more firewood for the campfire. Manon didn't know how far into the forest they had to go, as she was hardly allowed out of the cave anymore. 

The frost had been severe for the past few weeks, and Manon's warmest clothes could no longer fit on her. It had caused Manon to abandon her walks, much to Asterin's delight and her own irritation. 

Manon's muscle aches did little to improve with constant standing still. And she complained about it to her bulging belly, which was the reason for that situation. 

The witchling still hadn't shown any signs of herself, although Ghislaine had said that these days Manon should feel her baby's movements. Manon believed it, but still didn't know what she was really expecting. How would her witchling's movements feel? And would Manon even know them? What if the baby had died in the womb? That would be nothing new in irontoothwitch pregnancies. 

"Whatever you're thinking," Asterin muttered from behind Manon as she started the massage again.“Stop right away. You and the witchling are perfectly fine."  

Manon didn't say anything. She tried to shake off doubts and fears and concentrate solely on enjoying the touch of Asterin's skilled hands. And those hands reminded Manon of some other hands. Hands that Manon hadn't agreed to think about. The cold phantom hands that tormented her. Warm, right hands that felt every point of her body. 

"When will I see you next time?"  

Dorian's voice rang in her mind, uninvited. There had been hope on the voice that Manon would return. And she was back. Once. But runaway. How long would Dorian wait before forgetting Manon? It would be better for Manon if Dorian forgot about her. Even if Manon could never forget, no matter how long she lived. 

Manon had thought a lot early in her pregnancy about what the little one would inherit from her and what she would inherit from Dorian. She had buried those thoughts in the same pit where she had buried everything else she didn't want to think. In the same pit were Manon's fears about the witchling's health, cruel memories, decisions, grandmother's reproaching voice, and Dorian's. Everything Manon didn't want to think about was stuffed into the back of her mind in the same place. And there they would also be allowed to stay. 

Manon woke up from her thoughts as the tent canvas opened up and Vesta slipped in, with Imogen at her heels. “A real blizzard is about to start there,” The first thing Imogen said was as she took off her hood. Her boots left snowy marks on the sandy floor of the cave. “We may have to dig our way out in the morning." 

"Luckily we have shovels then," Fallon muttered audibly. Vesta chuckled and dropped a large amount of firewood next to Sorrel. "You're welcome," Vesta said briskly, as she opened her own cloak and threw it over the robes of Edda and Briar. 

"How far did you have to go to get these trees?" Sorrel asked, examining the pile of thick branches. Imogen dumped her own cargo of wood next to Vesta's pile. “Watch out with those wood logs!" Sorrel exclaimed, leaping away, when the thick branches almost falling into her arms. 

Imogen muttered her apologies before threw her own cloak together with the others. Imogen had never been particularly social. She was comfortable on her own and spoke even less often than the Shadows, which said a lot. Imogen wandered quietly into the corner of the cave and went to sit next to Lin, who sharpened her knives. Imogen said nothing, but held out her hand to Lin demandingly. Lin glanced up once, met Imogen's gaze, handed her one of her grindstones. Imogen began working in the head bow, leaning against the wall next to Lin. 

Despite the fact that Manon often ordered Liln and Vesta to be paired while they were on guard, whether hunting, sparring or fighting, Lin had always seemed to get along best with Imogen. It wasn't the first time Manon wondered if there was something between them. 

Asterin, who seemed to be reading Manon's thoughts these days, bent down to say in a low voice in Manon's ear: "Lin treats Imogen like a little sister. I've always thought that Imogen might be the only one in the world who could call Lin by her real name and stay unharmed." 

Lin - Linnea, as her tender-hearted mother had named her, had always treated her name like a curse. Now Manon wondered if Lin would have been so disgusted with her name if her mother had raised her. Lin was raised by her grandmother, like Manon.Both of their mothers had died. Manon's mother on childbirth and Lin's mother - her mother was killed by Lin's own grandmother. 

Manon swallowed and lowered her head to look into her belly. A month had passed since the dream in which she saw her daughter, dressed in a black robe, bending over a wolf's steaming carcass. After that, the dreams had stopped, for which Manon was grateful. She didn't wake up early in the morning because of the raven's disturbing laughter. The morning sickness had also stopped, although Manon still couldn't stand the smell of meat. 

Manon's gaze wandered again to the corner where Imogen and Lin sharpened their weapons. Imogen was the youngest of her witches. She looked younger than most of the others. Because of immortality, they aged slowly. When the witch's menstruation began, the aging process also slowed down. Manon looked barely twenty years old. Asterin looked no older than her. 

Imogenia could have been imagined to be something between fourteen and seventeen. Two blond plaits only accentuated the impression. Maybe that's why Lin had a soft spot for her. Manon had learned that each of the thirteen members had a soft spot that they guarded as paranoidly as Manon the witchling growing in her belly. Lin's soft spot was Imogen. Lin, as well as Ghsilaine, looked like the elders of the Thirteen. In appearance, they were no more than twenty-six years old. 

"That would be it,” Ghislaine's satisfied voice made Manoni's gaze turn from the two towards the hot water pool. Ghislaine stood on its edge and leaned on one of the flanges they had acquired. 

"Can we take a bath?” Vesta got excited and stood up from her seat next to Sorrel, where she had remained to quench her hunger. “Not tonight," Ghislaine said, ignoring Vesta's sigh. “But tomorrow, if we get enough wood to heat the pool." 

"I'll carry the whole forest here, as long as I get one warm bath,” Vesta muttered. "I'll keep that in mind," Asterin said from behind Manon. "You can go get more firewood tomorrow." 

Vesta flashed Asterin an obscene hand gesture. Manon sighed and rolled her eyes. Although she was forced to admit that she would probably do the same if she could leave the cave without freezing to death. She pushed into her mouth the pastry she was holding in her hands and, as she chewed, watched as the twins tamped the stones as tightly ground as possible. There were only a couple of layers of sand before solid ground. All the leftover sand had been hurled out or piled up in one corner of the cave. 

Manon would bury Asterin there if she became too annoying. 

"How do you feel Manon?” Ghsilaine question caused Mano's wandering thoughts to focus again. "Make to the end the pool. We all need a proper bath." 

It wasn't a right answer, but Manon didn't know how to describe how she felt at the time. Ghsilaine did not press, although Manon's response clearly frustrated her. She turned towards her group and began to give instructions on how to build the ditches. She ordered Lin and Imogen to join her in diges the so Thea and Kaya could take a break. The twins also left the pit and Briar and Edda took their place. 

Manon watched it from a distance as she finally felt her back muscles relax. This time, she couldn't hold back the satisfied sigh that escaped her mouth. And again she felt as if the soft wing of a bird had rubbed her from the inside of her belly. 

Manon was sure it was due to hunger. 

::::::: 

The cave smelled of burning spruce and warming stone. It was well past noon. The snow shone in the light of the pale sun that had peeked from behind the clouds earlier in the day. 

Manon had visited the cave entrance in the morning to get some fresh air before Asterin had woken up. Cousin would have tried to persuade Manon to stay in the cave. Sorrel had stood guard and watched her as she stood breathing at the entrance of the cave. The air was cold and Mano's breath steamed in the freezing temperatures, but the cold air refreshed her senses. It stung her bare legs and made her toes numb. 

The touch of cold felt as refreshing as the song of the wind high above the treetops. To her surprise, Manon hadn't longed for the sky to ride on her broom, as much as she had imagined. Yes, she still heard the call of the wind. It whispered in the corners of the cave, but it was easy to resist the whiff of the wind. Manon was tied to the ground with growing belly. 

By the time Manon returned to the cave, Asterin was already awake. The worry on her face had disappeared when she saw Manon slip back into the cave from behind the tent canvas. Manon hadn't given Asterin a chance to say anything. She just walked past second and started rummaging through something to eat. 

The witches slowly woke up. They had begun to slip out of their normal circadian rhythm. Sometimes evenings and mornings stretched. Especially after Manon's sleep patterns had started to become more irregular. Some nights she fell asleep as soon as he laid her head on the pillow. Other nights she turning around on her pad for many hours, which kept the other Thirteen awake. The night before had been like that. Manon hadn't been able to sleep and eventually she had just given up. Thirteen had been sitting around the fire talking long into the night until Manon had almost fallen asleep. 

Manon didn't know if her witches had agreed among themselves, or if it was out of solidarity with her sleep problems, as no one agreed to go to bed before Manon. She hadn't asked, and no one had told her. 

There had been a time when such mornings would have yielded at least three whip blows. Grandmother would be furious to see what kind of state Manon and her dreaded coven had ended up in. They would have been accused of being lazy, stupid and a disgrace to the entire Blackbeak clan. 

But in the forest, hidden in a cave, it felt like a completely different world. It was perfectly normal to sleep here for a long time. And then go get firewood so that in the evening the whole coven could bathe in warm water for the first time in many months. 

Vesta, Lin and Imogen went to get wood. Asterin had smiled sunnily at Vesta's grumpy expression, reminding her that she had volunteered the night before. After the trio left, Manon had taken matters into her own hands and sent Asterin hunting with the twins. 

Asterin had resisted. Of course there was. But Manon hadn't given up. "You have to go out sometimes," she was grunted. "Go hunting or I'll bury you in that pile of hiccups." Manon had continued, pointing to a pile in one corner of the cave. Asterin had finally agreed, although she clearly did not like the order. 

Before the trio left, Manon muttered to the twins: “ Don't return until Asterin is relaxed."  

Faline had grinned knowingly and Fallon had chuckled. "We'll take her far, on a very long hunt." She promised. "And we won't return until Asterin has calmed down."  

"No human," Manon ordered. "Nothing that attracts extra attention."  

Fallon had looked annoyed and Faline's wicked grin was pouring from her face. The twins loved killing and draining human's carotid arteries. "Not even a little bite? Some hunter lost too deep in the woods?" Faline tried. Manon shook her head. "No humans."  

The twins exchanged glances, as if pondering how to contradict them. But then both sighed in submission. No matter how much things changed, Manon was still the leader of the Thirteen. “So game," Fallon said. "Some big moose, ” Faline suggested and her grin returned. Fallon grinned just as wildly. "Or a wolf. Something you can fight with a little bit."  

“Asterin, ” Manon said to her second, who attached a bow to her back. Asterin looked up, clearly hoping that Manon would let her stay. But Manon said: "Keep the twins in check. I don't want some Irontooth witch coven to find us because of them."  

Asterin looked discouraged, but nodded anyway. After they left, Ghislaine, Sorrel, Thea, Kaya, and Shadows remained in the cave. Thea, Sorrel and Briar dug the ditches around the basin under the guidance of Ghsilaine. Manon, together with Kaya and Edda, completed the tributary of the source and let the water drain into the pool. They made sure that the water was clean and passed effortlessly from a larger spring, along a small stream, to a basin of stones.The murmur of water filled the cave. The water was crystal clear and cold like snow-covered cliffs. 

Manon shivered as freezing water splashed down her legs. It tingled like glass as it dried. 

It took them all morning first digging, filling the pool, and then – when Vesta, Imogen and Lin returned – Pushing firewood into place. Manon sat on her pad and watched as her witches filled the ditches with an astronomically accurate formula. Each tree had to be in just the right place, Ghislaine enlightened. I wonder how many of the Thirteen secretly wished they could bury Ghislaine in a pile her sand in the corner, Manon wondered, chewing on her apple. 

When Ghislaine was satisfied with the placement of the trees, she poured clear liquor over the trees, which Vesta had brought from the village at Ghislaine's request. Then the trees were lit. The fire immediately flared, and the cave was filled with the smell of smoke and burnt wood. Through a wall of sand gathered around the pool, which was to be shoveled back over the fire when the water warmed up enough, and Manon did not see any flames. Even if she heard them. Ghsilaine closed the mouth of a small new mountain stream and the water stopped coming into the pool. 

“What now?" Vesta asked, the light of the flames reflected in the black eyes. "Now," Ghislaine said calmly. "We're waiting." 

And so they waited. Manon dozed off the rest of the morning top her sleeping bag, listening to the flames singing a few feet away. She was comfortably warm. At the same time, other witches complained about the heat. 

Asterin and the twins returned in the evening, when the fire had already burned for a good time and had already begun to subside. Ghislaine had announced, after testing the water temperature with her hand, that they could bathe after the evening meal. The moose felled by Asterin and the twins was welcomed with satisfaction. They had cooked it outside, despite the increased wind and the snowfall that had begun. 

The smell of fried, warm meat raised bile in Manon's throat. She was forced to swallow it and concentrate only on her own food. Apples, bread and a little more apples. Which Manon was still not tired of. The witches attacked the moose like a pack of hungry wolves after working all day. The atmosphere in the cave was relaxed and hilarious. 

Somehow, the promise of a warm bath had lifted the spirits of her entire coven. Despite being witches, they also craved fun and relaxation from time to time, Manon thought. And it didn't always mean sleep with men. A prince buried in Manon's mind tried to steal her attention, but Manon resolutely pushed her back into the pile of sand in her mind. Dorian would be allowed to stay there. 

The ditches had been filled and the warmth from the bath sent shivers of excitement down Manon's spine. The water was still crystal clear and fresh, but now it was warm as if the sun had been pouring into it all day. 

There was a rustling of clothes as the witches of the Thirteen undressed. Manon pulled her pregnancy dress over her head, revealing her changed figure. Manon was amazed at how... Her body looked soft. Because of her freezing, Manon hadn't really undressed and explored her body altered by pregnancy. 

What used to be sharp, hard, and mere of muscle was now soft and round. Swollen belly and grown breasts. Manon didn't know what to think. Should her belly be this big by now? 

"You're going to be huge in late pregnancy," Aster said quietly. Manon looked up and saw her cousin standing in front of her, still wearing a white undershirt. Manon realized that this may have been Asterin's first time in eighty years, when she was naked in front of her entire coven. 

When the mark that her grandmother had burned on her lower abdomen would be there for all to see. "Are you ready?" Manon asked, her voice softening. "No one will judge you if you don't want to..." 

"They know about the brand," Aster said. “They know what your grandmother did to me," she continued, fiddling with the hem of her shirt in her hand. Manon was silent. She didn't know what to say to Asterin. Manon could only watch as Asterin grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over his head. The word burned in the lower abdomen was worse than Manon remembered. 

And it stirred up a fury inside her. How many other Blackbeak carried the same brand without Manon's knowledge? How many other witches had been deprived by the Matron of the opportunity to hold her child in her arms? Even once? 

A sharp breath from behind Manon made her avert her gaze. Ghsilaise's eyes were wide as she stared at the word burned into Asterin's stomach. And then, tears welled up in the dark-skinned witch's eyes. She averted her gaze and wiped her eyes. 

The cruelty of the word seemed too much even for the Thirteen, who had seen many killing grounds. When Manon averted her gaze from Ghsilaine, she saw the gazes of the other witches lingering on Asterin's lower abdomen. Manon looked at each of them closely, ready to attack any of them at the slightest sign that one of the Thirteen was feeling disgusted. 

But when Manon looked at the expressions of Thirteen, all she saw was sadness and rage mixed on her witches' faces. They all knew who had burned the word "Unclean" into Asterin's skin. 

"When you tear her throat open, I want to be there to see,” Lin's quiet voice broke the deep silence of the cave. The corners of Asterin's mouth jerked upwards, and Manon saw how much Asterin appreciated those words. How much she appreciated their understanding and loyalty. 

"The day of the matron are numbered," Manon said. One by one, she met the gaze of each of the thirteen. Her gaze stopped at Asterin. “We take revenge for every mother who lost her witchling to the Matron." 

Asterin's eyes gleamed. She took a shakin breath and then held out her hand to Manon. "In anticipation of that day, we could use this hot water pool to our advantage." 

Manon couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her mouth. She let Asterin grab her hand and help her into warm water. The warmth of the water was like healing balm to Manon's cold muscles and limbs. Asterin next to her closed her eyes with a satisfied look, while Vesta sighed in pleasure as she sank into the water. 

Similar sighs came out of the mouths of many other witches as their skin met the heat of the water. “That's why it was worth working," Faline or Fallon said. The twins sat next to each other opposite Manon. Their hair cascaded in black waves into the water and floated around them like aquatic plants. Manon couldn't tell the twins apart at that moment. 

Thea and Kaya sat next to the twins. Their hands kept getting lost caressing each other's bare legs and breasts. "You're not doing that here," Vesta grumbled beside Sorrel. "I can already smell your arousal." 

Thea and Kaya grinned maliciously at each other, but pleased Vesta and tried to keep their hands apart. Next to Thea and Kaya was Imogen, opening her shaggy plait hair. One by one, the pale strands fell free and remained floating in the water like golden blades of grass. 

Between Imogen and Asterin sat Ghsilaine, with her eyes closed and a smug little smile on her face. She could not be reproached for it. She had succeeded perfectly in her goal. 

On the other side of Mano sat Sorrel, whose watchful gaze was clouded as she surrendered to the warmth of the water. She absentmindedly wiggled her fingers in the water, watching the shivers she had caused on the surface of the water. 

Next to Sorrel was Vesta, whose red hair spilled into the water, like a bloody waterfall. Her large, pale breasts were only partially submerged in water, for she had hunched her back in an enjoyable stretch. Next to Vesta was Lin, rubbing her hands together, trying to wash away the pine resin that had stuck to her hands. 

Then there were the Shadows. A black cloud spread the Edda's black hair – which had been redyed a couple of days ago – into the water. Briar's hair also shed color. The last remnants of black hair color disappeared when Briar submerged her head in water. A silvery grey patch spilled around her hair, when she lifted his head out of the water and wiggled her hair on her back, splashing bath water on Edda and the other twin. 

"Watch out a little!" Edda yelp and jumped away from her cousin, who grinned and splashed more water on the Edda. Like children, Manon thought, as she watched Edda retaliate by splashing water on Briar. Briar dodged by turning her head, only to receive a blow from the other side. Faline – Manon was pretty sure of that—smiling smugly as Briar startle and rubbed her wet face with her hands. 

Vesta laughed at it and Ghsilaine sighed in frustration. "How old are you?" she groaned out half aloud, letting her body sink deeper into the water. Manon thought she should have reproached her witches' because of childish behavior, but at that moment she couldn't care less. 

Manon closed her eyes and pressed her back against the warm stones of the pool. Their warmth radiated to her body like the heat of a fireplace. It was heavenly. Manon's every muscle relaxed when, like Ghsilaine, let her whole body sink into the water. 

And then her relaxation was broken by a strange feeling in her belly. Soft wing beat on the inside of the abdomen. Manon sighed and changed positions. The feeling came again, as if a bird's wing had touched her from the inside. Manon groaned and changed positions again. The feeling wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but it made the hairs on Manon's neck stand up. The same strange feeling had come to Manon several times during the last few days. It's like there's a bird spreading its wings in her belly. 

Manon's eyes opened when the thought entered her mind. Once again, she felt as if a wing had rubbed against her belly from the inside. Delicate, small touch. Movement in her... movement in her womb. 

Manon bounced into a sitting position so that the water splashed. "What?" Asterin was immediately alert. Manon couldn't hear her properly. Her ears were buzzing. A new touch of the wing, as if ensuring everything. 

Slowly, as if afraid of what she would feel, Manon laid her hand on her bulging belly. She moved it gently, trying to feel something. And that was it. A slight shiver as her hand touched her lower abdomen. Gentle touch of the bird's wing. 

“Manon,” Asterin's hand landed on her shoulder. “Manon! What now? Are you okay?" 

Okey? All is okay! Manon felt her child's movements. She felt the witchling move inside her. Manon's mouth opened as she gasped for breath, trying to get enough oxygen to her brain. “I can feel her movements," Manon said in a choked voice. "I feel her movement!" 

Saying it out loud, it felt like a heavy weight had fallen off Manon's shoulders. The child was fine and moving. The witchling was alive and Manon felt her little body move inside her. No longer just a state of being. The witchling was alive and real and...Manon felt a new movement within her. The little one heard her and moved, as if trying to get Manon's attention.  I notice you, Manon was tempted to shout out. I notice you!  

You are true. You're alive.  Manon wanted to say it all, but couldn't. When she opened her mouth, a sob erupted instead of words. Manon took a breath. Tried to stop sobbing, but all she could get was to cry out. Tears welled up in her eyes and fell down her cheeks. A new movement inside her. It was as if the witchling sensed Manon's mentalbrokedown and tried to comfort her. 

It only made Manon's crying worse. She sobbed and gasped for breath, tears rolling down her cheeks. She curled up in a heap. Wrapped her arms around her as strong sobs passed through her. 

Manon had never cried. Not from pain, sadness or rage. And she could never have imagined having a hysterics fit of pure joy. Knowing that she hadn't failed. The child continued to move inside her, reacting to Manon's loud sobbings. Still so small, but with more sense of intelligence than Manon had ever had. 

The soft touch made Manon look up from her belly, which he had been staring at. She felt like she had never seen it properly before. Hadn't figured out what it meant to carry a child. Asterin had slid beside her. 

The cousin smiled. There was a wide, gentle smile on her face. There were tears in her eyes. "She's fine, Manon. Healthy and strong." 

Manon couldn't help but nod. The touch of Asterin's hands was gentle as she pulled Manon into a hug, as she did in her tent after her nightmare. 

And Manon let her do so. She let Asterin pull her into his arms and hug her tightly. Manon sighed with a shudder. The tears did not stop. The witch child kept moving. Manon continued her hysterical sobbing. 

She felt the other witches around her moving. She felt their every touch. Gentle and comforting. Manon's crying only got worse. It was as if all the anxiety, fear, joy and frustration that had been packed in the last few months were now unraveling all at once. 

"When will I see you next time?"  

Dorian's last question whispered in her mind. And now Manon whispered his silent response. 

"Maybe one day I'll be brave enough coming back."  

Thirteen let Manon weep. Let her vent all her emotions into tears. Their presence meant more to Manon than she could ever say. 

"Look what you're doing for us,"  Manon said quietly to the girl who was lingering at the limits of her consciousness. Existed only in her head. Black hair, a different pair of eyes and quiet hoarfrost laughter. "Look what you've done to me."  

As always, the girl laughed. "And don't you love every second?"  

More than Manon could ever comprehend. 

::::::: 

The freezing temperatures in midwinter made Aster's Blackbeak shiver despite her thick clothes. She stood in front of the cave frying that morning's booty. Eight large fish ripened over an open fire under a small cliff ledge. Thirteen tried to fry their food in daylight, when smoke might not be as easily distinguished. 

Asterin couldn't claim to enjoy fishing. She had spent half a day ice fishing on the ice of the river, with Vesta by her side. They had changed shifts whenever the other's fingers were almost frozen in the fishing rod. 

Manon had still been in a deep sleep when Asterin had left. Her belly was already so big that she couldn't close her sleeping bag. Manon had slept under her sleeping bag like it’s a blanket. Her hand had supported her large belly underneath, protectively as if afraid her daughter would run away. And Asterin hadn't wondered about it at all. Manon was now on the sixth moon. There were just under three months left before the witchling was born. The little one kicked Manon almost day and night, and Manon had stated one day that his daughter was trying to escape from the womb. 

Still not born and already causing headaches. Asterin thought that Manon's daughter would be one of those children who learned to run as soon as they learned to crawl. It would be difficult to watch her. 

Asterin had never seen Manon so tired. Under her eyes were shadows of long-awake nights when the witchling did not stop kicking. The girl calmed down only as Manon spoke, and resumed as soon as Manon finished. Despite the fact that Manon complained most of the time about how she could not sleep because of the little one, Asterin had seen the joy on Manon's face every time the witchling moved. 

Manon was more exhausted than ever, but at the same time she was happier than Asterin thought possible. The pregnancy had softened Manon's inherent cruelty and turned it into irritability. And Manon, irritated and complaining to her belly, was an endearing sight. 

But every time Asterin looked at Manon and her swollen belly, he couldn't help her old grief. She herself remembered how the child's movements had felt. Her daughter had not tried to escape. Instead, she teased Asterin. Sometimes he had been motionless for long periods of time, so that Asterin became worried. And then she kicked a couple of times hard, as if announcing:  “Here I’m. Don't think you'll get rid of me so easily."  

Asterin remembered how much he had loved her daughter's every move. How much vitality she had felt in her daughter. And how painful it had been to realize that she would never get to see her witchling grow up. How final that silence had sounded in the tower room. Asterin would have liked to see her at least once. Holds her daughter at least once. But the Matron had deprived her of it. 

Asterin had had to watch her daughter burn to ashes in the flames of the fireplace. It hurt even more than the letters burned in her belly. 

It should never happen to Manon. Asterin did not allow that to happen to Manon. Ever. Silent footsteps awakened Asterin from her thoughts. When she looked up from the fishes, she saw Sorrel who had slipped out of the cave. Her dark hair was still messed up after sleep, and there was a worried look in her eyes. 

Asterin knew immediately that something was wrong. She turned all the way towards the triplet of her coven and asked. "What?" 

Sorrel swallowed. There was a worried wrinkle on her forehead. “It's Manon," said the triplet in a tense voice. Asterin's posture straightened immediately. "Tell me!" 

Sorrel's dark eyes met Asterin's burning gaze. “She's still asleep and we can't get her awake and..." Sorrel swallowed. In that moment, Asterin knew something was horribly wrong. "Is Manon okay?" Aster's question was barely heard. It was so quiet, strangled by panic. 

From Sorrel's face - a stony, serious face - shone pure worry. "Manon has a fever." 

Chapter Text

“Losing friends and I'm chasing sleep 
Everybody's worried 'bout me 
In too deep, say I'm in too deep  
And it's been two years, I miss my home 
But there's a fire burning in my bones 
Still believe, yeah, I still believe.” 

 
Rachel Platten 
Fight song 

Luku 6  

Manon sat in a meadow, under a large tree. The tree had dropped its leaves and its branches were heavy from the snow. The ground around Manon was covered with white get snow that shone in the light of the full moon . The flowers had disappeared under the white layer. Nature slept under the snow and ice, waiting for spring's awakening first kiss.  

Manon leaned his back on the bark of a tree and watched the moon's slow journey across the sky. She was exceedingly tired. So, so tired. And just as tired was the little girl beside her . Manon noticed a quiet sigh, and then a small, warm body pressed against her. Not the teenager Manon had seen. No. This was smaller. The six-year-old who weaved a crown out of apple blossoms.  

"I'm tired,” girl muttered and pressed against Manon, as if looking for warmth in her body. And though she felt heavy, Manon moved enough for girl to curl up under her arm. “Me too," Manon muttered sleepily.  

"But we must not fall asleep," the girl reminded wearily . Pressed against Manon's chest, small and warm . Manon's hand moved again and she wrapped her heavy arms around her fragile body . “No," she whispered. "We must not."  

But why? There was some reason why neither Manon nor the girl was allowed to fall asleep. Why did they have to stay awake, no matter how hard it was. 

At that moment, Manon was unable to remember the reason.“Stay awake," she muttered to the girl curled up in her arms. The girl nodded. So small and exhausted.  

Manon had a guilty conscience for not letting the little one sleep . But they should both stay awake. Awake until morning.  

Manon looked at the moon. Who knew how long it was until morning?  

"We must not fall asleep," she reminded gently, shaking the girl . The girl didn't react other than squeezing her little hand into Manon's.  

Manon squeezed back. Awake. Should stay awake.  

::::::::  

Manon had never looked so small, Asterin thought. Even in the morning, after Asterin had left the cave with Vesta, Manon had been healthy and vibrant. She had slept peacefully, breathing deeply. The heart beat had been stable. Her condition had plummeted just hours after that.  

Manon was breathing shallowly and her heartbeats were far too fast for her to sleep.  

Manoni's body jerked occasionally in her sleep, but otherwise she was unnaturally motionless.  

Ghsilaine—who knew most about healing among them—had next to Manon's head and pressed her hands against her forehead. Judging by the crease between her brows, the situation was not good. "What do you say?" Asterin asked in a demanding voice. She sat next to Manon on the ground, not daring to touch her until Ghsilaine had made her assessment.  

The other thirteen were grouped in a loose half-circle around the pregnant leader of their coven. Sorrel stood next to the wall, restlessly shifting weight from one leg to the other. Asterin had never seen so many emotions on the triplet's face at the same time. Vesta was beside her, wringing her hands, as if trying to forcibly find something for herself to do.  

Imogen rummaged through Thirteen's bags, looking for something to lower Manon's fever. Lin quietly muttered instructions to the younger witch as she pulled out various dried herbs from Ghsilaine's bag. As she said, Ghsilaine was not a healer. The irontoothedwitches hadn't had healers for a thousand years.  

Asterin had heard stories of irontoothed witches who could turn their backs on their natural killing desires and focus on alleviating pain instead of inflicting pain. Irontooth healers were not only witches who knew more about healing herbs than others. Their mission and capabilities were much greater.Asterin had heard stories of iron toothed witches who had been able to speak directly with the darkness. That, the healers had heard the three-faced goddess out loud.  

Asterin didn't believe in it. It sounded like something the Blueblood had come up with out of their own head. Those religious fools. But Asterin believed that irontooth healers had had their own kind of power. The last of them had disappeared five hundred years before the death of the last queen of corcha and it was rumored that the corchans were to blame for the disappearance of the healers of irontoothed witches.  

That was the position of the Bluebloods. Asterin, on the other hand, believed that the skill had disappeared into history as the lives of the irontooth witches became more violent. No witch had so much self-control anymore that she could refuse the call of human blood completely.  

At that moment, watching Ghsilaine examine Manon, Asterin wished there was one more irontooth healer in the world who could help.  

But they only had Ghislaine. Ghsilaine, whose face twisted with anxiety, as she slowly lowered her hand from Manon's forehead. She looked at Asterin, met her gaze with her sea-green eyes, which usually shone with a sharp intellect. Now panic shone in Ghislaine's eyes.  

"The fever has risen rapidly,” she started and the atmosphere in the cave became denser as the witches of the thirteen leaned closer. Thea and Kaya squeezed each other's hands, as if trying to calm themselves. Faline and Fallon alternately exposed and hid their iron claws. The shadows stood motionless, as if trying to merge with the wall.  

"What does that mean?” Asterin asked sharply when Ghsilaine didn't continue. There was a contradictory expression on the faces of the thirteen oldest witches when she sighed and then said:"At best, Manon's body is just strained. Carrying a witchling is difficult even under normal circumstances. And Manon," Ghsilaine shook her head and gestured around with her hand. "Frost, this place – it may have caused her to get sick."  

"But?" Asterin pressed when Ghislaine fell silent again. The worry shining on Ghislaine's face made Asterin's stomach knot. Ghsilaine placed her hands on her knees and sighed. “In the worst case, something has happened to the witchling. Manon's condition may be due to the fact that the baby has died in her womb. Then -” Ghislaine sentence was cut off when she saw Asterin's expression.  

Asterin didn't know what kind of expression was on her face, but it seemed to have frightened Ghsilaine. She didn't know if the despair her was visible on her face. No Manon's witchling. Asterin thought, prayed to the three-faced goddess.  

Don't let Manon lose her witchling.  

"Then what?" Asterin asked in a worryingly steady voice. Internally, she cried out and prayed to any hearing god. But it was not visible from the outside. Over the past eighty years, Asterin had become adept at hiding her feelings, and even now he did not let her despair and panic show on the outside. Thirteen needed her, now that Manon could not command them. Asterin could not afford to let her own fear be aggravated by the panic of other witches.  

"We would have to go into labor or cut it out,” Ghsilaine said quickly, as if trying to get rid of the words as quickly as possible.  

The silence of the cave weighed like the roof of the cave over them. Asterin felt its weight on her shoulders. She felt the responsibility for Manon and her unborn witchling fall on her.  

Asterin took a deep breath and hardened herself. She should act rationally now and not let her emotions take over. If the child was already dead... no! Something inside Asterin told her that this was not about that. Manon's baby was still alive. Only yesterday, Manon had told her that girl was moving. As recently as yesterday... And yesterday all had been well.  

"Which do you think it's about?” Asterin asked, while observe Manon. She shivered in her sleep and curled up in a heap, as if trying to escape the cold. Ghsilaine spread her hands, looking ignorant. "No-" she stammered. “I don't know. I hope it's the first, but..."  

"As long as there are no signs of another option, it's just about getting sick," Asterin interrupted Ghsilaine. Ghsilaine swallowed and then nodded, clearly relieved as Asterin took over.  

Asterin sighed internally, trying to gather her thoughts. Pondering the situation to herself, she placed her hand cautiously on Manon's pale arm. A shiver so strong passed through cousin's body that Asterin yanked her hand away, fearing she had hurt Manon. But her skin had only risen to goosebumps, as if she had...  

"She's cold!” Asterin said and stood up. Of course, Manon had a cold. Even though she was red-hot, she had to be cold herself. Relieved to have something to do, the thirteen immediately dispersed. Thea and Fallon went out to get more firewood, while Kaya and Faline gathered blankets together and carried them toward Manon's sleeping place. Sorrel hurried to throw more trees into the campfire. At the same time, Ghsilaine began rummaging through her bags, clearly looking for something that might lower Manon’s fever.  

Lin and Imogen stood behind her, clearly not knowing what to do. Vesta stepped beside Asterin. After watching Faline and Kaya cover Manon under several layers of blankets, she muttered, "That's not enough."  

Asterin glanced at her quickly before returning to observe Manon. She felt at a loss. What should she do?  

"How so?" she asked, bringing her hands to her chest in a gust. Vesta crossed her fingers in front of her stomach, clearly considering her words, before saying: “Blankets are not enough. She should be warmed and kept warm."  

"What are you trying to say?" Asterin snapped. She felt only a small sting of conscience when Vesta was startled. She had no right to snap at Vesta, but the situation was nerve-wracking.  

"Body temperature. I mean it. Blankets may not be enough."  

For a moment, Asterin was completely motionless. She stared at Vesta's beautiful face and went through her words until she understood what she meant. "Come here, Sorrel!” Asterin commanded and squatted down next to Manoni. Manon shuddered as Asterin lifted the blanket and slipped beside her under the blankets. Manoni's body glowed with warmth and when Asterin wrapped her arms around her. Manon was like a flame of fire in Asterin's arms. Her skin radiated unnatural heat.  

“Manon,”Asterin muttered in a low voice, flicking the white hair away from Manon's feverish forehead. Manon whine and changed positions. Pressed against the heat of Asterin's body. Asterin's throat choked. Manon barely seemed to have the strength to move even that much. “Manon,” Asterin said again, now in a demanding voice. A quiet sigh escaped Manon's lips and her eyelids parted. The golden pupils looked cloudy and out of focus as he tried to focus her gaze on the witch lying next to her. “Asterin,” Manon muttered. "Did someone leave the curtain open?"  

Asterin shook her head and gently squeezed Manoni's arm. "May I touch your belly?”   

Manon was obsessively meticulous about her belly, like any pregnant witch. Unauthorized touch, might cause her to slit Asterin's throat as a reflex. Manon's eyelids drooped shut again. Asterin shook her arm and Manon woke up again.  

"She doesn't move,” Manon whispered, staring at Asterin with her half-closed eyes. “She doesn't move..."  

"It's okay," Sorrel squatted behind Manon's back. "There's nothing to worry about.”  

"She's not moving," Manon's voice grew louder and her eyes opened completely. Large, fever-blurred golden eyes stared straight into Asterin's black eyes. “What if she is dead? What if I wasn't strong enough for her...” Manon was unable to continue her sentence to the end. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at Asterin.  

Asterin wiped away the tears that had flowed down her warm cheeks. “The witchling is alive," She told her, unknowingly if for the first time in her life she lied to the leader of her coven. Sorrel's quick glance at her told her she was thinking the same thing.  

But Asterin's words calmed Manon down. Her body went limp, and her head pressed against Asterin's chest. "You're warm," Manon muttered. "And I'm cold..."  

"We have to take off your dress," Asterin said to Manon, whose eyes were about to close again. "May I touch your stomach?"  

Manon made a small movement with her head as a sign of consent, and then her eyes closed completely.  

Asterin took a deep breath, then grabbed the hem of Manon's dress and pulled it away from her swollen belly. “Help a little," she said to Sorrel, who was hovering nearby like a bewildered ghost. Sorrel rushed to help and together they pulled Manon's dress off her.  

Then Asterin grabbed her own shirt and pulled it over her head. Manon's skin felt hotter than ever, now that there was no fabric in between. Still, she pressed against Manon and wrapped her arms around her. At the same time, she tried to kick his boots off her feet. “ Sorrel,” Asterin commanded, "I'll go lie down on her other side."  

Sorrel immediately obeyed. She pulled off her shirt and slipped under the blankets to Manon's other side. Manon sighed in her sleep, clearly satisfied as she felt the warmth of their bodies.  

Manon no longer trembled from the cold, but fell deeper into sleep. “Two-hour shifts," Asterin said audibly to the Thirteen members gathered around them. Thea and Fallon had returned from outside to hear the division of orders.  

"We'll keep Manon warm until she's healed," Asterin ordered. She didn't look at the witches gathered around. All her attention was on Manon's face. Concern had been drawn for them. There was a wrinkle between the corners. Cautiously, knowing it could be dangerous, Asterin pressed her hand against Manon's swollen belly. It was as warm as the rest of her body.  

Manon shuddered, but did not respond to the touch otherwise. Asterin thanked any hearing god for it. Even Manon's iron teeth remained on the gums.  

Well, little one , Asterin sent her thoughts towards Manon’s belly. I'll give a little sign of yourself.  

It was a wish. Prayer to the three-faced goddess. I'll let the witchling be okay...  

A quiet chuckle caused Asterin to raise a look from Manon's face. She was ready to tear the laugher's face off as soon as she found out who of the Thirteen... But it was none of them.  

There were no thirteen witches left in the cave. There were fourteen of them.  

Behind Vesta, partly in the shade of the torch, leaned against the wall of the cave. Asterin didn't know what she knew about, but she was sure the girl was a witch.  

She leaned casually against the cave wall, and looked at Manon calmly, with an amused twinkle in her eyes of different colors.  

Asterin stared at the girl who didn't seem to pay any attention to her. No. All the girl's attention was on Manon. A cat-like grin played with her black-painted lips. There wasn't really anything threatening about the expression, but it made the hairs on the Asterin's neck stand up. She opened her mouth—taking a breath when— movement under Asterin's palm. The witchling was moving!  

Her deep breath, meant for screaming, burst out in a sigh of relief. The girl's smile widened, and a flame of pure joy lit up in her eyes. She stepped out of the shadows, into the light of torches, causing Asterin to realize two things.  

The first was that no one else seemed to see the girl. And the second was that the girl had noticed her.  

The girl's eyes of different colors met Asterin's. Her smile faded as an obvious shock settled on the girl's beautiful porcelain doll's face. She didn't look much older than fourteen. The skin was cream pale and the black clothes and makeup only accentuated the impression. It also created a strange contrast to the golden, free-flowing hair that reached up to the girl's slender waist.  

And then there were the eyes fixed on Asterin wide and startled. One of the eyes was a golden, similar to Manon's, but the other eye was... deep brown. Like freshly turned soil. Almost black, but in the light of the torches the shade was clearly distinguishable.  

They stared at each other for only a split second, until suddenly - the girl's grin returned. Wild and joyful. She took a step back and lifted a finger to his lips. As if to say: Let's keep this between us.  

Then she brazenly winked and – simply merged into the shadows. And none of the thirteen seemed to notice. It's like the girl doesn't really exist.  

::::::  

Snowing had begun. Manon wrapped his red cloak tighter around herself and the girl in her arms. Ice crystals slowly falling from the sky were clinging to the black hair.  

The light of the moon being overturned in the sky reflected off the snowflakes, as if they were small mirrors.  

The little one trembled in her arms . All Manon could do was squeeze the child closer to her. Tried to spread her own warmth on the child.  

"Not many want that girl to be born."  

The air got noticeably colder. The stars dimmed and even the snowing seemed to stop.  

Manon was startled violently when she heard the voice. The child in her arms clung to her tighter, as if afraid that the heat would disappear. Manon hastily corrected her grip on the little one until she was once again sheltered from the cold, under her cloak. Only then did she turn to look at the speaker. 

The moon illuminated a girl of about fourteen years old, whose long blond hair ran down her waist. There was a mischievous look in her dissenting eyes, and she grinned good-naturedly at Manon when she caught her gaze.  

The girl was dressed far too lightly for the weather. The black thin-sleeved top left her long, pale arms exposed.  The knuckles were protected only by black leather gloves that left slender fingers exposed . The girl stood with her hands clasped and looked at Manon expectantly. She wanted an answer.  

"What do you mean?" Manon was able to say from behind her rattling teeth .   The cold bit into Manon's bones and cores, tearing all the heat out of her. The witchling in her arms moaned silently.  

The girl shrugged and waved one of the blonde strands of hair on her back. “That that should not be born,” the girl explained patiently and nodded towards the little one wrapped in Manon's cloak. And despite her fatigue, despite the fact that she was sitting, Manon's lips pulled from the top of her teeth and she grunted low.  

The girl raised her eyebrows. “It was not my invention,” She said irritated and straightened her back. “It's just that she's quite a nuisance. Their words. Not mine,” the girl added, noticing Manon's tense muscles on the fight.  

"Then what are you doing here?" Manon growled lowly, bending over the girl in her arms protectively. "If you're not going to take my daughter."  

The girl blinked, clearly confused, and then sighed . “ You are dying,” she announced, in the same way that someone else could announce, that the weather was changing .  "And she will die with you. Or probably even before. I just came to tell."  

Manon's every muscle was forced, but still she remained in a defensive position, watching the girl in front of her vigilantly. “And that's why," she continued, tucking her hands into the pockets of her leather trousers. She rocked herself back and forth, as if it was impossible for her to keep herself still, “I came asking permission to visit the dreams of Asterin Blackbeak’s. Because I know the way in which a child can be saved. Maybe."  

For a moment, Manon said nothing . She just stared at the girl, whose movements became more nervous by the moment .   "Who are you?" she asked, trembling from the cold.  

The girl grinned. Wildly. And for a moment, Manon felt like she was looking at a completely different face. Very familiar faces.  

Manon slowly began to shake her head . “Impossible," she whispered. She couldn't make a louder noise from her exhausted lungs.  

The girl laughed. Her laughter was not hoarfrosted .  No. It was more like fire. Crackling, merrily burning flame.  

"Only if you believe that," she snorted. But then she laughed again. "But I've always believed in miracles."  

Her gaze fell on the girl in Manon's arms. "To her, including."  

The moon did not move from the sky, and there was no shadow left of the girl on the ground.  

::::::  

Manon's condition did not improve over the next few days, but it did not worsen either. She had only regained consciousness a couple of times in three days, and Asterin, with the help of others, had forced her to drink water and eat something. Manon had been unable to swallow much and the effort of eating had soon caused her to lose consciousness again.  

The witchling barely moved. Asterin had felt only a couple of movements under her hand as she lay by her side for hours and watched her sleep. Imogen and Thea had reported feeling small movements as well, but never anything intense. Just vibrations under hot skin.  

It gave hope that Manon's illness had not been caused by the death of a witchling. But if they didn't suddenly find a way to heal Manon... A witchling would die. Ghsilaine had said so. She had taken her turn to lie next to Manon to keep her warm. On the other side of Manon, Vesta had been dozing, her head against Manon's braided hair. Vesta had crafted an intricate plait on Manon's white hair that Manon wouldn't have let anyone do if she had been conscious.  

Thirteen had sunk into quiet gloom. They hardly talked to each other. Everyone's face was tinged with tired worry. Asterin wasn't the only one unable to sleep.  

Still, they did the daily work. They hunted, retrieved trees and tried to dig up possible healing herbs from under the snow.  

Imogen and Lin had visited the village to ask the midwives for medication to lower the fever of a pregnant "woman". The problem was that every midwife would have wanted to see that sick "woman" in order to prescribe the drug. It had been negotiated well into the night, but in the end they had come to the conclusion that it was far too dangerous. A single rumor that witches were living in these forests could have disastrous consequences.  

For the first time in six months, Asterin wished they had returned to the Blackbeaks keep. At least there would have been witches who could have helped. But at the same time... what would the Matron have done if Manon had weakened so much under her watchful eye?  

It wasn't even farfetched to think that she would have killed Manon and claimed it as the cause of the pregnancy.  

Asterin didn't know if it was tiredness or if she was really freaking out, but during the long hours of the night she seemed to see a blonde, doll-faced girl in the shadows. The girl did not make any contact with her. Her whole attention was on the Manon. As if she had been told to guard her. Or like she's waiting for something. Sometimes she was just a flash in the corner of her eye. At times, she was so clear that Asterin wondered why no one else seemed to see her.  

Whenever the girl appeared, the temperature in the cave dropped. And it wasn't just in Asterin's head.Other witches also seemed to notice the temperature change. Which confused Asterin even more. Was the girl fictional or real? And who – or what – was she? And what did she want?  

Only the girl knew the answer, but Asterin hadn't had a chance to ask. Either the girl disappeared before Asterin could reach her, or there were too many prying ears around. As long as Asterin wasn't sure if the girl was just inside her head, she wasn't going to tell anyone else about her.  

The witches of the Thirteen were already worried about her anyway, and Asterin was not going to give them any more reasons to worry.  

It was the evening of the third day. Thea and Kaya lay on either side of Manon with a blanket under a pile. Thea's forehead was wet with sweat and Kaya's face was showing discomfort. Still, they didn't complain. Keeping Manon alive was their most important task. Thea, lying in front of Manon, held her hand on her bulging belly. Judging by Thea's worried expression, she felt no movement.  

Asterin sat near them in her own sleeping place, observing like a hawk Manon's every change in expression and body movements. Manon was almost as motionless as the witch child growing inside her.  

"Do you feel anything?" Asterin asked, even though she knew the answer. "No," Thea replied. Her other hand squeezed Kaya's fingers. Kaya's reddish-brown hair spread like open waves in the sand behind her. Her eyes were half closed. Lying in such a warm place for long periods of time was exhausting.  

Asterin sighed. She crossed her fingers in her lap. This was hopeless. They couldn't lose Manon. If Manon died...Asterin didn't know what to do in that case. If Manon were to die at their hands, it would be the worst crime imaginable. Thirteen could be accused of harming a pregnant witch, causing the death of a witchling, and killing the leader of them coven. They could be executed for less.  

It wouldn't matter if Manon had died of fever. It was enough that Thirteen hadn't brought Manon back to Blackbeak's keep when she began showing signs of pregnancy. If Manon had died, the matron wouldn't believe a word of what they would say. The Matron could finally do what she had wanted to do for the past eighty years.  

She could kill Asterin. And that execution wasn't going to be quick.  

“Asterin.”  

Hearing his name, Asterin instantly woke up from her thoughts and turned her attention to the source of the sound.  

Manon had opened her eyes.  

“Manon,” Asterin said, was in seconds on her feet and next to Manon. Thea and Kaya were still lying on either side of Manon, clearly confused as to do next while Manon was awake. Manon didn't seem to notice them.  

“Asterin,” Manon groaned and stretched out her hand towards her. “Manon? What? I'm here," Asterin groaned and grabbed Manon's outstretched hand. My fingers felt cold. Was that a good sign?  

Manon's wandering golden gaze stopped at Asterin. Her eyes were fuzzy, but still they burned. Fear? Out of panic? Out of despair? All of them? Asterin couldn't say.  

"I'm here," Asterin said, squeeze Manon's cold hand. Why was it so cold?  

"You're there," Manon muttered in a rough voice. She didn't blink. Just stared at Asterin. “If something happens to me, keep my daughter safe."  

Asterin stiffened. For a moment, she just stared into Manon's feverish eyes, and then began to shake her head. "Manon..."  

"Promise me," Manon insisted, sounding almost like her normal self, “that if I die, you will protect my daughter. You keep her away from my grandmother. You keep her away from everyone and let her grow free. Peace. Far from all the bloodshed!"  

“Manon...” Asterin said, a lump in her throat. Her eyes stinged. "Promise me!" Manon squeezed her fingers desperately. As if Asterin was the only thing stopping her from drowning. As if she were a lifeline on a stormy sea.  

"You're not going to die," Asterin whispered. Manon's eyes flashed and her pale lips twitched like a smile. "I'm dying," Manon said. “But my daughter has to survive. Come what may." Manon's voice shook, but her gaze was steady. "Protect her. Promise me that you will protect her!"  

"I—I promise," Asterin stammered. Tears began to flow down her cheeks. Manon's expression calmed down and her muscles relaxed. She pulled it out of Asterin's grasp, hiding from the cold, under the blanket. The temperature in the cave had dropped again. And as if knowing exactly what was causing it, Mano's wandering gaze was fixed behind Asterin. Her golden eyes blinked once.  

"Sleep, Asterin," Manon said. Sound muffled again. The previous determination was gone and replaced only by exhaustion. "What?" Asterin was confused. Mano's gaze was on her again. The fire behind her eyes was extinguished. “You need to sleep with Asterin. You are useless to me if you exhaust yourself completely.” The last comment sounded a lot like a healthy Manon. There seemed to be a heavy weight on Asterin's chest as she nodded. Manon's face smoothed and her eyes closed. She pressed against Kaya and fell into a deep sleep in an instant.  

The temperature in the cave had dropped.And it hadn't recovered normally yet.  

Asterin glanced over her shoulder. The blonde girl was leaning against the cave wall. Noticing Asterin's gaze, she smiled faintly. The moment they stared at each other was barely a split second. And then shadows swallowed her figure. The temperature in the cave returned to normal. And moments later, Faline and Fallon swapped places with Thea and Kaya.  

No one said anything to Asterin, but determination shone on each of their faces as they looked at her. Although Manon hadn't forced them to take the same oath, Asterin knew they would follow her and protect Manon's witcling as well.  

They are thirteen. From until the darkness clame tem.  

In the meantime, Asterin decided to obey Manon's orders. Despite feeling guilty, she decided to sleep.  

:::::::  

The cabin smelled of burning spruce and pine. Asterin stood by the countertop and removed elk flesh from the bones. It was raining outside. Somewhere in the distance there was the rumbling of thunder.  

It made the cabin feel cozier. Asterin smiled to herself and listened to the rain pounding the window panes. Stormy winds would uproot trees and send all kinds of rubbish into their yard. Tomorrow they would have a lot of work to do to repair the damage caused by the storm. But that would be tomorrow. Now – now Asterin was just enjoying the warmth and comfort.  

The opening of the door made Asterin look up. The man entered the cabin and shook off the water as he took off the hood of his cloak. “All game has been hiding from the storm. The only thing I got was possibly a runny nose,” The man complained as he took off his cloak completely and hung it on a nail. He lowered his bow and arrow wine by the door, then walked behind Asterin.  

"What do we have as food today?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Asterin's waist. Asterin chuckled softly and slammed her knife into the flesh. “You know I don't know how to cook," she said, pressing against her hunter's warm, rain-drenched body. The hunter's brown curly beard tickled Asterin's cheek as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I know, darling. That's why I rush home so I can cook for my witch so I don't end up on the menu."  

Asterin chuckled and turned her head so she could look straight into her dark, brown eyes. Only in the light of the fire could you see that the eyes were really brown, not black. “You would be too tough meat , ” She muttered and pressed a soft kiss to the hunter's lips. "And hairy. And besides, you are still very useful to me."  

The hunter's smile was wide. And with a quick movement, he turned Asterin around and pressed him against the countertop. His warm lips found Asterin's lips soft, but demanding. The flesh knife, fell to the floor as Asterin wrapped her arms around the man's neck and pulled him close to her.  

"Did you miss me?” Asterin teased when she got a moment's respite. The hunter's eyes were soft as he demanded one more kiss from Asterin's lips. “I will always miss you," he said. Asterin smiled.  

The hunter sighed and pressed his forehead against Asterin's. "And even if I feel like forgetting about food altogether, I'm desperately hungry,” he gave a quick kiss on Asterin's cheek. "I'm going to go get some potatoes from the basement."  

"Potatoes?" Asterin laughed and reluctantly let go of the man. The hunter winked. "I'm going to introduce you to yet another of human's amazing culinary achievements."  

Asterin smiled. "All right, then. Hurry up, I'm hungry too."  

The hunter nodded and headed towards the door at the back of the room. "I love you, Asterin," he said before entering the basement.  

"I love you too," Asterin said, watching as the man disappeared down the basement stairs. She leaned her hips against the countertop, unable to help the silly grin spread across her face.  

"So that's the kind of life you wanted."  

The basement door slammed shut. The temperature dropped. The storm quieted down. It was as if someone had turned off the sounds.  

Asterin turned around, and – there was a girl sitting on a bench in front of the fireplace. Blonde hair flowed freely down her back. Her knees were pulled against her chest and she rested her chin on them.  

"You again," Asterin said. "Who are you?"  

The girl did not answer. Didn't even turn her head . She sat with her back to Asterin and stared at the flames . There was something different about her posture than before .   The girl was no longer as upright as before .  The mischievousness was gone. It had been replaced by hunched shoulders and a quiet, melancholy presence.  

"Such a life would have been good," she said in a low voice. "Worth living."  

Asterin said nothing. She agreed. Such a life - The cabin, the hunter, her daughter - it would have been perfect.  

"He's waiting for you," she said .  "Still. But he is patient. Dad is ready to wait another thousand years."  

Asterin stepped around the countertop and remained standing right behind the girl. "Your...dad?" She asked, confused. The girl sighed and stood up. The light of the flames brought out shades of red from the girl's blonde hair.  

"I picked him up," she said, half turning to look at Asterin. "I picked him up when he died. He knows why you didn't return .  But it's good for you to know that he would have loved you no matter what."  

Asterin's heart beat in her chest. It was painful, but at the same time – Asterin understood. "My hunter," she whispered .  The girl nodded her head slightly and turned to face Asterin. "Just him," she said.   "Dad was the first one I picked up. I led him into the afterlife."  

Dad. Dad... Had the girl just said...  

Asterin looked at the porcelain doll-faced girl in front of her. Really looked at her. Blonde hair.  Different pairs of eyes. Sweet faces . And - her heart broke. She had to take support from the countertop so as not to collapse on the floor.  

The girl - her daughter - looked at her patiently, arms crossed in front. "Did you realize?" she asked, raising a hint to her chin. "Or do I have to say it out loud?"  

Judging by the tone of voice, she wouldn't be happy if she had to say it out loud. But she didn't need to. Asterin had figured out. She shook her head as tears began to flow down her cheeks in an endless stream .  Her daughter – her witchling - and she hadn't realized before...  

"Hey listen," she said, with an embarrassed expression on her face. She had begun to swing nervously on her feet, as if not knowing how to react to Asterin's tears. "I know this is pretty weird and stuff like that, but..." The girl's frowned. She shook her head, and then said more sharply: "We don't have time to cry. And I can say I've been looking for time for it for the last eighty years, but I'm busy as hell."  

Asterin chuckled tearfully, then motioned his hand towards the girl. "How can you be like that—old?"  

The girl had to be at least fourteen years old. The girl glanced down, as if surprised by Asterin's comment . “ Belongs to the same series with hurries. It would take far too much time to explain this, and we don't have any extra time, so... ” The girl interrupted as herself, took a breath as if trying to concentrate.  

Eyes of different pairs met Asterin's gaze as the girl took a firmer position on the floor, stopped rocking herself, and said : “ Manon's witchling will die within the next two days, and Manon will soon follow, unless you do exactly what I say."  

Asterin opened her mouth, not knowing if he could even speak, but the girl waved her hand impatiently, interrupting Asterin. “You have to go to the village. Ask Glennis. She knows how to help. And don't kill her. You can bring someone with you if you want, but I don't recommend."  

The girl said all this in one breath, very quickly, and then stopped for a moment to catch her breath. “Manon's daughter will be... Trouble. But she is our only hope for a better future . She is your only hope for change. When you wake up,” the girl went on, and at the same time walked across the room to the door, “Go visit the village immediately. I can't play you endlessly for time." She put her hand on the handle of the door.  

Asterin finally found her voice. "Who are we?” She asked, taking a step towards her. "What are you talking about? No - what's your name?"  

Asterin had so many questions. So many things she wanted to know .  And most of all - she wanted to touch her blond daughter. But the girl kept her distance.  

She glanced out the window, as if estimating how much time they had. "There are certain rules that make me unable to say my name. And unfortunately, I can't get around that rule. I wasn't even allowed to visit you, but I got a special permit." The girl sighed and looked at Asterin, her hand on the handle of the door.  

"And who am I talking about..." The girl smiled sadly. "There are a lot of us there. We who should not be remembered or thought of."  

Other witchling. Other daughters who died as babies and whose mothers were not allowed to hold until their bodies were destroyed.  

It was as if she had read Asterin's thoughts, for she laughed bitterly. "Have you ever wondered maybe I wasn't stillborn?"  

Their eyes met. The whole world seemed to tremble under Asterin's feet when she realized what the girl had said. And her daughter - she grinned knowingly. "Wait!" Asterin screamed as the girl pushed down the door handle. The door opened, revealing...  

Asterin's eyes fluttered open and she bounced upright, tangled in her blanket. She panted. She heart pounded against her ribs. Memories of the dream run through her head, like flies buzzing around the carcass.  

“Asterin?”   

Hearing her own name made Asterin wake up from the fog created by the dream. It must have been morning, for a small strip of sunlight had penetrated the cave from under the tent canvas set up in front of the doorway. And that little ray of the sun reflected off the blade of Sorrel's knife.  

"Are you okay?” Sorrel asked, glancing at Asterin from head to toe. As if looking for injury or cause, to her shocked expression. How many times would Asterin have asked Manon the same question? And how many times had Manon said she was okay when she wasn’t?  

Slowly, Asterin turned her gaze from Sorrel to Manon. She was still curled up under the blankets. Lin and Ghislaine lay beside her.  

Manon's witchling will die within the next two days, and Manon will follow soon after, unless you do exactly what I say.  

"I need to visit village," Asterin said, shaking the blanket off her head, not intending to answer Sorrel's question, which she was no doubt going to ask.  

She was in a hurry.  

Chapter Text

Nothing around here is quite as it seems 
Not sure if anything's real or a dream 
And the only thing sure from the start 
Is the song that's inside of your heart 
Don't let it leave 

Welcome to wonderland 
Anson Seaber 

Chapter 7  

The sunshine had to be some god's idea of a funny joke. 

Asterin flew over the forest covered with ice and snow, her cloak fluttering behind her. The midday sun shone on the trees of the forest, reflecting thousands upon thousands of ice crystals, dazzling Asterin's eyes. She had to squint because of the brightness. The air was calm. No snowfall, no wind. Just cold, bright sunshine from a light blue sky. 

It was a beautiful day. The weather did not suit Asterin's state of mind at all. Worry, restlessness, and fear gnawed at Asterin to her core. Manon was dying. Asterin had known the situation was bad three days ago, her fever had risen, but this was how bad... It was common for pregnant witches to have a fever. Asterin herself had had a longer period during her pregnancy, when her body had become overworked from carrying a witchling. 

She had believed that Manon's situation was the same. She had believed that the fever would go away on its own as it did. Like the many other witches who had children. But it didn't go away. And after last night - Manon knew she was dying. 

Asterin had seen it in Manon's feverish gaze when she had demanded that Asterin take an oath that she would protect Manon's witchling from anything and everyone. Manon didn't care if she died for her daughter, but the child would have to live. A witchling would be forced to live. 

Asterin swallowed and tried to ignore the weight felt in her chest. She couldn't let Manon die. If there was even the slightest chance that both could survive – Asterin was willing to do anything. 

So she did as girl had told her last night. She flew the village, and had not taken any of the Thirteen with her. Asterin had left the lead to Sorrel, who had seemed to be in a dilemma as to whether to ask Asterin where she was going or insist on getting involved. Asterin hadn't given a chance to do either. When she had given her orders, she had risen on her broom and hurried over the forest through the dense branches. 

There were small scratches on her face caused by branches where the cold wind stinged. Asterin barely noticed it. She was fully committed to her goal. 

Go to the village. Ask about Glennis - whoever she was - and don't kill her. She wasn't sure why she had said it. Asterin had no intention of killing someone who could help heal Manon. 

Seeing the smoke rising from the chimneys on the horizon, Asterin steered her broom lower. Her feet met the frozen snow lightly right on the edge of the village. Asterin left her broom leaning against a tree at the edge of the forest, pulled the hood over her head and slipped like a shadow into the village. 

The streets were smoothed by the footsteps of many different people. A miscellaneous assortment of shoe prints could be seen in the snow. The air smelled of fresh bread, meat to be fried and smoke. Cozy scents that reminded her of a cottage and a hunter. A home she would have liked to build for herself far from all the carnage. Far from Matron. 

Have you ever thought that maybe I wasn't stillborn?  

The girl's puzzling question came back to Asterin's mind as she passed a dark-haired pregnant woman holding a little boy hand, which dressed in winter clothes. What the girl had meant by her question made Asterin's stomach contort. She still remembered the silence in the tower. And then the accusations of the Matron. The pain of the burn mark. The pain of losing a child. 

If the girl was not stillborn, then what had she died of? Because no... Not even a matron – and why would she have done that? The witchling were blessings. Gifts. If her daughter had been alive... But it was impossible. 

But so it should also be that her daughter appeared in her dreams, about fourteen years older than she should have been. Or that, she was currently gesturing to her impatiently, invisible to the ignorant humans of the village. 

The girl stood about at the end of the street, in her cursed top that anyone else would have frozen to death on. But the cold hardly bothered if you are already dead. 

Asterin accelerated her steps, dodging oncoming humans as best she could. The girl stayed still. Waited for Asterin to be nearby before slipping around the corner. Asterin followed and found herself at an impasse. In front of her was a small strip of fence and shaky-looking cabins on both sides. 

“What should I find here?” Asterin hissed into the empty street, half waiting for her daughter to appear, but she stayed away. Asterin shook her head in frustration and turned around... 

"Are you possibly looking for something?” A calm female voice attracted Asterin's attention and when he turned her head towards the source of the sound, she noticed an old woman on the front steps of another cabin. 

No – not a woman. Asterin realized after taking one step forward. Witch. Corchan Witch. The witch had long, white hair that floated freely around her narrow shoulders. Her skin was not wrinkled or her posture crouched, but she exuded old age. The witch had crystal blue eyes that looked at Asterin calmly, without fear. 

Don't kill her.  

Asterin wasn't sure if it was a memory, or if girl actually said it in her ear. Whispered a reminder that she needed something from this witch. 

She could have warned, Asterin thought, meeting old Corchan's gaze suspiciously. And how none of the Thirteen who visited here had noticed the corchan before. 

"Are you Glennis?” Asterin asked, trying ice with a stick. The witch tilted her head slightly, looking at the face partially visible beneath Asterin's hood. “Are you Aster's Blackbeak?" she asked the counter-question. 

Asterin blinked and took her hand towards her hidden weapons. “How do you know my name?" she asked. The witch chuckled softly. "I could ask you the same thing." 

She took a step aside and gestured towards the door: “Come in and we can discuss it. I have a teapot on the stove." 

Asterin hesitated. Corcha's witch—Glennis—stepped into the cabin and glanced over her shoulder at Asterin. "I can't help you if I don't know your problem." 

For one more blink of an eye, Asterin did not move. She now understood why girl had come to alone. Asterin knew that some of the Thirteen would have attacked this Corchan without hesitation, refusing to listen to what she had to say. 

And Asterin was - must admit - curious. And very desperate. So she did perhaps the stupidest act of her long life. She stepped Glennis Corchan's house alone, armed with a couple of knives and her nails. Asterin just had to trust that it wasn't a trap. 

::::::: 

There was a birdcage in the corner. That was the first thing Asterin noticed. Another thing he noticed was that the door of the birdcage was open and small birds were flying around it freely, chirping their own tongue. 

"Nightingales,” Glennis answered Asterin's unasked question. “I like their singing." 

"Oh," Asterin said, not really knowing how to react to the birds. Who exactly kept the birds inside? Or as pets at all? Especially such useless and small birds as nightingales? The Corchans were even stranger than the Bluebloods and it need a lot. 

Glennis—if she really was who she said she was—walked with light, immortal steps across the room to the small wood stove and lifted the teapot off the hot plate. She placed it on the table, and without looking at Asterin, said: “I'm not going to throw this water on you. Come here and sit down so we can discuss... of the situation in a civilized manner." 

Asterin was again between two options. She refused to accept orders from anyone other than Manon. But at the same time - she was standing in the same room with the Corchan witch, and her goal was not to kill her. Yet. 

Asterin forced herself to move. She walked across the room and sat down cautiously at the table. The chirping of birds disturbed her concentration. What was the function of birds? 

Glennis placed a porcelain cup in front of Asterin, which looked very - civilized - and then sat across from her. Neither said anything until old Corchan had poured tea into both of their cups. 

"Well," Glennis said and raised the teacup to her lips, as if to prove that it was not poisoned, and only then continued, "What brings you to my door?" 

Asterin tapped the side of the porcelain cup with her nails and pondered what to say. The song of the nightingales really disturbed the flow of her thought. To give her more time to think, Asterin drank a sip of tea - which may have been very silly - and noticed the tangy taste of apple and cinnamon spreading through her mouth. 

"What brings you to this village?" Asterin asked a counter-question. She did not trust this witch, despite the fact that she was not going to poison Asterin. Glennis sighed, drank a sip of her tea before answering: “Honestly, Blackbeak? The pregnancy of the leader of your coven." 

Asterin almost dropped the cup she had just picked up from the table to drink another sip. “What?" she grumbled. The cup banged on the table, spilling tea around. 

Glennis squinted her eyes. "Watch out with that cup. It's older than you." 

Asterin ignored Glennis' words. Her iron claws burst forth and sank into the table as she grunted: "How do you know about Manon?" 

Glennis didn't care about Asterin's tone of voice or the exposed iron nails. She drank another sip of tea before answering. Asterin wondered if she snapped the neck of one of the corchan's nightingales, would it make her give up her calm? 

Asterin decided not to try. At least for now. “We have known from the beginning. I could say that we knew even before Manon Blacknose knew,” Glennis said calmly and set her cup down on the table. "And don't use this table as your scratching post. I have to pay extra for scratches." 

Asterin didn't understand how a witch could be so calm. Asterin swallowed and pulled her nails in, without taking her eyes off the corchan sitting in front of her. “Have you been watching us?" she asked, trying to regain her composure. Asterin knew that the only way to get any kind of answers from this witch would be to remain calm. 

Glennis smiled a little. She sipped tea. One of the nightingales chirped very cheerfully. It may not have sounded so annoying after all. “You thought you were chasing us, but we were actually watching you," Glennis said casually. Asterin had to struggle so that her nails would not scratch the witch's table again. 

"Why - then why didn't you attack?" Asterin asked as curiosity took over from shock. Glennis tilted her head and lowered his teacup on the table. One of the nightingales flew over her shoulder and remained to to stare Asterin with her black button eyes. It was almost as unnerving as the look of a corcha witch. 

"We considered it,” Glennis said, calmly as if talking about the weather. “But after observing the state of Manon Blackbeak, we decided not to attack. We kept an eye on the road and watched as the truth slowly dawned on you. But nevertheless you continued the hunt. It confused us. Especially me. I could have imagined that Manon would have returned to her grandmother after realizing that she was expecting her own heir." 

Glennis drank long from her cup. Asterin hesitated for a moment before grabbing her own cup and drank about it. There was also this way of spending the afternoon. Drink tea in the company of an enemy witch. The matron of Blackbeaks should add it to the list of why she wanted Asterin to die. 

"I got the impression that Manon Blackbeak didn't approve of her pregnancy at first," Glennis said. Asterin sighed and shook her head. "No," she admitted. "And when she finally accepted," Asterin shrugged. 

Glennis smiled again.“We have been keeping an eye on you," she reiterated. “We have also kept curious irontooth witches out of this area." 

It was the second time on the day that Asterin nearly broke Glennis' cup. "Sorry?" Asterin grunted. "But - why?" 

Glennis poured herself more tea. The nightingale stared at Asterin very intently before flying into the air and sitting on the windowsill and starting to sing. It really was – beautiful-sounding. 

"We have... our reasons," Glennis said thoughtfully. "Manon's daughter may be the answer to the problem of the Wastes." 

If Asterin had had a mug in her hand, it would have broken. Fortunately, it was safe on the table. "Do you really believe that?" Asterin asked, confused. Glennis shrugged. "We have our fortune tellers and I have my premonitions. The girl is extraordinary, and not just a blessing to you. She is also important to us. We have done our part to ensure that the girl can be born safely into this world." 

Asterin stared at the corchan sitting in front of her, unable to fully digest her words. She really meant - she really said... 

"Manon is sick," Asterin gusted. "She and the witchling are dying." 

Glennis' raised arm stopped. For a moment, she just sat still, frozen. “I see," she said then. "I was afraid it might happen." 

She put her cup down on the table and stood up. Asterin also got up and watched as Glennis walked into the kitchen and opened the kitchen cabinet door. After a moment's hesitation, she picked up a yellow bottle closed with a cap from the shelf and returned to Asterin. 

"I believe you're here because of this," Glennis said, holding the bottle in her outstretched hand. Asterin reached out to take it, but Glennis pulled her hand away. "Yes," Asterin said impatiently. "I got a hint that you might know—something that would help." 

Glennis' expression was inexplorable. She squeezed the yellow bottle in her hand, as if wondering what to do next. Finally, she sighed. "So she's on the move again," Glennis said more to himself than to Asterin. "Foolish girl." 

Then she looked up at Asterin and said in a sharp voice. “This remedy may not cure Manon, but it will save the child. Are you ready to take the risk of losing the leader of your coven?" 

Promise me that you will protect my daughter if anything happens to me.  

Asterin believed she knew who had planted that thought in Manon's mind. She took a trembling breath and then nodded her head. Manon was willing to die for her daughter, and if Asterin's only way to help was to ensure her survival, she would do it for Mano. 

"Yes," Asterin said, reaching out her hand toward Glennis. However, Glennis did not give the bottle. "You must promise me one thing, Asterin. The price of this remedy." 

Asterin felt her ironteeth snap down. Of course, this witch came at a price. Asterin swallowed his anger and despair. She wasn't going to show either emotion. "What's your price?" Asterin asked, gritting her teeth. 

"When a child is two months old, we want to see her. Either you or Manon bring her into the woods so we can meet the witchling, that's my price." 

Dangerous. Very dangerous.  

Asterin took a breath to tell Glennis to give the reason when the room temperature suddenly dropped. The song of the nightingales ended like a wall. When Asterin glanced in the direction of the cage, she see her golden-haired daughter sat on top of it. A nightingale had landed on her finger, which she thoughtfully stroked with one finger. 

She glanced towards Asterin once and nodded her head. Agree now , she movement of the head seemed to say.  Don't be so paranoid. And Manon needing that fucking medicine.  

Asterin sighed her lungs empty, then nodded. She turned her attention back to Glennis. "I accept," she said, holding out her hand again. Glennis' smile was soft as she placed the bottle in Asterin's palm. “We have no ill will towards Manon's witchling. We don't kill children." 

Asterin's fingers closed around the bottle and she tucked it into her pocket. “Thank you," she said, giving the corchan a quick smile. She saw with a side-eye how her daughter raised a thumbs up. 

"Do you want to bring some tea? It is worth watering something warm for Manon after administration of the remedy. It can help her heal, although it's largely up to her," Glennis said. 

This time, Asterin did not hesitate. “Yes please. And would you also have apples? If Manon gets better, she's probably hungry." 

Glennis smiled slyly as she replied, "Will apple pie do?" 

Perhaps Asterin liked the song of nightingales after all. 

::::::: 

Part of Manon's mind was resting in a snowy meadow with a little girl in her arms. But the other part – Manon occasionally heard what was happening around her. 

At times, footsteps and voices were masked by her pounding heart and the murmur of blood. But every once in a while—like now—Manon heard. And she listened. She didn't always remember who the sounds were to, but they made her feel most at ease. Sometimes she was aware of the bodies pressing against her under the warm blankets, but at that moment Manon could only hear. 

She heard breathing right next to her ear and another right in front of her. Manon knew she knew the two, but at that moment she couldn't remember where. Maybe it didn't matter. 

Other sounds were more interesting. Manon listened with quiet curiosity as footsteps approached her, and a familiar voice spoke quickly, alarmedly:  “ It may not save Manon, but the daughter will survive."  

Asterin.  

Manon connected the name to the sound. It took a long time, but eventually she remembered her face. Blonde hair.Black gold-speckled eyes. A word burned in her belly... it evoked in Manon a memory of rage. She didn't know what was causing it, but she remembered the rage. Manon tried to grab the memory and study it, but it slipped out of her fingers before she managed to study it. It disappeared into the fog that enveloped her mind these days. 

The fog grew stronger by the moment. It pursued her. It was reaching for her little one. Only Manon could keep it far away. For the child should survive. Nothing else mattered. No longer. 

Everything else Manon might have forgotten, but not her most important task. Her daughter could not die. 

Manon had missed part of the conversation and woke up when the breath near her suddenly became distant. She was left alone under her blankets and was freezing. The heat had disappeared near her body. 

And then her head was gently raised. Manon felt it. Dimly, but she felt it. A familiar scent drifted into her mind. Aster's... 

Asterin was there, holding Manon's head. Her body was warm and made Manon feel at ease again. And then the comfort suddenly shattered. 

Manon didn't know how it happened, but suddenly there was something in her mouth. Slippery, bitter and cold. Some spilled down her throat, stinging on the way down. Manon began coughing, trying to get a strange liquid out of her mouth. But she was too weak to get up or turn her head to vomit. 

"You have to drink it,"  Asterin's voice seemed to be heard from somewhere in the distance. As if from underwater. She sounded... desperate. "It helps. It will save you and the witchling."  

Manon heard it. She understood the words. But she couldn't stop coughing. And then her body was raised to a more upright position. Manon could vaguely feel some of that liquid running down her chin and onto her chest. Her skin immediately rose to the goose pimples. It was unnaturally cold. The part of Manon's mind that couldn't leave the meadow began to notice that her fingernails were frozen. And the little one had frost in her hair. 

"You have to swallow it."  Again, Asterin. Desperate Asterin. Manon forced herself to obey. She laboriously swallowed all the liquid that was still in her mouth. And when she swallowed it, she was given more. 

Manon leaned against her warm body, unable to open her eyes. She could only obey when Asterin told her to swallow all the bitter liquid. 

"Good, " Asterin muttered. Manon didn't know what was going on, but she hoped it meant she could sleep. But instead of letting her sink back under the warm blankets, a cup was forced into her lips.  "Drink this."  Asterin's quiet voice asked. 

Manon forced herself to swallow new liquid. It was hot and tasted like apples and cinnamon. It drove the cold away. Manon, sitting in the meadow, noticed how the ice melted from her fingertips and evaporated from her little one's hair. 

And finally Manon was allowed to lie down again. She was already in a deep sleep when Asterin positioned herself in front of him and Sorrel behind her. 

Manon had returned to the meadow. 

::::::: 

Manon opened her eyes.  

And she was no longer in the meadow. She must have fallen asleep.  

But had she fallen asleep in the meadow or... ball? Manon was surrounded by people. Dozens of humans laughing with a tumbler in their hands or dancing with each other on the big dance floor, pressed against each other.  

Manon had never been to a party like this. When witches wanted to party, they usually tortured to death a corchan or some poor human. After that, they drank and enjoyed the meat of their victim. But these were human’s parties where she stood in the middle of it all... as if she belonged there.  

This was not the same situation as a couple of months ago when Manon had dreamed of a ball. There she had been an observer. Invisible. But now... These people saw her. Some stared at her surreptitiously. Others glanced quickly. There was fear, awe and... Was it acceptance – in them face? These people looked at Manon, clearly unsure how to deal with her, yet they didn't seem surprised that she was there.  

For them, Manon was part of this ball. Manon turned around to properly see her surroundings so that - her hem swayed?  

Manon looked down and the sheer shock paralyzed her muscles . She was wearing something that looked suspiciously like a wedding dress .  The dress was as white as her hair. It snug up to the waist, after which the straight hem fell to the ground, loose and airy. There was a slit to the left of this creepiness. And then there were the sleeves. Thin ribbons held all the magnificence over Manon's shoulders.   

What the hell was going on?  

Slowly, Manon looked up, right at the window in front of her. The landscape behind the window was hidden in the shadows of night and it was as if Manon was looking in a mirror. The festive hum was reflected on the window panes behind her as one mass of colorful costumes. And Manon saw herself in front of it all. Not only that, it couldn't be her. Because Manon would never agree to wear a dress. Especially not a wedding dress.  

But when Manon straightened her back and cast a murderous look in her mirror image, the mirror image did the same. Although it should be impossible, Manon really looked at her own reflection in the mirror. And she showed - she showed..."You are beautiful today my queen."  

Next to Mano's reflection, another reflection had appeared . A slender, black-haired man wearing a coat decorated with Adralan colors. Sapphire's blue eyes met her gaze in reflection. "What have you done of me?" Manon asked Dorian's reflection.  

Dorian smiled. That infuriating flirty smile which Manon – which Manon... which Manon liked far too much .  "I lost our game," Dorian said nonchalantly, holding his hand casually on the hilt of his sword . "I got down on my knees and begged you to stay. And you agreed."  

Manon chuckled . It sounded like something, a combination of a horrified scream and a cry of disbelief . “ I'm a witch," she said, gritting her teeth together, glared the crown resting on her hair . A silver-forged crown that looked as if a group of stars had been torn from the sky to adorn her head. And her hair—how had she agreed to so many plaits and bun? She would murder the hairdresser with her own hands and devour her blood.  

"And now you are my queen too," Dorian said calmly. "You're not even a king!"  

Their gaze met through reflection. “Not yet," Dorian admitted, putting her arms around Manon's waist. Manon felt his touch .  She felt his gentle hand stroke her side. “But there will come a day when I will be and then I will need a queen."  

"I'm a witch," Manon said again as Dorian turned them away from the reflection—toward the party. Dorian chuckled. He moved his hands from around Manon's waist to her hand. "The Witch Queen."  

Manon wanted to rip that damned grin from Dorian's face, but at the same time  – Manon shook her head and turned her attention away from Dorian's handsome face . Mortal, fragile, short-lived... It never - this never...  

"I should have killed you," Manon sighed, laying her head on the man's shoulder . Dorian sighed. The grip of his fingers was warm and his lips brush gently as she pressed a kiss to Manon's knuckles.  

"I'm glad you didn't kill me."  

Manon raised her eyebrows at the answer. "I thought you wanted to die," she muttered. She felt the prince—or was he now king—chuckling beneath her cheek.  

"That's what I wanted," Dorian said. Manon looked at him. Looked at the man's smile—a strange, gentle smile—and his eyes, where a mischievous flame burned. Dorian looked at Manon with a strange mixture of sadness, joy, and hope on his face.  

"And then you gave me a reason to live."  

Manon stared at Dorian. She opened her mouth to say something—for she really hadn't expected that—when she noticed Dorian's gaze wandering away from her. Now the prince looked at the dance floor with a distinctly loving and gentle look in his eyes.  

Slowly—afraid of what she would see—Manon followed his gaze.  

And Manon saw the girl.  

Red hems fluttered around the girl's - not just the young woman's - feet as she danced. The black hair was gathered over the head in the same way as Manon's. The hair wore a graceful tiara that was like a rose-gold version of Manon's crown. Her red-lipped mouth had spread into a grin and she was spinning in the middle of the dance floor — ignoring the other dances — holding her partner's hands tightly.  

Another girl—she may be more of a woman—was dressed in a deep purple dress . Her blonde hair was braided in an intricate plait that descended along her slender back . Her lips were black, and her eyes—as insanely different in color as the other girl's—shone with joy.  

The red-dressed girl's eyes—blue and golden—suddenly turned toward Manon, as if sensing her stare . So did her dance partner . Brown and golden – those were her colors .   The face was beautiful like that of a porcelain doll. At the same time, old and young.  

Manon wouldn't have thought it possible, but both girls' smiles widened and they simultaneously raised their hands in greeting when they spotted her.  

"Thanks to you, Manon," Dorian said beside her, squeezing Manon's fingers, "I got to meet my daughter."  

Sleep shattered. Guests disappeared. They fluttered away like a flock of birds. Dorian's warm hand disappeared and the light evaporated.  

Manon was left alone in the dark with two young women, who looked at her calmly with their different colored eyes, as if they knew more than they said . "Maybe in another life," said Manon's daughter, shrugging her shoulders as if there was nothing she could do about it.  

Another girl—who looked like Asterin—smiled at Manon. "Maybe in another life," she repeated.  

And then two women flew into the darkness, one as a black raven and the other as a little nightingale.  

::::::: 

Manon's fever began to subside during the night. 

She sweated, trembled, and occasionally muttered indistinctly in her sleep. Asterin lay beside her the whole time. She leaned her head on her hand and held the other on Manon's belly. The witchling inside Manon had not moved. Even the little one seemed to wait. 

Thirteen stay up with Asterin. Ghislaine sat by the fire and tried to read, but Asterin noticed how glazed the witch's gaze was. Faline and Fallon sharpened their iron nails. Over and over again. They were warriors. Killers. No one had taught them the ability to wait in uncertainty in a situation where they could do nothing. 

It was all up to Manon, so Glennis had said. Asterin had not told her coven exactly from whom she had received the medicine. If they heard that the Corchans had been watching them all along—well. Asterin didn't want to know how the already tense witches would react. 

But she would have to talk about it with Manon if she woke up. Or when. As the hours of the night slowly passed, Asterin's hope grew. 

Thea and Kaya lay near Manon and Asterin, curled up on a common sleeping pad. Kaya played with Thea's blonde hair absentmindedly while looking at them. Briar and Edda sat side by side. Briar leaned her hands on the sandy ground and Edda rested her head on her shoulder. Her eyes were closed, but Asterin knew she wasn't sleeping. 

Lin—clearly needing her hands to do something—sharpened Manon's sword with careful movements. The Wind-cleaver had remained in its scabbard for the last few months and had become dull from inactivity. Vesta braided Imogen's hair, who had reluctantly agreed to sit still while Vesta vented her nerves into the younger witch's golden curls. Vesta was becoming quite skilled. 

Sorrel lay behind Manon. Gently stroked her hair, as if hoping that a gentle touch would wake Manon from her sleep. They all hoped. 

No one said anything. They tried to make as little noise as possible as they moved, as if afraid that the noise would dispel the healthy color that was beginning to appear on Manon's cheeks. 

Asterin's thumb stroked Manon's swollen belly with gentle movements. The skin felt tight over the womb. 

As the first rays of the morning sun got lost in the cave, the temperature dropped abruptly. Asterin noticed Sorrel shivering and then rising up to put more wood in the fire. But Asterin knew what caused the change. Asterin looked up and saw a girl sitting against the cave wall. 

Her daughter. 

She sat with her legs bent in front of her and leaned her arms against her knees. She met Asterin's gaze once and smiled. Not a grin, but a smile. Sorrel then returned and obscured the girl. And when she then lay back down behind Manon, the temperature returned to normal. The girl had disappeared. 

Evaporated as a shadow into the air. 

The sun's rays made a slow path along the sand-covered floor of the cave. They reached for the blankets over Manon and rose from there to her neck. Her face... Under Asterin's hand moved. She had held her hand on Manoni's lower stomach all night, expecting just that. Movement. Signs that the little one was alive. And now... kick. Loud and powerful. 

A sound escaped Asterin's throat, attracting the attention of the entire Thirteen. “What?" Ghislaine's book shut so quickly that Asterin knew for sure that Ghislaine hadn't read it. Asterin wasn't even sure if she had turned the pages of the book to be credible. 

Asterin's throat choked. She closed her eyes and, shaking, took a breath before saying, "The child kicked." 

Relieved sighs broke the cave's earlier silence. However, Asterin was not yet ready for it. The witchling was alive. She kicked again. Somehow she knew the place where Asterin's palm rested. 

Asterin's cheeks ached as the corners of her mouth rose to the first smile in days. The little one seemed to be grumpy because she kept kicking. Asterin watched as the movements of the child's legs could be seen from under the taut skin. 

A grumpy groan caused Asterin to turn her gaze to Manon's face. The cousin's eyes were half open as she pushed Asterin's hand away and pressed her hand against her belly. “Yes," she said in a hoarse voice. She hadn't spoken for days, and she heard it. But Manon spoke. She spoke... 

"I'm awake," Manon muttered grumblingly. "No need to tantrum." 

Asterin saw a movement under Manon's skin. And Manon... The corner of her mouth rose to a little smile. "Thank the gods," Asterin whispered. 

Manon looked up reluctantly from her belly to Asterin. And Asterin felt her eyes fill with tears. Asterin opened her mouth - she didn't know what to say - as if she could. The moment Asterin opened her mouth, instead of words, there was a sobbing. 

"You're alive," Asterin said. She would have hugged Manon if she hadn't been lying on her side on the ground. "You're alive." 

Manon sighed, closed her eyes, and shook her head. When her golden eyes opened again, they shone. "I got some help," she muttered. 

And when their eyes met, Asterin knew—she knew who Manon was talking about. 

"Oh my gods!" Vesta's voice rose to falsetto, as she rose to her feet and broke the silence of the cave. "You survived!" 

It was all it took to make thirteen movements and rush to Manoni, whose tired eyes first became irritated and then soft. "Yes," she muttered as he was helped to sit down. 

Manon's head rested heavily against Asterin's shoulder, which supported her from behind. 

"I survived." 

:::::::: 

Asterin stood guard in front of the entrance to the cave in the snowfall. Manon stood beside her. The cousin held her hand on her belly and leaned against the cold stone to stay upright. If Asterin had not had to talk to Manon alone, without others she would not have allowed the leader of her coven to come out of the cave. 

It was less than two days since Manon woke up. She still wasn't eating properly and she had trouble moving. Despite the miracle medicine Corchan administered, Manon was still weak. The child, on the other hand, is doing well and getting stronger by the day. But – again showing an astonishing sense of intelligence – she didn't kick as much anymore. As if acknowledging the weakness of Manon's body. 

Thirteen would not have wanted to let her still convalescent leader out of the cave, even though Manon had insisted on getting out to get some fresh air. Eventually - once Asterin had agreed -others reluctantly agreed. 

Asterin had had to support Manon, whose legs had trembled beneath her as they walked. And now they were in it. 

Asterin leaned against the entrance to the cave and Manon was next to her, leaning against the wall. Asterin had just explained at length how she had gotten Manon the medicen and what Glennis had asked for in return. Manon had been silent for a very long time now. She stared tiredly in front of her, supporting her belly below. 

In the end, Asterin decided to break the silence. "So you knew we were being watched," she said, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice. 

Manon sighed and rubbed her large swollen belly. "I've known for a couple of months now," she admitted softly. "They were not a threat." 

Despite understanding Manon's reasons for not speaking to Corchan, Asterin couldn't help the sting of anger felt in her chest. “You could have mentioned," Asterin growled in a low voice. "If you had told..." 

"And what would you have done, Asterin?" Manon growled back. Her eyes flashed and the iron teeth fell into place. Manon was clearly recovering if she started arguing. 

Asterin took a more sturdy position off the ground and turned to meet her cousin's gaze. “I obey you," Asterin said firmly, meeting Manon's gaze with her chin raised defiantly. “I am faithful to you, Manon. If you had told me not to attack, I would have obeyed." 

Manon met her gaze, pressing a hand to her belly. "Believe me, I know that, Asterin," Manon said, staring into Asterin's eyes. “I know that. But you know as well as I do why I didn't tell of them before. We kill Corchans. This strange truce goes against everything we've been taught!" 

The fervor of Manon's voice made Asterin dumbfounded for a moment, but she quickly recovered. She took a deep breath and lowered her chin.“That makes sense," she admitted. The corner of Manon's mouth lifted into half a smile before she leaned her full weight against the cave wall again. 

"How much Corchan give us time?” Manon asked then, looking at the forest as if trying to find the witches watching them. Asterin crossed her arms over her chest and looked up to sky. Heavy clouds had obscured the stars and moon. 

"Two months after giving birth," Asterin said. Manon nodded her head slightly. For a moment it was quiet again. The only sound in the forest was the rustling of winter birds in the branches. 

"Do you think they know if we try to break our promises?” Asterin finally asked the question that was on her mind. Manon sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “It seems to me that yes. Yes. They would know." 

"What do you think they will do if we try to break our promises?" 

Manon was silent for a moment. She gazed at the forest spreading out in every direction around them. “They wouldn't hurt the child," Manon finally said. She sounded certain, and Asterin couldn't blame her. 

She knew it as surely as she knew it as Manon. Corchans would not hurt a witchling or a nursing mother. Asterin was reminded of a question asked by her daughter a few nights ago. 

Have you ever wondered that maybe I wasn't stillborn?  

"I've been wondering,” Asterin said on a whim, not getting peace of mind at the thought, "What if my daughter wasn't... dead." 

She dared to glance at Manon, who seemed to be pondering the matter with her head tilted slightly. “What would she have died of?" Manon asked. That's what Asterin, too, had been thinking. Her daughter was dead. Very dead. 

"I thought, maybe... You know—grandmother," Asterin's words seemed to cling to her throat and she swallowed. She glanced at Manon, who looked at her with a pensive look. “I wouldn't say it's impossible, but..." Manon hesitates. Just moments before she said: "But why would she have killed a perfectly healthy witchling?" 

That's what Asterin, too, had been thinking. The witchling were a blessing. The grandmother had been pleased with Asterin's pregnancy. She had wanted to make sure that the witchling was born healthy and alive. Then why kill a child? Asterin didn't know. 

"I've been thinking about it," she said. 

Again they stood silent for a moment, watching the snowfall, until Manon said: "She looks like you." 

Now it was Asterin's turn to nod quietly. She had suspected that Manon had met her daughter. "Have you seen her?" Manon asked. 

Asterin contented herself with shaking her head. The girl had stayed away for the past couple of days. As if she had fulfilled her mission. 

"I think she came because you and the child were dying," Asterin said. Manon nodded in agreement. Asterin swallowed, and then said in a quieter voice: "She said she picked up the hunter when he... when he died." 

Snow flakes swirled in the gentle but freezing cold wind. They clung to Asterin's cloak and Manon's open hair. She had unpacked Vesta's plait, which had taken almost an hour and all Manon's patience. 

"Hunter," Manon finally burst out to speak. "How did he die?" 

Aster felt her eyes getting wet and her throat choking. She swallowed a lump from her throat before saying: “He was very old. I think one day he went into the woods, lay down, and didn't get up again.” Then, after a brief silence, Asterin added, "I never found his body." 

But she had been looking. 

Manon nodded, as if that was exactly the answer she was expecting. She carefully lifted the weight from the wall back to her feet. “I'm going back in," Manon said, giving Asterin a small smile. “Besides, I'm hungry and I need that apple pie," and with those words, Manon came back in with slow, wobbly steps. 

Asterin stayed outside. However, it was her sift. 

She leaned against the cave wall and looked out into the forest. She pondered the eyes that might be watching her. Them. Corchans who seemed to believe Mano's daughter was something meaningful to them as well. Asterin didn't know what to think about it. 

Asterin sighed and let her gaze wander from tree to tree. The air quickly grew colder as the night progressed. Too fast. 

The clouds moved slowly away from the moon, brush their light against the white snow covering the ground. And in the moonlight, Asterin saw her daughter. She stood in the moonlight with her hair open, in her black top and eyes of different colors shining. 

And behind her daughter, paler than the young girl, was another person. A strong-built man with almost black eyes. 

Asterin's heart stopped. And then broke. 

Her hunter smiled sadly at her at the edge of the forest and raised her hand in greeting. Not enough oxygen passed to Asterin's lungs. Her legs seemed locked in place as she watched the two figures at the treeline. Tears welled up in Asterin's eyes, but she blinked them away. She couldn't miss a second of this moment. 

Her hunters. Her daughter. 

Asterin's hand trembled as she raised her own in response to the greeting. 

The moon went behind the cloud and when it came out again, Asterin was alone. 

From somewhere in the branches the song of a nightingale could be heard. It should have been impossible, because it was biscuit winter and nightingales were not winter birds. But on the other hand, Asterin thought. Impossible things happened, not the least of which was a nightingale singing in a tree in the middle of winter. 

Nightingale. 

Her nightingale. 

Chapter Text

“I don't know what you do 
You make me think that you 
Will change my life forever 
I, I'll always want you near 
Give up on you, my dear 
I will never 
And finally it seems 
My lonely days are through 
I've been waiting for you.” 
 
I’ve been waiting for you 
Mamma mia 
Abba 

Chapter 8  

The days got longer week by week. There was more light and the sun stayed in the sky a little longer each day.Spring began to blossom and the awakening fragrance of the earth filled Manon and the Thirteen caves with its fascinating, powerful fragrance. Spring came south quickly.  

First the heat of the sun and finally the ripple of meltwater. Then the trees began to wake up from their winter hibernation. Manon smelled the buds when they began to grow on birch branches. She heard the chirping of birds and the sounds of small mammals deep in the forest. Spring brought with it warmth, blue skies, and the scents that the cruel, cold winter had hidden. They awakened Manon's senses. She felt like she was hearing properly for the first time in months.  

The rapid arrival of spring also seemed to cheer up the Thirteen, who had been gloomy and worried for the past few weeks. Manon's illness had caused them to treat their leader as if she could be broken by the slightest breeze.  

It was annoying. Very annoying. Manon had told her witches to stop worrying, but she might as well have talked to the tree. The walls of the cave had felt suffocating as the witches of the thirteen had rotato around Manon day and night.  

Manon did not claim that her death-threshold experience was not frightening, but thirteen of her went to extremes trying to protect her and the witchling kicking inside her.  

Spring had apparently also brought life to the little one. She kicked Manon constantly, so hard that Manon had found one or two bruises on her side. Seeing them made Manon's heart fill with tender feelings that felt... Guests. Relief, happiness, joy, pride... love. Manon couldn't put into words any of the emotions inside her, even though her chest was bursting from the intensity of the emotions.  

Her little one was strong and healthy. And she expressed it every day by kicking Manon's sides to bruises. It's like a witchling knows how much Manon was afraid of losing her.  

Spring had brought more than just energy and vitality to the witches who had been languishing in the cave all winter. It brought with it anticipation. And fear. Manon was in her last stages of pregnancy. And even though Manon had calculated that the baby wasn't due until the following month – theoretically, labor could start at any time.  And that scared Manon.  

She had very flimsy information about childbirth. Ghislaine had kindly explained to Manon what happened during the birth, but that had only fueled Manon's fear of anything that could go wrong. What if she killed her own witchling while trying to push her into the world?  

Manon was still weak after the fever. She had done her best to strengthen her body and prepare herself for the coming trial. She should be strong. If her body failed... if Manon couldn't... Failure was not an option.  

Manon walked in the cave for the last winter month. She couldn't do much better than that. And Thirteen certainly wasn't letting her out. Not because Manon would be very tempted to walk in the freezing forest. The sand in the floor was a furrowed path that Manon had walked every day for a month and a half. It had been difficult in the beginning and one of the Thirteen had had to support her.  

But little by little, Manonin had begun to regain her strength. It had been an achievement to circle the whole cave alone without the help of any Thirteen who guarding her like a hawk. Any of them had been ready to grab Manon if she showed the slightest sign of collapse.  

So – when the sun and heat were here to stay – Manon insisted on getting out. Seeing the sun's rays from under the cave door curtain and the wind humming in the trees felt like torture. Manon had to get out of the cave or she would go crazy.  

Asterin helped her with boots. Manon had managed to put her foot in the shoes, but found it impossible to reach for the laces of her boots. And it didn't help that Manon's lower back ached. It had broken all morning as Thirteen had prepared to leave the cave as a group for the first time in many months.  

"This seems ridiculous,” Manon muttered to Asterin as her second tightened the laces of her boots. Asterin gave her a quick smile as she moved to tighten the strings of the other boot. "How did you think about tightening the strings of your shoes if you can't even see your feet?” Asterin asked lightly as she tied the laces of Manon's boot in a tight knot and then helped her upright.  

Manon gave her second a glare, but then sighed. When she looked down, she really couldn't see her feet. Her belly was in the way. Even the pregnancy dress had begun to tighten the swollen belly. Manon felt and looked just like a humpback whale. She couldn't wait for the moment she got her body back. When one could move freely. When she could hold her own daughter in her arms...  

When Manon straightened her back, she felt a twinge in her lower back. She couldn't help the grimace of pain. Manon missed the mornings when she didn't wake up with a stiff and sore back. But at the same time - she would miss this. Some part of her would always miss how the little witchling's movements felt inside her. How it felt to wake up to kicks of little elbows and heels. Speaking of which...  

Even through the canvas there was a slight movement as the witch child kicked impatiently. "We're going," Manon muttered, pressing her hand to her belly. Even the little one seemed to want out of the cave. A new kick. Manon against the palm of my hand this time.  

Manon smiled gently on her belly and felt the moisture rise into her eyes. Oh damn... Manon turned her attention away from her belly and blinked tears from her eyes. Asterin stood beside her, smiling slightly.  

After winter - after Manon and Asterin confronted Asterin’s a dead witchling – something in Asterin had changed. She was... calmer. There was fire in her—the same fire that had once led Manon to make her Asterin second—but there was now also something soft behind it.  

At times, Manon caught Asterin looking into the corners of the cave and out of the cave doorway, as if she were looking for signs of her daughter. But she had stayed away. However, that didn't seem to discourage Asterin. She was - she was hopeful. Wished that someday, looking into some corner of the cave, she would see her blond daughter again.  

Manon didn't know how to tell Asterin her doubts about her daughter. The blond witchling had appeared when Manon had been dying. She had come when Manon's own daughter had been dying. Manon doubted—no—she knew that Asterin's daughter had been there to retrieve Manon's daughter's soul and lead it into the afterlife. The girl hadn't done it out of malice. Manon knew it.  

Manon had met her once. When she met Asterin's daughter in a snowy field, she sensed the wildness, honesty, and sincerity that emanated from her. It was her job to fetch souls. Manon sometimes wondered, as she watched Asterin's wandering gaze, if Asterin sensed the truth about her daughter deep within.  

A new twinge of pain in Manon's lower back caused her to wake up from her thoughts. A gasp escaped her lips and she pressed her hands against her back. "Are you okay, Manon?" the questioner, for a change, was not Asterin, but Vesta, who fastened knives to her belt. The thirteen armed themselves as if they were going into battle, not for a short walk along the river.  

But to be honest, Manon would have taken the Wind-claver with her if she could wear it or even tie it to her back. Again, she had to face the limitations of a body swollen by pregnancy.  

"I'm fine," Manon said, straightening her back. The answer now came as a reflex. And that was rarely true. Vesta squinted her eyes and Asterin wrapped her arms around Manon's waist, as if afraid she would fall.  

"Are you sure?" Asterin asked worriedly, pressing her warm hand against Manon's lower back. "Maybe we should..."  

"I'll go crazy if I can't get out,” Manon groaned and her iron teeth snapped down. "I've been trapped in this damned cave for three, almost four months! I have to get out," The last part of the sentence sounded more like a prayer than a commandment.  

Asterin's expression softened, even though she wouldn't let go. “All right," she said, glancing past Manon at Vesta. "But promise to say if you feel any... Variable. We need to know to go back."  

Manon sighed and pressed her hand to her belly. The little one had started kicking again. "This isn't coming out for a while," Manon said irritably, stepping away from Asterin's grasp. She had to stand on her own two feet. "And she wants to get out of this cave as much as I do."  

Asterin chuckled softly, leaned on her knees, and said to Manon's belly: "Are you trying to run it out as eagerly as your mom?"  

"Don't give her ideas," Manon growled as the little one started kicking properly. She would have many nasty bruises tomorrow. Asterin grinned and straightened her back. She waved her pale plait over her shoulder and looked around the cave where the Thirteen was still doing her final checks.  

"If everything is ready, we'd better go. Fresh air is good for all of us."  

::::::::  

The bark of the tree felt warm against Manon's back. The sun had been shining on the old oak all morning and warming its trunk. The heat radiated to Manon's aching lower back, even though at times a sudden wave of pain passed through her body. Contractions. Irregular. Nothing new. Manon was already used to exercise contractions. They came every couple of days, and each time Manon feared that labor had begun. So far, they had only been about preparing her body.  

Manon watched with half-closed eyes as the Thirteen spent their days by the river. They were like bears waking up from hibernation as they released many months of pent-up energy.  

Vesta and Sorrel sparred, quickly rushing towards each other, trying to break through the other's defenses. Faline and Fallon sat still for a change and repaired their brooms. They cut off long twigs and smoothed the stem of their brooms.  

Thea and Kaya had left their boots on the beach, rolled up their trouser legs and waded into the newly melted river. Manon watched sleepily as they hunted for mussels in the clear water. There were already many river mussels on the beach, which Imogen opened with a concentrated wrinkle between her brows. The trio was looking for pearls. Manon didn't know why, and she didn't care.  

Lin was further up the river fishing. Manon could see Lin's black hair shining in the sun. Ghislaine leaned against a tree next to Manon and read a book in concentration. Manon had once glanced at a page in a book and realized that Ghislaine was teaching herself to be a midwife. It reminded Manon of childbirth and anything that could go wrong. Everything she didn't want to think about at that moment.  

Briar and Edda were deeper in the woods inspecting the area. Manon vaguely hoped that the Shadows would not run into the corchans spying on them. The situation could get seriously out of hand.  

Asterin was lounging on the grass a few feet from Manon, letting the sun shine on her pale skin. Asterin had closed her eyes and seemed to be enjoying the warmth.  

A painful gasp and thud caused Manon to look away from Asterin. Sorrel had pressed Vesta to the ground and the red-haired witch was panting her teeth in blood. Sorrel had pressed his iron claw to Vesta's throat, without breaking the skin. “Will you give up?" Sorrel inquired, with a hint of a small smile in the corners of her mouth, and pressed her nails a little more against Vesta's neck so that blue blood popped out. “Yes," Vesta panted, trying in vain to push Sorrel's nails off of her throat. "I give up. Okay? I give up."  

Sorrel grinned and straightened her back, letting Vesta go. Vesta stumbled upright, rubbing her neck, and grimaced. “You're rusty," Sorrel remarked, which made Vesta roll her eyes."There hasn't been much room to practice."  

It was true. In a cramped cave or even in a winter forest, maintaining combat skills had been difficult. All Thirteen had let their skills rust.  

Vesta - still rubbing her neck - walked up to Asterin and poked her in the side with the tip of her shoe. "Your turn," she said hoarsely. Asterin gaped one of her eyelids and looked up at Vesta. "You are in front of the sun."  

Manon closed her eyes and let her head fall against the warm trunk of the tree. She laughed. She almost laughed. But she hindered herself. Manon parted her heavy eyelids and see Vesta wiping blood from her lower lip. “You can't be serious?" she grumbled. Sorrel watched from the sidelines, stretching out his iron claws, preparing for the next fight.  

Asterin sighed and closed her eyes. She tilted her head and let the sun caress her pale neck. "It's too beautiful a day to be beaten,” Asterin hummed and put one foot on top of the other. Vesta glanced at Manon to see if she had anything to say about the situation. Manon waved her hand to let Vesta handle the situation herself.  

Manon enjoyed the part of spectator that fell to her. This was especially... Entertaining. Vesta's expression darkened when she realized she wouldn't get Manon as an ally. She crossed her arms over her chest, quickly looked at Sorrel, who smiled slightly. Manon didn't know what was going on, but it was fun to watch.  

Vesta's expression tightened, as if she had decided something. She squatted down beside Asterin and asked with a grin: "Are you afraid of losing, Asterin?" she asked sweetly.  

Asterin's eyes snapped open. Slowly, she turned her gaze to Vesta, who was smiling smugly. "Losing," Asterin said, pronouncing the word carefully. "What makes you think I'm afraid of losing?"  

Vesta straightened her back and shrugged, pretending to be indifferent. "I can't think of any other explanation for why you don't fight. But that's okay. Surely someone here wants to sharpen their skills,” Vesta looked around, weighing the Thirteen gathered on the shore with her gaze. Ghislaine had closed her book and folded her arms over it, curiously observing Vesta and Asterin.  

Asterin snorted and sat up. "Do you really want to be beaten that badly a second time?" she challenged, iron teeth sliding down. Vesta smiled smugly and took a step aside, away from the sun. Sorrel and Asterin's eyes met. Asterin groaned softly and stood up. "Alright, then."  

Vesta smiled joyfully and Sorrel looked satisfied too. Asterin stepped in front of Sorrel, clenched her fists, and raised them to her chest. Sorrel did the same.  

Asterin gave Sorrel a small smile. "Do your worst," she challenged. "Absolutely," Sorrel replied.  

Their collision was quick, brutal and spectacular. It took maybe a second or two until they broke up. After staring at each other for a moment, Sorrel and Asterin attacked each other again. "The rest of the Thirteen should also begin to practice,” Manon said to Ghislaine and Vesta, who had sat down on the other side of Manon. Vesta wiped blood from her face and nodded. "That's a good idea."  

Ghsilaine leaned her head over her crossed fingers and watched as Manon's second and third clashed. The battle seemed fairly even at that moment. “You too should start training as soon as possible after giving birth," Ghislaine said thoughtfully, looking at Manon's belly, as if wondering how long it would take her to get back to normal.  

Manon sighed and rubbed the swollen mound. That was what she had been thinking about herself. At that very moment, the little one decided to slam her heel into Manon's ribs. Manon groaned and pressed her hand against her aching side.  

"Now what?" Vesta became alert. Ghislaine's posture changed and she turned to look at Manon with her sea-colored eyes intently. Manon sighed at the concern of the two witches and changed positions. "The little one just bruises my side. Nothing more serious than that."  

Ghsilaine calmed down and returned to leaning against her tree. Vesta chuckled and crossed her ankles. “The little one takes inspiration from her aunts," she said good-humouredly. Manon glanced at the red-haired witch, her brows furrowed. "Aunts?"  

Ghislaine's expression was impossible to decipher, and Vesta raised her other eyebrow. "Aunts. We are your child's aunts. Wasn't that clear?"  

Manon said nothing. She watched as Imogen opened the new clam, sighed in frustration, and threw it back into the river, splashing water on the shoes of the newly arrived Edda. Briar, who appeared next to the Edda, carried two large rabbits in her hand. At least Manon didn't have to worry about whether her witches were eating.  

"Aunt Vesta makes you sound old," Ghislaine finally broke the silence. Edda and Briar, after quickly reporting to Manon - that there was nothing to report – and – After a quick glance at the struggle between Asterin and Sorrel – had begun to set fire.  

Manon still didn't say anything. She had pressed her hands to her belly, repeating Vesta's words in her mind.Over and over again.  

"If I don't survive childbirth," Manon started, but Vesta interrupted her. "Don't say that!" She said fiercely. "You will..."  

"What if I don't make it?” Manon groaned lowly, so quiet that the others on the beach couldn't hear. She had forced Asterin to take an oath in the winter. She hadn't demanded it of others, but if she died... if Manon died, her daughter would be the responsibility of her coven. Manon watched them. Throw them all. Sorrel and Asterin fighting. Thea and Kayaa in the river looking for pearl mussels. Silent Imogen opening mussels. Falinea and Fallon, who had snuck closer to the fire and the prey brought by the Shadows. Edda and Briar who set fire. Lin returning from a fish, pulling a large salmon in her hand. And then there were Ghislaine and Vesta, who sat on either side of her.  

If Manon died, his daughter would be left in charge of the Thirteen. And Manon knew—she could feel it in her bones—that they would do everything, always, to protect her daughter. They would raise, educate, and sacrifice their own lives for her daughter.  

"If I die, she will be your responsibility," Manon said quietly, putting her hand on her belly. "We know that," Ghislaine said, putting her hand on Manon's shoulder. "If we end up in that situation, we'll protect your daughter as best we can."  

Manon nodded and smiled Ghislaine slightly. At that very moment, Imogen exclaimed. It caught everyone's attention. Sorrel and Asteirnkin let go of each other, turning to look in the direction of the sound.  

"Look at this," Imogen rejoiced, waving her hand high above her head. "Pearl."  

A large, pure white pearl that shone in all the colors of the rainbow in the light of the sun. "Show it," Kaya ordered, wading to the beach to see Imogen's discovery. Others also went closer to see the perfect round river pearl found inside the clam.  

As Manon stood up, a contraction so strong passed through her body that it was to cause her to collapse again. "Are you okay, Manon?” Ghislaine grabbed Manon by the arm and helped her stand up.  

Manon clenched her teeth firmly together, forcing himself to breathe calmly until the contraction passed. Only then did she straighten her back. “All right," she said, trying to calm a worried Ghislaine and Vesta.  

They glanced at each other, and Manon could see the concern on their faces. Sighing, Manon stepped past the two witches closer to her other witches. Kaya and Imogen were currently arguing over who the pearl belonged to. Manon again found herself wondering how a couple of funny months had changed her coven so much. They were now so... human-like.  

The witchilng inside Manon kicked. The little one deserved all the credit for this strange change.  

::::::::  

Manon couldn't sleep. It was difficult to find a good position with a large heaviness belly, but normally Manon got at least a couple of hours of sleep during the night. Manon listened with envy as the witches of the Thirteen breathed calmly around her. Sometimes someone would change positions, groaning or muttering something in their sleep.  

Sounds weren't what kept Manon awake. Nor was it due to temperature. Manon actually felt comfortably warm. The reason was contractions that came about every ten minutes.  

Manon had almost fallen asleep several times, but each time the pain passing through her body made her wake up. The contractions lasted almost a minute, causing Manon to breathe with quick gasps. She was grateful that the voices had not stirred up the rest of the coven.  

The new contraction caused Manon to take a sharp breath through her teeth. She breathed calmly and forced her whole body to relax. Everything was good. Manon didn't want to wake up her coven for nothing if it wasn't the right situation. Manon didn't want to cause alarm for nothing.  

Slowly, grimacing, Manon stood up. She tried to make as little noise as possible in her movements. She needed fresh air. And maybe the movement would stop the contractions as well.  

With light steps, Manon crept through the cave, beware of the feet and hands of her witches. She passed the twins and slipped out door under the curtain into the hallway and, after a slight bend, out. Into a fresh, awakening earth and night dew scented night.  

Vesta—who was on guard that night—turned around when she heard a voice. Noticing Manon, her reddish-brown brows pressed into a wrinkle. "Shouldn't you sleep?” she asked in a low voice, glancing up and down Manon anxiously.  

Manon sighed and rubbed her lower back. "I couldn't sleep. I needed fresh air."  

Vesta's expression remained worried. "Maybe you shouldn't..." Manon's expression silenced Vesta before she could finish her sentence. "I just walk a little,” Manon growled and stepped barefoot out of the cave and onto the dead grass. It felt cold and clammy under the soles of Manon's feet. "It won't kill me."  

She feel the cold ground, under the soles of her feet was refreshing. Vesta moved nervously in place as Manon took a couple of steps away from the entrance to the cave. "Should I come along?" she asked, squeezing the handle of her sword. "Just..."  

"Stay in it!" Manon commanded. The leader of the steel - Vesta coven chimed in her voice. Vesta's eyes flashed and she took a step back. "Are you sure..."  

"I am," Manon said, still in a hard voice. Then she softened her tone and said: “I won't go far from Vesta. I just want to be alone for a while. If you understand."  

Vesta nodded softly and settled back into place. Manon felt the look of black eyes on her back as she walked around the cliff, keeping her hand against the rock all the time. As if she could get lost. Witches saw well in the dark.  

After getting far enough away and when her legs seemed tired, Manon stopped. She had circled behind the rock. Behind their cave, the forest was thicker. Manon sighed and leaned her back against the cave wall, looking at the forest in front of her. A gentle breeze carried Manon towards the tangy scents of the forest. Manon closed her eyes and drew the scent deep into her lungs.  

And then her predator instincts woke up. Mano's eyes opened and she set her sights on the forest in front of her. Manon straightened her back and peered among the trees, looking for something...she kept her iron nails hidden. Exposing them would send out the wrong message, even though Manon was ready to fight if any kind of threat emerged.  

"I know you're there,” Manon said calmly, addressing the corchan hiding behind the trees, pressing her palm against the cave wall. "If you have any issues, come here!"  

It was an order. No request. For a while, nothing happened. Manon put her hands on her stomach, watching—waiting.  

The shadow at the edge of the forest moved, and then a young corcha witch stepped into the moonlight. The red cloak looked black in the moonlight. The witch's hair was dark brown and landed freely on the witch's shoulders. The skin was pale and a sword hung from her belt. On one shoulder hung a bag made of brown leather. The eyes - which met Manon's golden gaze - were the color of freshly turned soil.  

The witch stood at a respectful distance, arms folded in front of her belly. She didn't smile, but her expression wasn't offensive either. Corchan eyed Manon carefully from head to toe before she said: "Nice to see that you've gotten well."  

Manon straightened her back and nodded her head slightly. “I'm grateful for that medicine," she said. It felt weird... thanks corchan. Manon was trained to kill corchans, not to have polite conversations with them.   

A small smile crossed Corchan's lips. “Glennis really knows her stuff. For a long time, we worried that you hadn't healed when we didn't see you."  

Was the witch serious? Manon shook her head slightly and changed position. “I do not understand why it interests you. What does my daughter mean to you?"  

Corchan looked at Manon with an expression on her face that she couldn't decipher. “She is worth more to us than you think," the witch said quietly. Manon felt her protective instinct awakened. She changed position. Manon couldn't fight, but if the corchan showed even the slightest sign of hostility...  

Young Cocrchan noticed a change in Manon's state of mind. She folded her arms tightly in front of her and, without blinking, met Manon's gaze. "We have no ill will against you or your child," the witch said calmly.  

Manon remained in her position. Corchan sighed. She opened her bag and Manon prepared to fight or scream for help, but instead of a weapon, the witch pulled a blue woolen blanket from her bag. "To the baby," the witch said, handing it to Manon. Manon accepted it in confusion, not knowing what to say.  

Corchan smiled little again and began to retreat back into the woods. "I look forward to seeing you again in two months,” the witch said and was already turning to walk deeper into the woods when Manon found her voice.  

"You were the witch who left me an apple. Why? Why didn't you kill me?"  

Partially turned away, Corchan slowly turned back towards Manon. Half of the face was visible in the light of the moon, the other half hid in the shadows. “You were at the top of our list, Manon Blackbeak. We had a duty to kill you if we could get the chance. Many of my people were furious when they heard that I left you alive when you were so vulnerable to attack."  

Witch my hardship. Manon said nothing, but waited for her to continue. And so the witch did. "We call you the White Demon. I considered killing you on that beach. I couldn't believe I had been lucky enough to find you in such a vulnerable position. “  

Manoni squeezed the woolen blanket in her hands, being careful not to break the fabric. "Then I smelled your pregnancy. I realized you were expecting a baby. It would be a lie to say if I hadn't considered killing you anyway, but then I decided to leave you an apple and see what you would do. And you didn't attack me. You didn't go back to your grandmother. You hid and took help from us,”The witch's expression was again undecipherable as she added in a low voice, "I'm glad I left you alive."  

Manon took a deep breath and nodded her head. “Thank you," she said and took a step back. So did the witch of the corchan, nodding too. And so Manon Blackbeak turned her back on her sister and went back to her witches, while Rhiannon Corchan dived through the depths of the forest, unable to help her elated smile.  

Vesta stood nervously in front of the cave entrance, restlessly shifting weight from one foot to the other. Seeing Manon, she immediately relaxed.  

"I'm already thinking that something has happened to you,” Vesta said worriedly and walked over to Manon. Her red hair was scattered here and there in the plait, as if Vesta had grope it nervously.  

"I was already afraid that you had fallen and... Where did you get that?” Vesta had just noticed a blanket that Manon was holding in her hands. Manon looked down at the blue blanket and then up at Vesta, her mouth half open as she tried to come up with resistance.  

"I..." She started when the most painful contraction to date passed through her body. A cry escaped Manon's mouth, more of fear than pain. She pressed the blue blanket against her chest and bent in pain, taking support from the stone wall of the cave.  

“Manon,” Vesta's alarmed voice reached Manon's ears as the witch's hands clung to her shoulders. "Manon? Is everything okay? Manon..."  

But Manon hardly paid attention to Vesta's words. She felt something running down her legs, wetting the front of the dress.  

Manon swallowed suddenly, despite her throat that had turned dry. She met Vesta's worried eyes and groaned: "I think the amniotic fluid was gone."  

::::::::  

As the first rays of the morning crept into the cave, there was no longer any doubt about what was happening in Manon's body.  

Manon had slept barely an hour at night. She had woken up to ever-worsening contractions, the intervals between which also seemed to become shorter. And it didn't help that Vesta had woken up the entire Thirteen Coven with her shout after Manon's amniotic fluid went. The only benefit of the situation was that no one asked any questions about the blue wool blanket that Manon had folded next to her own sleeping place.  

It was waiting there. Finished. For the moment when... so. For the moment when she decides to enter the world from Manon's womb.  

Manon's head rested against Asterin's shoulder, who sat behind her, holding some of the weight of her belly with her own hands. Without Asterin's presence, Manon wouldn't have gotten even that one hour of sleep during the night.  

"Is it already morning?" Manon muttered, still half asleep, leaning against Asterin's warm body. "Yes," Asterin whispered. "It's morning."  

Manon sighed and changed positions. She took a sharp breath as the contraction shook her body. “Breathe Manon," Asterin muttered, pressing her palm against Manon's lower abdomen. "Just breathe through them Manon."  

Asterin – immediately after recovering from the shock that Manon had gone outside the cave alone –had taken over and began commanding the Thirteen. Each witch had a different degree of horror on her face. The situation would have amused Manon had she not been stiff with terror. And after that, another contraction had again demanded her attention.  

Manon had squeezed the wool blanket in her hands as if it were a lifeline on a stormy sea. To the baby, the corchan had said. As if she knew this was close. Manon had been unable to hear the orders Asterin gave to the Thirteen. She vaguely knew that some of them passed her into the woods and some went to the back of the cave, to the hot water pool.  

Manon's whole world had shrunk to her swollen belly and the witchling inside her. How long... How long would it be before she could see her daughter's face? How long should she pant in pain each time an increasingly painful wave of pain passed through her.  

With the help of Asterin and Vesta, Manon had been able to get to her sleeping place. She had sat awkwardly and tried to lie down, but when she realized how painful it was, she remained seated. Manon had tried to support her body with her trembling arms, but each new contraction was to make her collapse. And then Asterin had sat behind her. She had taken some of the weight between Manon's hips and let Manon lean against herself. That, the half-sitting position was best. Asterin's warm, powerful body supported and helped Manon survive one contraction after another.  

"How much longer will this go on?" Manon asked in an exhausted voice and, trembling, changed her position. "Hard to say," Asterin muttered in her ear. "It took me three days..."  

"Three days!" Manon exclaimed, suddenly waking up completely. She tried to turn around to look at her cousin, but a wave of pain hit through her body like a tidal wave. Manon groaned and collapsed trembling. “Breathe," Asterin said calmly and lifted Manon back to lean against her. "Just breathe now."  

Manon obeyed and forced oxygen into her lungs and then out of them. She didn't understand how Asterin could be so calm when the rest of the Thirteen – Manon included - was more or less panicked at the uncertainty of what to do. Ghislaine had read everything she had found on the subject, but even she seemed nervous.  

None of them had practiced the art of healer more than necessary. Sorrel had been present during Asterin's delivery, but according to her own words, she had been more of a guard than a participant in the actual process. Kolmentoista taidot tässä tilanteessa olivat puutteliset. The only one who seemed to know anything was Asterin. And at that moment, Manon trusted her knowledge like a rock. She trusted Asterin to guide her through this.  

"You said the contractions started the morning before,” Asterin said, barely managing to hide her indignation in her voice. In her opinion, Manon should have told. In hindsight, Manon knew she should have done so. “If we are lucky, the girl will be born at night, at the latest in the morning."  

She omitted to say what they both thought. If everything went well. Manon sighed and her head fell back against Asterin's shoulder. "What are others doing?" Manon asked. She watched with half-closed eyes as Sorrel hurried across the cave with a gravely worried expression on her face. All of her witches had that kind of expression on their faces. They were worried and barely knew what to do. They behaved almost like human men in the same situation.  

Childbirth was natural, but it hadn't been part of their lives. Not before Asterin. Not since. Not before this. They were among themselves, deep in the woods, hidden from anyone who had experience of such a situation. Except...  

"I've been wondering," Asterin muttered abruptly, not answering Manon's question. “Should I send someone...” Asterin glanced around nervously, but the witches were so focused on their work and observing Manon's condition that they ignored Asterin's words. "Should we pick up Glennis."  

Glennis Corchan.  

The idea had crossed Manon's mind a few times, but she had rejected it as absurd. “I don't think bringing Corchan here would be a good idea," Manon muttered, barely moving her mouth. "Even if we say she's helping, I don't think others can control themselves in this state of mind."  

Asterin sighed. "Good point."  

For a moment, neither said anything. Thirteen footsteps echoed in the cave as they rushed here and there, doing who knows what. Manon watched them. Trying to focus more on their steps and breathing than on the waves of pain passing through her bodies.  

"What are they doing?" Manon asked again, remembering that Asterin hadn't answered before. Asterin sighed and pressed her chin against the top of Manon's head. “They heat the pool," Asterin explained. For thirteen, it had become a habit to bathe once every two weeks. They had only been to the pool a couple of days ago, so...  

"Why?" Manon asked, feeling how fatigue tried to take over her before the next spike in pain. "Warm water helps with muscle crepes and contractions," Asterin explained patiently.  

"It helped me."  

Manon smiled in response and closed her eyes. She dozed off before the next contraction.  

:::::::  

The cave smelled of burning spruce and pine. Their fresh, smoky scents calmed Manon's nerves, although it didn't help the escalating waves of pain. Half an hour – or maybe an hour ago, Asterin had switched places with Vesta, who was now supporting Manon's upper body. Vesta stroking her hair as contractions shook her body.  

Ghislaine sat between Manon's legs and rubbed her stiff hips and lower back with strong fingers. “You have to try to relax," Ghislaine instructed, letting her hands press on Manon's tense muscles. Manon opened her mouth the snap response, but instead a groan escaped her throat as another contraction passed through her body. The child inside her kicked.  

"Breathe," Ghislaine commanded as Vesta changed her position behind Manon so Manon could breathe unhindered. "You tell me all the time to just breathe," Manon groaned as the contraction passed. "How long do I have to breathe?"  

Ghislaine sighed and ran her hands down Manon's inner thighs, examining the situation as best she could. “Maybe another couple of hours," Ghislaine estimated uncertainly, after researching Manon for a while.  

A grunted escaped Manon's mouth, but it almost immediately turned into a complaint. There were sometimes many contractions one after another. Sometimes there were small breaks in between. But the pain... constant pain. And it would only get worse.  

"A couple of hours?" Manon panted. There were three contractions in a row. The second repeats more painful. “I'm not sure," Ghislaine admitted, with a frown. “I've never helped with childbirth before."  

Manon groaned. Both pain and irritation. She began to reconsider applying for Glennis. Perhaps she should tell Asterin to fetch the corchan. She would hardly refuse, but what about the witches of thirteen? How would they react to the corchan's presence? What would they do?  

Manon breathed slowly, trying to even out her pulse and relax her stiff muscles. She turned her head cautiously, to see what was happening around her.  

Faline and Fallon stood by the fire, boiling water and raising the fire. Their faces were pale and their expressions tight. Both had their iron nails outside. Sorrel marched in a small circle to the sand floor of the cave, hands tightly behind his back and her expression gloomy. Her iron teeth flashed every time she pulled them in and let them come out of her gums again.  

Thea and Kaya were by the hot water pool watching the fire. Sometimes they threw more branches into the fire. The water had to be warmer than where they normally bathed. They had wrapped their fingers together, and when they were not looking at each other, their gaze wandered to Manon, who panting on her sleeping pad.  

Edda and Briar Manon were nowhere to be seen. They had retreated to the shadows to observe the situation. They knew how to do it. It funded them. Watching and hiding.  

Lin sharpened Manon's sword. It seemed to be her way of dealing with pressure. She sharpened any weapon to get even something to do with her hands. Then there were Imogen and Asterin.  

Imogen sat cross-legged near the fire and tied her pearl angling from the river to a leather strap. She had won the argument against Kaya. Asterin stretch her muscles after supporting Manon for many hours in a sitting position. She was currently squatting on the water's edge and stuck her fingers into the pool.  

She nodded her head approvingly and stood up. “Extinguish the flames and cover the trees to keep the heat. Manon needs to relax before she has to make an effort."  

Thirteen witches were too tense. Their protective instinct was too strong. If a corchan were brought into the cave, it would only fuel Manon's witches' instincts to protect their leader when she was at her weakest.  

Manon turned his gaze away from Thea and Kaya, who hurried to obey the order. Edda and Briarkin appeared from somewhere to help.  

Asterin squatted down at Manon's face level, with a worried smile on her face. "How do you feel?" she asked quietly, flicking the white hair clinging to Manon's sweaty forehead. Manon sighed and shook her head. “I've never been hurt this much in my life, but at the same time I want to feel every second."  

Asterin's smile widened, and she pressed her cool palm against Manon's hot cheek. “Know. I know how you feel."  

Manon's throat choked. She tried to blink away the moisture that had risen from her eyes, but it was in vain. Tears flowed down her cheeks and at the same time another contraction passed through Manon's body. Manon breathed with sharp breaths, trying to even out her pulse.  

"I'm scared," Manon whispered so quietly that only Asterin could hear, even though Ghislaine and Vesta were right next door. Asterin's fingers found Manon's hand and squeezed it. Manon groaned as the contraction passed through her body. “I know," Asterin whispered, squeezing Manon's fingers tightly.  

"How long are contractions?" Vesta asked behind Manon, again changing positions, which caused Manon to moan in pain. “The longest ones are almost a minute,” Ghislaine assessed, pressing her hand against Manon's strained back. “Sometimes there are many short ones in a row and they are about twenty seconds."  

Manon said nothing, for she had to breathe. Breathing felt painful and difficult. “Not much longer," Asterin said, releasing her grip on Manon's hand to stand up. "It might be good if Manon managed to sleep for a while before giving birth."  

"And how did you think..." Manon started and then shouted. The contraction lasted a minute and was painful by then. “Maybe we have less time than I thought," Ghislaine said. "No... I'm not quite sure."  

"A few hours,” Asterin said firmly. “We have maybe a few hours before the girl is ready to come out. And Manon needs to be strong in that moment."  

Manon could only nod to express her agreement. "Alright," Asterin said. "Please help me get Manon into the pool."  

It took Ghislaine, Asterin and Vesta, Sorrel and Imogen to get Manon on her feet. Walking actually made Manon feel better for a while, but when she was able to immerse herself in the warm water, Manon's whole body went limp. Asterin had had to help Manon take off her dress, which had now been abandoned on the edge of the pool.  

Manon's skin over her swollen belly looked tight, and at times the outlines of her witchling's heels or elbows were drawn on tight skin. “The girl is ready to come out,” Asterin—who had waded after Manon into the pool on a piece of clothing—muttered. Manon nodded and leaned her aching back against the warm stones. It felt heavenly. "Can I sleep on this?” Manon muttered. In warm water, against these stones- even the next contraction didn't feel so painful, even though it lasted almost a minute. Maybe longer. Manon couldn't count at that moment.  

Asterin stroked Manon's hair and swept one of the strands of hair behind her ear. “Yes. You can sleep in it. Any place you can sleep is good."  

Manon sighed contentedly and pressed tighter against the rocks, which normally would probably have felt burning. They folded the worst blade from contractions. Manon's eyelids drooped and she closed her eyes.  

Manon heard and felt Asterin step out of the pool. She said something to thirteen, but Manon couldn't figure it out anymore. The world around her had become foggy.  

New contraction. The powerful, but warm stones and the light feeling produced by the water took away the worst of it. Manon knew she was on the edge of sleep. And not just because her thoughts seemed to get stuck. No. She knew it because she was dreaming.  

The girl was sitting on the edge of the pool, opposite Manon. Blonde hair ran down her slender back and there was a blank look in her eyes.  

“No,” Manon whispered, though she wasn't sure if she really said it or just thought. Nevertheless, she looked up as if she had heard. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and then Asterin's daughter sighed. “ I will do my best, but things could go badly here. Just be patient."  

Manon didn't understand. She would never understand. It was not yet time. Asterin's daughter faded into the fog and Manon fell into a deep sleep, which was a relief. She really had to sleep.  

::::::::  

"What don't you tell us?"  

Vesta's voice was quiet but full of irritation. “ You've been secretive ever since you visited the village and fetched Manon a medicine. Who did you get it from?"  

Manon's brain registered the sound, but it was impossible for her to pinpoint where it was coming from.Asterin's sigh came from close by. "I already said," Asterin's voice was steady, " that I must first talk about it with Manon."  

Vesta snorted, and Manon sensed the irritation of the rest of her coven. What was it all about?  

"So you two have a little secret that can't be told to us? " now it was Ghislaine, whose voice was clearly sceptical. “ We are in this together, Asterin. What can't you tell us?"  

Manon's brain slowly began to understand the meaning of words and position them in place. Ghislaine's tone of voice, Vesta's aggressiveness, and Asterin's reluctance to respond. Manon had known this was coming, but now? When the situation was tense anyway.  

"It's complicated,” Asterin dodged. Someone snorted. Lin. Or Sorrel. Manon couldn't say at the time. A feeling of pressure had begun to gather in her lower back.  

"But Manon knows what it's all about,” Kaya sounded much more cautious than Ghislaine and Vesta. “Yes, " Asterin replied briefly.  

"What have you two done?” now the speaker was Sorrel. Manon's breathing began to become uneven as a strong contraction passed through her body. However, no one seemed to notice.  

Asterin was silent for a long time. Hesitate. Finally, she sighed and Manon felt her fingers touch her hair. "You're not going to like it," Asterin sounded resigned. “ You're really not going to like it."  

"Tell and watch,” Lin quipped. "Watch if we like it or not."  

But before Asterin could tell anything about what she and Manon had done behind Thirteen's back, Manon shouted. Screamed in pure pain as the contraction passed through her body. The contraction was so strong that Manon wanted to vomit, and with the contraction came the need to exert effort. Effort the pain away...  

“Manon!” Asterin shouted and water splashed on Manon's face as her second squatted in front of her. Manon was confronted by a pair of black gold-spotted eyes whose gaze was hardened with panic. Manon opened her mouth to answer, but a new wave of pain took her breath away. Was it supposed to hurt this much?  

"I guess it's time,” Ghislaine hurried beside Asterin into the water, thrusting her hands under the water. She palpated Manon's intimate places, lower back, belly. The controversy had been forgotten for the time being. Ghislaine's hands gently pressed Manon's hamstrings and then the stiff muscles of her back. “She have to effort," Ghislaine said after doing her research. "It's time."  

Manon panted as a new wave of pain passed through her body. “Please help me out of this pool of hell!” Manon groaned when she could speak in pain. "Help me out..."  

“Manon,” Ghislaine's voice had a commanding tone. "It would be better if...”  

"I don't do this in water,” Manon growled in response, then groaned as another contraction shook her body. “I won't give birth to her in water!"  

Irritation flashed in Ghislaine's sea-green eyes, and she opened her mouth, no doubt to contradict her, when Asterin said: “Can you walk?” she asked, staring at Manon. It took Manon a moment to respond when another contraction forced her to collapse, but eventually she managed to nod. "All right," Asterin said, standing up dripping with water. Ghislaine looked furious, but said nothing as Asterin motioned closer to Lin, Sorrel, and Kaya.  

"We need to get Mano to her feet and help her to her sleeping pad," Asterin said, grabbing hold tightly of Manon's waist. Lin, Sorrelin, Kaya, and Asterin practically had to lift Mano out of the pool because she was unable to use her legs in pain. It wasn't until the contraction subsided that she was able to take a couple of steps needed to collapse on her sleeping pad.  

Vesta was already waiting and accepted Manon's weight, supporting her in a half-sitting position as before. A new contraction shook Manon's body and she screamed. “Fuck," Manon panted when she could speak again. “I fucking should have killed him! Gut him for this good! I sure damn it...” A new contraction truncated Manon's sentence. She hated Dorian Havilliard. She sure fucking hated him...  

"So he's still alive," Faline said as she sat down behind Vesta. "I thought you would have killed him."  

Manon panted, but managed to growl. “I would be. I would have been spared...” a new contraction and a new cry of pain. Manon collapsed against Vesta, complaining of pain.  

Asterin took her place beside Manon and took her by the hand. Sorrel sat down on her other side, clenching her own fingers around Manon's hand. Fallon positioned herself next to her sister behind Vesta. Imogen, Lin, and Edda sat down next to Sorrel, near Ghislaine who had sat between Manon's legs, hands on either side of her belly.  

On the other side of Ghislaine were Briar, Thea and Kaya. And every witch Manon could see had a horrified look on her face. They had all seen hundreds of killing grounds. They had killed thousands of men. Devoured human's guts, but this... Their birthing leader was too much.  

A new contraction passed through Manon's body, sparking a new scream from her mouth. Dorian would regret his birth. "Effort," Ghislaine ordered in a loud voice. A voice penetrated through the haze of pain that enveloped Manon's thoughts. She had to make an effort. Her whole body wanted to exert herself. So that's what Manon did. Effort from behind her strength.  

"Good," Asterin muttered, shook Manon's hand. "Just like that. Just listen to your body. It knows what to do."  

New contraction. A new effort. Manon shouted again. Sorrel's weapon-hardened fingers swept Manon's sweaty hair off her face. “Effort," Ghislaine ordered again. Manon obeyed. “I'll kill him!" Manon screamed, squeezing Asterin's and Sorrelin's hands so hard that she wondered why the bones weren't broken.  

"Give birth first and then go kill him," Faline suggested. “We can help," Fallon continued, clearly trying to ease Manon's condition. A picture flashed through Manon's mind of Dorian and her stupid smile. She would make Princeling pay for every single sperm he had put into her womb.  

Manon had to effort herself again and it was to take away her strength completely. Her field of vision alternately blurred and focused. "Get her some water," Asterin said, pressing her cool hand against Manon's hot face. There were quick footsteps as someone – Imogen – hurried to obey.  

Moments later, a water bowl was brought to Manon's lips and Manon sipped water greedily. And almost immediately after that, another contraction was to make her choke on cold water. "Effort!" Ghislaine commanded.  

Manon used all the strength in her body to effort herself. Tears of pain and anguish rolled down her face.  

"The head is visible," Ghislaine announced. “Just like that," Asterin encouraged, pinching Manon's fingers. "You'll be ready soon."  

Manon barely heard. Blood roared in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. She effort again. Black dots burst into her the field of view. Manon panted. Her whole body was sore and exhausted. She was barely conscious anymore.  

"One more time," Ghislaine said, sounding desperate. "Once again, Manon!"  

So Manon gathered every last shred of strength from her body and she labor. With the last scream, the last effort, Manon pushed her daughter out.  

And then everything turned black.  

::::::  

It was absolutely quiet.  

Manon's eyelashes trembled against her cheeks as she blinked her eyes open. Silence hit her face, like a suffocating pillow. No.  

Manon swallowed and lifted her head from Vesta's shoulder. Vesta didn't try to stop her, but the grip with which she held Manon had gone from strong to gentle. It's as if she's afraid Manon would fall apart if she squeezed too hard.  

Slowly, Manon's field of vision brightened. And she saw Ghislaine sitting on her knees between her legs. Her hands were stained with Manon's blood, which had spilled from her during childbirth. Ghsilaine's whole body trembled and tears flowed down her dark cheeks. When her sea-green eyes met Manon's gaze, the grief shining from them was more painful than any contraction. “I'm sorry Manon," Ghislaine whispered. "I'm so sorry."  

No. No no no no..."No," Manon groaned. She turned her head heavily towards Asterin, looking for at least a glimmer of hope in her face.  

Asterin couldn't meet her gaze. The pain shining from the expression felt like a knife blow to the spine. "Sorry," Asterin whispered and closed her eyes, tears beginning to flow. No no no...  

Sorrel's face shone with sheer sadness and pain. It was on the faces of every thirteen. The child was completely silent. Silently...  

Nonononono...”No,” Manon whispered as tears began to run down her face as well. She pulled her hands out of Asterin's and Sorrel grip, and stretched them out toward Ghislaine. Her muscles trembled, and without Vesta's frozen body, behind her, Manon would have collapsed. Manon had failed. All... It had all been just a dream. The witchling would never grow. Never turned into the beautiful young woman Manon had dreamed of. Dream. It was all just... dream.  

"Let me see her,” Manon whispered, stretching out his hands, desperate to have her daughter in her arms. Ghislaine glanced at Asterin, who nodded her face with tears.  

Ghislaine swallowed and then lifted a small blood-covered thing from the ground, between Manon's legs. Ghislaine ignored Manon's outstretched arms and placed the little witchling directly between Manon's breasts.  

Small... so small.  

Manon stared through tears at the small head leaning against her collarbone. It really was a girl. Small and beautiful. The angelic face was smooth. Eyes were closed. And they would never open. Manon would never see if they were actually a different color. The girl's small head was covered with a thin layer of curly black hair. At least it had been right in her dreams. Black hair and pale skin.  

Tears streamed down Manon's cheeks as the first sob squeezed out of her throat. Failed. She had failed. The girl was dead. And Manon felt like she, too, was slowly dying from within.  

Manon closed her eyes and pressed her face against her daughter's damp hair. She never wanted to let go. Never...  

Manon's heart rate had slowed, as if her body had reached the point of surrender. Too tired. Too exhausted. Manon wanted to die. Another sob erupted out of Manon's mouth as she ran her free hand along the girl's back. Bloodstained, cool and wet. Was the girl already dead in the womb? Or only after getting out?  

Manon's hand stopped on the girl's back. The child's back lifted in sync with Manon's breathing. The pulse, on the other hand, fluttered in the little one's chest, like a bird enclosed in a cage...  

Manon's eyes fluttered open. She took a breath with quick gasps as shock passed through her body. “Manon?” Asterin asked cautiously, in a broken voice. "Do you need..."  

"She has a pulse!"  

Sadness and pain were replaced by shock. Asterin's mouth opened and a spark lit up in her black eyes. Ghislaine lifted her pale and tear-soaked face to Manon, eyes full of fierce hope. Hope that shone from the faces of every witch at Manon.  

Thean and Kaya squeezed each other's hands tightly. Edda and Briar stared at each other and then at Manon. Imogen's expression froze and Lin tried to stealthily wipe her damp eyes on the cloak. Sorrel – Manon's hard-surfaced triplet – tears slowly began to flow down Sorrel's cheeks. Manon sensed how Vesta looked over Manon's shoulder to look at the little one over her shoulder. Faline and Fallon took a breath at the same time.  

Manoni's whole body trembled as she gently turned her baby's head and swept her smooth cheek with her fingers. "Hey," Manon muttered, barely recognizing her voice. “Hey," she said again, her voice breaking into sobbing. "I know you're not dead."  

And as if realizing that she had been caught, the little one's face wrinkled. The girl took a breath and cried out loudly. It was not a war cry. It was not the bloodthirsty roar of the Blackbeak. It was laughter. Although it was only the baby's first cry, Manon could have sworn that the girl was laughing. Her daughter laughed her own hoarfrost laugh, mocking them. Mocknig her. Managed to fool you. You thought I was dead. Hah.  

A sound escaped Manon's throat that sounded like something between crying and laughter.  

"Barely a minute old and already causing trouble," Vesta muttered from behind Manon in a thick voice. It sounded like Vesta was trying to hold back a cry of relief.  

Ghislaine closed her eyes and raised her bloody hands to her face. She trembled. Edda glanced quickly, Briari, and the cousins nodded their heads at each other once. Then, surprisingly, they all wrapped their arms gently around Ghislaine. “I thought she was dead. That, through my inexperience, I killed the child of the leader of my coven,” Ghislaine sobbed, completely deprived of her normal dignity.  

Thea and Kaya wrapped their arms around each other, hugging each other tightly. Both of their shoulders trembled. Lin leaned her forehead on his palms, muttering to herself, trying to hold herself together. Faline and Fallon looked over Manon's shoulder, trying to see the baby pressed against her chest. Vesta's chin leaned against Manon's shoulder. Manon didn't see Vesta's face, but knew she was staring at her daughter with tears flowing.  

Imogen had closed her eyes and was rocking herself back and forth, muttering a prayer to the three-faced Goddess. Sorrel's stony exterior had crumbled and she was crying. Sorrel wept, a sight Manon never thought she would see.  

“Sorrel,” Manon said, reaching out her hand towards her triplet. "I'm fine. We're fine."  

Her hand touched Sorrel's cheek, causing Sorrel to sob loudly. “I wouldn't have – I never wanted to go through what happened with Asterin again,” Sorrel whispered. Her voice cracked until it broke again and more tears streamed down her face. "But she lives, and she laughs and is already causing us problems. Only the gods know what she will be like growing up."  

"We are here for her, Sorrel,” Asterin's voice was gentle and Manon turned his attention to her second. Asterin no longer cried. Her face lit up. Tears dried on her cheeks. “We will raise her strong, train her and teach her."  

Manon's heart swelled in her chest and the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, to which Asterin replied. The baby cried again, as if demanding attention. Manon sighed and turned her attention back to her witchling. Her eyes were wide open and she stared at Manon far too intensely for so small. And eyes..."Look at that," Fallon said.  

It summed up well how shocking the conflict of eyes was. The left eye was ice blue and the right was golden. Beautiful, absurd, different..."She's beautiful," Manon whispered. "So beautiful."  

Maybe it wasn't just a dream after all. She held in her arms a raven laughing in the woods, a girl from a meadow, a young teenager in the ruins, a woman at a party. “I can't wait to get to know you," Manon whispered and pressed a soft kiss into her daughter's black hair. The little one let out an indignant crying, which provoked laughter at Thirteen. "She's really Manon's daughter," Imogen said, looking at the ceiling. "Feels embarrassed by public displays of affection."  

Manon swallowed her tears and her own laughter. She turned her attention back to Asterin, who looked at the little one with black eyes shining with joy and love. “Asterin,” Manon said, catching the attention of her second. Asterin's attention immediately shifted to her. “Yes?"  

"Would you do me a favor?" Manon asked. Her throat was dry from all the crying and her voice rasp in her throat. "Anything," Asterin promised without hesitation. Manon smiled tiredly, and although all her instincts resisted, she lifted her daughter off her chest and stretch out her towards Asterin. "Would you wash her?"  

Asterin's eyes filled with tears. She didn't seem able to speak, so she just nodded. Asterin accepted the witchling cautiously, as if afraid she would break the little one if she moved too fast. She stood up, looking at Manon's daughter with eyes shining. Manon sighed and closed her eyes. She wanted to sleep but..."I need to wash too," she said quietly. Despite the fact that Manon trusted Asterin like a rock, she wanted her daughter back in her arms as quickly as possible.  

Her daughter.  Her daughter!   The word was repeated in Manon's mind over and over again.  

She was successful!  

:::::::  

Asterin had taken her place behind Manon and supported her in a sitting position. The witchling leaned against Manon's chest, wrapped in a blue blanket given by Corchan, and sucked greedily on Manon's breast. Manon couldn't say if she particularly liked breastfeeding, but she couldn't stop smiling. Especially since the little one's hand was clenched around her finger. As if afraid of her mother disappearing somewhere.  

Mother. Manon was now a mother. The mother of this small, fragile girl, whose gaze of eyes of different colors felt to see everything. Manon had thought she had already cried her tear ducts dry, but there seemed to be more and more tear somewhere.  

Asterin watched Manon's witchling over her shoulder. Manon sensed Asterin's quiet mixture of happiness and sadness. Manon knew Asterin was proud and happy for her, but at the same time she missed her own baby. By holding her daughter, Manon now knew better the pain Asterin had experienced after losing the opportunity to hold her witchling in her arms, even for a moment.  

The brief moment—when Asterin had washed Manon's blood off the little one's skin—had been painful, for Manon didn't know if her daughter was okay or not. Every little squeak had made Manon's pulse rise, and it had taken him a long time to calm down. It wasn't until her daughter was in her arms that Manon could relax.  

Thirteen had gathered around Manon and Asterin to watch the little one's first meal. No one said anything. They just sat quietly, in a protective circle. This is the child they would all protect. Until darkness would claim them. And even after that.  

"Well," Vesta finally broke the silence. Manon could hardly take her eyes off her baby to look at the red-haired witch. Vesta's eyes were still swollen and red from crying. Sorrel next to her tried her best to make the swelling go down. Vesta swallowed and improved her posture, "What are we going to call her?” Vesta looked at Manon questioningly. So did the others of the thirteen, turning to look at Manon, waiting for an answer.  

For a moment, Manon said nothing. She couldn't. Throughout her pregnancy, she had never stopped to think about what name to give her daughter. Now, holding the child in her arms, Manon didn't understand why she hadn't thought about it.  

She turned her attention to the daughter who had fallen asleep but was still eating. Name. She should name her daughter.  

Manon glanced around at the witches looking at her, and her gaze stopped at Asterin. Her brave second, who had fought alongside Manon for a hundred years. But even though Manon wanted her daughter to have her aunt's courage and blazing fire, she didn't think she could give her name to her daughter.  

Manon's gaze returned to the little one as she finally detached herself from her chest and curled up contentedly inside her blue blanket. Manon swallowed and parted her lips.  

And then she knew. She knew what her daughter's name would be.  

"Rina," Manon whispered, looking at her daughter. Her little one. Little Rina.  

"Rina," Asterin repeated. "Beautiful name."  

Sorrel took a breath and improved her posture. She put two fingers on her forehead and said: "Welcome to this world Rina Blackbeak. Daughter of Manon Blackbeak, heir to the Blackbeak clan and protege of thirteen. I swear to protect you with my life."  

Manon's throat choked as Sorrel lowered her fingers and gave Manon a quick smile. Asterin straightened her back behind Manon and lifted two fingers to her forehead. She repeated the oath. So did each of the Thirteen, with two fingers pressed to her forehead until only Manon remained.  

She pressed a gentle kiss into Rina's hair and whispered: “I swear I will protect and teach you. I swear I will do my best with you. I swear I will give my life to protect you.” She added in her mind: Rina Blackbeak Havilliard. My heir and Princess of Adralan.  

Rina Blackbeak slept without knowing anything about the world. She did not know that she was under the protection of the most skilled coven in all of Erlea. She did not know that her mother was the heir to the Blackbeaks. She didn't know she was a princess. She didn't know she was the key to change.  

Rina Blackbeak did not know that one day she would change the world to its foundations. For in that moment she was just happy, feeling the warmth and smell of her mother's body. She was safe, satisfied and loved.  

And that was enough.  

Everyone who had magic running through their veins felt something was different than before.  

In the camp in the woods, Glennis Corchan looked up to the stars, her blue eyes shining. Rhinannon felt in her chest, how fire of hope would intensify.  

The matron of the Blackbeaks felt how magic coursed rapidly through her body  

and disappeared out of the window of her study.  

Cresseda Blueblood raised her hands to sky, beginning a new prayer.  

Baba Yellowleag chose a new course for her coven.  

And in Adralan, Dorian Havilliard lifted his gaze from the papers front of him, when the curtains in front of the open balcony door swayed in a sudden gust of wind. The wind stirred the papers in front of the prince before subsiding, and Dorian could have sworn he heard a hoarfrost giggle in the air.  

In the dim spring night illuminated by the stars, the winds of change sang.  

Chapter Text

“When the world's not perfect, when the world's not kind 
If we have each other, then we'll both be fine 
I will be your mother, and I'll hold your hand 
You should know I'll be there for you.” 

Alec Benjamin 
If we have each other 

Manon had successfully led the Blackbeaks' most feared coven for a hundred years. She had tortured and slaughtered more men than she could remember. She had torn hearts from the chest of dozens of corcha witches. Still, Manon couldn't handel with her nearly two-week-old daughter. 

The first few days had been the worst when Manon's body hadn't produced enough milk. Listening to Rina's hunger cry had finally caused Manon to collapse into tears. Manon couldn't imagine a worse sound than his own daughter's crying when she couldn't do anything. Rina's crying had kept not only Manon but also the Witches of the Thirteen awake. 

Looking at their tired eyes and exhausted expressions had only made Manon feel more guilty for not being able to fulfill her mission. She should be able to feed her own daughter. What if Manon's body's reluctance to produce milk killed Rina?  

It wasn't until two and a half days later, thanks to the herbs Ghislaine brought, that Manon's body finally began to produce enough milk to feed Rina. 

After that, Rina had been nerve-wrackingly silent. She cried only out of discomfort, but otherwise she settled for other means of communication to get her message across. When she was hungry, Rina jerked the chest of Manon's shirt and, angry, she would bite anything she could capture in her little fist. Despite the fact that Rina did not even have teeth yet, the compression of the gums was firm. 

During the first week, Manon and Thirteen learned that Rina refused to sleep anywhere but on Manon's lap. Rina did agree to be held by Asterin and sometimes Vesta or Ghislaine, but usually she clung to her mother as if afraid she would disappear. The rest of Manon's coven was resolutely shunned by Rina. On the rare occasions Sorrel had held Rina, Rina had stared in her mother's direction the whole time as if asking: Are you serious?  

Rina had stared at Briar and Edda very suspiciously, as if she wasn't quite sure what they are. 

With Faline and Fallon, Rina had begun to squeak and twist. She seemed to be confused by two identical witches. Manon had suddenly snatched Rina back into her own arms. 

Rina had tried to bite Lin with her little pink gums. Lin had just laughed at it and said: “ It's good that she doesn't have iron teeth yet."  

Imogen’s Rina had stared at her for a very long time, as if considering what she thought of her. Eventually, she had started squeaking to announce that she wanted to be back in her mother's arms. 

Thea and Kaya seemed to confuse Rina in the same way Faline and Fallon did. Rina's eyesight was not yet fully developed, so she relied on her sense of smell to perceive her surroundings. Faline and Fallon's scents were almost identical, yet different. Thea and Kaya's scents, on the other hand, were so badly mixed that Rina couldn't tell which was which. 

Rina was almost as familiar with Asterin's smell and voice as Manon's. If Manon couldn't hold Rina, she agreed to stay in Asterin's arms for a while before wanting to go back to her mother. 

Ghislaine had been the first witch to hold Rina immediately after birth. Ghislaine's scent was also familiar, although Rina didn't trust her as much as she trusted Asterin. 

In Vesta's lap - if Rina agreed to go into anyone else's arms at all – Rina usually stayed the longest. She seemed fascinated by Vesta's red hair, and Rina always tried to touch and pull Vesta's free-hanging strands of hair. Although Rina liked to play, Vesta couldn't bear it long when Manon's daughter pulled her hair. 

Despite the fact that, in addition to Manon, there were other witches in whose hands Rina agreed to be, she did not want to sleep anywhere else. The witchling were clingy. Manon had slept a total of ten hours over the past two weeks. Her only hope of sleeping at night even for a moment was to put Rina to sleep in her arms, then hand her over to one of the Thirteen members. 

Rina usually started crying when she woke up in the arms of someone other than her mother. That, in turn, woke Manon up. Rina stopped crying as soon as she let Manon back into her arms. She then demandingly jerked the front of Manon's undershirt to signal that she was hungry. 

After feeding, Rina again fell asleep and the pattern repeated. 

Manon had never been so tired. She had never been so exhausted. But at the same time - she was happier than he had ever been. Just waking up in the morning – or at night - and seeing Rina's little sleeping figure sheltered in Manon's arms made her heart fill with happiness. Rina was healthy, satisfied and loved. 

Deep in a cave hidden by the forest, nothing else mattered. That cave was the world of Manon, her coven, and her daughter. Everything outside the forest felt unreal and distant. 

Years later, Manon exorcised forgetting the dark side of her life. That, she shut out the rest of the world completely. Perhaps things would have gone differently then. 

But in that bubble, Manon couldn't think clearly about anything but her daughter's well-being. 

::::::::: 

Rina slept tightly and comfortably in a blue blanket. She snorted softly and occasionally twisted off in her sleep. Sometimes her mouth made a slight movement, as if she were dreaming about eating. 

Had a beautiful sunny and warm day. Spring was rapidly turning into summer in the south. The snow had almost completely melted and the sun's light had attracted buds of green leaves from the trees. The good weather had attracted the Thirteen outdoors with the scents of spring and the sounds of the forest coming to life. 

Manon leaned against a fallen tree in a small clearing nearly a mile from their cave. Sorrel had announced in the morning that it was time for all Thirteen to start training and regain the strength they had lost in the winter. 

Manon watched calmly as Faline and Fallon threw the knife, recalling the correct throwing habit. Imogen and Ghislaine fenced. Edda and Briar knife fought. Thea and Kaya raced around the square. Vesta and Lin prticed in melee combat. Sorrel supervised the exercises, hands behind her back, black eyes attentive. She immediately pointed out if she noticed an error. 

Asterin stood near Manon, in reserve, guarding Manon and her sleeping daughter. Manon would have liked to say it was unnecessary, but knew it wasn't. Manon was tired, out of training, and had to hold her daughter, which deprived her of the opportunity to use her hands. 

Manon had still wanted to come along. The touch of the warm spring breeze on my face felt liberating and refreshing. 

Manon let her gaze wander from the practicing witches to Rina, who clenched a blue woolen braid in her fist. She had grown a lot in two weeks. Black hair was now thicker and more unruly than ever. They reminded Manon of a prince she didn't want to think about. 

"She looks like you,” Asterin's words awakened Manon of her thoughts. She looked to her side, to her second, who was leaning against a nearby tree with her arms folded on her chest. The handle of the sword hanging from the belt glistened in the light of the sun. 

"Look, huh?" Manon got suspicious and looked at her daughter. To her, Rina looked just like... from the prince Manon wasn't going to think of. Black unruly hair. Eyebrow arch. Wrinkles that form on the forehead... She looked... Him. 

“Manon,” Asterin said and came to sit on the fallen tree trunk on which Manon was leaning. "Rina has your eyes. I don't mean color," she added quickly, seeing Manon's raised eyebrow. "I mean the shape of the eyes. She has your mouth, your skin color, your nose, your damn cheekbones." 

Manon chuckled at Asterin's words and looked down at Rina. Now that Asterin had said... She was right. Rina did indeed have her cheekbones. “She's going to look just like you," Asterin continued, sliding to sit next to Manon on the lawn. “And she will crush many more innocent hearts." 

Asterin grinned at Manon and held out her hand questioningly. “You probably want to start practicing. I can hold Rina for that time." 

After a moment's hesitation - and, glancing at Rina's calm face  – Manon nodded. She handed Rina to Asterin, who greeted the girl with a gentle smile and swiped her black curls with her tanned fingers. 

Manon stood up, stretched her aching muscles, and walked over to Sorrel. Sorrel glanced at her as she stopped next to her triplet. “So you decided to start practicing,” Sorrel said, black eyes twinkling. “Rina is asleep and Asterin offered to babysit for a while,” Manon said, rolling her shoulders. She was about to start a normal melee exercise when she stopped to hesitate. 

"Where should I start?" Manon asked. Nine months earlier, Manon could not have imagined asking this question. The question was not a leader's challenge to the third in her coven. It was... Friend's question to a friend. Manon asked, without hesitation, what Sorrel thought was the best strategy to start defragmenting her body. The other thirteen had gotten exercise during these months. Manon's greatest exercise was walking around the cave with a large pregnancy belly. 

Sorrel squinted her eyes, thinking about Manon's question. She glanced quickly past Manon—toward Asterin, who was sitting in the shade with Rina in her arms - and a shadow of sorrow flashed across the third's face. 

Finally, she turned to meet Manon's gaze. "Let's start with basic fitness. Three laps around the square." 

Manon raised her eyebrows. "Three?" 

Sorrel crossed her arms on her chest. “It exhausts you completely. I won't you to push up because breast milk, but you could still try pulling a chin-up." 

Manon nodded. Although she was annoyed by Sorrel's words, Manon listened to her. Sorrel had helped Asterin recover as well...after it all. 

So she started with three laps around the square. Already in the second round she felt like throwing up and in the third round she almost stumbled. Manon was indeed in a state of disrepair. Sorrel looked in her direction with a small grin on her face, as if to say: I told you.  

She then ordered that Manon should start running the same amount every morning. Manon was spared any chin-up, as Rina woke up and screamed to express her displeasure with Asterin. Manon was annoyed to see how relieved she was by the distraction. Tomorrow she'd be doing those damn chin-up! 

:::::: 

It was the second night of the third week. The sun had gone down long ago, and Rina was lying in exhilaration on Manon's pad. The little one was wearing a dress made of white fabric that Faline had bought a week ago after visiting in the village with Fallon and Ghislaine. At the same time, they had also brought a bag of apples into the cave, which Manon still ate, despite the fact that she no longer coveted them in the same way as she did during her pregnancy. 

Apples were the safest to eat. A few days ago, Manon had eaten game for the first time in many months. The taste had made her almost purr with satisfaction. The meat had been carefully fried and Ghislaine – who liked to show off her herbal knowledge – had even found spices in the forest. Although Manon's body no longer rejected meat — and he could eat it like she used to — Rina had cried all night because of stomach pain. 

Manon hadn't touched game since. 

Manon had ventured to eat some fish earlier in the day to see how Rina would react. So far, it seemed that the salmon Lin caught had only made Rina hyperactive. She bowed happily and stretched out her arms towards Asterin, who had bent over her, muttering to her in a gentle voice, while tickling the soft soles of Rina's feet. 

Rina squealed happily and flailed here and there with her little fists. Manon lay on her side a short distance away, leaning her elbows on the ground and watching her daughter and cousin play. If Manon had been sensible, she would have tried to sleep, but Manon didn't want to miss a moment while Rina was awake. 

Ghislaine sat a short distance away, with her sword by her side and her book propped up against her knees. Manon, however, noticed that the witch's gaze drifted from the page of the book to them. A small smile played with her lips. 

Sorrel and Imogen sat casually next to the embers of the campfire playing cards. They were playing over who would go hunting tomorrow. Ghislaine had already covered the other two and had been spared the trouble of floundering in the rainy forest. 

Thea and Kayaa didn't seem to mind the weather. The two of them had slipped into the woods shortly after dinner, while most of the rest of the Thirteen had decided to go village. Manon had sensed the restlessness gathering in her witches and urged– Or rather, commanded - they try to relax. Vesta had nothing against relaxation. 

She had gone with Lin, the demon twins, and the Shadows to the village to drink and knock down the men. Manon had told them not to kill, but she wasn't sure if she needed to. Not even Felina or Fallon seemed to be in the killing mood. 

Even before they left, Asterin had ordered the whole group to wash before returning to the cave, because: “ We don't want to traumatize Rina any more than necessary."  

The comment was greeted with laughter and Vesta showed Asterin with a vulgar hand gesture. 

Imogen and Sorrel didn't want to go along, and Manon didn't expect anything else from Ghislaine. Ghislaine had always enjoyed her books best. Men were at the bottom of her entertainment list. 

Imogen and Sorrel again... Manon had a hunch that they probably would have gone along if she wasn't still so vulnerable. 

Asterin hadn't left Manon during her entire pregnancy, and Manon wasn't surprised when she stayed away when the rest of the group left for the village. She seemed to enjoy playing with Rina a lot more. Manon was secretly pleased that Asterin had not left. 

She could rest herself, but Rina wouldn't get bored. 

Rina squealed in joy as Asterin softly tickled the soles of her feet. Her hands flailed like trying to fly. Large eyes of different colors aligned with Asterin's face, as if she were trying to recognize them.  

"She should go to bed soon,” Manon said quietly, attracting Asterin's attention. Rina also reacted to her mother's voice and turned her head, looking for Manon with her gaze. When the little one noticed her, Rina's eyes clearly began to shine. Manon knew it was too early, but she could have sworn Rina would smile. Suddenly, Asterin was no longer interesting, and all her attention went to finding her mother. 

Asterin glanced at Manon knowingly and let go of Rina's legs as the witchling began to reach for Manon's voice. "I think she miss her mother," Asterin stated, as she watched as Rina tried to lift her head off the blanket and reach her mother. 

Manon sat up with a sigh and shook her stiffened muscles. Her breasts ached. It would also be a good idea to feed Rina quickly and then try to put her to sleep in her arms. Rina would probably sleep for a couple of hours before waking up to eat again. 

"I just talked," Manon pointed out and smiled at Rina, who coo happily when she heard her mother's voice. And then she tried to turn on her side, as if tired of waiting for her to get to her mother. "Three-faced mother!" Asterin was startled when Rina got on her side, but stomped back on her back to the ground. Rina's frowned with embarrassment and irritation. She tried again. Without success. 

"Understood," Manon said quickly, before Rina hurt herself. She grabbed Rina in her arms before she could make a third attempt to turn on her stomach. 

"What's going on there?" Ghislaine shouted from her seat, her voice clearly worrying. "Is everything okay?" 

Sorrel and Imogen had finished their card games, frightened by Asterin's exclamation. “Everything is okay," Manon reassured, as Rina began to jerk the front of her undershirt. "Rina was just trying to turn on her stomach." 

"Isn't she a little too young for that?” Sorrel asked, glancing uncertainly towards Ghislaine. Manon laid Rina down beside her on the pad and pulled her shirt off her aching breast. After a morning run, she had loosened the bandages around her breasts that prevented milk from messing up her only shirt. 

Rina grabbed Manon's chest hungry and pressed close as she began to eat. Ghislaine slowly closed the book and leaned her chin on it. “Rina is only now starting to be strong enough to hold her head. But she should not be able to convert until he is three months old." 

Imogen looked at her cards, swear, and picked up a couple of new ones from the deck. “We knew Rina was precocious," she pointed out and lowered her card to the ground. Sorrel smiled when she saw Imogen's cards. Sorrel had a straight flush. Imogen sighed, accepting her defeat, and turned towards Manon and Asterin. "Rina is not a normal child. Not even a witchling. I wouldn't be surprised if she started walking while others her age were still crawling." 

This was a lot of talk from the often silent Imogen. Sorrel gathered the cards into a deck and slipped the deck into her bag before also turning towards Manon, who was feeding Rina, and Asterin, who was sitting next to them. 

There was an unusually uncertain look in Sorrel's black eyes, as if she wanted to ask something. She glanced quickly towards Ghislaine and Imogen. Ghislaine nodded encouragingly, while Imogen shrugged her shoulders. Sorrel sighed and turned towards Manon. "Who is Rina's father, Manon?" 

The question came so suddenly that Manon was unable to restrain her reaction. Her whole body stiffened. Fortunately, Rina didn't care about her mother's sudden excitement. She continued to eat, already half asleep. 

Manon forced herself to breathe calmly and relax her muscles. If Rina fell asleep next to her, it would be progress. “How so?" Manon said and changed positions before facing the black eyes of her thrid. Manon sensed the excitement emanating from Asterin. 

Sorrel took a deep breath and – without glancing at the other two witches – said, "I am, or well, we've been wondering – Rina's eyes. And the fact that during your pregnancy you could not eat meat and that Rina could not stand the amount that is transmitted to her with breast milk. I just wonder if Rina inherited qualities from her father that we should know about?" 

Manon sensed Ghislaine and Imogen's curiosity. She felt Asterin's excitement. Rina was still eating, not yet completely asleep. Manon looked down at her daughter and thought about Sorrel's question. Had Rina inherited anything that Thirteen should know about? 

"It's hard to say at this point,” Manon confined herself to saying, without really answering Sorrel's question. Sorrel sighed loudly. "That is, there is a chance that she inherited something?” she asked. Manon glanced up and saw Sorrel's brows furrowed. There was nothing but concern in her triplet's gaze, which calmed the protective instinct awakened inside Manon. 

Manon forced herself to nod. It was possible that Rina had inherited something from Dorian. It was the first time in a couple of weeks that he even agreed to think about that name. Should... should she tell her coven who Rina's father was? Who could Rina be? Who she was.  

Adralan's bastard princess. 

Manon ran her fingers along her black curls, letting her gaze rest on Rina's calm face. Her eyes were half open. She still didn't sleep. 

Before Manon could decide whether to tell the witches in the cave about her worst mistake, she heard voices from outside the cave. Manon raised herself more upright. Asterin took her gaze off Sorrel and focused her gaze over her shoulder at the cave doorway. 

The curtain was pulled aside and Vesta walked in, her hair messed up, but her face with a satisfied expression. She threw her broom  in the same pile with other before removing her cloak, which had soaked in the drizzle. “It did good,” Vesta said calmly and leapt across the cave onto her own sleeping pad. 

She was followed by Faline, Fallon, Edda, Briar, and Lin at the stern. “I didn't expect you to return before morning,” Asterin said, watching with her gaze as the band of witches lowered their brooms into the same pile as the others. They took off their robes and scattered around the cave on their sleeping pads. 

"That's how we were supposed to be originally,” Faline said, rubbing her forehead, looking like her head ached. “Until we ran into three Yellowlegs in a pub." 

The atmosphere of the whole cave was electrifying. Asterin stood up, as did Sorrel, Imogen, and Ghislaine. Manon lifted Rina off the ground, waking her up completely. The little one cried out in confusion before Manon pressed him against her chest. Yellowlegs! Here? 

"What happened?" Asterin snapped and took a firmer position on the ground. The demon twins glanced towards Vesta, who had begun brushing her damp red hair. Noticing the gaze of others, she put down the brush, waved her hair on her back, and said: “I suppose I noticed them first,” Vesta began. “Three Yellowlegs, older than us, entered the tavern. I noticed them when I descended from upstairs." 

That is, Vesta had lay someone before the witches of the other clan had hit the scene. “They didn't notice me,” Vesta said, answering a question Asterin hadn't had time to ask yet. "I hid before they saw me. Because of the smell of the pub, I don't think they smelled any of us." 

"I was in the corner of the pub playing cards with a couple of merchants. I noticed the Yellowlegs as soon as they came in," Lin reported, while pulling a leather bag off her shoulder. “Moving around would have attracted attention, so I stayed still. I kept playing as if nothing had happened. And it's good that he continued, because I won," Lin added at the end, giving herself a small smug grin. 

Asterin nodded and turned towards the twins and the Shadows. Faline and Fallon glanced at each other. Then they shrugged their shoulders at the same time. “We saw them when they came out," Faline explained. "We were in the alley opposite the inn." 

"Doing what?” Sorrel asked, crossing her arms to her chest. Fallon glared towards the third irritably. “We didn't kill anyone, if you ask it. We just grabbed a couple of boys from the pub and took them down an alley. If you want a detailed report on what it was like with them, I can tell..." 

"That's enough," Sorrel said, her face blushing. “That is enough. So you saw the Yellowlegs when they came out. What did they do? Did you hear what they said?" 

Faline rolled her eyes, looking irritated, as if wanting to point out that they had had something else in mind at that moment. Instead, she said. "No.” Fallon next to her shook her head to indicate that she didn't know either. 

Sorrel sighed and Asterin bit her lower lip nervously. She glanced towards Manon, who pressed Rina tightly against her chest, iron nails just under her skin, ready to come out. But as long as she had Rina in her arms, she kept her nails inside. 

"Edda and Briar," Manon said, raising her voice so that all the witches moving nervously in the cave could hear. She glanced quickly at Rina—who was staring at her with wide eyes—before saying: "Do you have anything to report?" 

Manon changed hand whereby she hold Rina's small body. Rina was unusually silent, reacting to the tension of the cave. 

Edda and Briar looked at each other gravely, hands behind their backs as if negotiating quickly which one would tell what. Finally, Edda took a step forward and improved her posture. “As soon as we noticed the witches of the Yellowlegs, we left to shade them," she said in a serious voice. “They went to the bar, ordered beer, and sat down to drink,” Edda reports. Briar nodded softly, confirming her cousin's words. "So what?" Asterin asked frantically. "What were they talking about? How many are they?" 

Edda and Briar glanced at each other worriedly. This time Briar spoke. "There is a whole coven here." 

The atmosphere in the cave changed again and Rina groaned with discomfort. Manon took her eyes off the Shadows to look at her daughter, whose big eyes were wide open as if the little one was frightened. Manon swallowed, forcing a smile on her lips. Although it tightened the sides of her mouth, it calmed Rina down. 

"A whole coven," Asterin's quiet words drew Manon's attention back to her second, who was standing with her hands clenched in fists before the Shadows. "Did you know... Do you know why they're here?" 

"They talked about it," Briar said quickly. “Apparently, they are on their way through the country from farther south. One of them complained about long flights and the other was dissatisfied with what our small village had to offer." 

So... Manon's thoughts got sidetracked. It was now their village. Part of their territory. “They are a transit on the way," Edda concluded the report. “They talked about how they would have to wake up early tomorrow so they could get back to the Yellowegs headquarters before the summer." 

Manon did not know where the headquarters of the Yellowlegs was located, but believed it to be to the north, just like the Blackbeak keep. Manon nodded her head slightly. She took a deep breath and was startled when a small hand grabbed her finger. Manon looked down and saw Rina looking at her, looking confused. A small hand squeezed Manon's finger, as if trying to comfort her. Her eyes tingled. 

Manon pressed a light kiss to Rina's forehead. Safe. She would be safe. The Yellowlegs didn't know they were here. They didn't know about Rina and couldn't tell Manon's grandmother. She would never know... 

"Get someone Thea and Kaya,” Manon commanded, raising her eyes to her coven. "We need to talk about what we're doing now. Tomorrow someone will have to go and inquire what the situation is in the village. I hope this doesn't draw us unwanted attention." 

Nods and mutterings of approval. Manon sighed and looked at her daughter again. She really should start sleeping. But Rina seemed too restless to sleep. 

A pair of boots appeared in Manon's field of vision and when she looked up, Manon saw Lin. Other witches in the cave had begun talking to each other about the situation. Faline and Briar had disappeared into the woods looking for Thea and Kaya. Manon vaguely wished they were at least partially clothed when the Shadow and another demon twin found them. 

"Now what?" Manon asked as quietly as possible, rocking Rina at the same time, hoping the little one would realize she was falling asleep. The girl stubbornly kept her eyes open. Lin knelt in front of Manon and laid down her bag next to her. “As I said,” Lin said quietly, so as not to distract the attention of others, "I won in a card game. First of all, a lot of money, but also something else that might be useful." 

Manon raised one corner and watched curiously as Lin opened her bag and pulled out something black... and cuddly looking. “What is that?” Manon asked, taking it from Lin's hand. It had a large gray beak, as well as long hanging gray things resembling legs. Otherwise, it was black. And surprisingly soft. 

"One of those merchants carried that with her," Lin explained, nodding toward something in Manon's hand. “It was reportedly his son's toy." 

Toy? Manon looked at the creature in her hand. She guess it was some animal. 

"And he put it at bet in a card game?” Manon asked, waving a crocheted creature - a bird? - on her hand. Lin shrugged. "He was badly at loss." 

Manon chuckled softly and looked at the stuffed animal more closely. It wasn't very fancy, but there was something about it... something. "I immediately thought of Rina," Lin continued. "I also realized then that we don't have any toys for her." 

Manon felt her smile freeze. It was true. She hadn't even thought that Rina might need toys. "We didn't have any toys either," Manon remarked half-heartedly. 

Lin smiled sadly. "We had wooden swords. And I have...” Lin glanced nervously over her shoulder before bending down to say quietly to Manon. "Don't tell anyone about this, but my mom made me a little doll when I was four. When... When she died, I didn't abel to away from throwing it away. It's still in my closet, under my underwear." 

Manon looked at the witch on her knees in front of her. Lin had always been so ferocious, deadly, cruel... But at the same time, she had a doll given by her mother in her wardrobe. Manon's grandmother would have torn it to pieces if she had found out. A new smile crept into the corners of Manon's mouth. “Thank you, Linnea," she whispered softly. Manon's throat choked and she had to fight not to start tears. She blamed it on fatigue.  

Lin licked her lips and placed her hands on her knees. She tilted her head, pensive and... looking sad. “I haven't heard it for a long time,” Lin finally whispered. Manon realized that she had mistakenly used Lin's full name. She had never made that mistake, but Lin... She didn't look angry or embarrassed. 

Instead, Lin looked infinitely sad, as if Mano's words had torn open an old wound. “Only my mother called me Linnea. Not even Imogen...” Lin shook her head and stood up. "I think Thea and Kaya came," Lin muttered. Then she left, leaving Manon on her pad with a strange stuffed animal and her daughter. 

Manon had to swallow a couple of extra times before she could control her crying. She took a shaking breath and turned her attention to Rina. Whose attention was on the stuffed animal Manon was holding in her hand. Manon glanced at it once, and then looked again at the intense gaze of Rina's big eyes. “You must want this," Manon said, handing the stuffed animal to Rina. 

“Hugh ,” Rina said and grabbed the beak of a strange bird-looking stuffed animal. She clamped her little fingers tightly around it and pulled the stuffed animal into her arms. It was almost half Rina's height. 

“Hugh,” Rina said again, pushing one overlong leg into her mouth. “Hugo?” Manon asked, wondering if her two-week-old daughter had really named her stuffed animal Hugo? 

“ Hugh,” Rina confirmed, spitting the bird's gray leg out of her mouth. Manon chuckled softly. She laid Rina down next to her on the pad so she could pull down his undershirt properly and take off her pants. 

When she turned to look at Rina, she had fallen asleep, occasionally sucking on Hugo's beak in her sleep. 

After that, Rina agreed to sleep anywhere, as long as Hugo the raven was within reach. 

:::::::: 

A soft shake in her shoulder caused Manon to wake up. She blinked her eyes open and turned her head to see the Sorrel cave bent over her in the dim light. “Time to practice,” Sorrel whispered, lest she disturb the rest of the Thirteen, whose snuffle and muffled snoring filled the cave. It was only dawn and even though Manon just wanted to keep sleeping, she forced herself to sit up. Yawning, Manon groped beside her, looking for a small shape... It could not be found. 

In an instant, Manon was wide awake, her gaze raking the cave. Rina had slept next to Manon for the first part of the night until she woke up to eat. After feeding, however, Rina hadn't fallen asleep again. Asterin had taken Rina so Manon could continue sleeping. But Asterin slept beside her on her pad. Where... 

Then Manon's gaze fell on Ghislaine, who was reading by the light of the lantern, leaning her back against the cave wall and supporting Rina with her hand, who was sleeping against her chest wrapped in a blue blanket. Noticing Manon watching, Ghislaine smiled reassuringly and pulled the blue blanket aside enough for Manon to see Rina's calm, sleeping face. Hugo's flattened beak was visible from under the little one's head. 

Rina was now almost a month and a half old. She had grown a lot and started to make much more contact with her mother and the Thirteen. Rina was more awake during the day, which meant that Thirteen and Manon had to find ways to entertain her. Asterin and Vesta did it best. And Manon... Rina was happy if she could only make eye contact with her mother. 

Rina grew wildly fast, and it wouldn't be long before she started crawling, then be on all fours, and finally running. At that point, Manon would have real problems. Unfortunately, seeing the passage of time in Rina reminded Manon of the promise. The Corchans would like to see Rina in half months. Manon didn't know what to do or what to expect. But she knew she would keep that promise. She owed Corchans, whether she wanted it or not. 

Manon threw the blankets aside and began to dress. Undershirt, pants, socks, boots... witch leathers that still felt a little too tight. As she pulled on her leather jacket, her undershirt rose slightly up, revealing a strip of her lower abdomen. The faint morning light revealed a darker pigment line crossing Manono's navel. Linea negra had appeared towards the end of pregnancy and was still clearly visible. Like a memory inscribed on her skin of a change in her body. 

Manon pulled the undershirt over her stomach and then pulled the leather jacket over her shoulders. Quietly, careful not to wake up the other witches, Manon and Sorrel left the cave. It was still cool outside, and the morning dew gathered in the grass seeped into Manon's trouser legs and boots. The first rays of the sun shone through the leaves of the trees, creating green shadows on the ground. 

They walked quietly through the awakening forest. Somewhere there was the chirping of a bird. On the other hand, rustling as a squirrel climbed up along the tree trunk. Sorrel led Manon through the forest to the same square where Thirteen had trained four weeks ago. 

At that time, she could hardly run three laps. Now she had six or seven on a good day. Sorrel had begun Manon's rehabilitation for endurance, and they had progressed slowly to muscle condition that could take longer to recover than Manon wanted to admit. While Rina was still small and dependent on her mother, Manon wouldn't move as much as she used to. 

They started training with a normal run around the square. Eight rounds. New record. After that, they switched to training the arm muscles. Manon couldn't push up because of her sore and milk-filled breasts. Depending on how much Rina had eaten that night, Manon might have pulled a few chin in the morning. 

Manon's hands ached when she finally fell off a tree branch. Ten chins. It was pitifully little. Thanks to his immortality, Manon's muscle strength and endurance improved faster than in humans. Still, recovery was painfully slow and tested Manon's patience. She hadn't even realized how much the pregnancy had taken a toll on her strength. 

"Good," Sorrel said, arms folded on her chest. Manon snorted and bent down to take support from her knees. She tremblingly drew air into her lungs and then blew it away. Manon straightened her back and swung her plait on her back. “I used to be able to pull fifty chins. Ten is pitifully few,” Manon remarked, unable to keep irritation out of her voice. 

Her body was a weapon. Had always been. Manon had trained and maintained her strength, just as her sword was sharp. Such a deterioration was... Manon had a hard time accepting how weak her body had become. 

Sorrel nodded her head slightly. She had left her brown hair open that morning, something Manon had never seen her do before. Her hair flowed wavy down her slender back. As the sun's rays touched them, Manon seemed to distinguish shades of gold. 

"Your strength will return," Sorrel said calmly. “You've only been training for four weeks, and you're in better shape than Asterin was then." 

Sorrel fell silent, as if realizing that she had said too much. Manon turned her gaze away, towards the forest and the sun slowly rising above it. Asterin hadn't said exactly what had happened since she decided to get out of bed and fight. She hadn't told Manon how she trained to restore her strength. 

Manon hadn't realized before –didn't really realize - that Sorrel had helped her too. The light of the sun attracted the petals of small flowers growing on the ground to open with their rays. They released a sweet, gentle scent into the air, which the wind caught and carried with it through the forest. 

"What was it like?" Manon asked when she could no longer contain her curiosity. “What was it like with Asterin?" 

Manon wanted to know, but wouldn't have been surprised if Sorrel hadn't answered. Manon understood today the importance of loyalty and the value of secrets. Some things were just not meant to be heard by everyone. 

For a long moment, Sorrel was silent, looking into the distance, as if going back in her mind to those days eighty years ago. Manon already assumed she wouldn't answer when Sorrel suddenly opened her mouth. "Asterin was... angry. And sad. Very sad, but she turned it into anger. And out of anger she later forged indifference and loyalty to you, from which she built her armor," she began. 

Manon turned toward her third only to see the pain distorting Sorrel's face. As she spoke again, the words carried the weight of old sorrow. “It was torture to watch her just lie still for days. Did not eat. Barely slept. Completely silent. But it was even more painful to see her get up and start fighting," Sorrel closed her eyes and took a breath. “Asterin trained obsessively. She wanted her body and mind to do anything other than remember what was happening in that tower. She rarely slept. Many nights I woke up and saw her staring into the fire, like she was looking for something. I didn't know what to do." 

Sorrel was silent. She swallowed a few times and then turned to meet Manon's gaze. “Asterin hasn't been this happy in the last eighty years,” In the words of the third, eyes full of fervent hope. "Asterin has been pushing her sorrow and pain into the background of her mind for years. She has been ignoring herself for just as long. But now... now. Asterin has begun to get over the loss of her daughter. And it's because of you, Manon." 

Manon looked into her third's eyes and wondered how much emotion Sorrel had hidden beneath her rocky exterior. How many things she had kept silent about. How many sorrows buried. 

"It's because of Rina," Manon said. Saying the name out loud and knowing that who the name belonged to was Manon's own witchling filled her with warm feelings. “Without her, we would still hunt corchans and I would obey my grandmother in everything." 

Sorrel chuckled. She looked at the sun climbing over the treetops. “Seven months ago we were Thirteen. The most feared coven of the Blackbeaks, known for their ruthlessness and for not making mistakes." 

Manon smiled thoughtfully. The sun's rays shone on her white hair, making it glow, like snow in daylight. “We are still Thirteen," Manon sanoi ja kallisti päätään kohti sinistä taivasta. “Kolmetoista ja Rina,” Sorrel huomautti.  

Manon nodded. "Thirteen and Rina. Until darkness claims us. And after that." 

Sorrel looked at Manon and Manon looked at her third. There was a smile on both of their lips. "I thought we could start melee drills today," Sorrel said, taking off her cloak. 

She tossed it to the ground and positioned herself in front of Manon with her back straight. She clenched her hands into fists and raised them to her chest. Manon did the same. “Watch out my breasts," Manon warned. “I'd like to be able to feed Rina without it hurting too much." 

Sorrel's grin was subdued but boisterous. “I will do my best," she promised, then lunged at Manon. Manon managed to dodge the attack, but not Sorrel's leg, which she used to sweep Manon's legs out from under her. Manon fell to the ground, the air from her lungs emptying. Sorrel smiled smugly as she helped him up from the ground. 

"We have a lot to work on," she just said, without commenting on Manon's otherwise lousy straightening. Manon snorted and raised her fist in front of her again. "Again." she commanded. 

::::::  

The sun was already halfway to the top of the sky when Manon landed her first blow through Sorrel's shield. Sorrel groaned, but before Manon could strike again, Sorrel's punch sank into her side and caused Manon to lose her balance. She was fucking rusty! 

Manon stood up, grimacing in pain and holding her side. There would be an bruises on her body after this. “It's getting better all the time," Sorrel said with satisfaction. Manon sighed groaningly, but forced himself to pull herself together. She relaxed her muscles before raising her fist back in front of her chest. Manon's shirt was glued to sweaty skin and she had to concentrate so her legs wouldn't tremble. 

Sorrel raised one brow and crossed her arms over her chest. “I feel like that's enough for this morning," she said calmly. "You must not strain yourself too much." 

Manon sighed in frustration, but still let her hands fall out of the defensive position. Sorrel was right. Still, she would have liked to continue. 

Manon wiped the hem of her shirt from the sweat on her forehead before heading her steps to the edge of the square, where she left her witchleather. She had had to take off her protective gear when the air had warmed up. Sorrel followed Manon and picked up a bottle of water from among the discarded clothes. She drank for a long time before handing the bottle to Manon. Manon sipped cold water and wiped the corner of her mouth on the back of her hand, before she gave bottle back. “Thank you," Manon said, glancing at the sky. The sun was shining high. She hope Rina hadn't woken up yet. “I must return to the cave before Rina wakes up,” Manon said aloud, picking up her leather jacket from the ground. "She's definitely hungry." 

Sorrel emptied the contents of the water bottle down her throat and glanced at the edge of the square. She put down her bottle, a small smile on her face. “No need," she said, nodding toward the treeline. Manon followed Sorrel's gaze and turned her head to see over her shoulder. 

Three figures stepped out from between the trees. First came Lin, with a sword on her belt, and last Vesta, her hair still in a mess after sleep. And between them walked Asterin, in whose arms was a writhing witchling wrapped in a blue blanket, stretching her head as if she were looking something. 

Rina twisted and turned so much that Asterin found it difficult to hold the child in her arms. There was a patient smile on Asterin's face as he restrained Rina's struggling little body. 

Manon took off, not immediately realizing it herself. “What are you doing here?" Manon asked as she hurried towards the comers. Asterin corrected her grip on Rina, who, hearing Manon's voice, had tried to roll out of Asterin's hands. 

"Rina woke up half an hour ago and has been looking for you everywhere ever since. She found a your cloak. There's quite a lot of drool in it now," Asterin narrated, flashing Manon a mischievous little grin. Manon had left her red cloak in the cave in the morning, knowing she wouldn't need it.For some reason, Rina loved the red fabric of the cloak and every time she saw it, she tried to grab it and stuff it into her mouth. It's like she imagines the color red tastes like something. 

Manon smiled at the image of Rina pulling her cloak, so stretched out her hand towards Asterin, who immediately placed Rina in her arms. Manon pulled Rina's little body against her chest and flicked the black curls away from her eyes. “So you have been causing problems all morning,” Manon muttered softly as her daughter's eyes widened with joy at the sight of her mother. 

Rina grabbed Manon's finger with her small hands and squeezed it, as if making sure she was real. And then she tried to bite with her little gums Manon's finger. “I see," Manon sighed, still smiling, pulling her fingers out of Rina's grasp. While the others stood guard in the square, knowing they would have to wait a while, Manon sat down on a fallen tree trunk and lifted her shirt. 

Rina grabbed her breast greedily, as if she had no food for a long time. “Real drama queen," Manon snorted as a satisfied expression spread across Rina's face. 

Asterin—who had remained standing right next to Manon—now squatted in front of a tree trunk. “Is there any new information about Yellowlegs?" Manon asked, keeping her eyes on Rina. 

Asterin shook her head. "They haven't come back," she said and laid her soothing hand on Manon's knee. Manon nodded, her expression tight. If they had come back, she would have heard about it already. 

Ever since Yellowegs visited, Manon has been paranoid. And she wasn't the only one. Manon hadn't allowed anyone to bring Rina out of the cave for two weeks after Vesta and her team reported the Yellowlegs. That was yet another reason why Manon wanted her strength and combat skills back as quickly as possible. 

Thirteen had been reluctant to let Manon and Sorrel out of the cave alone during the first few days for morning exercises. Two or three other witches had always gone along to guard so they wouldn't be caught off guard. The shadows had been conducting reconnaissance in the village and in the forest, investigating what the Yellowlegs had done or where they were headed. 

Edda and Briar had found a place to camp on the edge of the village. The other coven had not preyed on or killed a single person. The camp had been standing for one night, after which it had been dismantled and the witches of the Yellowleg had continued their journey. Still, Manon hadn't been able to relax. The Yellowlegs had been too close. Too close to Manon's secret. 

It should not happen again. Ghislaine had cautiously opened her mouth and suggested that they might want to continue their journey. Look for another place to settle. 

Manon had thought about it. Leaving. But finally said they would have to wait until Rina was at least two months old before Thirteen would start considering another trip. The reason was not only the promise made to the corchans. Manon didn't want to risk the long flight hurting Rina in any way, and secondly... the cave had become important to Manon. That cave had provided her and her witches with shelter from frost and winter. It was in that cave that Rina had cried for the first time. 

Manon knew they should leave. That, they should look for a better hiding place if... if they intend to stay hidden from Manon's grandmother and the rest of Balckbeaks. 

Returning was not an option. No more after Rina's birth. Rina could never be taken to the Blackbeak keep. 

Manon sighed and looked up at the sky. Everything was calm and peaceful. Still, Manon felt like a storm was coming. A devastating and powerful storm, the outcome of which would be impossible to predict. 

Rina bit Manon's nipple, waking her mother from her thoughts. Manon looked down at Rina, and she shed her doubts like a heavy cloak. Pushed it into the back of her mind. 

Everything was fine. In a few weeks - Once the Corchans were met - they could move on and find a new place that would offer them shelter from the outside world. 

::::::: 

The summer heat hit like a tsunami. The cave was the only place where sweat didn't glue clothes to their skin or sunlight didn't burn their skin. 

Due to the heat, the Thirteen Days developed a rhythm that had been lacking in winter. They woke up early, just after sunrise, to practice ther fighting skill outdoors. At noon, they retreated to a cave for shelter or took a dip in the river to cool down. 

After Manon tried to go into the water for the first time with Rina, Rina had screamed like a hyena until she realized she liked water. 

After a moment of looking around suspiciously and splashing water with her hand, Rina had begun to enjoy herself. She had leaned against Manon's collarbone and went into Asterin's arms without resistance when Manon accepted Fallon's swimming challenge. Asteri and turned Rina so that the little one could watch as her mother swam in competition against another demon twin. Rina hadn't understood what was happening in front of her, but she was screaming and shouted louder with joy than any of the Thirteen. 

After Manon won—narrowly, as Fallon pointed out—she had grabbed Rina in her arms and asked did her daughter if she could see how fast her mother swam. Rina had replied with a smile. With the first real smile. A wide grin had reached from ear to ear. 

Seeing it had brought tears to Manon's eyes. How could something so joyful and vibrant have come from her? 

Two months had passed impossibly fast. Rina had grown a lot. She learned even faster. The night before, Manon had tried to lay Rina on her stomach on her sleeping pad, Rina was determined - But with poor results - tried to get move. Rina had cried out in frustration at not being able to crawl forward or back an inch. 

The past two months had been the best of Manon's long life. When she got to watch her daughter grow and develop at breakneck speed. This... However, the meeting had been like a shadow over happiness. And although Manon agreed with Asterin that the corchans were not going to hurt Rina, the future still made her nervous. 

So when the day Manon had known was coming came, Manon's stomach twisted the same way it did early in her pregnancy. Her instincts, reason, and education warred with each other inside her head. Instincts told to retreat, training commanded to kill... Reason urged us to keep the promise they made to the Corchans. 

For a long time, education and reason had been one and the same. Manon was trained to listen to her reason. More than her instincts. More than emotions that she should repress. 

Manon had always followed her wits and she did so now. 

The sun had not yet risen when Manon quietly rose from her pad. Rina slept beside her, wrapped in her blanket, Hugo the raven's leg in its tight grip. 

Manon dressed quickly, making as little noise as possible. Pants, leather armor, boots, belt... Manon hung her sword on her Wind-Claver belt. It felt familiar and foreign at the same time. Sorrel had decided two mornings ago that Manon was fit enough to begin fencing practice. 

The handle of the blade of the wind had felt familiar in Manon's hand. And when she swung the sword for the first time in seven months, she noticed how easily the old patterns could be read by her. The weight of the sword on the belt was reassuring. Manon would be able to defend herself. 

Manon waved her red cloak on her back and glanced around the cave. Everyone was sleeping. No one had woken up to the sounds Manon was making. Manon swallowed and turned her attention to Rina, who slept as soundly as everyone else. 

Cautiously, Manon bent down to remove Hugo from Rina's fist. Although it was Rina's favorite toy, Manon didn't plan to take it with her to a meeting with corchans. 

Rina's frowned as Hugo's leg disappeared from her grasp. Luckily, she relaxed again after a while when Manon lifted her from the pad into her arms. Rina let out a small sigh and curled up closer to Manon's familiar scent. 

Manon gave a gentle kiss to Rina's forehead before slipping out of the cave, careful not to arouse her coven. 

Asterin stood guard in front of the cave door, with a worried expression on her face. When Manon stepped beside her, squinting her eyes at the rising sun, Asterin moved. “Are you sure about this?" she asked quietly, careful not to wake Rina. Worry rang out in her voice, sharp as a knife. 

Manon glanced at her. The truth was, Manon wasn't sure. Not at all sure. But she knew... She knew she had to do this. “I'll keep the promise," Manon said calmly, tightening her grip on Rina. Rina snorted in her sleep. 

Asterin glanced nervously at the sleeping witchling before turning her eyes back to Manon. "Maybe I should come along." 

Manon shook her head even before Asterin finished her sentence. “They don't want anyone else there. And you have to stay here to reassure the Thirteen if they wake up and find out I'm not there. I don't want to cause unnecessary panic." 

Or explain where she went, Manon added in her mind. Asterin still looked insecure. “What if something happens to you?" she asked, baring her teeth. “How should I know if you're in trouble?" 

"If I haven't returned by the time the sun rises over the treetops, follow my tracks to the meeting point,” Manon said, doing her best to be calm. Asterin didn't need to know how nervous this meeting making her. 

"What if they don't show up?" The question was more desperate than a challenge. Manon gave Asterin a calm look. “Yes, they will come," she said. The Corchans knew their daily routine. They knew when Manon would leave the cave alone with Rina to fulfill Asterin's promise. 

Manon would be allowed to decide where to meet. Corchans should just show up. And they knew how to do it. Appearing out of nowhere. 

"Alright," Asterin said after a long and oppressive silence for a moment. “But if you haven't returned by the deadline, I'll follow. And I'll take the Thirteen with me." 

Manon didn't want to involve her coven in the mess she was in, but she knew Asterin wouldn't let her leave alone if Manon didn't agree. Sighing, Manon nodded. “All right," she said, stepping away from the sheltered entrance of the cave. Manon refused to look over her shoulder, though she felt Asterin's worried gaze burn her back through her cloak. 

She stepped into the shady shelter of the forest and began her journey towards the place where she had decided to confront the corchans witches. The journey wasn't long, but it felt like it. Rina in her arms felt heavy. The girl was still sleeping. It was good. It was very good. 

Manon walked through the forest, all senses alert. One sound, one hint of a trap... The forest was quiet. Even the birds hadn't woken up to chirp yet. Manon was unable to relax during the entire short walk. And not even when she stepped out of the forest. 

The river bank was covered with shadows. The water quietly flowed forward in an endless stream. Eternal. Patient. Manon walked quietly to the tree on whose trunk she had leaned the day before Rina was born. Now she stopped beside it, and remained to gaze at the opposite shore. The trees on the opposite bank were blurry in the morning twilight. 

Manon filled his lungs with the smell of the forest, the river, and the rustling wind on the leaves. A familiar scent spread across her tongue that awakened her predatory instinct. Manon pulled Rina closer to her chest and pulled on a red cloak to protect her daughter. It's like trying to hide her. 

She was aware that she was being watched. And then she became aware of the three steps that stepped out of the shade of the trees. Behind her. 

Manon was no longer alone on the riverbank. 

:::::: 

Manon turned around to confront the newcomers, Rina tightly protected by a blue blanket and red cloak. In front of her stood three corcha witches, two of whom Manon immediately recognized. 

The other was a white-haired witch—Glennis—who had sold Manon a bag of apples and given Asterin medicine to save her. She had given up her heavy cloak and put on a bright blood-red cloak. She walked one step ahead of her companions, unarmed with a calm expression on her face. 

She was followed by the young corchan who had given Manon a blue wool blanket. Her brown hair was now plaited into a long plait on her back. A blood-red cloak fluttered behind her as she walked behind Glennis. On the belt of the witch hung a sword as before. Her expression was calm too, but Manon seemed to see a smile on the young corchan's lips. 

Then there was the third corchan, whom Manon did not know. This witch's skin was pale and she had long black hair. Her eyes were brown and shone with suspicion as she looked at Manon. On her belt hung a sword, the handle of which the witch squeezed in her hand. 

Manon pulled on her cloak to cover Rina completely. She was still sleeping. Fortunately... 

The trio stopped at a respectful distance from Manon. The sun's rays shone between the trunks of the trees, casting dark shadows on the ground. The first rays hit the surface of the river, causing the water to flicker golden. 

Manon and the Corchans eyed each other warily. Manon stood in a firm crotch position, Rina hidden and safe against her chest. The Corchans' postures were more relaxed. Manon knew they knew she was alone with Rina. Manon wondered if she should have taken Asterin for her safety after all. She couldn't fight properly and keeping Rina safe. 

The silence stretched until Glennis opened her mouth:“I'm glad to see that you kept your promise, Manon Blackbeak.” Her voice was calm, bland. 

Manon nodded her head slightly, but said nothing. She didn't want to wake Rina. It would be good if she slept throughout this meeting. 

"Apparently your coven, with the exception of Asterin Blackbeak, does not know that you trade with us,” Glennis continued. Manon pursed her lips together before answering: “I don't think telling anyone would benefit." 

Glennis nodded thoughtfully. “You're probably right. The blood feuds between us could have been... complicates things." 

Manon looked at Glennis, trying to read her endlessly calm expression. It was impossible. The young warrior was obviously hostile and the second witch, she seemed enthusiastic. But Manon couldn't interpret Glennis. "Yes," Manon finally contented herself with saying. 

Glennis took a deep breath and straightened her back. "But I think you'd better let them know as soon as possible. Especially if we are going to continue to be an ally." 

Manon hesitates. There was an unnerving certainty in Glennis' words that made Manon feel insecurei. What exactly did the Corchans want? 

"I don't know if they would be... ready to hear about it,” Manon groped for words, and watch the corchans suspiciously. A smile crossed Glennis' lips. “All changes start small," she said gently. 

Manon squinted his eyes and looked at the old corchan's face. There was nothing offensive about her face, but there was something in her eyes... Was it enthusiasm. The same kind of enthusiasm as the gaze of the younger witch next to her? No. Manon realized after observing the corchan for a moment. A flame of hope burned in Glennis' eyes. 

"What do you want?" Manon asked, unable to go around any more. A shadow flashed over Glennis' face, and the younger corchan's enthusiasm seemed to subside. They glanced quickly at each other, as if engaged in a wordless conversation. The warrior witch stared at Manon, but even her hostility seemed to retreat. 

Manon pulled Rina tighter against herself, every muscle stiff and the attack ready. Apparently, the sudden tension of Manon's muscles woke Rina from her sleep. Beneath Manon's cloak and blue blanket, there was an astonished sound. 

Mano's attention shifted in a flash away from the corchans to Rina, who had begun squirming under the blankets, squeaking with discomfort. Manon slammed her cloak and the blanket beneath it to see Rina's large, still sleepy eyes and open mouth. Rina stopped squeaking and squirming as soon as she saw her mother's face. Small fists grabbed the front of Manon's shirt and jerked. 

Not now, Manon thought. Her and Rina's eyes met, and Manon tried to explain the situation without words to her daughter. Rina's frowned, and she tugged again demandingly at the front of Manon's shirt. Manon shook her head. Apparently, some part of the message got through, as Rina let go of Manon's shirt, looking at her in confusion. 

Manon gave her daughter a quick smile and promised with her gaze that she would feed her soon before pulling her blanket and cloak back to cover Rina. 

When she looked up, Manon saw three corcha witches looking at her. The younger corchan, who had eyes the color of freshly turned soil, took a cautious step closer. The warrior witch's hand clenched around the hilt of the sword, as if she were waiting for Manon to attack. Instead, Manon backed down a step. Rina squeaked against her chest, clearly confused. 

The young corchan stopped a few steps away, squeezing her arms crossed front of her. She fitted her face with as calm an expression as possible before asking: “May I see her?" 

Manon stiffened. She stared at the corchan that had stopped in front of her, trying to ignore Rina who began to twisted again and jerk at her shirt. She couldn't feed her daughter now. Not in front of these witches, although they were not a direct threat. 

The young corchan met Manon's gaze steadfastly and calmly. “We don't want her or you any harm," the witch gently reminded her. “I just want to see her." 

Manon continued to hesitate for a moment. She slowly took her eyes off the corchan and looked at the child she had hidden under her cloak. Big eyes stared back, full of curiosity. Manon took a deep breathä. Rina was in her arms. Safe. Corchan couldn't hurt a witchlling. 

Slowly, observing the corchan in front of her, as well as Glennis, who had snuck closer. Even the warrior witch could not hide her curiosity. Despite the fact that they had been observing Manon and her witches for a long time, they had never seen Rina properly. 

Manon moved the drapery away from Rina's face so that the witches in the corcha could see the witchling. Rina, who had listened in confusion to the new voices, turned her head sharply over her shoulder to see the guests. 

"Oh," Glennis muttered as he encountered Rina's different colored eyes. “What a strange thing," said the warrior witch, forgetting for a moment her hostility. She stared at Rina's face mesmerized, as if she had never seen anything like it. 

An astonished smile had spread across the young corchan's face, and a strange light had lit up in her eyes. "She's beautiful," the young witch said quietly, before looking back at Manon. "What's his name?" 

Manon pulled the cloak tighter around Rina, though she no longer tried to hide her daughter. Rina looked at the strange witches almost as fascinated as they looked at her. It was—Manon suddenly realized—Rina's first time seeing witches who weren't part of the Thirteen. The situation fascinated the little one. Manon saw it on her daughter's face. She was absolutely thrilled with the completely new face. 

"Rina," Manon replied. Hearing her name, Rina suddenly lost interest in corchans and turned to look at her mother with a wide smile on her face. She pressed her head against Manon's neck and jerked her shirt experimentally. 

Manon shook her head and Rina reluctantly let go. 

"Rina," Glennis repeated quietly. "Beautiful name." 

Manon nodded. For a moment, the four witches stood silently on the riverbank. Rina squeak occasionally, trying to get Manon's attention. Manon responded to Rina's demand by rubbing her daughter's back soothingly. At the same time, however, she stared at the three corchans, suspicion growing inside her. Why were they really here? They had seen Rina. Wasn't that what they wanted? 

Manon shifted weight from one leg to the other and improved her grip on Rina. “What more do you want?” Manon asked, looking carefully at the witches in front of her. With the exception of the warrior, there was no hostility in them. “You have seen my daughter. The contract has been fulfilled. What more do you want?" 

Glennis and the young corchan looked at each other. The warrior witch's expression tightened and a feeling flashed in her eyes. She moved nearer to her companions, as if expecting Manon to attack. Her hand tightly squeezed the handle of the sword. 

The young corchan nodded her head earnestly at Glennis. Glennis' mouth clenched into a tight line. She took a step forward, while the younger corchan retreated to stand beside the warrior. Manon now stood face to face with Glennis. The gaze of the blue eyes was intense and bright. 

"We are here to give you an opportunity. We know you know as well as we do that your grandmother will soon start looking for you. And we know as well as you do that eventually she will find you. Find her,” Glennis nodded toward Rina, who had grabbed a handful of Manon's white hair and tried to stuff it into her mouth. Manon didn't care. All her attention was on Glennis. She felt the rage slowly begin to smoulder inside her. 

Glennis took a deep breath and folded her arms in front of her. “We can take Rina. Hides her. To protect her. Raise her." 

Mano's iron teeth snapped down. Faster than the human eye could discern, Manon had moved Rina on one hand and pulled the Wind-Claver out of her scabbard. Rina whimper. Manon didn't know if the sound was fearful or curious. And at that moment, she couldn't look at Rina. All her attention was on Glennis, into whose throat she had pressed her sword. 

The warrior witch grunted low and drew her own sword. She seemed ready to attack Manon, but the younger corchan grabbed the warrior in her hand, pulling her back. “Bronwen. Calm down!" It was a commandment. A corchan called Bronwen glared the younger witch. “She threatens Glennis with a sword! Should I just watch the White Demon kill her?" The younger witch's expression revealed no emotions, but her eyes flashed as her gaze fell on Manon's sword. 

Manon observed Bronwen and the younger witch out of the corner of her eye. The rest of her attention was on Glennis. White demon. That's what the Corchans called her. To them, she was a killer. 

Rina grunted and pressed her head against Manon's collarbone, clearly embarrassed by her mother's change in scent. 

Manon knew her rage scared Rina. She knew she wouldn't be able to kill in front of her daughter. She didn't put down her sword or draw in iron teeth in when she grunted lowly, "You won't take my daughter!" 

Glennis stood calmly in front of Manon, with a sympathetic look in her blue eyes. The expression only made Manon even more furious. “Rina is my daughter!" Manon growled. "I can protect her!" 

Glennis met Manon's gaze calmly, as if she had anticipated her reaction in this way. "How long will you be able to protect her, Manon Blackbeak?” Glennis asked calmly. She cared not in the least for the sword pointed towards her neck. As if she knew Manon wouldn't strike. “Year? Two? Your grandmother will prey on you until she finds you and your witch. And then she will also find your daughter. And we both know what he makes of your daughter." 

Manon's sword hand had begun to tremble. She hadn't agreed to think about her grandmother for several months. Not after Rina was born. She had known she wasn't going back. She hadn't thought that her grandmother wouldn't let her disappear and build a life outside her clan. 

It was as if Glennis had read all those thoughts on Manon's face, for she said: "We can protect her. Your grandmother would never find out about her." 

Manon chuckled bitterly and pulled Rina tighter against herself. Rina whimpered in discomfort, causing Manon to loosen her grip slightly. “I am her mother," Manon said quietly. “Should I just go back to my grandmother and pretend I didn't have a baby? Should I carry on as if nothing had happened?" 

"We're not going to stop you from seeing your daughter,” Glennis said quietly and took an experimental step closer. The warrior witch moved nervously. The young corchan stared at Manon and Rina with a serious look in her eyes. Manon backed away another step. "And am I supposed to believe that?" Manon asked, unable to hide the tremors in her voice. "That you would not turn my daughter against me. That she might be safe with you." 

"We don't kill children," Glennis said quietly. “It's good for Rina to know her mother. To know oneself and one's roots. It's important that you're a part of their life, even if you can't be with her all the time." 

Manon chuckled bitterly. Tears tingled in her eyes. “Glennis,” She said quietly. Saying the name seemed strange, but Manon continued: “You call me the White Demon. How do you expect me to credibly play my part for my grandmother if the corchans protected my daughter while I hunted them?" 

Silence descended on the beach. Manon still held the sword pointed toward Glennis. With the other hand, she pressed Rina against her side. “I can offer Rina the best protection," Manon said quietly, and lowered hersword, to point out the ground. Glennis looked at the blade of the sword, which flashed in the rays of the rising sun. “Even if it means you have to run forever?" Bronwen hissed beside the younger corchan and took a step toward Manon, clutching her sword. 

"We can better protect and hide her...” Glennis raised her hand to silence the warrior witch. She looked at Manon with her crystal clear pond-colored eyes searchingly. Whatever she saw caused Glennis to back down. Her shoulders had dropped, as if she had lost something she really wanted. 

"Things are changing, Manon Blackbeak," Glennis said quietly and her gaze landed on Rina. There was a strange longing in her eyes, as if Rina meant something to her. Then her gaze returned to Manon, and her expression hardened slightly: “Consider it," Glennis pleaded. "Consider our offer. We can protect Rina. We wouldn't hurt her." 

Manon thrust her sword into the scabbard and wrapped both her arms around Rina. Rina grabbed Mano's shirt, but didn't jerk. She just pressed closer to Manon, as if afraid her mother would disappear. "She's not always a child, though," Manon remarked quietly. “What about when she grows up? And when she grows iron nails and iron teeth, what do you do?" 

Glennis did not answer. She retreated to the two corchans who had come with her, both with strange expressions on their faces. An expression Manon couldn't decipher. “Consider it," Glennis reiterated. “If you change your mind... If you change your mind, come and village. We'll find you." 

"I won't change my mind," Manon grunted lowly, staring at Glennis defiantly. The old corchan sighed. She nodded at Manon and then turned her back on her. With two other corchans behind her, she walked into the woods. The young corchan glanced behind her before stepping among the trees. Manon stared at the witch, knowing her eyes were burning with rage and a desire to protect. 

Corchan abruptly turned her head away and followed Glennis among the shadows of the trees. Manon waited a moment. Then the second. And then she forced her own body to move. 

Rina tightly in her arms, Manon headed in the opposite direction from where the corchans had gone. Following the river, she began to walk back to the cave, her mind reeling. Rina constantly jerked the front of Manon's shirt demandingly and occasionally squeaked, trying to wake Manon from her thoughts. 

But for once, something other than Rina demanded Manon's attention. The behavior of the Corchanes - their offer - what did they want from Rina? Why would the Corhcans offer refuge to the daughter of their blood enemy? What did Rina mean to them? 

Manon was too engrossed in her thoughts. She was too focused on the conversation. She didn't notice the smells carried by the wind. Didn't realize she was in danger. 

Not until a sound came from the shadows of the forest. Cruel, centuries softened by quietly derisive words, but from which one could hear the rage beneath the surface. 

"Or is this what you're trying to hide from the world, Manon Blackbeak?" 

And before Manon could draw her sword from the scabbard, she was besieged. 

Chapter Text

“And God knows, I'm not dying but I bleed now 
And God knows, it's the only way to heal now 
With all the blood I lost with you 
It drowns the love I thought I knew.” 

My Blood 
Ellie Goulding 

The steel scratched against the leather as Manon drew her sword from the scabbard. Rina groaned in confusion and fear as Manon tried to hold her daughter with one hand. Rina's head leaned against her shoulder, and small fingernails dug into Manon's skin even through the witchleather.  

The witches walked with silent, lurking steps out of the shadows of the trees, revealing their old faces, disfigured by furrows and hostile eyes. Iron teeth and nails flashed in the morning sun light as the witches tightened their circle around Manon.  

Manon tightened her grip on the handle of her sword, while eying the witches who had besieged her. With a side-eye, as fast as she could and confident in her training, Manon lowered her opponent.  

Twelve.  

Twelve educated and old witches, some of whom had rusted iron nails. Manon forced a calm, tough look on her face so that the witches would not perceive her fear. Rina whimper against her neck.  

The shadow behind the circle of witches moved. “You have a beautiful daughter," said the same voice that had spoken before. "Your grandmother must be proud."  

Manon fixed her gaze on the shadow. Tried to see facial features. Recognizes sound. Although the smell told her which clan these witches belonged to.  

"Although," the old, cruel voice continued thoughtfully, “I don't think she knows about the new family member. So tell me, White Demon, what makes you withdraw so far from your own when you're so vulnerable?"  

There was the rustle of iron nails against the tree as the shadow stepped into the light. The sun's rays reflected from the bleached hair of old age, which hovered like a cloud around a cruel face. The skin was wrinkled. Eyes deep brown. Unlike her coven, this witch was not wearing witch leather, but a brown robe that fluttered in the gentle breeze.  

Yellowish ankles flashed out from under the robe. Yellowlegs. This must have been the coven of the Yellowlegs that Vesta had noticed that one night almost a month ago. They hadn't left. They had stayed. Spied on Manon and her coven. And probably seen everything that had just happened.  

Manon slowly drew her lungs full of air, without taking his eyes off the leader of the coven, whose iron teeth shone rusty in the light of the sun. “I know who you are," Manon said, with pure terror settling on the bottom of her stomach as a heavy weight.  

The Yellowleg tilted her head. “I'm flattered," the witch said, smiling razor-sharply. Manon's mouth went dry and she swallowed. She couldn't help herself. She wouldn't stand a chance. This is a battle she could not win.  

Manon lifted her chin slightly, confronting the witch's dark eyes. There was a mockery and darkness in her gaze that Manon hadn't seen even in her own grandmother's eyes.  

This witch was old. Very, very old. So old that she had been involved in tearing down the walls of the Corchanes' capital. This witch was there to take the crown of the corchanes. Manon had heard all the stories. There was no doubt who was standing in front of her.  

"You are Baba Yellowleg,” Manon said pleased that her voice did not tremble. "The Matron of the Yellowlegs."  

Baba Yellowlegs smile only widened. “Very good, Manon Blackbeak, heir to Blackbeak. Now," The cruel, brown eyes gaze fell on Rina before returning to Manon. “We may need to discuss what to do with you."  

::::::  

There was no sound from Baba Yellowleg's footstep as she stepped past her witches into the middle of the circle. Manon's grip on the Wind Claver tightened. Rina squeaked alarmedly, sensing her mother's excitement. Manon could only press her daughter closer to her chest with one hand in an attempt to calm her down. The sun's rays reflected off the blade of Manon's sword as she raised it to point towards Baba Yellowleg.  

It was as if a shiver had passed through her witches. Swords were pulled from the scabbard and iron teeth were exposed. Baba raised her hands before anyone in her coven could attack Manon. At no point did she take her eyes off Manon. From Manon and Rina. Her prey.  

Like Manon, Baba sensed when the prey had been cornered. And in that moment, Manon knew she had no hope of fighting herself out of the situation. No chance whatsoever.  

Baba Yellowleg stopped just out of reach of Manon's sword. Her gaze measured the blade of the sword and Manonin, who could only barely stop her hand from shaking.  

"Put away your sword, Manon Blackbeak," Baba Yellowleg urged calmly. "We don't want anything bad to happen to your daughter."  

The threat hung in the air, like the blade of an axe. Baba Yellowleg spoke to Manon like a child. And maybe compared to the matron of the Yellowlegs, she was. Slowly, observing the matron of the Yellowlegs and her coven, Manon thrust her sword back into the scabbard.  

Rina whined softly against Manon's shoulder, as if feeling the fear smouldering beneath Manon's skin. Manon pulled a blue blanket around Rina in a quick motion and hid her daughter's face. She pressed Rina against her chest, her iron nails almost exposed. Rina still squeak, but seemed to calm down a little as she felt only the familiar smell of her mother around her.  

When Manon's sword was no longer in the way, Baba stepped closer and stopped in front of Manon. The old witch - though her posture was bowed - was taller than Manon. Not much, but Manon still found herself having to look up. She gently pressed Rina’s blanket covered head, closer to her chest, however, being careful not to hinder the witchling's oxygen supply. Rina's little fists clung to Manon's shirt. They didn't jerk, but held on as if Manon was a safety rope in the stormy sea.  

Long iron nails fingers clung to Manon's chin, forcing him to stare straight into the eyes of the Matron of the Yellowlegs. The grip was degrading. It showed Manon her place. There, in that moment, she was at the mercy of this cruel, ruthless witch. Victim of her whims.  

"What I do with you?” Baba Yellowleg hummed and stroked Manon's cheek with one of her long iron nails. Manon's arms were clenched around Rina. She didn't dare to move as Baba Yellowleg's grip moved from her face to her throat. With her fingers clenched around her trachea, Manon could only think: no Rina. Nothing should happen to Rina...  

"Would I hand you over to your grandmother,” Baba Yellowleg pondered aloud, tightening her grip on Manon's throat. Manon refused to move. She kept her face expressionless, even as her heart pounded in her chest, revealing her true feelings. "She has trained you well,” Baba muttered. "But not well enough. Maybe I'll take the two of you prisoner and hand you over to your grandmother for a ransom. What might she think of that? What could she imagine happening when she heard that her heir had been captured by the Matron of another clan? How would she be shocked to learn that her granddaughter has a witch child whom she tried to hide from the Matron of her clan."  

Baba chuckled softly. Her coven followed suit, like an echo, until in a small clearing in the woods only the soft, wicked laughter of the witches of Baba could be heard. That laughter belonged to ancient predators. Much older and more powerful than Manon.  

"And what about when your grandmother finds out about your new friends?” Baba's smile was filled with hard-held rage as her hand squeezed Manon's trachea. “What must she think when she learns that her heir has traded with corchanes? If you were sensible, you would ask me to kill you now, for in my hands your death would be swift. Only the Three faces Goddess knows what your grandmother will do to you and your coven when she hears of your treachery."  

The laughter had been replaced by deep silence. Iron nails flashed in the sun's rays as the irontoothed witches stretched out their fingers. Some bared their teeth to Manon and growled. “Traitor." the word was repeated like a mantra as the witches of Baba Yellowleg repeated it, first whispering and finally shouting.  

Traitor. Traitor! TRAITOR!  

Manon didn't take her eyes off Baba, and Baba didn't take her eyes off her. The matron the Yellowlegs let her witches howl at her insults for a good while before raising her hands and silencing her coven. Complete silence descended on the square again.  

Baba Yellowleg tilted her head. “How is it, Manon Blackbeak. Will I kill you in this place and just deliver your daughter to your grandmother? Or shall I take both of you back to the Blackbeak keep?"  

Manon bared her ironteeth and growled. "You don't touch Rina!"  

The hostility and disrespect heard in Manon's voice would, according to witches' law, have been reason enough for Baba Yellowleg to tear her throat open without consequence. But the witch made no gesture to do so. She just smiled mockingly.  

“Rina,” she said, and for the first time in the whole conversation, her gaze fell on the child pressed against Manon's chest. Manon grunted warily as Baba's other hand reached out to swipe the blue wool fabric. “A strange name for an irontooth witchling," Baba Yellowleg said thoughtfully. Manon growled lowly and Baba pulled her hand away, chuckling. It was as if Manon's protective behavior amused her.  

"Look at you Manon Blackbeak," Baba said, amusement disappearing from her face. She tilted her head and pressed her fingers tighter around Manon's trachea, almost blocking the passage of oxygen. Almost...  

"I used to think of you as an exemplary irontooth witch. I believed you could become as good a leader as your grandmother. But look at you now,” Baba shook her head, "You hide in the woods your clan like some pathetic human. You trade with corchans. Your coven runs around the village like a whores. And besides that, they forget about the protection of the leader of their coven and her witchling. You were once one of the most feared coven. But now... You play home here in the woods, completely forgetting who you are," There was contempt in Baba Yellowleg's words.  

"And besides," Baba continued, and her gaze fell on Rina again. “You are attached to your witchling. You love her,” The word "love" Baba spat out of her mouth as if she had drunk poison. "You're weak. And you will raise your daughter weak. But don't worry,” The lips of the Yellowlegs Matron rose into a small serpentine smile, “All your work will not go to waste. Your grandmother will raise your daughter into a decent irontoothed witch. You're just a stain on history."  

Iron nails fingers touch lightly Manon's cheek. "You have given birth to a follower for yourself. Your grandmother will appreciate it."  

Rina whimper fearfully against Manon's chest. As if she could somehow understand the words of Baba Yellowleg. The fear inside Mano began to smoulder. As she stared into Baba Yellowleg's brown eyes, listening to what she said, fear began to turn into rage. This ancient witch could threaten as much as she wanted, but if she even touched Rina, it was one and the same for Manon whether she was the Yellowlegs matron. She would tear this witch to pieces. Would torture her to death. Would tear a withered heart from the chest of the hag. And after that, she would head to the Blackbeaks keeps and do the same to her grandmother. Anything if it meant Rina would stay safe.  

Manon bared her ironteeth. “I have given birth to a daughter,” Manon said in a low voice. "And if you touch her, I will tear the flesh from your bones."  

The coven of the Yellowleg hissed. Manon ignored them and kept her eyes on their matron. Baba Yellowleg raised her eyebrow, as if reassessing Manon. "Pity," she muttered finally. "You really could have become something great."  

Manon did not have time to attack. No fight back. Quickly, like a predatory viper, the Yellowleg matron, slammed her knee into Manon's stomach. A moan escaped Manon's throat. Her grip loosened around Rina, and at that moment the arm around Manon's throat came off. Baba ripped the whining witchling out of Manon's hands.  

For a split second, Manon stiffened. She took her daughter. That old hag...  

A roar of rage escaped Manon's throat, and she attacked Baba Yellowleg, her ironteeth bare, her sword, and her iron nails flashing in the sun's rays. But before Manon could even take two steps, her arms were grasped. Manon screamed with rage when, despite her struggle, she was forced to the ground on her knees. Two witches pressed against Manon's shoulders and squeezed her arms. That didn't stop Manon from screaming and shouting insults, trying to break free. She would kill Baba Yellowleg. Would tear her skin from the flesh...  

A long-clawed hand grabbed a handful of Manon's hair and yanked back with such force that tears welled up in her eyes. The knife pressed into the skin of her neck and Manon froze in place. She panted heavily, her chest raised, her eyes wide open with rage and fear, at the Yellowlegs matron.  

Baba lulled the completely silent Rina in her arms with one hand, while observing Manon. “You're a good fighter, Manon,” Baba said, nodding his head, looking at Manon with a smug smile on her face. "But save your struggle for another situation. But we don't want Rina to lose her mother at such a young age."  

Manon didn't budge. Baba smiled contentedly. Rina had begun to squeak in her arms and squirm, but the Yellowlegs matron wouldn't give the little one a look. No. All her attention was on Manon, forced to her knees on the ground. “White demon," she muttered thoughtfully. "You used to be a great hunter, Manon. What changed?"  

Manon made no answer. Her gaze flashed from Baba Yellowleg, to the squeaky Rina, who saw nothing beneath the corner of the blue blanket that had fallen on her face. Baba sighed. "I guess it's up to your grandmother to figure it out. She probably wants to talk to you before deciding on punishment. And then..."  

Baba lowered her gaze to the squeaky Rina. The smile on her face was not tender. More than that, it was vicious. Hungry.  

"Your grandmother may try again to create the perfect heir with her,” Baba continued and stroked Rina's blanket-covered head. Manon grunted and jerked against the hands of her captors.The blade of the knife pressed deeper into Manon's skin. The blue color began to drain when the skin broke under the blade.  

"Carefully Manon," Baba scolded. “Little Rinasi is not fit to watch her mother kill. What would that do to her little innocent mind?"  

Manon stopped fighting. Again. Baba Yellowleg smiled and turned her attention to Rina, who had started to squeak even more when she smelled blood in the air. “Is the little one worried about her mother?” Baba coo at the child and moved the corner of the blanket away from Rina's face. "Do you need to see that your mother is..." Baba's sentence was cut off when she saw Rina's face. The pale cheeks of the moon and the eyes of different pairs, whose gaze hastily searched for the mother. Rina didn't even seem to care about the Yellowlegs matron, who stared at her as if she hadn't seen the witchling before.  

"What have you gone to do?" Baba's voice was quiet, full of contempt and rage. " What have you done?"  

Manon met Yellowlegs matron who gaze was disgust and rage. Manon didn't understand. Rina's eyes were different, the kind Manon hadn't seen on any witch, but Baba Yellowleg's reaction and behavior... as if there was something wrong with Rina.  

Manon's confusion was clearly visible on her face, for Baba Yellowleg chuckled maliciously. "So your grandmother hasn't told you yet. Haven't told you what to do with these."  

Manon's mouth was dry. She sensed the smell of rage and disgust in the air. She sensed the danger. Larger than before. “She is a witchling," Manon said, trying to catch her daughter's wandering gaze. "Just a little witchling."  

Yellowlegs matron chuckled again. The voice was mocking. Full of dark evil. "No, Manon Blackbeak. This is not a witchling."  

Baba looked at the squeaky and twisting Rina in her arms, eyes full of disgust. “This is an abnormity baby," the witch hissed. Her iron-clawed fingers stroked Rina's face. "Uncleande half-blood."  

The nail slashed Rina's pale cheek. A drop of red blood appeared.  

Rina began to cry.  

:::::::  

Rina cried. Cried in pain. She had never cried like that. Although it was only a small scratch, it was the first time Rina bled out. The crying upset Manon. She would have slit his throat on the knife the witch was holding if it hadn't been pulled from her throat in time.  

Manon struggled. Shouted insults and struggled, desperately trying to get to her crying daughter. A drop of red blood slid along Rina's cheek, dripping onto the blue woolen fabric. Baba Yellowleg stared at the drop of blood, his face distorted with contempt. "What a disappointment," she muttered, glancing from Rina to Manon. “You are a real disappointment. I will be surprised if your grandmother leaves you alive after this crime."  

"What are you talking about?" Manon grumbled. The witches holding her down were allowed to work hard to keep her on her knees. Baba clicked to deny disapprovingly. “Ignorant fool. But maybe your grandmother will explain to you before beating you to death."  

Rina was still crying. Manon could have sworn that the crying was no longer due to pain. Rina wanted to be with her mother. Manon swallowed her own tears of rage and pain. She wasn't going to show how much she was afraid. How much power Baba had over her at that moment.  

"There are no half-blood witches," Manon said. There were no half-blood witches. When witches mated with humans, girl children were always pureblood witches. There was no intermediate form. Even the children of witches and feas did not inherit any significant fea-like traits from their father.  

But Rina... hadn't Manon wondered what she might inherit from her father? Hadn't her pregnancy been different. Wasn't Rina different? But did that make her... half-blood? What did the half-blood witch even mean? Manon had never heard of such things. Never...  

Baba Yellowleg looked at Manon's face as if sensing the turmoil of her mind. “You don't know what I know," The old witch said, shaking her head. "You haven't seen what I've seen."  

Baba Yellowleg was a seer. At least that's what the stories told to Manon said. Baba Yellowleg was said to have been one of the last true seers among the irontoothed witches. But still..."She is a witchling!” Manon growled, trying to rip her arm out of the grip of Baba's witches. "You violate the most sacred law of witches by harming her!"  

Just that one scratch, one drop of blood shed...if it had happened in the Blackbeaks keep, the witch who hurt the two-month-old witchling would have been dragged into the courtyard, in front of the whole clan. Her sentence could possibly have been extended to several days because she was the daughter of the heir to the Blackbecks. Manon herself would have participated in the execution. Dipped her nails into the witch's face and grated them off. She would have allowed every member of her coven to sink her nails into the witch who hurt her daughter. But now we were not in the Blackbeaks keep.  

Manon was in the middle of the forest and had to watch the Matron of another clan slash her daughter's face. From the behavior of her coven, one could have imagined that in Baba Yellowleg’s lap was ordinary human child.  

The expression of the Yellowlegs matron was contemptuous. “This is not a witchling. Such abnormity babies are destroyed before they can even take their first breath."  

Destroyed... Destroyed! “She is a witchling!” Manon roared and tore her arms, trying to tear herself out of the grip of the two witches. Baba Yellowleg didn't care about Manon. Not even though she shouted insults and fought back, like the force of nature.  

No. Rina had fallen silent, and the squeak from her throat made Manon's blood meat heart ache. Baba turned to one of her witches and addressed her in an emotionless voice, holding Rina in her arms like a carrion. “Light a campfire. Better get the problem off the agenda."  

Mano's head was spinning. Campfire... Campfire! It took two new witches to help the previous two hold Manon down when she realized what Baba Yellowleg was going to do to her daughter.  

"You can't! You can't...” a slap to Manon's face silenced her furious screams. Iron nails cut open one of her cheeks, causing blood to spill. The fifth witch had stepped before her. The nails of her Yellowleg were now covered in Manon's blood.  

Manon gasped as rage and tears of despair welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Mixed with blood pouring from the cheek. “You can't kill my daughter,” Manon spoke in a hoarse voice. Baba glanced towards Manon, as if forgetting her presence. “Your grandmother would do the same. If this had been born in the Blackbeaks keep as it should have been, the only punishment you would have received would have been the shame of giving birth to a dead witchling."  

Manon's head spinning. Baba's words... Everything she said. “My grandmother would not kill living witchling," It sounded more like a desperate prayer than an argument.  

Baba raised her other brow. “We kill mixed fetuses. It's important that the witch families stay clean." she turned her back on Manon, a whmper Rina still in her arms.  

"Bind her. She only gets trickier when we dispose of the mixed fetuses. Tomorrow we will go home and I will send a message to the Blackbeaks matron where we found her granddaughter. She will be happy when we return you," Baba gave Manon one more look.  

Manon grunted, struggle against the grip of the four witches. “You won't kill my daughter!” Manon howled in a hoarse, broken voice. "You thank me again,” Baba said calmly, brushing Rina's black curls with her iron nails. “Your grandmother would probably make the death of this creature just too long to punish you. I'll take care of it quickly. It barely has time to suffer."  

Manon shouted. Once again, knowing it's useless. Despair settled on her shoulders like a heavy cloak. She couldn't take her eyes off the witch who turned her back on her, in whose arms Rina was, her little one. The bright spot of her long, dark and miserable life.  

She could hardly resist when the Yellowlegs began dragging her back and forcing her hands behind her back. She did not find contained the strength to fight back.  

Baba Yellowleg would kill her daughter. And would force Manon to watch. Manon didn't know what would be left of her when she was delivered back to her grandmother. Nothing more but flesh, skin, and bones on which Grandmother could vent her rage. She would torture Manon to death. Would break up thirteen.  

Manon would never fly with her coven again. The matron would hunt and destroy them when she learned that they were involved in this deception. Manon would never see Dorian again.  

Dorian. Silly Princeling. The beginning and root of all Manon's problems. Rina's father. Dorian had given her Rina. And Manon could never tell how happy she was that she hadn't killed Dorian in that alley. Dorian would live a long life by himself. Would get married. Would have children. And would never know that she had had a daughter with the witch who had tried to eat him that one spring night.  

Perhaps Manon would confront him in the afterlife and apologize for not returning. Would Dorian feel her death when her grandmother finally allowed it? Would he stop hoping Manon would return? Or would he be like Asterin's hunter? Would Dorian wait for her forever?  

Manon didn't know which one she wanted. She didn't know what... herself wanted from Dorian. Only... She wouldn't tell the prince's name if her grandmother asked about it. Even if it meant more pain and torture, she wouldn't reveal the name of her daughter's father. That's how much she owed Dorian. The death of Princeling had always been in her hands. He was still Manon's prey. Manon could decide do Dorian to live or die. If she could make sure Dorian could live a full life by remaining silent, she would do it for Rina's sake. For her own sake.  

The steel flashed in the sun's rays, like the flight of a star. Manon looked up, only to see the head of one of the witches holding her roll to the ground, with a loud shout of battle.  

And in the blink of an eye, twelve new witches rushed into the square, with iron nails flashing and swords waving towards the witches of the Yellowlegs.  

Thirteen witches had arrived. And they were furious.  

:::::::  

The attack came as a surprise to the Yellowlegs. It took them a moment too long to grasp the situation. A moment too long to gather her troops and receive the fierce blood-thirsty witches of the Thirteen.  

The other end fell an eye later from the first. Manon yanked her hands free from the grip of the two still alive, confused Yellowlegs, rose to her feet, and pulled the Wind- Claver from the scabbard. Those fools hadn't disarmed Manon.  

In one bright flash, Manon struck the blade of her sword into the neck of another witch who attacked her. Blue blood splashed to the ground as the witch's body collapsed in a pile. The head rolled farther, remaining face down in the clearing of the forest.  

Sorrel, whose sword was already shining with the blood of the two previous Yellowlegs, slashed the head of the fourth Iron Toothed Witch with the blade of her sword.  

It all happened in the blink of an eye. One blink of an eye and four witches were dead. Another blink of an eye and the Yellowlegs were up to the task. The third blink of an eye and total chaos erupted in the square.  

Thirteen witches attacked the Yellowlegs with roars, who had to defend themselves in surprise. The steel fished against the steel so that it sparked. These witches were perhaps more experienced, but Thirteen...they were the force of nature. Manon and her daughter had been attacked by Yellowlegs. And now they would have to pay for it.  

Manon saw at a quick glance that the battle was not evenly matched. No. Absolutely not. Thirteen had the advantage of surprise. And the power-ups of her rage. Manon saw Edda and Briar attack one witch together. The witch fought well, but her expression reflected fear when she realized she was losing the fight.  

Faline and Fallon had chosen a common enemy. They had joined Baba the Yellow Leg's runner-up, which they were now cutting into pieces with swift and determined movements. Elsewhere, Lin dueled with a robust witch whose rusty iron teeth flashed orange in the morning sun.  

When Manon turned her head, she saw Imogen plunge out from under the poorly defended Yellowleg's sword and slit her throat with her nails.  

Near her was Thea, who plunged the knife deep into the old witch's stomach. The witch cried out in pain as she collapsed to the ground. Kaya appeared out of nowhere behind the dying witch and struck the head off her shoulders with one quick blow. Further back in the woods lay Kaya's previous opponent. She had been torn open from the throat to the stomach. The blue blood spilled to the ground in bursts as the witch slowly made her death.  

Then there was Vesta - whose red hair shone like fire in the light of the sun – who attacked at Baba Yellowleg's third. The sword of the Yellowleg passed only a few inches from Vesta's shoulder, but the red-haired witch quickly dodged to the side like a snake. With the second blow, the duo's swords clasped together.  

And near Vesta was Ghislaine. Her arm bled and she had trouble holding her sword. The Yellowleg attacked her with a roar, her nails ditched.  

"Help Ghislaine," Manon grumbled at Sorrel, whose face had blue blood splattered. Third nodded once, and then she rushed into battle, clutching her sword. Manon plunged in the other direction.  

Towards the most important battle  

Baba Yellowleg and Asterin.  

The two circled each other in lurking steps, measuring the distance between them. Asterin had a sword in both hands, but she did not dare to attack. Not as long as Baba held Rina in her arms. Rina whined loudly and squirmed in Baba's arms, expressing her desire to get into Asterin's arms. Rina had recognized her favorite aunt's scent.  

Manon stopped next to Asterin. She hardly noticed the stinging of the scratches on her cheek. No. Manon felt no pain. She only saw Rina. Her daughter. And a small wound on her face. It made Manon so furious that all she wanted to do was rush at Baba and rip her flesh out of the bones.  

No one would hurt her daughter and survive it. “You've lost," Manon growled lowly, showing off the blue blood on her sword. It wouldn't be long before Thirteen would have killed Baba down to the last member of the Yellowleg coven. No witch should survive. Not one...  

Baba tilted her head like a cat. Although Manon knew... She felt the smell of her prey. Fear and rage. Their positions had changed. Now Manon was a predator and Baba the Yellowleg was her prey.  

And Baba knew it quite well. Her grip tightened on Rina, who squeal louder. “Is that so?" Baba asked dangerously quietly. Her iron nails were too close to Rina's throat. “Give her to me!" Manon groaned and took a step forward, Asterin firmly behind her. They were both mothers. Both felt this rage. A powerful combination of the desire to protect and love.  

Rina's voice grew louder. The squeak turned into a louder when she recognized her mother's voice. The sound first broke Manon's heart and then burst into flames of rage. Rina's cry pierced the tumult of battle like a sword to the skin. It was clear, sharp and hard.  

"Your daughter has a powerful voice,” Baba Yellowleg growled, long iron nails brushing Rina's face, who twisted from crying. The bleeding in the wound on the cheek had stopped. Somewhere in the heat of battle there was a cry of pain. Manon couldn't look away from her daughter's tiny face. Her world had narrowed down around Rina. Nothing else mattered at the time.  

"A loud voice that still causes her problems," Baba continued. Asterin grunted warily as the Matron's nails strayed too close to Rina's neck. Baba flashed her iron teeth in response. "You have lost this battle,” Manon hissed, and took a step nearer, The Wind claver touching the ground, the blow ready. Baba took a step back and pressed the crying Rina to her against chest. Holding Rina hostage was the only reason she hadn't died yet.  

"Take one step Blackbeak, and I'll break your daughter's neck,” The witch grunted lowly. Manon stiffened. Her whole body stopped. Only her eyes moved and they focused on Baba Yellowleg. The cornered booty was always desperate and clung to the remnants of her miserable life by any means necessary.  

Baba took a quick breath and chuckled: “You should let me kill a half-blood. You could go back to Blackbeak keep and no one would ever know what happened in this forest."  

Half-blooded. Again, that designation. Manon felt an inquiring look on her back, as Asterin glanced at her quickly. Manon bared her iron teeth and grunted at the Yellowlegs Matron. "And should I trust you not to tell my grandmother?" she grumbled. Rina's crying was like constant stab wounds to her chest. Her daughter was in danger and the only thing Manon could do was play for time. Play for time until she figure out what to do.  

"What happens in this forest remains in this forest,” Baba said and backed away another step. Her hand was clenched around Rina's neck. Not too hard to block oxygen supply. But one wrist movement could end Rina's life. "What do you want from Rina?" Manon growled. The sounds in the square began to fade away. The clatter of metal fell silent. The last rattle of the dead fell silent.  

The last rattle of the dead fell silent.. "You haven't seen what I've seen, Manon Blackbeak. The Witch Clans are destroyed by half-bloods. They are putting an end to our way of life. They must be destroyed."  

Manon couldn't decide if the Yellowlegs matron was trying to manipulate her, play for time, or really believe her own words. Asterin chuckled dangerously softly to Manon's right. "And are we supposed to believe that?” she asked, taking a step forward. Baba backed down again. The witch was a coward who used a small defenseless baby as her shield. “Don't come closer, or I'll kill her," Baba grumbled. But the threat lacked fervor. It was the speech of a witch who feared death.  

Aukiolla oli laskeutunut hiljaisuus. The swords no longer struck against each other. The dying did not scream in pain. Silently, with dangerous soft steps, the Thirteen stepped forth from among the shadows. Manon gave them one glance.  

Sorrel had stopped beside her. Her sword gleamed covered in blue blood.  

Ghislaine's hand was tied with a piece torn from someone's Yellowleg shirt. Despite her injured hand, she had raised her sword towards Baba the Yellowleg.  

Faline and Fallon seemed to be swimming in the blood of their enemies. The witch leathers of both had turned almost completely blue. There were blood splatters on the face and large tangles of dried blood on the black hair. Not a single drop came from them.  

Vesta had an ugly contusion on her face, but the blood flowing from the exposed iron teeth was not her own.  

Imogen's hands were sticky with the blood of the witch she had killed. She was clutching knives in both hands and had fixed her flint gaze the Yellowleg matron.  

Lin had sustained minor injuries in the fight, but mostly she seemed fine. There was dirt and blood on her face.  

Blood was pouring from the Edda's nose. Otherwise, she seemed to be fine. Briar's knife blades were still shining beneath a layer of blood. Both were covered in the blood of the witches of the Yellowlegs, and shreds of guts.  

Thea and Kaya were perhaps the purest of the bunch. Both had small blood splatters on their clothes coming from witches they killed. The tips of Kaya's iron nails were covered in dried blood.  

They were alive and well. Manon breathed an inner sigh of relief. Her witches were alive and mostly invulnerable. If the Yellowleg hadn't been taken by surprise and if Sorrel hadn't been able to remove four witches from the game right from the start, things might have been different.  

Manon turned her attention back to Baba the Yellowleg when her coven besieged the Matron. Rina was still crying. She had smelled the scent of familiar witches and desperately wanted to get out of the arms of the frightening witch.  

"Your coven is dead, Baba Yellowleg," Manon said calmly. “Give the witchling to me!"  

Baba revealed her rusted iron teeth. “This is not a witchling. It's a uncleaned half-blood!"  

Asterin grunted when she heard the word. The same word that had been burned in her stomach. On the faces of each of the Thirteen, you could read the promise of death as they looked at Baba Yellowleg.  

"There are no half-blood witches," Manon said quietly. "They don't exist."  

Baba Yellowleg found enough derision somewhere to laugh. “You're stupid Manon Blackbeak. You will condemn your people to destruction if you let them live."  

"Just keep your fairy tales,” Manon growled and took a step toward the Yellowlegs matron. "But you don't mess it whit my daughter."  

Baba's face was twisted with rage. “You have declared war between the Blackbeaks and the Yellowlegs by killing my coven and threatening me! Only with blood can blood be paid!” witch thy mass, over Rina's cry. “I demand reparation from your coven, Blackbeak! Your coven shall die in the clutches of the Yellowlegs!"  

Manon lifted her chin. "Empty threats,” She said quietly and a smile came to her lips. “You said it yourself," she continued as Baba opened her mouth to answer. “What happens in this forest stays in this forest."  

The nostrils of the Yellowleg matron dilated with rage. "No!" she grunted. "You're not going to kill me!” And before Manon could take a step forward, Baban grabbed Rina's head with a hard grip. Rina groaned in shock and pain. Manon screamed and surged towards Baba. She wouldn't... wouldn't get...  

Manon was too slow. She realized it as she rushed to move. She wouldn't be able to grab Rina until Baba broke her neck. A scream of despair and rage grew in Manon's lungs, ready to explode when...something black lunged at Baba Yellowleg.  

Black... something with large wings and razor-sharp claws that it embedded in Baba Yellowleg's face. Baba screamed and raised her hand to scare a large black from her bouquet... raven.  

And in one hundredth of a second, Manon yanked Rina's Baba from Yellowleg's arms into her own arms. There were tears on Rina's cheeks. She cried tears!  

Manon backed back with quick, light steps, pressing Rina against his chest with one hand. In her other hand she was still pulling the Wind Claver. Rina squeak and clung to the front of Manon's jacket. She didn't cry anymore.  

Manon stopped next to Asterin, whose eyes fluttered wide in horror at the blue blanket-wrapped bundle in Manon's arms. "Is she okay?" Asterin ask quietly. Manon glanced down once. Rina looked up. Relief passed through Manon like a wave. As a calm, but powerful wave.  

"Yes," Manon said just as quietly, before turning her attention to Baba Yellowleg, who was still fighting with the black bird.  

Baba screamed with rage and flailed with her iron nails towards the raven's smooth feathers. The raven dodged the blow and flew to the branch of the nearest tree, as if knowing that it was no longer needed.  

Manon thrust her sword into the scabbard so she could better take Rina in her arms. So that she could press her daughter's little head better against her chest.  

Baba Yellowleg's gaze was fixed on them, and rage flashed in her brown eyes. There were many long scratches on her face from raven claws. “You don't know what you're doing when you save that abnormity witchling."  

Sorrel grunted. Vesta echoed it.  

Baba Yellowleg's gaze flashed from the angry faces of the Thirteen Witches to the others. “Are you protecting that abnormity witchling? Will you protect the traitor's daughter? Has she told you why she was here in the woods today? Did she tell?"  

Manon could have cut the silence with her sword. It was so heavy and charged. Manon and Asterin glanced at each other. Only once.  

Later. They would tell Thirteen later. The attention of both returned to the Yellowlegs Matron.  

"You have committed the greatest crime of witches,” Manon said in a cold voice. She pressed Rina's head against her chest, remembering the scratch on her daughter's cheek. "You have harmed a witchling."  

"That's not..." Baba tried to intervene, but Manon's voice was louder. Tougher. More authoritative. "The punishment for that is death. Your coven has already suffered their punishment for not stopping you from corrupting my daughter's face!"  

A quiet growl could be heard from Thirteen's throats when they heard the accusation. “I am the Yellowleg matron!” Baba roared with rage, iron nails flashing in the sun. Fast as a serpent, she rushed toward Manon, but before she could take two steps, Faline and Fallon had grabbed the Matron's hands and pushed her to her knees on the ground.  

Although Baba was a witch, she was also old. Very, very old and cruel. She would die as she lived.  

"You can't hide your crimes forever!" Baba Yellowleg shouted. "You will be punished for destroying my coven! Your grandmother..."  

"My grandmother will never know," Manon interrupted. "Never."  

The Yellowlegs matron growled. “You're stupid, Manon Blackbeak. You are stupid and arrogant. The day will come when your half-blooded mixed fetus will be slaughtered. I've seen... I know. When her blood bleeds into the ruins, you will witness a darkness from which no witch has survived!"  

Manon blinked. Once. Twice. “You die for your own pride, Baba Yellowleg,” Manon said with cruel voice. With a voice she had used for the past hundred years. “You die the death of a coward and the witch who hurt the witchling."  

Baba roared and fighting against Faline and Fallon's grip. Manon knew their grip would hold. They wouldn't let go.  

“Ghislaine, Thea, Kaya,” Manon called, and three witches stepped forward, with a dark shadow of rage on their faces. Manon did not take her eyes off the Yellowleg screaming in rage when she said: "Take Rina back to the cave. Make sure she's okay."  

She handed the silenced Rina to Thea, who took the witchling from Manon's arms without question. Rina did not object. She clung to Thea the same way she had clung to Manon. Thea's scent was familiar and safe.  

Ghislaine nodded at Manon once and Kaya glanced at Baba disdainfully. “Make her suffer," she muttered before taking over the leadership of the group. Kaya ahead, Ghislaine last, and Thea Rina in her arms in the middle, the trio disappeared into the forest.  

Manon waited. Minute. And another. Until ahe could no longer hear the footsteps of the three witches. Once sure that Rina was safe in the cave.  

Manon turned her attention to Baba Yellowleg, who had fallen silent and stared at her, brown eyes wide open with rage and—Manon noticed, pleased to see - with fear.  

"You can't," Baba grunted. Manon pulled Wind Claver from the and exposed her iron nails. There was no mercy in her gaze. It was not in the gaze of anyone left in the square Thirteen.  

In desperation, Baba Yellowleg tried to break free from Faline and Fallon's grasp. Once. Another. Manon stepped in front of her. The Yellowleg matron once glanced at Manon's sword and exposed iron nails.  

She started shouted.   

And she didn't stop screaming for a long time.  

::::::::  

The water around Manon turned dark blue as blood slowly dissolved from her skin. Manon rubbed her leather-covered arms to get all the blood splattered from Baba off her clothes. She would not return to the cave smelling of the blood and fear of the Yellowlegs matrton.  

If Manon could, she would have prolonged Baba Yellowleg's suffering for weeks. However, they could not afford it. Rina needed her mother, and Rina was more important to Manon than revenge. Yet she had enjoyed every single cry of pain that Baba the Yellowleg had let out of her throat as the Thirteen witches attacked her. Broken bones, bloody wounds, white bones shining from under the skin. Manon had personally ripped Baba's iron nails off shame punishment for harming her daughter. This was done to every irontoothed witch who committed that crime.  

Iron nails were part of them, part of their identity. When they were torn away, it was like a witch losing her soul.  

Asterin had ripped Baba's tongue out of her mouth, punishing her for every threat and insult she had said. Asterin's wild grin had clearly indicated how much her cousin had enjoyed it.  

Sorrel, compared to others, calm and restrained blows, had broken the bones of Baba Yellowleg's face so thoroughly that towards the end of the torture she no longer looked like herself.  

Vesta had ripped Yellowleg Matron's eyes out of her sockets as Baba cried out wordlessly in pain.  

Faline and Fallon systematically broke the bones of the witch's hands and fingers.  

Edda and Briar had skinned the yellow ankles of Baba Yellowleg’s. The blood splattered on their faces looked like a war painting in the light of the sun.  

Lin had grated Baba's scalp with her iron nails. The hair fell in large bloody tufts to the ground.  

Imogen had sunk her iron nails through the skin and cut bones, her eyes burning with rage.  

They had prolonged the torture for a few hours. They had vented their rage into the old witch's body, tearing loud screams of pain from her in the last minutes. And finally, as the sun pointed to noon, Manon had killed her. Slit the witch's throat and left her slowly tormented to death. Thirteen had stood in a loose circle around Baba the Yellowleg's dying body, waiting for her to take her last breath. And when she finally did so, laboriously and with a wheez cease to move, Manon struck her head off the body. Baba did not deserve a quick death.  

In the midday sun, Manon and his witches who remained in the square had dragged the headless bodies into the shade to wait for the evening. The heads they threw into the river as food for fish. It was too hot to start digging graves, and Manon wasn't sure it was the best way to dispose of the Yellowlegs' bodies.  

She would later think about what to do with them. Now... now, after returning to reality from the world of blood and pain, she just wanted to see Rina. Her little one. Without Asterin and Sorrel, Manon would have already rushed back to the cave. Her second and third had cautiously reminded her that Manon was covered in blood from the Yellowlegs, and that smell might confuse and frighten Rina.  

So they had gone to the river. The whole bruised, blood-covered band of witches still trying to return to reality after the recent slaughter. It had been a massacre. A struggle born of rage and a desire to protect.  

With careful movements, trying not to foul her undershirt in blood, Manon took off her witch leather. She threw first her jacket, then her pants into the river. Boots followed suit with a red cloak. The Wind Claver lay on top of her sheath next to Manon. Its blade should be cleaned of blue blood.  

Manon grabbed her bloody clothes and began washing them as best she could, aided only by the cool river water. From the leather, blood came off easily. Cloak secondly... no matter how hard Manon tried to scrub, purple stains remained in the red cloth that might never disappear. Manon would always carry a reminder of this day in her cloak.  

From the day she almost lost her daughter. Quiet footsteps and a soft sigh as someone sat down next to Manon woke him up from her thoughts. Manon looked up from the cloak she had been left clenching with her knuckles white. Asterin had sat down beside her. Blonde hair was open and flowing down her back. She had taken off her undershirt, leaving only the bandages around her breasts and bloodstained pants on.  

Manon was wearing only a white undershirt. The rest of her clothes either hung drying on tree branches or floated in the river soaking.  

Manon looked at her deuce's profile. There was a glazed look in her eyes, but the ghost of a cruel smile was playing in the corners of her mouth. In the position of Asterin's shoulders, you could still see the fury with which she had ripped the tongue of the Yellowlegs matron out of her mouth. Manon's gaze descended lower. Hit the burn mark. Uncleaned.  

It reminded her of the words Baba had called Rina. Unclean half-blood. "What do you think she meant by that?"  

Asterin's question caused Manon to look up in her cousin's eyes. There was an uncertain and worried look in the black gold-spotted eyes. Manon shook her head and looked away. She pulled her cloak from the river and spread it out beside her on the ground to dry in the hot midday sun.  

"There are no half-blood witches," Manon said. She didn't know if she was trying to convince herself or Asterin with words. Doubt smouldered in her mind. What if... but why had Manon never heard of such witches. Even among the corchans there was not said to be... half-bloods.  

"There is no such thing, or do you just not want them to be talked about?" Asterin asked, looking out over the river. Faline and Fallon had waded into the water up to their necks, trying to get the dried blood out of their skin. “Why not talk about it?” Manon asked, turning her attention to her cousin.  

Asterin put a hand thoughtfully on her stomach. Ran her fingers along her scar. “All witch children are pureblood witches. There is no middle ground," Asterin muttered. Her hand stopped. "But what if there is? What if there are witchling who inherit qualities from their father? Magical powers?"  

Manon and Asterin's eyes met. Manon could see from her cousin's expression what she was asking. Her iron nails sank into the grass as he fought a wordless struggle with her second. A moment passed. Other... Manon averted her gaze. “I've been thinking about it," she admitted, flicking her hair behind the ear with her other hand, the hair that had escaped from her braiding behind the ear.  

"Even during pregnancy, I wondered if she could inherit something from her father that she should be worried about?" Manon continued with iron nails nervously scraping the ground. “If she had inherited magical powers..."  

"That would make her dangerous," Asterin muttered. Manon snorted. "We are dangerous," she pointed out sharply. Asterin glanced at her. “You know what I mean. Have you ever heard of an iron toothed witch with magic? Any other way to defend yourself than iron nails and teeth? A witch who could wreak the same kind of havoc with a snap of our fingers as we do by Yielding... That would be dangerous."  

Weapon and at the same time danger. Manon began to understand what Asterin meant. What could the existence of such a thing mean for all three clans. Asterin clearly thought the same as Manon, for she said: “The Iron Tooth Clans would turn against each other to get such a weapon. They would kill each other to gain such power."  

"Or they would do their best to destroy the source of that power," Manon muttered, thoughts galloping. Baba Yellowleg's words came back to her in parts. In that moment—holding the sword in animalistic rage—Manon had thought that the words of the Yellowleg matron were a desperate attempt to save her own pathetic life.  

What if... Baba's words rang in Manon's ears like a vicious echo: “ You're stupid Manon Blackbeak. You will condemn your people to destruction if you let her live."  

"Baba claimed Rina would destroy our way of life if I didn't let her kill her,” Manon said so quietly that the rest of the Thirteen on the riverbank could not hear.  

Sorrel and Vesta were closest to them. Vesta scratched blood from her boots and Sorrel cleaned her iron nails.Imogen sat in the river and rubbed her hands, trying to get Baba's internal organ shreds out from under her nails.  

Faline and Fallon did their best to get blood out of their skin.  

Near them, Edda and Briar stood knee-deep in the water and lifted their witch skins to dry on the grass. They should wash as well as possible. The smell of Yellowleg blood could otherwise confuse Rina.  

Lin sat under a tree, a short distance from Imogen, cleaning her sword. There was dried blood in Lin's hair.  

Asterin snorted, and her next words made Manon stare at her cousin as if she were out of her senses."It might not be that bad."  

"What are you talking about?" Manon startled. "Our way of life..."  

"It's rotten, Manon. Can you claim anything else Manon? Don't let your grandmother's voice influence your thoughts. What do you think of our way of living?"  

Manon stared at Asterin. She wanted to open her mouth and claim that her grandmother was no longer influencing her thoughts, but... Was that true? Manon had changed a lot during these months, but her grandmother's judgmental, cruel voice always lurked in the background of her thoughts. It was stuck there. Planted thoughts in Manon's head that were not her own.  

But which of them were Manon's own thoughts and which were her grandmother's words? Manon wasn't always able to recognize her own thoughts about her grandmother's manipulation.  

Manon stared into the void for a long moment and searched her mind. Her thoughts and reflections. She thought and recalled. Oxygen slowly traveled to her lungs. And out of them. Once. Another... Dorian was not a mistake!  

Ajatus oli pyörinyt Manonin mielessä pitkään, mutta pysytellyt taka-alalla. Isoäidin tuomitseva ääni oli kuiskuttanut Manonin korvaan ja kertonut hänelle, että Dorian oli ollut virhe. Heikkouden osoitus. Manonin ei kuulunut kiintyä, sillä Manon oli julma. Manon oli tottelevainen. Manon oli kurinalainen. Ja ehkä niin oli ollut. Manon oli ollut sellainen hyvin pitkään, mutta nyt...nyt..  

Manon buried her head in her hands. Fuck. Oh fuck! Manon had been influenced by her grandmother's voice, even though she was far from Matron. She was always there. At the heart of Manon's mind. Reminded of discipline, obedience and brutality. Told her that everything else was weakness. That what happened with Dorian was weakness. It wasn't... It wasn't. And understanding that... Realizing it... something in Manon broke. An essential part of her mind shattered, leaving a void.  

Her hands fell limply into Manon's arms. She stared at her reflection on the surface of the river. Beautiful face, golden eyes and white hair. She stared at the gun created by her grandmother.  

Or was she staring?  

Manon raised trembling hands to her face and touched her rounded cheeks. She had softened. Both outside and inside. She was no longer the heir her grandmother had created. Brutaly, order-obeying doll.  

She was free at last. She wasn't safe. She was a refugee. She was a traitor.  

Manon was free.  

There was emptiness inside her where her grandmother's version of Manon had been. Now... Now there was nothing left in it.  

A quiet breath escaped Manon's mouth as she looked at her face out of the water. So familiar. So strangers. Who was she if, not the heir to the Blackbeaks? What was she, if not a brutaly killer? White demon? Who was she?  

A hand landed on Mano's shoulder, causing Manon to take her gaze off her reflection in the mirror. Asterin's gaze was gentle as she grasped Manon's trembling fingers. "Sometimes... Sometimes everything has to be destroyed for something new to emerge,” Asterin said quietly, only to Manon. And Manon... She nodded.  

Once. Twice. Air traveled in and out of her lungs slowly but easily. Manon breathed. It felt like she was breathing for the first time without a weight on her chest. “You're right," Manon said, nodding a third time before meeting her cousin's gaze. “Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Although the thought of Rina near my grandmother makes me want to kill her."  

Asterin smiled and squeezed Manon's hand comfortingly. “That will never happen. We will protect her."  

Reality fell on Manon like a load of rocks. Manon took a shaking breath and averted her gaze away from Asterin. Her gaze fell on her own reflection in the mirror again. "For how long?" Manon asked, unable to look at Asterin. She stared at herself. Her own mirror image. Maybe she didn't know who she was going to be in the future. But she knew one thing, as surely as the sun would rise in the morning and the moon would rule the skies at night.  

She was a mother. Rina's mother. And her first duty was to protect her daughter with all her existence.  

“Manon,” Asterin said. "We can..."  

“Asterin,” Manon interrupted and turned to meet her cousin's gaze. She felt the eyes of the other witches fixed on them. Manon didn't care about them. “Is that enough? Are we enough? How long do you think we can protect Rina? How long will it be before another coven finds us?"  

Asterin's face turned pale. "We're changing places. We hide again,” There was despair in her cousin's voice. Manon swallowed and squeezed her hands tighter around her cousin's fingers. "Is that enough?" she asked.  

Asterin fell silent. For a long moment she was silent, as if wondering what to say. Finally, she opened her mouth: "That must be enough. What other opportunities do we have Manon?"  

Manon was silent. She didn't say what kind of thought had begun to smoulder in her mind. The doubt and fear that weaved a plan in her mind. A plan that Manon hoped she wouldn't have to resort to.  

"I have to tell others what the situation is," Manon said. "I have to tell you everything."  

Asterin's brows rose in surprise and then descended from uncertainty. "Everything?" she asked. "Absolutely everything," Manon confirmed. “They have the right to know what has happened and what can happen. They get to decide if they want to continue."  

Manon looked at Asterin, who seemed to be digesting her words. Finally, the cousin nodded. “I'm following you," Asterin said, meeting Manon's gaze gravely. "Wherever I lost, whatever you decide, I will follow you."  

Manon's throat choked. She swallowed her crying desire and stood up, even though her legs felt weak. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you for everything you've done for me."  

Asterin's eyes gleamed with tears, but her voice was steady as she replied: “At any time Manon. At any time."  

::::::  

They returned to the cave later than Manon would have liked. With their clothes still partly damp and their hair wet glued to their scalps, the whole ragged group of witches stepping in one by one through the doorway of the cave.  

Manon stepped in last, dangling the Wind Cleaver in her hand. The scabbard should still be allowed to dry. Manon barely had time to take two steps when a loud gasp caught her attention. Manon looked up and saw Rina twisting in Kaya's arms.  

Her daughter.  

A Wind Cleaver slipped from Manon's fingers to the ground as she rushed to move. Suddenly, the fatigue that had accumulated during the day dissipated, leaving only happiness that Rina was okay. That, they had all survived the battle.  

Rina squealed with joy and grabbed her mother with her small hands as Manon snatched her in her arms from Kaya's arms. Rina was wearing only her white dress. A blue blanket was drying. Apparently, it had been washed after morning. Manon pressed Rina tightly against her chest. The girl breathed. Her heart beat... Alive, fit... Everything was fine with Rina. But for how long? How long...  

A small fist yanked the front of Manon's witch leather so hard that Manon was astonished when the leather did not tear. Manon looked down and saw her daughter's stubborn gaze as she jerked her mother's coat again.  

Rina was hungry. It certainly was. Manon had been gone all morning, and Rina hadn't gotten any food since yesterday. With guilt pressing in her chest, Manon stepped beside the lit fire and sat down. A pot full of fish soup boiled over the fire. Ghislaine sat next to it in her undershirt. The wound on her hand was bandaged again. On the bandages of pure whites there was only a small stain of blue blood. Ghislaine glanced up as Manon sat by the fire, unbuttoning her coat with one hand. Rina began to be impatient and let out a couple of irritated gasps when Manon didn't immediately give her food.  

"She's been restless all day,” Ghislaine said, stirring the pot of soup. "As soon as she recovered, Rina started twisting and squeaking. She wanted to get back to you. We wondered if we would come looking for you, but we didn't know...” Ghisleine let go of the scoop and let it bump against the edge of the pot. “We didn't know if it would have been safe yet. We didn't know how long you would be able to torture Baba Yellowleg."  

Manon finally unbuttoned his jacket, lifted her undershirt and moved the milk-stained bandages from her breasts. Manon hadn't even realized the pain or fullness in her breasts until Rinan started eating. She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the pressure diminish.  

"Not long enough," Manon said, correcting his grip on Rina, who grabbed Manon's hand, as if making sure she wasn't going anywhere again. The thirteen witches slowly gathered in a circle around the campfire. Asterin sat to Manon's right, Sorrel to her left. The others took their places until around the campfire were all of the Thirteen. “The punishment doesn't seem enough," Manon continued, lowering her gaze to Rina. To the small scratch on her cheek. The bleeding had stopped a long time ago and only a red streak remained.  

Manon blinked. Confusion ran through her as she released her fingers from Rina's grip and flicked the scratch on her pale cheek. A small streak of red blood remained on her fingers. Red... Manon looked up and her eyes fell on the blue stain of the bandage covering Ghislaine's wound.  

So Manon didn't see wrong. When she set her eyes back on Rina, she made sure of that. Rina's blood was red. No blue.  

"Uncleaned half-blood. " Baba whispered in her head.  

Is that what she meant? That Rina's blood was the same color as humans's?  

"The bleeding stopped on the way back to the cave," Thea told, breaking the silence of the cave."We didn't know... The blood was red. We cleaned the wound but I don't understand... What is she?"  

Manon grunted.  

The witches' backs straightened when they heard voice what promising a painful death. "Sorry," Thea said and swallowed. “It's just..." She fell silent when she failed to put her thoughts into words. Manon forced herself to take a breath to calm herself down. She looked again at her daughter, who had closed her eyes. It had been a tough day for her, too. Manon let silent questions pile up around her and her witches like pressure before the storm. No one asked questions out loud.  

No one dared. Manon knew that her stiff posture and protectively bent upper body signaled hostility. She couldn't relax. Not now. Not yet, when the memories of the day and all the things Baba Yellowleg said came back to her. When she was reminded of Rina's crying the moment Baba Yellowleg's nails slit open her pale cheek, revealing a secret hidden beneath her skin.  

The fact that the blood flowing through Rina's veins was red. No blue.  

Half-blooded. Half-blooded. Half-blooded.  

The word echoed in Manon's mind in sync with her pulse. Baba called Rina a half-blood.  

What was she? What was Rina? Although Manon was irritated when Thea asked it, Manon thought about it now. What was her daughter?  

"Baba Yellowleg called Rina a half-blood,” Manon finally opened her mouth. Rina had fallen asleep but was still eating.  

Vesta snorted. "Do we believe what the matron of another clan says? After she tried to kill Rina?"  

“She was only going to do it after calling Rina a half-blood,” Manon said quietly. Thirteen remained silent as they pondered Manon's words. In the end, Sorrel broke the silence. “I've never heard of such a thing,” The third said thoughtfully, her gaze moving from one witch's face to the other. “What would that even mean? To be half witch and half... what? Human?"  

Silence simmer this time. Insecurity, confusion, anger. Now what?  

Manon sighed and improved her posture. She flicked her daughter's black curls off her blonde cheeks. She thought of Dorian. Manon thought about the features of Princeling, which she already saw in her daughter. Eyebrow arch, hair color, mischievousness, stubbornness... smile. Rina had her father's smile. The same annoying smile Manon missed. Now she could see it on her daughter's face every day.  

And that only exacerbated the longing.  

"I have to tell you something," Manon said, raising her eyes to her coven. Shadows play on the witches' faces as they lean closer. Manon sighed. “I want you to listen without interrupting and decide what you want to do only after I have finished."  

Restlessness passed through the Thirteen like the breeze in the reeds. The witches glanced at each other nervously or raised their eyebrows at Manon. Only Asterin's face was calm. When Manon glanced at her, the second smiled slightly and nodded.  

Manon took a deep breath, hardened herself, and began her story. She told everything. About Dorian, neglected duties and lies. She told of her grandmother's rage, exhaustion, and finally her dreams. Dreams of a raven and a little girl. Laughter. A hoarfrost giggle.  

She told Thirteen the night when she was return to Dorian for the last time and overheard her conversation with his mother. She told how she escaped the truth she had realized.  

She told about the lakeshore, the apple and the corchan witch. Sharp breaths were the only thing Manon heard. She refused to meet the gaze of her witches. She kept her gaze on the sleeping Rina.  

Manon went on to talk about Glennis, who was sells apples at the village market. The same witch who, months later, saved Manon's life by giving a cure for her illness. She talked about the price - what the corchans had wanted in return.  

Manon told of the night before giving birth when she sneaked out of the cave and met a young corcha witch. The same one that left her an apple. The same one from whom she received a blue blanket.  

And finally, Manon made it to that morning in her story. Moments before the Yellowleg ambush. She told about the offer of the corhcans. Manon saw glimpses in the light of the flames as iron nails were exposed and lips retreated from grimaced teeth. Asterin grunted beside Manon. She hadn't heard of this before.  

When Manon fell silent, a ringing silence descended into the cave.  

"Princess of Adralan," Thea finally muttered. “Corchans' help?" Vesta burst into the fire, staring. "Magic," Sorrel stated.  

Manon cautiously looked up at the Witches of the Thirteen. She had been expecting a shock. Maybe anger. But this strange... The indignation came as a complete surprise to her.  

"They offered to take Rina,” Asterin snorted, and her iron teeth flashed in the light of the flames. "Did they really think Manon would agree to give herdaughter to them?"  

"So it's because they've helped us,” Imogen said and nodded to Asterin, "They have no right to claim the daughter of the leader of our coven for themselves."  

“Dorian Havilliard?”Vesta asked, grining softly at Manon. "Quite a prey."  

"My prey," Manon growled, still reserved. She had not expected such a reaction. Ghislaine threw a new tree into the campfire. “I'd like to reproach you for being reckless, but I know you're far too smart to trust a corchaneid for no good reason. They left you... They left us alive." Ghislaine sighed and rubbed her forehead. "We owe them."  

"Not so much as to give them Rina,” Asterin growled and crossed her arms to her chest. "No," Faline intervened, waving her iron nails hand. “Rina is Blackbeak, whoever her father is."  

Unanimous growls filled the cave, Thirteen nodding their heads. Manon swallowed and looked down at her daughter. Rina slept peacefully, blissfully unaware of the conversation going on around her. Blackbeak, despite everything. It meant more to Manon than she could describe in words.  

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?” Sorrel asked, turning to look at Manon. She didn't answer right away. Manon carefully removed Rina from her chest and pulled the white bandages into place. She pulled down her undershirt. Rina groaned in her sleep, but did not wake up despite Manon's movements. “What would I have said," Manon finally said. “I might have been able to tell you about Dorian, but what about the corchans? I didn't know how you would react."  

Lin growled and poked at the fire with a long wooden stick. The end of the stick caught fire. Lin sighed and pushed it all the way into the fire. "If you expected us to go berserk, you were wrong," Lin said and straightened her back to Manon's gaze. “But, I guess I speak for everyone when I say we're all hurt, that you didn't trust us enough to tell us sooner."  

Sparks flew from the fire as Manon breathed softly. She pressed Rina against her chest, guilt settling on the bottom of her stomach as a heavy weight. “But then again," Lin continued, her voice softening, "We're all used to keeping things to ourselves," she nodded to Manon. "I'm following you even though it took you this long to confide."  

"Likewise," Vesta said. Sorrel nodded beside her gravely. Faline and Fallon grinned at each other and then at Manon. "I'm following you," Imogen said quietly. Edda and Briar repeated it as an echo. Then Thea and Kaya. Ghislaine nodded. Asterin smiled at Manon and Manon... Her throat choked.  

In spite of everything - despite the Corchans and Dorian, they followed her. "Well," Vesta asked, “What do we do now?"  

The red-haired witch pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, looking at Manon. “We must go," Edda said. "You have to find a new hiding place before the Yellowlegs realize their matron is dead here. A large number of them may come here to clarify the situation."  

"It wouldn't turn out well," Fallon muttered. “And what about the Blackbeaks matron?” She went on and crossed her ankles. “She begins to doubt when we do not return Blackbeak keep. She will send some coven to find us."  

"We could cross the sea," Ghislaine suggested. "Go to Wendlyn. That's not where they would look."  

At least not right away, Manon thought. She listened to her witches' plans, considering each of them. “We can't," Asterin said. "Rina wouldn't survive such a long journey."  

Asterin's remark sparked a new wave of discussion as the Thirteen thinking where and how far they could try to fly when Rina was still so small. Crossing the sea could be a safe option only when the girl was eight or nine. Until then, it could be too much. Suspicion began to swell in Manon's chest. The words of the warrior witch from morning came back to her.  

"Even if it means you have to run forever?"  

And then what Glennis had said. On how long it would take Grandmother to find Manon and Thirteen. How long would it take her to find Rina. And if Baba the Yellowleg's words were to be trusted, Grandmother would kill Rina without hesitation. Because Rina was different.  

Manon looked at her daughter. Really looked at her. A heavy weight settled upon her shoulders, as insight passed through her. Rina would never be safe with her. With them. Even if they could hide... again and again, eventually Grandmother would find them. And was forever run really the life Manon wanted to give her daughter. Uncertainty and fear.  

"That's not enough," Manon said in a strangulated voice, interrupting the Thirteen's conversations. The witches fell silent when they heard the despair in Manon's voice. Manon's shoulders shook as she looked up at her witch. "We can escape. We can escape and stay hidden. But for how long. Year? Two? Ten? It's not enough!"  

Thirteen was silent. Manon took a shaking breath, though saying the words grated on her newly discovered heart. “Grandmother does not stop. She will never give up hunting and when she finds us..." Manon did not finish her sentence. She didn't have to. Others understood.  

Asterin's eyes glinted as she tried. "But Rina..."  

"Ten years is not enough time to train her strong enough to defend herself. Not even if she has magic."  

The witches of Thirteen glanced at each other. It slowly dawned on them what Manon was going to do. “Manon...” Sorrel said, sounding painful. "There must be some way..."  

"Yes," Manon said passionately. "There's a way Grandmother never finds Rina. She will never know. And that's when she has to stop hunting."  

The silence was as oppressive as the air before the thunderstorm. Manon met the gaze of every witch in her coven. Gave each of them the opportunity to argue against, to come up with another plan. Everyone was silent. And finally, Manon set his sights back on Rina. The first tears fell on her heaps. “Grandmother should never doubt that she even existed. When we return, Rina will cease to exist."  

Thirteen's face lightened. Some blinked tears from their eyes, others folded their arms to their chests. Tears began to flow across Asterin's face. Still, her voice was steady as she said, "We... We will returne?"  

Manon couldn't speak. She just nodded. Asterin averted her gaze, swallowing the tears. She didn't want to go back. None of them wanted to.  

"What about Rina?" Vesta asked. "She can't come to Blackbeak keep with us."  

Manon sighed and closed her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the sobbing made her whole body tremble. When she got her voice working again, the whisper could hardly be heard: “I know a place where no one can look," Manon's voice broke towards the end of the sentence, another sob shaking her body.  

"Will you follow me?" Manon asked in the same, broken voice. The silence was as deep as in the grave as the witches of the Thirteen nodded. No one spoke. Maybe they were just trying to keep their own grief in check.  

Manon looked at Rina. Her beautiful sleeping daughter, who whimper in her sleep and grabbed Manon's shirt with her small hands. With tears streaming down her cheeks, Manon pressed a light kiss into Rina's hair.  

Keeping a child was never an option.  

Chapter Text

“I held you close to me 
Felt your heartbeat and I thought I am free 
Oh, yes and as one are we 
In the now and beyond 
Nothing and no one can break this bond.” 

My love, my life 
Mamma mia 
Abba 

Chapter 10  

There was a moment before dawn. An orange-reddish glow had been drawn on the horizon, indicating that the sun was about to rise. Manon's eyes were weighed down with fatigue and the burden of exhaustion pulled her shoulders into a crouch. Her hands seemed to stiffen around the broomstick. They should land soon. Before the sun would rise and the air would get unbearably hot.  

The first heat of midsummer had hit Erlea and even in Adralan the heat was almost unbearable. That was just one of the reasons why the Thirteen only flew at night.  

They had to stay hidden.  

Flying over the Oakwald forest had been Ghislaine's idea. At this time of year, no sane witch would fly over the old forest. Oakwald creatures did not like witches. Not that witches liked them. Or from Oakwald. The trees in the forest grew unnaturally close to each other. The raw magic nesting there made Manon feel uneasy.  

But it was the only safe way to where they were going. Even though flying over the forest extended the journey by a few days.  

Thirteen had now traveled for three days. They flew northwards for the night, leaving behind the torn bodies of the Yellowleg coven and the cave that had been their home for almost a year.  

Manon wouldn't have thought it would be so hard. A weight had settled on the bottom of her stomach as she watched Thea and Kaya cover the bath pit. How hard it was to remove the lanterns from the walls and kick the campfire away. Everything that happened in that cave... buried under the sand. It never happened. No evidence. No witnesses.  

Only Manon and Thirteen. And each of them had sworn to take the secret with her to the grave. It took them a day to destroy everything that would suggest they had been in that forest all winter, well into the summer.  

After the sun sets on the horizon – when the first stars lit up in the sky – Manon gave her witches orders to settle. Rina was tightly wrapped in her blanket so she wouldn't freeze high in the air. Manon had turned her red cloak into a sling inside which Rina could sleep peacefully.  

During the first two nights of flight, Rina dosen’t woke up. The song of the wind lulled her to sleep and the steady flight kept her asleep all night, right up to the moment they landed.  

Manon wasn't just tired because of the long flight nights. During the day, Rina stayed awake for longer and longer periods of time, which meant that at least one witch had to be awake to guard the others and entertain Rina.  

Rina didn't seem to be too fussy about the daily changing campsite. Rather, she seemed excited about the changed landscapes. Rina had started gurgle a few mornings ago, trying to imitate the sounds of Thirteen. Manon could have sworn she once said "Mom." It was far too early for that and it was probably just a matter of sounds.  

Still, that didn't stop the pain in Manon's chest.  

A gust of wind struck Manon's face, carrying with it the scent of the dry forest. She pulled scent deep into her lungs and lowered her gaze into the thick Oakwald forest. They would still have four flight nights left before reaching their destination. It felt like an eternity. And at the same time, it was just a blink of an eye.  

Manon swallowed and gestured with her hand to her coven, giving the order to land. They should camp before sunrise so that the most tired can sleep. Manon herself should be the one who would sleep. However, she had claimed the first watch shift in the brief negotiation they had held before continuing the journey. The decision did not seem to please anyone. Least of all Asterin, who looked almost as tired as Manon.  

"You should sleep," Asterin had said and folded her arms to her chest. Manon tightened her cloak and made sure Rina was comfortable before turning to say to her cousin: "I could say the same about you. It only makes sense. Rina wants to eat as soon as she wakes up."  

Asterin's forehead was frowned angrily. “ You can't exhaust yourself," she had said. Manon had sighed deeply. “ Neither can you. None of you can,” the last she addressed to all the witches of the Thirteen, who stood in a loose semicircle around Asterin and Manon.  

Manon looked back at Asterin and said calmly: “ I'll take the first watch. Ghislaine can take the following. You get the last shift before we leave. We need to sleep when we get the chance."  

Asterin seemed willing to resist the order, but Manon would not allow it. She turned her back on her second and gave the order to get on the brooms.  

Manon herself would have liked to resist her own command. She knew how important Rina was to Asterin. How important she was to all of them. No one wanted to waste a moment with the little one now that time was limited. Least of all Manon.  

Rina was the greatest achievement of her miserable and long life. Letting go of her would be... Difficult. Impossible... Manon didn't know how to pretend to her grandmother that she was still the same brutal killer she had been when he left Blackbeak keep the previous fall. How to hide the evidence that she had carried, gave birth and loved her daughter?  

Manon knew how. She knew... And it hurt her more than she wanted to admit. Sometimes she wished her heart was still icy.  

Thirteen witches landed softly, almost without making a sound, into the little clearing of the woods that Manon had observed from the air. The witches moved stiffly, and Thea tripped over her feet and staggered against Fallon as she got off her broom.  

No one had the strength to speak, hardly to set up camp. Manon helped what the others gave, but in the end she found herself sitting on a fallen tree trunk and watching as the Thirteen pitched two tent canvases on tree branches for sun protection. Some didn't even have the energy to take out their sleeping mats. Asterin, Edda, Briar, Vesta, Faline, and Ghislaine just lay down on the grass and fell asleep almost immediately after laying their heads on their arms. The others slowly pulled their sleeping pads out of their backpacks, which they spread on the ground. Manon watched silently as her entire coven crawled into an improvised shelter, and moments later the air was filled, with steady breathing.  

Manon sighed and lowered her gaze to Rina, who was sleeping against her chest. A small fist was clenched around Hugo's long bird's neck. That cursed stuffed animal had pressed against Manon's chest all the way. She certainly had a weal at that point. But she didn't complain. Anything that reminded Rina, she was real was welcome.  

Black, curly black hair tickled Manon's neck as she bent down to press a kiss to her daughter's forehead. She drew into her lungs the characteristic scent of her daughter, which she had only recently discovered. Frost, sun-warmed leaves, and something that reminded Manon of Dorian.  

Dorian was Manon's only chance. If he didn't agree... Manon didn't know what to do.  

Something crackled behind her. Manon immediately turned, looking for the source of the sound. Her golden eyes carefully looked at the trees, the trunks of which were gilded by the first rays of the sun. She saw nothing. The forest was unnaturally silent, as if all the creatures living in the forest wanted to escape as far away from the witches' camp as possible. Good.  

Manon would kill anyone who strayed too close to them camp. Her witches. And her daughter. Without anyone questioning what a person or creature was doing so deep in the forest. A faint whine made Manon's gaze return to Rina, who had opened her eyes and was looking at her mother in confusion.  

"Sorry little one," Manon muttered. "Did I wake you up?” Rina gurgle her own tongue and reached out to tug at Manon's shirt. A small smile twitched the sides of Manon's mouth. "Yes, of course."  

As she pulled her shirt aside, Manon felt as if something was watching them, observing Rina, from among the trees. But when she looked back, she saw nothing.  

:::::::  

The sun had just set behind the trees when the Thirteen dismantled their camp, climbed on their brooms, and soared into the sky. One by one, the stars lit up, illuminating their journey with faint glow.  

Rina was awake at the beginning of the journey. She was cheerful when she got food, and now, in the sky among the stars, she was excited to gurgle and giggle with excitement. Manonin smiled to herself as she listened to Rina's happy chatter. The little one seemed to have a lot to say. She reacted to Manon's hum as an encouragement to continue.  

Asterin, who flew next to Manon, smiled at Rina, who reached with her head to see around. “She seems to love flying," Asterin said quietly. Sadness sounded behind the words. Manon swallowed and looked at Rina, who was bound to her chest. The wind blew the little one's hair and a happy smile adorned Rina's face. “Mother's daughter," Manon muttered, gently pressing Rina's head so she would stop reaching out.  

Rina let out a sudden whimper, but agreed to curl up inside Manon's cloak. Moments later, the gurgle turned sleepy, and as the moon rose in the sky, Rina fell asleep. She slept soundly the rest of the night, her head against Manon's chest.  

Rina didn't wake up until Thirteen landed in a new square in the middle of the thick Oakwald forest.  

Manon yawned and blinked blinkingly at the first rays of the rising sun. While the rest of the Thirteen was assembling camp, Manon lay on her side over her cloak and breastfed Rina.  

Rina's eyes were half open and her hand squeezed Manon's finger, as it so often did. It's like the little one knows something is changing. That, Manon was disappearing from her life. Manon looked tenderly at her daughter, trying to keep the sorrow and pain at bay. There would be time for them later. She tried to enjoy these last moments of being with her daughter.  

The quiet steps made Manon look up at Rina. Sorrel stood before her with a calm expression on her face. Manon knew that serenity hid a lot of powerful emotions that her third hid with a century of experience.  

"I'm on the first watch," Sorrel announced. Manon nodded and glanced at Rina. The little one's eyes were closed. “You're lucky," Manon said, cautiously breaking away from her daughter. "She'll probably sleep all morning."  

Manon pulled her shirt down and pulled her jacket back over her shoulders. The air was still cool, but that wouldn't be the case for much longer. Manon would probably wake up around noon to the heat. Sorrel sat down on Manon's cloak, beside the sleeping Rina, and laid her sword on the grass. Manon sat up and stretched her stiff muscles before standing up. Sorrel watched her movements as she watched. There was a worried look in the black eyes. "What?" Manon asked, noticing Sorrel looking at her.  

The third took a deep breath and glanced quickly towards the other resting witches, before saying: "It's not too late to back down. We can still hide."  

Manon's throat choked as she shook her head. “We can hide. But for how long? Grandmother would eventually find us."  

"Not necessarily," Sorrel said quietly. Calmly. Although Manon sensed a desperate fervor smouldering on the under the surface. "If we stayed in the Oakwald forest, we would never be found. Never."  

Manon's heart beat once when a small spark of hope ignited. But almost as quickly as it ignited, it went out. Manon shook her head again and sighed. “Don't you feel that Sorrel?” Manon asked. "The forest doesn't want us to be here," she waved her hand, gesturing towards the trees trunks.  

"And besides," Manon continued, her voice crackling with sorrow. “I don't want Rina to have to run away her whole life. She deserves so much more."  

Sorrel's face flashed with despair, which quickly faded under the stone mask. “So you hide her in plain sight?” she asked in a low voice. Manon heard the accusation behind the words. Manon felt the sides of her mouth twitch into a bitter smile. “Rina doesn't need to know she's hidden. She deserves a childhood. A real childhood."  

And with those words, Manon turned and walked to her other witches, who had already laid down. Manon crawled next to Asterin, who made room for her. The sun's rays shone directly into her eyes, but that didn't stop Manon from falling asleep in the blink of an eye.  

As the sun went down, they went on again. Rina had spent the whole day lying in Manon's red cloak. Faline, who was on watch after Sorrel, later told how somewhere around noon a butterfly had flown out of the woods and landed on the end of Rina's nose. How the little one had scared the butterfly away with her sneeze, and how she had tried to reach for it with her little fists afterwards.  

Manon had a watch shift before departure. She fed Rina, who fell asleep on her chest, from where Manon could easily wrap her in a blanket and then wrap her in a sling. When she lifted her cloak from the ground, she was astonished to see the white flowers blooming beneath it. They formed a small circle on the ground, like a day around Rina, who had been lying in the same place all day. Manon stared at the cradle of white flowers for a moment. Shocked. Mute.  

She had heard of this. Reading fairy tales. But... Manon slowly looked up towards the forest. And in the last rays of the sun, she could have sworn she saw... little folk. They stood for a moment at the edge of the forest, observing, hiding in the shadows. And disappeared with the sun's rays.  

Manon slowly took a breath into her lungs and looked at Rina, who was sleeping peacefully. The little folk never approached the witches. Never. And they never left gifts for their kind.  

It was unheard of. But on the other hand... Manon pressed Rina against her chest. Perhaps she was more human than Manon thought.  

They continued their journey soon after, having eaten quickly. They flew through the night, chasing warm air currents. Rina snored lightly and gurgle occasionally. It's like she's talking in her sleep. Manon smiled to herself. Rinan was never silent.  

As dawn began, the Thirteen descended. It would be their last night in the Oakwald forest. Last night... before they would be in Riftholdi. The next morning they would be there. It felt like a blow straight to the stomach and was to make Manon twist in a heap of blunt pain. Time was running out. Time... which she had believed to be more was running out. The happiest time of Manon's life was coming to an end.  

Thirteen was quiet when setting up the camp. No one seemed particularly willing to sleep. Everyone wanted to spend time with Rina, now that it was still possible. Manon commanded them to sleep. Rina herself was still in a deep sleep, so when Manon handed her little one to Thea, she told the witch to wake her up when Rina woke up. She would feed Rina and then stay on guard herself so Thea could sleep.  

Rina woke up moments before noon. She crying loudly in Thea's arms, announcing that she was hungry. She woke up not only her mother, but also half of the other Thirteen witches.  

Manon stood up, rubbing her eyes, and walked over to an exhausted-looking Thea. She took Rina in her arms, who began to jerk suddenly into her mother's shirt. As Thea trudged to sleep, Manon lifted her shirt so Rina could eat.  

The day passed slowly, but at the same time far too quickly. The sun made its journey across the sky, while Manon entertained Rina as best she could. Rina gurgle and yell with excitement as Manon tickled her face with a blade of grass. By this time, the game had kept Rina satisfied for almost an hour. “You really like this," Manon said as she lightly touched Rina's nose with a blade of grass. “Augh,” Rina replied, trying to reach for the blade of grass with her hands. Manon took it farther, smiling slightly.  

Rina frowned, and she let out a frustrated gasp, trying to reach for the blade of grass. "Catch up, catch up," Manon encouraged. "Try to grab it!"  

Rina growled in frustration as she couldn't catch the blade of grass that tickled her. Her whimper stop abruptly as a white butterfly landed on her nose. Rina immediately fell silent and stared at the creature on her face, looking astonished. The butterfly fluttered its wings lightly. Rina was completely silent and motionless, as if knowing that the butterfly would otherwise fly away.  

Manon laid a blade of grass on her cloak, on which they both lay. Another butterfly, bigger and blue, flew in and landed on Rina's hand. Rina's eyes widened in wonder and delight when she saw another butterfly. She groaned and waved her little fist in the air, causing two butterflies to soar into the air. A panicked voice escaped Rina's mouth and she stretched out her hand towards your fly. Not only that, there were no more two.  

There were several of them. Big, small, in all colors of the rainbow. They fluttered around Manon and Rina, occasionally landing on a blood-red cloak, or Rina's hair, and then rising into the air again.  

Manon sat up, watching dumbfoundedly at the magnificent sight as butterflies filled the sky around them. There were now dozens of them. Each reproduces more beautiful. Confused, wondering, Manon stretched out her hand towards the swarm of butterflies. One, a large knightly butterfly flew to her finger. Manon's breath was taken away in surprise when the bug settled on her knuckle, wings flapping. No bug had dared to land on her hand like that before. And now on his knuckles rested a great knight butterfly, as if it belonged to it. It was beautiful. Very beautiful.  

Manon chuckled softly and shook her head, waving her hand at the same time. The butterfly fluttered on its wings, joining the ranks of its kind. And, as if by a sign, the butterflies dispersed. Rina let out a disappointed sigh as butterflies shining in all the colors of the rainbow disappeared into the sunny forest.  

Still amazed at what she saw, Manon turned her gaze to the joking Rina. The little one's hands clenched fists to her chest and her legs flailed here and there as if she were trying to run after butterflies. Manon couldn't help her smile when she saw it.  

And then her smile froze as her gaze fell on what was placed in Rina's hair. Manon lifted Rina, who was still gurgle after the butterflies, into her arms to see better. A wreath woven of white starflowers was placed on Rina's black hair. Like a crown. If Manon had doubts about the previous night's vision, they now evaporated. The little folk kept an eye on them. And had brought another gift. Flower wreath.  

Little princess, Manon thought, and gloom came over her again. Cautiously, she lifted the wreath of flowers off Rina's head. Some of the petals came off and got stuck in Rina's curls. Rina exclaimed puzzled, and reached for her hands to flowers wreath. The little one liked everything pretty. And hopefully she will be able to like everything pretty in the future.  

Manon woke up from her thoughts when he heard footsteps behind her. Turning around, she saw Vesta raking her hair. Vesta quickly grinned at her and stretched out her hand towards Rina. "Now it's my turn," she said. "Go to sleep."  

Manon reluctantly handed over Rina to Vesta. Rina screamed with joy when she saw Vesta's red hair, forgetting the wreath of flowers in Manon's hand. Vesta sighed and muttered something demonish, but at the same time she smiled as she sat down on Manon's cloak.  

Manon herself stood up and walked towards her sleeping coven. Before lying down, however, she pushed the wreath of flowers into her backpack without thinking any further. She would think about the behavior of the little folk later. Much, much later.  

At nightfall they dismantled the camp. The atmosphere was gloomy, full of unspoken thoughts and despair. Manon couldn't look any of her witches in the eye when she told them to take off. And so began the last leg of the journey.  

It was the hardest flight of Manon's long life.  

::::::::  

Rifthold was still sleeping. There was that moment between night and morning when the drunks had passed out and the people going to the early morning shift had not yet woken up. The city seemed empty. It's as if only ghosts of memories roam its streets.  

Manon's mind felt blank as she looked at the city. And at the same time, she felt like she had done this a thousand times before. How many times had she flown over a sleeping Riftholdi to meet Dorian. How many times had she looked at a city dotted with small lights like morning dew on the lawn. At the same time, everything was the same and at the same time... Everything was different.  

They were camped in the same place as in the fall. The same place from which Manon had flown to Riftholdi Castle for the last time, not even knowing why. Now she was there again. Sat on the same rock. Looked at the same city in the first rays of the morning sun. In her arms a child who had then been only a premonition. Fear, pride and a sense of failure. Nothing had changed in the city.  

Manon, on the other hand, had changed.  

The stone felt cold beneath Manon. Rina in her arms snorted softly and occasionally whimper in her sleep. The little one was still asleep. And maybe so was better. Manon lulled Rina and let her gaze rest on the Avery River, from the surface of which the first rays of the sun reflected, as if in a mirror. It made the whole river look like molten gold. From this distance, when she couldn't smell the slums and the walls didn't look higher than the fence, the city was actually very beautiful. The rays of the morning sun reflected off the large windows of the glass castle and shone scattered rays into the city.  

Doubt, however, haunted Manon's mind. Was this the right decision? Would this be the right place for Rina? Would Dorian even want anything to do with his witch daughter? What if he had stopped waiting for Manon to return and pleased his mother? What if he had a wife? What if... Manon swallowed and closed her eyes.  

She was forced to breathe calmly and shake off her doubts. Manon knew Dorian. She knew boy was good a prince. But that still didn't mean he wanted Rina. That, he would like... take care of her.  And besides , a nasty little voice - which belonged to Manon's grandmother -slithered into her mind, Do you really think he cares about you? Cares about his bastard daughter. He had someone before you. Someone he really cared about. You....  

Manon shut her grandmother's voice out of her mind. Forced that old hag into the background of her mind. Even now that Manon recognized her grandmother's manipulation of her own thoughts, the Matron's cruel, cold voice didn't leave her alone. And would never leave. Never. But Manon's unhappy life as a grandmother's puppet was the price she was willing to pay for her daughter's safe and happy life.  

Manon drew her lungs full of warm air and opened her eyes. The sun was already half exposed and climbing towards the lid of the sky. It would soon be time...  

Manon stood up cautiously, careful not to wake Rina. She leapt down from the rock, and stride with her daughter in her arms to the campfire that her coven had gathered among the tents. There was an exhausted expression on everyone's face, but they hadn't gone to bed. Not now that the separation from little Rina was so close.  

Asterin stood up as Manon approached her coven.Others followed. Manon stopped in front of them. Her gaze lingered on Asterin's face, then moved on to Sorrel, Vestaa, Ghislaine, Lin, Imogen, Thea, Kaya, Edda, Briar, Faline, Fallon... Manon looked at them all. And they answered the gaze. Not like before. The heir to the Blackbeaks was not looked at directly. Not even her own coven when Manon stared at them like this. Challenged them.  

But they answered the gaze. Because they, too, had changed. Thirteen had changed. And Manon knew she wouldn't have been there without them. That everything she had accomplished in recent months was thanks to them. And how grateful she was to all of them for going through this with her. How grateful they were that they would keep Rina a secret.  

Manon had always known she could trust the Thirteen. They were loyal to her because she was the heir of Blackpecks and their leader. Now she knew she could trust them because they were her... Friends. Her sisters. Their fellow fateful. The strong bond between the thirteen that winter had strengthened. Become unbreakable. They were now even stronger.  

Manon wanted to say all this. Wanted to put into words all the emotions inside her. But she had no words for all that gratitude... And yes... It was love. So Manon took a deep breath and said: "I thought... You will probably want to say goodbye."  

Manon met the gaze of her coven. Their every pain. They loved Rina, as did Manon. This... This was as them as it was on her. Vesta was the first to react. She moved towards Manon and held out her hand. "Yes," she said. "I want to say... bye."  

Manon allowed Vesta to take Rina from her arms. Seeing Rina's sleeping face, Vesta chuckled softly. “So you sleep while I pour out the secrets of my heart. You're just as open to sensitive emotions as your mother."  

Manon snorted, but her throat choked. Vesta stroked Rina's black hair and whispered in a low voice: “I will miss you little demonish. I don't think I'll ever hear you call Aunt Vesta, even though it makes me sound old."  

Vesta sobbed and handed Rina to Thea. Vesta herself was left wiping away her tears as Thea said her own farewell to the little one. "I would have liked to get to know you better, little one," Thea whispered and flicked Rina's forehead. “I would have liked to see you grow and develop. I would have liked to be the aunt you come to for advice on love. One that you could lean on emotionally. I would have helped."  

Next it was Kaya's turn, who pressed a light kiss into Rina's hair. “I guess I'll never be an aunt. Even if our acquaintance is short, I hope you know that you are loved."  

Unable to continue, Kaya gave Rina to Edda. Edda's expression was sad and she seemed to be on the verge of tears. “I would have liked to teach you all the ways to hide,”Edda finally whispered. "You'll be missed, little one."  

It was Birar's turn to get Rina in her arms. She took a deep breath before saying quietly: “I imagined that when you were older, I would play hide and seek with you until you became a better hide-and-seek than me.” Briar sighed softly and smiled at Rina, who was sleeping. "I hope you learn for yourself how to get disappear. I will never forget you."  

Tears were already streaming down Faline's cheeks as she got Rina in her arms. She shook her head, and the ghost of a mischievous smile flashed across her face. “Break the hearts of all human boys. Do it in my name."  

Faline handed Rina to her sister. Fallon's expression was sad as she whispered her own farewell: “Never be silent. Don't be silent. I hope you'll remember me when you grow up."  

Fallon gave Rina to Lin, who was standing next to her, whose hands trembled just a little as she took on Rina's weight. For a moment she just stared at the small, sleeping face, completely silent. Then she said. "Always walk with your head held high, no matter how difficult it is. Back straight, chin up. You are the blood of the Blackbeaks. You are powerful. Don't let people tell you otherwise."  

Lin wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she gave Rina to Imogen. Imogen took Rina in her arms cautiously, as if afraid she would break the little body if she moved too fast. She was silent for a moment, as if trying to come up with the right words. Finally, she sighed. "I've never been good at talking," Imogen said and supported Rina on one hand, to taking something out of her pocket. “So you get this. Memory of us. That you have family outside those walls."  

Imogen had placed a river clam pearl on Rina's chest, which she had found the day before Rina was born. It now had a leather strap that Imogen threaded around Rina's neck before extending her to Ghislaine's arms.  

There was a pained look in Ghislaine's sea-green eyes as she looked at Rina. “When I first saw you, when I heard you cry, I thought that one day I would teach you to read. That one day you would sit next to me and I would be able to teach you everything I know about books. I hope you learn the joys of reading, even if I'm not teaching them."  

Ghislaine swallowed the sob and handed Rina to Sorrel. Sorrel's approach was as cautious as Imogen's. The small, dark-haired witch flicked the river pearl around Rina's neck and then the small, pale face. “I thought at the moment of your birth that I would educate you,” Sorrel said, and her voice broke at the last words.  

Manon had to look away and wipe the tears running down her cheeks. The grief of others, the pain of others was easier to deal with, but Sorrel... When her rocky shell cracked, it was devastating. Sorrel bravely continued to speak, even though her eyes gleamed. "I thought, then, and I wanted to teach you how to fight. With a sword, bow, knives... but though I am not there to teach them...” Sorrel had to collect herself for a while before she could continue. “They would never be your only weapons. You have magic. You have so many weapons that you don't even know about yet. And it's not iron. And not even magic."  

Sorrel pressed a soft kiss to Rina's forehead, which made the little one frown. As if she, too, knew that this act of affection was meaningful. Perhaps the only one of its kind. “You have your mind," Sorrel said quietly. So quiet that even Manon found it hard to hear. “You have had a strong mind and will since birth. Your intellect is the sharpest of your weapons."  

Manon's third took a shuddering breath and handed Rina to Asterin. Asterin's cheeks were wet with tears as she took Rina, wrapped in a blue blanket, from Sorrel.  

Asterin did not speak. She did not say goodbye. Instead, she pressed Rina against her chest and pressed her face into her hair. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she hugged Rina tightly. Over the little one's head, Asterin looked at Manon. “Are you sure? We don't have to... We don't have to do this."  

Second's voice broke at the last words. “Manon, please, don't do this to us! For me! For yourself!"  

Manon's heart beat in her chest. Tears of despair and frustration filled her eyes. "I can't do that to Rina. She must be safe," Manon said quietly and held out her hand. Asterin pressed the little one against her chest once more and kissed the little head. "I love you," she whispered softly. And then—though it seemed to hurt—she handed the sleeping Rina to Manon. A prayer shone in her eyes that Manon would change her mind. But she had made up her mind.  

This was the best thing for Rina. Manon averted her gaze away from Asterin, knowing that her cousin's gaze might make her hesitate. And she couldn't afford it now. She picked up her broom from the ground and swung her legs over it. Manon pressed her sleeping daughter against her chest and soared into the sky. Flew towards the rising sun. Towards the glass castle. Towards Dorian.  

Towards the final farewell.  

Towards the treasury, where she would leave her heart, dreams and hopes.  

Rina would get the life she deserved.  

:::::::  

The route was the same, but the shadows were different. The castle began to wake up to a new day and Manon knew it would only take one servant to notice her and it would all be over. Some god had to protect her, for Manon got there without anyone noticing.  

She landed softly on the balcony and placed her broom leaning against the railing. Manon remained staring at the balcony doors. She had half expected them to be closed, but... They were open. Blue curtains fluttered invitingly in front of the doorway. Familiar. Kehottaen Manonia astumaan sisään.   

She couldn't get herself to do that. Manon stared at the curtains through which she had stepped countless times. She thought of the prince who possibly slept behind them and she... She could not do this.  

Manon turned her back on the door and stepped back towards the balcony railing, squeezing Rina in her arms. She would not be able to do this. She wouldn't be able to give up Rina. She had come all the way here to give away the bright spot of her life. Could she even trust Dorian? Really?  

Dorian was a prince and would one day become king. He would get married. Would have human children, with a normal human woman, and forget about Manon. Perhaps he had already forgotten and moved on.  

Manon looked down at Rina. The little one's fist clenched Hugo and the other hand was clenched around the pearl Imogen had given her. She could still leave. She could escape and hide with the Thirteen. But... again that nasty thought, again the realization that Manon and Thirteen wouldn't be enough to give Rina a safe life.  

There would always be a clan of Blackbeaks. There would always be Manon's grandmother. There would always be other witches. Always after them. Was that the future she wanted for her daughter?  

But what about this? Life as Adralan's bastard princess. Would it be any better? Would there be Dorian to take care of Manon's treasure? To protect her. He was just a boy... only princeling...  

A sharp breath behind Manon made her wake up from her thoughts. She hadn't noticed someone coming to the balcony. Hadn't noticed... But now... A familiar scent wafted her nose. It brought back old memories of stolen nights, passion and desire. Manon closed her eyes and inhaled the scent into her lungs.  

Manon remembered phantom hands. She remembered that annoying smile she hated and loved. She remembered those nights, each of those she had spent in that room. In the bed there. She remembered the clothes and weapons scattered on the floor. Groans and moans. The eternal battle of wills for control.  

They had tried to get each other to beg. Ask for more. Pain and pleasure, mixed together in a heady mix. Manon hadn't returned because of it. Now she admitted it to herself. She hadn't come back just for sex. She had returned because of Dorian.  

Dorian – Dorian who stood behind her. Manon sensed shock and disbelief in the air. She glanced down at the sleeping Rina, on whose face fell the shadow of a glass castle. Manon couldn't leave. Not now. Because of Rina... For Rina's sake, she would have to do this.  

“Manon,” Dorian's words were little more than a whisper. A mixture of shock and surprise. Was there also joy behind the words? And relief?  

"Do you miss me, Princeling?" Manon asked softly. She didn't turn to look at Dorian's expression. She looked at the city spreading before her. Manon hadn't realized how good the view Dorian had from his balcony.  

"I thought you were finally tired of me, witchling,” Dorian said and took a step forward. The balcony was not big, but not small either. There were still many steps between them.  

Manon chuckled. The sound sounded strange. More like sobs. "I would," she sighed, her hand stroking Rina's face. Dorian couldn't see Manon holding the child in her arms. “Then why didn't you return?” Dorian's question was cautious. As if she was unsure if she could ask it. They were not lovers. Not in the strict sense of the word. “I'll be back," Manon said quietly. She knew Dorian knew she didn't mean this moment.  

Dorian took a step forward. Closer to her. “I caught a glimpse of you when you fled, Witchling. You didn't even have time to say hello."  

Manon snorted. "Witches don't run away, princeling!" she quipped. Dorian chuckled lowly. Derisively. Another step forward. He was now within touching distance. “It looked very much like an escape to me, Witchling. Did my mother's words scare you away? I can tell you that I have no plans to get married or have children anytime soon. I'm still young."  

"That's what you are, Princeling," Manon said sharply. Her heart had beaten with momentary joy when she heard Dorian's words. Not married. No children... With the exception of the Rina. "You're young," Manon continued, sighing. "Young and stupid."  

Dorian chuckled again. "Am I stupid for taking a dangerous witch to my bed?” he asked. Yes, Manon was tempted to say. You're stupid for take a witch to your bed. "You didn't take me anywhere, Princeling."  

A new step. Dorian was now standing just behind Manon. "Haven't I?" asked Princeling in a still, seductive voice. "Haven’t I, Witchling?"  

Manon felt the Princeling's breath on her neck. She couldn't help the soft breath that escaped her lungs. Dorian was so close. So close...”I should have killed you," Manon said quietly. Rina changed positions in her sleep, her eye quivering. The little one would wake up soon.  

"And yet I'm still here. Yet thou art still here,” Dorian said, just as quietly. Softly. Manon could imagine the small smile on the prince's face. “Have you finally come to put an end to me, Manon?"  

Manon closed her eyes. Swallowed once. Took a deep breath. Dorian rarely used her name. He called her the Witchling. Saying the name was... crossing the border. Crossing some invisible line that made Manon's heart beat strongly in her chest.  

"I would," Manon said, turning to face the prince standing behind her. "But I think it's already too late."  

Dorian looked newly awakened. Messy black hair, wrinkled white shirt and pants wrapped in half thigh. There were no shoes on the legs. The eyes were clear and ice blue. Just the kind that Manon remembered. An annoying, flirtatious smile had spread across the Princeling's face. A smile that Manon's memories hadn't done justice. She was a couple of inches taller than Manon. Just enough that she had to look up.  

Manon had forgotten how slender Dorian was. Manon had forgotten what a handsome face Princeling really had. She stood there, in front of Manon, exactly the same as she had ten months ago.  

"Hey, Dorian," Manon said quietly, answering the prince's smile slightly. Dorian's grin only widened. He couldn't take his eyes off Manon's face. “Where have you been all these months?" Dorian asked. His gaze traveled along Manon's face, as if trying to memorize them again, before the blue eyes met the golden ones again. "Why have you stayed away?" Dorian continued, now more demandingly.  

They were not lovers. They shouldn't have meant so much to each other as to be worried. Still, Dorian looked like it. Worried. He had been worried about Manon.  

The idea was strange... warming.  

"I've been busy," Manon said quietly, moving the blue blanket away from her little one's face.  

And that's when Dorian noticed Rina.  

Blue eyes spread wide. The mouth opened and then closed. First time. Then another. When Dorian would have suddenly lost the ability to speak. He just stared at Rina, his face pale. He looked like he could faint.  

Manon watched Dorian's reaction silently, her face expressionless. She could see the Princeling’s counting in his head. Assessing the age of the child in Manon's arms.  

Manon saw the moment Dorian registered black, unruly hair. Similar to him. She saw the moment Dorian saw his own features on the face of a sleeping child. “Manon,” Dorian whispered hoarsely and looked up into Manon's eyes. He seemed to lose his ability to speak again and just shook his head in dismay.  

“I've been busy," Manon repeated quietly. Dorian's gaze fell on Rina again. The prince once took a breath. Then a second time. And the third. As if trying to pull himself together. Then..."You had a baby," Dorian said in a hoarse voice. “You... I... how..." Dorian stuttered and then closed his mouth, as if he could not yet fully internalize what his eyes saw.  

Manon watched Dorian's shock and disbelief. She watched as the Princeling tried to understand the situation. “She is your Dorian,” Manon said, even though talking suddenly seemed difficult. "Dorian... here is Rina.”  

Dorian pulled her hands through her hair, staring at Rina. A chest that had begun to whimper in her sleep. Eyelids trembled. Slept despite all the noise.  

"You had a daughter," Dorian groaned, his hand still in his hair. “Our daughter." The Princeling's gaze returned Rina to Manon. "Did it ever occur to you—did you ever think that I would like to know?"  

Manon stiffened when she heard Dorian's words. Hearing the anger and bitterness echoing from them. “Did it ever occur to you that I would like to know about the fact that I... that I have a daughter? Do you ever think that I might want to be a part of a child's life if I ever got one? Do you think..."  

“Dorian...” Manon tried to say, but Dorian wouldn't listen. Princeling had begun to leap back and forth in front of Manon, raking his hair. “I know you witches raise your daughters alone, but I imagined... I would have liked to know you were pregnant! I would have liked..."  

Dorian's voice rose as he continued to leap. Rina's eyelids quivered and her eyes opened blinking. "I would have liked to know!” Dorian continued talking, clenching his hands into fists. "Why didn't you tell..."  

Rinan crying, startled by a loud noise, and pressed closer to Manon.  

Dorian stood still, his back to Manon and the child making confused and fearful noises in her arms. Manon pressed Rina gently against her chest, knowing the little one felt safe when she heard her heartbeat.  

"Carefully," Manon said sharper than he had intended. “Rina has sensitive hearing. Don't scare her!"  

Rina murmured softly, burying her face in Manon's chest. Small hands squeezed her leather jacket. Manon stroked Rina's hair with her other hand, while observing Dorian. She had expected this. Anger. But at the same time... the bitterness mixed with it had come as a surprise to Manonile.  

Dorian stood with his back to them, still clenching his hands into fists. Her posture was rigid. Manon gritted her teeth and leaned her back on the balcony railing. As she spoke, she let her gaze wander everywhere except Dorian. “I didn't think it would matter if I'm honest. As you said, witches raise their daughters in the ways of their clan. I...” Manon paused. Dorian's stiff shoulders trembled and she glanced over her shoulder as Manon managed to continue. “I wasn't going to tell you." Manon finally admitted quietly. "It's our way."  

Manon glanced at Dorian and saw her averted gaze. Rina had spotted the prince and was now looking at her curiously. There was silence for a moment as Dorian breathed heavily. Manon watched her intensely, massaging Rina's back at the same time to keep the little one calm. “What changed?" Dorian finally asked in a hoarse voice. "Why are you here now if you weren't going to tell?" Dorian sounded hostile. From the injured.  

Manon sighed and looked to her side, towards the sun. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I," she said. "I changed."  

Dorian moved. He turned half to face Manon. The Princeling seemed to be looking at the city when he said: “From what you've said about your grandmother, I can't think of a reason why she would let you come here." That was the statement. Dorian knew a lot about witches. And apparently Manon had slipped more details out of her mouth about the grandmother who raised her than she had realized.  

"She doesn't know," Manon said, staring at the stone wall of the castle. “My grandmother doesn't know about Rina."  

Dorian turned completely towards Manon. "What?"  

Manon sighed and turned to meet Dorian's gaze. “With the exception of me and my coven, no one knows about Rina's existence."  

Dorian stared at her. There was a look in his blue eyes that Manon could not decipher. He blinked and tilted his head. His gaze wandered to the child wrapped in a blue blanket. His mouth opened and then he asked: "Why?"  

Manon's throat felt dry. Dorian's gaze had lost its previous anger and had been replaced by confusion and curiosity. Instead of answering, Manon looked down at the child clinging to her jacket before turning her attention back to Dorian. "Would you like to hold her?"  

Dorian's mouth opened. He blinked a couple of times quickly and took a step closer to Manon. "You... Do you mean... really?” Dorian's eyes were full of confusion as he glanced at Manon. Manon smiled slightly. “I mean," she replied calmly.  

Dorian took another step closer and hesitantly stretched out his hand towards Rina. Manon carefully removed a little one from her coat before laying her in her father's arms. “Hey," Dorian said as he took Rina in his arms. "Hey, little one."  

Rina stared at Dorian in confusion and Manon realized that it was the first time Rina had seen a man. Manon crossed her arms over her chest and observed the first encounter between father and daughter.  

Dorian looked at his daughter's face, almost as amazed as Rina looked at her father. Their eyes met. Manon tensed when he saw a wrinkle appear between Dorian's brows. How would the Princeling react...  

"What beautiful eyes you have," Dorian said softly, gently touching Rina's cheek. Rina didn't dodge touch. She seemed mesmerized by Dorian's face after the initial shock. Dorian was something new and exotic. “I don't know what your mother has told you about me or if she has said anything at all,” at this point Dorian looked at Manon before returning his attention to Rina, “but I am your father. My name is Dorian Havilliard.”  

Dorian smiled down at Rina. Rina looked at Dorian's face movement sternly. She didn't returned the smile. Dorian chuckled. “I guess you're as slow to warm up to new acquaintances as your mother." he remarked softly.  

Dorian supported Rina one hand and opened his palm. “But luckily, I know the best way to soften hard ladys."  

Three water butterflies fluttered from Dorian's palm. The light of the sun reflected off their wings, creating rainbows on the balcony. Rina's eyes widened in delight and the corners of her mouth lifted into a smile as her arms stretched out towards the butterflies. “After all, I managed to bring a smile to your face," Dorian said, his gaze quickly hitting Rina's stuffed toy. "What is it you have in it?"  

"It's Hugo the Raven," Manon said, leaping up to Dorian and Rina. Water butterflies flew in a small circle over Rina's face. Rina seemed to be happy reaching for them with her hands. “She's beautiful," Dorian said, smiling down at Rina. "Like her mother."  

Manon smiled tensely, but the smile quickly dissolved from her face. Dorian looked at Rina with a spark in his eyes that Manon had never seen before. Rina had only been in Dorian's arms for a moment and Dorian was in love.  

In love. Manon turned her head away. She felt how iron nails under the skin were coming out. Dorian had been in love once before, and although he now looked at Rina like the most precious thing in the world – which she was – Manon couldn't dispel doubt from her mind.  

"Who was she?" Manon asked tensely, causing Dorian's attention to turn from Rina to her. “Excuse me? What..." Then he realized. A shadow appeared on his face, which Manon had seen countless times. Countless times. "You heard that too," he said quietly.  

"Who was she?" Manon asked again and turned towards Dorian. “Who was the other woman?"  

Rina did not notice the change in atmosphere. She was completely enchanted by water butterflies.  

Dorian corrected his grip on Rina, not noticing it himself. But Manon noticed. A warmth spilled in her heart, but it grew cold almost immediately again when she met Dorian's gaze.  

“Sorscha,” The prince whispered. And there it was. The sorrow Manon had sensed from the Princeling from the beginning. The grief and pain that had caused Dorian to walk into that tavern two years ago. The pain that had made Dorian venturesome. So foolishly brave that he dared to take a beast like Manon to her bed. "Bringer of light," Manon muttered, turning her head away.   

"What?"  

Manon snorted and leaned her hips on the stone railing. "That's what her name means. Light. Brightness."  

Dorian's throat moved as he swallowed. He shook his head and turned his gaze towards the city now bathed in sunlight. “What can I say?" Dorian finally sighed. Manon didn't look at him. She didn't know why the dead woman caused her so much rage and pain. She didn't want to know. Dorian was important to her, but...  

"Sorscha was a healer. She helped me with my magic. She helped me control them so that I didn't kill everyone in the room in a fit of rage.” There was a distant look in Dorian's eyes. And at the same time, he was still playing with Rina by moving the butterflies subconsciously. “My father... My father is not a good man. He wouldn't have accepted my magic. Sorscha helped me hide them and finally... We fell in love."  

In, out. In, out. Manon forced herself to breathe calmly. The iron nails were right under the skin, almost completely out. “What happened?" Manon asked in a cool voice. She was over a hundred years old. She had heard enough about people's ridiculous romances. Ridiculous love stories that didn't end well.  

"I don't know exactly," Dorian admitted, and Manon could hear the shame in his voice. "Mother said she left. If it had been up to my mother, Sorscha would have been sent away. It is not appropriate for a prince to socialize... with their inferiors."  

Manon snorted, wondering what Dorian's mother would think of her. A killer over a hundred years old and heir to the Blackbeaks clan? A woman's horror would be delicious.   

"She disappeared," Dorian said quietly, and a little amusement shook out of Manon's mind. She became serious, and turned half towards the princeling. “Go on," Manon urged after Dorian was silent for a long time.  

He sighed. "Father believed he was supplying information to Terrasen. My father still thinks Aelin is a real threat,” Dorian shook his head. "He killed her. Sorschan. I don't know where or when. But I know she's dead."  

Manon was silent. Dorian didn't say anything. For a moment they just stood watching, looking at Riftholdi, immersed in their own thoughts.  

Only Rina's joyful exclamations broke the silence of the grave. Finally, the Princeling muttered in a muffled voice: “The night we met in the tavern, it had been two months since Sorscha's death. I wanted to die. I thought about challenging an argument and then I met you and...” Dorian waved his hand, as if unable to put his thoughts into words. “What should have killed me turned out to be my salvation."  

Manon didn't look at Dorian. She pressed her hand against the stone railing and squeezed, squeezing until she felt her nail chip against the hard surface. “Did I keep you alive?" Manon finally managed to rasp. A shadow of a smile crossed Dorian's face. "You gave me something to look forward to, Witchling."  

Manon turned her gaze to the Princeling. The stone railing under her hands began to crumble slowly into dust, as Manon clenched her hands into fists. Water butterflies continued to soar around Rina, making the little one exclaim with excitement. And Dorian – and Dorian... That stupid boy just smiled lovingly as he watched his daughter joy. Rina could – Rina would be happy here. And she knew—Manon knew Dorian would treat Rina well. Would protect her. Would raise her.  

"Do you know what the name Rina means?” Dorian's question caused Manon to loosen her grip on the edge of the balcony. Dust and stone fragments rained down on the ground as Manon wiped her hands on her pants, trying to ignore the marks on the stone.  

Dorian's gaze quickly swept through the stone shards and then the balcony railing before returning to Manon. "Do you know?"  

Manon slowly shook her head. She hadn't thought about the meaning of the name when naming her daughter. "I can't claim to know,” Manon admitted and crossed her arms over her chest so as not to scatter anything else. Dorian smiled slightly, her gaze again falling on the marks on the balcony railing.  

"Rina is a peculiar name for an irontoothed witch," the Princeling said. “Given how warlike a people you are."  

Manon raised one eyebrow, though her stomach twisted. Baba Yellowleg had said the same. That, Rina was a peculiar name for the Irontoothed Witchling.  

"Get to the point," Manon ordered. Dorian smiled. That annoying, flirty smile. "The name Rina means, peace and harmony."  

Peculiar name for the irontoothed witch. It really was, if Manon thought about her people and their customs. The witchling, whose name meant peace, did not belong to that world. But did she belong here either? For really?  

Dorian sighed softly, getting Manon's attention back to her. With one wave of fingers, the water butterflies disappeared. Turned to water vapor in the morning sun. Rina howled in disappointment and collapsed limply on Dorian's arms, disappointed when the play ended.   

Dorian gave her daughter a small smile. “We can play again if your mother brings you to see me again."  

Manon's heart raced in her chest. Dorian looked up at her and the gentle expression in his eyes darkened when he saw Manon's expression. “I suppose you will bring her to see me again?"  

Manon's throat choked. Her eyes were stinging. That was the moment. This was the moment... Slowly she shook her head, unable to put into words what she was supposed to do. Dorian's expression darkened even further. He averted his gaze and seemed to be holding himself back so as not to say anything.  

“I understand," Dorian said, holding Rina towards Manon. “You have to keep Rina hidden from your grandmother and clan."  

"Yes, I have," Manon said, stepping in front of Dorian. Now he had to be strong. Repel all the instincts that commanded her to take Rina and leave. Manon's hand shook only slightly as she reached out to touch Dorian's tanned cheek. Slowly turned his face back towards herself. “Therefore," Manon breathed, "you must take her. You need to raise Rina."  

That was what was said. Manon had said it out loud. A request that might destroy her. Dorian's eyes widened. His left hand grabbed Manon's hand and squeezed it. "What are you..."  

"You have to take Rina. Raise her. To protect her. Hides her in plain sight so that my... so that neither the clan nor other witches can find her."  

Their fingers intertwine. Dorian's warm hand against Manon's cold hand. Golden eyes met blue ones. And between them - in their shadow - Rina was completely silent. Observed her parents, trying to understand what was happening.  

"You brought her here," Dorian said quietly, his brows pressed together, "to hide her. To give her - to me."  

The stinging in Manon's eyes got worse. She blinked her eyes to keep her tears in check. "I didn't know who else I could trust," Manon's voice was barely louder than a whisper. Dorian's grip on her hand began to weaken. No. No. Manon would have to convince Doria to agree. She squeezed his hand tighter. Almost breaking bones. Almost...  

"Your mother wanted you to have an heir. You – you have Rina,” Manon said, unable to hide her despair and panic. “You don't have to get married."  

Dorian stared at Manon. There was a hesitant look in the blue eyes of the sapphire. He looked down at Rina. A little big, disparate eyes, before meeting Manon's gaze again. “My parents will never accept a witch's daughter as an heir."  

Manon chuckled bitterly. She grabbed Dorian's shoulder and said in a low voice. “They don't need to know. No one needs to know that Rina is a witch's daughter."  

Dorian blinked. He released his grip on Manon's hand, but did not retreat. The weapons-hardened fingers touched Manon's cheek, sweeping the hair that had escaped from the plait off her face.“What about Rina? What shall I tell her?"  

Manon's throat choked. Still, she forced herself to speak. "Nothing. Rina won't know."  

"You don't want to..." Dorian tried to make sense of Manon's words. His fingers gently touched Manon's hair. She wouldn't start crying now. Wouldn't let Dorian see how much it hurt to do this. "You don't want Rina to know she's a witch?"  

Manon understood Dorian's confusion. She understood why the idea sounded absurd to him. Manon raised her free hand and pressed her own hardened fingertips to Dorian's face. “Her blood is red, Dorian. I didn't know if she would ever become... Will she ever become a real irontooth witch."  

"Shouldn't she still have a right to know?" Dorian was persistent. Manon sighed. She knew that the only way to ensure Rina's safety would be to make her stay in the Rifthold. If she knew... If she knew who her mother was... what would stop Rina from search? Rina should not search. One should not doubt that there was something extraordinary about her. She should not start asking about her heritage of witches. The risk was too big. The wrong people could hear.  

"Rina is safer already, if she doesn't know. She'll be happier if she doesn't know," Manon whispered. Rina squeal, and a small hand stretched out towards Manon's jacket. Grabbed it. Manon had to close her eyes and even out her pulse so as not to start crying. Or scream.  

Later... later.  

"Please Dorian," Manon opened her eyes and met the Princeling's gaze. There was sadness in the eyes. Despite how much Manon struggled to keep her pain under control, Dorian saw it. "Are you sure it's... Best? My father..."  

"As long as Rina is human, I don't think your father is a problem," Manon said quietly. Dorian blinked a couple of times. It's like he's fighting tears too. "What about you?" he finally asked. There was a confused and almost desperate look in the sapphire blue eyes. "What are you going to do?”  

Manon shook her head and looked over Dorian's shoulder as she answered: “I will return to my clan. I pretend that nothing happened. I keep my grandmother whit satsisfaction."  

"You really love Rina," Dorian's words, caused Manon to look back at Princeling. A quietly appreciative and sad expression on Dorian's face. Manon snorted. Swallowed the lump formed in the throat. “She is the greatest achievement of my life."  

Dorian smiled slightly, pressing his forehead against Manon's. There was something cozy about his scent. Safe. A piece of Manon's heart cracked. A tiny shrapnel she knew would remain in Adralan. To Doria.  

"Alright," Dorian whispered. "I'll protect her."  

Manon felt elation and so much pain that she almost screamed. She kept it all inside. Their eyes met. Manon saw the reflection of her own eyes from Dorian's. Saw her own pain reflected in Dorian's gaze.  

Manon swallowed. Her heart beat a couple of extra times. And then it skipped the punch as Dorian's mouth pressed into her mouth. The kiss was not passionate. Not the passionate embraces they had shared during the dark hours of the night. That was the promise. Farewell.  

And almost as fast as it started, it ended. Manon backed down. Rina's grip on her jacket loosened. " Mumm ," Rina whimper, reaching for Manon. Her eyes filled with tears. "It's okay, little one,” Manon said in a muffled voice and bent down to press a kiss to Rina's forehead. She filled her lungs with her daughter's characteristic scent. Hoarfrost and sunlit leaves. “Everything is fine now," Manon whispered. She did not dare to speak louder. Her voice would break otherwise. "You're safe now."  

Manon grabbed her broom. Climbed the balcony railing. She should go. Now. Now, before she collapses. Before the pain took over.  

“Manon?”  

Before Manon could take to the sky, Dorian's voice stopped her. She looked over her shoulder. Rina had started moaning loudly and writhing in Dorian's arms. However, the prince's gaze was on her.  

"Do I see you anymore?" he asked. Manon's hands were shaking. Her whole body was shaking. Manon opened her mouth. Tried to answer. There was only a coraked in her throat. She closed her mouth. Engulfed. Tried again.  

"Maybe," Manon said hoarsely. Maybe. Maybe... Was it wise of her to give hope to Dorian? Herself? But when she said maybe, Manon knew it was true. Maybe she would return. Maybe she would visit here. Maybe... But now she had to leave.  

Manon averted her gaze from the prince and her weeping daughter and fell from the balcony to the wind. She did not see Dorian's raised hand. Didn't see the tears on the Princeling's face.  

All she could hear was her daughter's cry, when she flying away. She could still hear Rina's voice even when she knew she was too far away. She flew. Tears slowly began to flow down her cheeks. The pain corroded her from within. Made a nest in her chest at the point of the heart.  

Manon didn't notice it when she landed. She did not see the worried and compassionate faces of her Coven. She didn't hear their questions. Didn't hear... Manon's knees met the grass when she collapsed.  

Scream. Brutish. Complaining.  

Manon didn't realize it was coming from her. She couldn't feel the tears streaming down her cheeks as she screamed in pain.  

Manon was outside her body. Saw herself from above. And then strong arms wrapped around her and Manon returned to her body. She shouted. Complained after her daughter, sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks.  

Asterin was next to her. Hugged her. Held Manon together. Manon smelled her tears. “She's safe," Asterin whispered. "She's safe."  

Safe. The word repeated in Manon's mind like a mantra. Her cry died on the lips. The body felt too heavy to move. Asterin's body was warm. And she let Manon cry her shoulder with all her pain. Let Manon cry until she finally got tired and just stared apathetically in front of her.  

"Safe," she whispered. The thought settled in her heart. Reminded her of the essentials. "Rina is safe."  

Safe. Safe. Safe.  

Rina was safe.  

:::::::::  

The witches dodged Manon and Thirteen as they entered through the huge doors of Blackbeak keep. They had already been spotted from afar, and Manon had expected a curious crowd to observe the situation when she returned. Eleven months. Manon had been gone for eleven months, during which time she had hunted one of the same Corchan coven. It was a story they would stick to.  

And as spoils of war and gifts to Manon's grandmother, each member of the Thirteen had a wooden box. A wooden box with a witch's heart resting inside.  

The Matron of the Blackbeaks stood at the top of a high stone staircase, observing Manon's arrival. Black, shiny hair descended down Mother Blackbeak's back. The black robe of the night fluttered in the wind coming from outside. The face was old but wrinkle-free. The cruel gaze of the black golden-spotted eyes hit Manon, and she saw the rage smouldering beneath the calm exterior.  

The hunt had lasted too long. And Grandmother wouldn't leave it unpunished. Manon set her sights on Mother Blackbeak as she began to descend the stairs with deliberate steps. “My heir," said the Matron in an audible voice. “You've finally come back from your hunt, and you obviously didn't come empty-handed."  

Grandmother's voice was cruel and cold. The same voice that had been whispering in Manon's mind all these months. For a moment—a crazy moment—Manon considered attacking her grandmother, killing her in that place for everything she had done. What would she have done if Manon had come back with the truth of what had happened in eleven months? Grandmother deserved a long, painful death. For every witch mother she had harmed. Because of every lie that had escaped her cruel irontoothed mouth.  

The weight of the Wind-Cleaver on her belt seemed to increase. Manon wanted to pull her sword out of the scabbard. Plunge the blade into the withered, black heart of the Matron.  

However, Asterin's quick gaze stopped Manon. Made her think again. Prevented her from doing anything stupid.  

No matter how infuriating it was to admit, Manon wouldn't win that fight. She wouldn't win, even though she had more than a hundred years of education and killing grounds behind her. Grandmother was over five hundred years old. The time for that battle was not yet, and Manon wasn't sure if revenge belonged to her.  

Manon forced herself to breathe steadily when her grandmother stopped in front of her. She pressed two fingers to her forehead as a tribute to her Matron, although the gesture caused Manon to bite her back teeth together. She knew that Thirteen repeated the gesture behind her. Obedience, Discipline, Brutality.  

They were weapons. Trained hunters. They were ruthless.   

"I'm back, grandmother," Manon said, her voice cold and emotionless. “And I've brought you a gift," Manon held out the box in which the witch's heart rested.  

She couldn't help the cruel self-righteousness when Grandmother took the box. Once she opened it and took from inside it a dried blood-covered organ.  

Grandmother searched the heart and then let her gaze sweep over Thirteen. “Did you catch everyone?" she asked, an iron nails sinking into the soft flesh of the heart. Manon tilted her head. "The whole coven."  

Grandmother smiled thoughtfully, looking at Manon's stone-faced witches who had bowed their heads. Manon saw beyond humility. She saw rage, loyalty and love. They were only here for one reason.  

"Good job, Manon," Grandmother finally said, turning her attention back to her. Manon lowered her gaze to the ground, expressing her gratitude. “But why did it take you so long to return?" That was it. The cruel blade of rage.  

Manon straightened her shoulders, hands behind her back. She did not meet the Matron's gaze when she replied: “They had a head start. It took a long time to catch up."  

"Almost a year, Manon. It took you eleven months to complete a simple task." Grandmother said in a low voice. Manon kept her face to basic readings. An apology would only make the situation worse.  

The Matron glanced at Thirteen. Their expressionless faces. Her gaze stopped at Asterin and a smile crossed her face. Manon would have liked to hit her teeth down the Matron's throat because of the way she looked at her second.  

"Thirteen will be punished today in the dining-room,” Grandmother raised her voice so that all the Blackbeaks gathered in the large hall could hear. “Perhaps it will teach them to act more quickly.” Grandmother's smile was razor sharp. The witches gathered in the hall chuckled, as if in one choir. The Matron's gaze returned to Manon. "Eleven lashes. One for each month. As your heir, your job is to punish them. I'll take care of you myself."  

Manon nodded her head once, keeping her back straight, even if she just wanted to tear her Grandmother's heart from her chest.  

She kept her face expressionless as Grandma turned her back on her, her robe fluttering and began to climb the stairs. Rusty iron teeth flashed as she dipped her teeth into the witch's heart she was holding.  

Manon couldn't help the small, cruel grin as she watched as Grandmother devoured the heart in her hand, as if it belonged to young Corchan.  

This crowned Manon's revenge on Baba Yellowleg.  

The hearts resting in the boxes had been torn directly from the chest of the coven of Yellowlegs.  

And one day Manon would tell whose heart her grandmother had eaten.  

:::::::  

To the credit of thirteen, it had to be said that none of them shouted. Didn't even grimace in pain. The rare rays of the sun lit up into the large dining room of Blackbeak keep, where half the clan had gathered to watch Manon and her coven being punished. They were bloodthirsty. They coveted to see the dreaded Thirteen humiliated.  

In the past, it might have infuriated Manon. In the past, she would have memorized the faces of every derisively grinning witch and treated them later. Now she couldn't bother. The Irontooth Witches were bloodthirsty beasts who brutalized their own mothers to gain power. Manon would give them the carnage they longed for.  

She would give it to them, no matter how much holding the whip hurt her. Manon stood at the front of the room, beside her grandmother. The Matron's voice echoed in the hall as she spoke. Incited Blackbeaks even more bloodthirsty.  

Manon couldn't make out the words. Her ears were buzzing. The hand that squeezed the whip was sweaty. She couldn't look at her witches, who stood in front of all the Blackbeaks, with their backs straight. Expressions cold. They did not seem to hear the slanders of the other witches, though they echoed from the high stone ceiling. No. The witches of thirteen seemed immersed in their own world.  

Grandmother finished her speech and gave Manon a small, but all the more cruel, smile. A snake's smile. She motioned with an iron-nails hand for the first Thirteen members to step forward.  

The first to kneel before Manon was Imogen. Back straight, face expressionless.  

"Start," Grandmother commanded in a low voice. Manon kept her hand from shaking as she raised the whip and struck. Time and time again. Imogen's little body trembled with each blow, but a breath of pain not escape her mouth. And when the punishment was over, she stood up, shaking only slightly. Her and Manon's eyes had met. Manon had seen determination in the gaze of her youngest witch.  

For Rina , Her expression had signaled. Imogen nodded once and for all so that the next member of the Thirteen could accept punishment.  

Lin's expression was loud as she knelt on the blood-soaked floor, her back to Manon. Manon thought of the doll Lin had hidden in the underwear drawer as she raised the whip. Eleven strokes. Not a sound. And when she got up, Lin's eyes had the same look as Imogen's.  

For Rina.  

Faline and then Fallon. Silent, just like Imogen and Lin. Same message on their identical faces. For Rina.  

The Edda's face was blank as she knelt before Manon. She was silent as a shadow, when the blows of a whip echoing from the stone walls. As silent as Briar's after her.  

Despite her blank expressions, her eyes shone behind the mask. For Rina.  

Thea and after her Kaya. Silent and, after her punishment, leaning on each other. Both had calm faces wearing masks, even though there was pain and sadness in their eyes. For Rina.  

Ghislaine was next after Kaya. She took eleven blows of the whip, trembling only slightly as the blows tore at her back. Getting up to her shaking feet, she glanced over her shoulder at Manon and once nodded her head vigorously. For Rina.  

Vesta walked with her head held high front the Manon and knelt in the blood of Thirteen, with a hint of a smile on her face. It did not dissipate at any point, even though the whip tore open her back. When she got up, the same message shone on her face as everyone else. For Rina.  

Sorrel – Manon's powerful triplet whom Manon had seen crying and smiling openly just a few days ago – took the blows of the whip like a stone statue. Completely silent. For Rina , her posture said.  

And then there was Asterin. Asterin, who grinned wildly at Manon as she knelt in her sisters' blood. Manon's hand almost began to tremble. She did not want to do this. She didn't want to hurt Asterin any more. But Grandmother was there beside her, her black eyes twinkling with cruel pleasure.  

The cousin glanced over her shoulder once, as if sensing Manon's despair. Asterin's eyes were calm. For Rina, her gaze resembled. Make it that she gets her life. So Manon lifted the whip and struck. Eleven times. She sensed her grandmother's disappointment when Asterin didn't make a sound. As she stood up, her back bleeding blue, her cousin grinned wildly at Manon. Reminded why they were there. Reminded of what was at stake. They could not afford to make mistakes. There is no room for mercy.  

Manon sighed her lungs empty and hardened herself.  

She didn't take a deep breath. She didn't flinch when her grandmother took the blood-soaked whip from her. She did not swallow as she knelt on the stone floor soaked in the blood of her witches. Blue blood seeped into her pants, but Manon didn't care. She stared at Thirteen. Let them see the fire in her golden eyes.  

For Rina. So that she never has to go through this.  

The first blow hit Manon in the back. Grandmother didn't hold back. She was angry and was now beating with all the force of her rage.  

For Rina. So that she can grow up happy.  

Another blow. Manon didn't shout. She stayed put, keeping his eyes on her witches' faces. Reminded herself why they had taken the blows of the whip. Not as a punishment. But a reminder of the life they had spared the little one.  

The third blow. Manon did not close her eyes. Didn't move. Didn't let the pain show outwardly.  

The fourth blow.  

Fifth blow.  

Manon thought of Rina. Her gurgle. Little hands twitching at her shirt. Large different pairs of eyes whose gaze seemed to see everything.  

The sixth blow.  

The seventh blow.  

Manon wondered what life would be like if she could spend it with Rina and the Thirteen . Wondered how her daughter would grow up. Play hide and seek with the Shadows. Would ride on Sorrel's shoulders. Would learn to read with Ghislaine. Would run away from Asterin laughing. Let Vesta braid her hair. Would practice sharpening weapons with Lin. Play with twins. Would disturb Imogen with her questions. Would listen to the stories of Then and Kaya. Would fly with Manon.  

The eighth blow.  

The ninth blow.  

Manon thought of the wreath made of star flowers that the little folk had left for Rina. She had found a crown of white flowers at the bottom of her backpack while unpacking her belongings. If Manon had been sensible, she would have thrown it into the fire. But she wasn't. Manon was no longer sensible. She had hidden the flowers, which were still in good condition, between the book, where they would dry and remain an eternal memory of Rina. About her daughter.  

The tenth blow.  

Eleventh blow.  

Manon thought of Dorian. The prince's silly smile. Blue eyes and black hair.  

Maybe in another life she and Dorian would have been a couple. Perhaps it could have worked. If Manon were not the heir to the Blackbeaks. If Dorian were not Prince of Adralan.  

The final slap of the whip still echoed in the air as Manon stood up, barely succeeding in keeping the grimace of pain at bay. Grandmother said something. Preached something about justice. Manon didn't hear it.  

In another life, they could have been family. Dorian, Manon and Rina.  

Manon took the first tentative steps towards her coven, her back pounding with pain. Each step felt more painful than previous. Every nerve end in her back raced against Manon's every move.  

But not in this life, a voice in Manon's head whispered. In this life, Manon and Dorian couldn't be anything to each other.  

Manon took the last steps and stopped in front of her coven. From them every year of blood. Each of them felt a burning pain in her back. Yet they stood. Yet they met Manon's gaze with determination. Faithful. They knew Manon's secret and hadn't turned their backs. And Manon wouldn't turn her back on them.  

This would be her life. Eternal secrecy, pain and cruelty.  

Manon could live with it. Could live with all this.  

If it meant there was a possibility. The possibility that in another life, in another world she was happy. In another life, somewhere where there was no Clan of Blackbeaks and rules determined by eternal barbarity...In that other life, Manon could have allowed herself to fall in love with Dorian Havilliard.  

::::::::  

It was evening. The first leaves of autumn were already reddening, and the evenings had become darker. Winds colder than that.  

The moonlight sliced through the blue curtains into the candlelit bedroom, illuminating a desk littered with papers, pens, and ink bottles. The balcony door was open, as if waiting for a person who might never come.  

Dorian Havilliard was resting on his bed, chest exposed, black hair messed up. On top of her chest slept a small, four-month-old girl.  

Rinan snorted in her sleep and occasionally changed positions. Dorian occasionally stroked her back soothingly, while reading aloud Erlea's tales. If truth be told, it wasn't a children's book. The stories were bloody, frightening, and in places so violent that even Dorian felt sick. But Rina liked the book. And Dorian had realized that it was impossible to say no to the little one.  

"And as we know,"  Dorian read in a quiet and even voice.  "Rihannon Corchan, the last witch queen, cursed her land so that iron-toothed witches could not populate it."  

Rina had fallen asleep halfway through the story. However, from the experience, Dorian knew not to stop reading. Rina would wake up immediately if she stopped reading in the middle of the story.  

The Myths of Erlea had been the first book Dorian had read in search of information about witches.  

It had been the evening after Dorian had met Manon at the tavern. He had rummaged through the glass castle library in search of information about the irontooth witch. There wasn't much of it, but he read everything he could find.  

Stories, knowledge. Legend and fact. Most of the books portrayed the Irontoothed Witches as cruel beasts with no ability to feel any kind of empathy. They preyed on and ate children. Slaughtered men like pigs. Tortured women out of their minds. The stories were bloodier than the last.  

When Dorian looked at Rina—the little angel's face and calm expression—Dorian thought it might not be entirely true. Even if witches would never admit it, they and humans were not very different.  

Rina's existence alone proved it. Books about irontooth witches and their culture told little about witchling. All were girls and inherited the qualities and abilities of their mother. Nowhere was there any mention of red-blooded witches, which made Dorian wonder if Rinan was the first of her kind? And if so, what caused it. Had Rina become different because Dorian had raw magic in her veins? Or because... Dorian shook his head. He put the book down next to him on the mattress.  

Rina did not wake up, which was good. It had taken Dorian an hour to calm his daughter down. She had been upbeat from the evening and began to cry if they tried to put her in the cradle to sleep. Rina's nurse - and current nanny since the previous one had resigned – had looked suffering when Dorian had finally intervened.  

Dorian had told the poor woman to go to bed. He would take care of Rina himself. Rina had stopped crying as soon as she got into her father's arms. However, it took several more hours for him to calm down. Dorian sighed and stroked Rina's little back. She was wearing a lacy nightgown chosen by the Queen. Rina hated it least of all about the clothes Georgina chose for her.  

After Dorian had introduced his daughter to his parents, the situation had been... difficult. It had been almost nine o'clock and three hours had passed since Manon's departure. Rina had cried inconsolably for an hour after her mother, realizing she wasn't coming back.  

Dorian had been able to put everything on the line to calm Rina down for this meeting. The little one's face was still swollen with tears, but at least she was silent while Dorian stood in her father's study.  

Georgina had been satisfied. Could clearly see from her thats he was not happy, but he was satisfied. Dorian's father again...  

"Give it back to your whore! I don't need your bastard running around here."  

If Rina hadn't been there, Dorian might have killed his father at that moment.  

Georgina had glare towards the king, but had said nothing. Dorian's mother was already fascinated by Rina's budding beauty and was probably already thinking about all the events she could take her picturesque granddaughter to.  

Dorian had pressed Rina closer to his chest to keep the little one calm. Rina was silent, yes. But Dorian sensed his daughter's confusion and fear.  

"Father, " Dorian had said, forcing his voice to be calm.  “ Rina is my daughter despite her ancestry. And she stays."  

The king glanced contemptuously at the dark-haired child who was watching him safely against Dorian's chest. Despite her fear, Rina was curious, and the searching gaze of her big eyes seemed to make even the king nervous. Before entering the room, Dorian had mesmerized Rina's eyes. He knew they would raise too many questions that he could not answer. Nyt, riippuen valotuksesta ja näkökulmasta silmät näyttivät joko sinisiltä tai vihreiltä. The enchantment was simple and difficult to detect. People only saw what they expected.  

"What's the use of Adralan from a bastard princess?"  The king grunted stiffly, cutting off eye contact with the little one. Dorian felt a little gleeful about it. What kind of king can't stand the intense staring of a two-month-old child?  

At that point, Dorian's mother had participated in the conversation.  "If you will allow me to say,"  Georgiana said formally, folding her arms in front of her. “ Princesses are always useful, especially when arranging marriage deals. Whether it's a bastard or not."  

The king had stared at his wife for a moment, then at Dorian, and glanced quickly at Rina. Dorian saw how from his father's expression that he was thinking about the situation again. Marriage deals were always beneficial. Dorian could read the thoughts on his father's face. Especially if he decided to go to war against Terrasen.  

"It would certainly make it easier to establish alliance ties,” The king growled. Kuingatar smiled tensely and nodded stiffly.  

Dorian restrained his desire to strangle his parents. Marriage? Manon would never forgive Dorian if he allowed his parents to marry Rina to some random nobleman. However, he did not say anything. Rina was still small. Now it would only be necessary to get father to agree that Rina would stay. Other things... other things Dorian would take care of later.  

Finally, the king sighed and waved his hand.  "Fine, " he glanced contemptuously at Rina.  “ That can stay."  

Dorian had bitten his teeth and had forced himself to nod in thanks, despite the rage smouldering under his skin. Rina was none of that.  

Two days later, Rina was given a name after Adralan's customs. There was an entire aristocracy who stared at Rina hungrily, contemptuously, or appraisively. They applauded only out of courtesy when Rina was officially proclaimed Princess of Adralan.  

Rina Solena Havilliard.  

Dorian came up with another name for Rina. It was a tradition, his mother said when Dorian asked why. That was always the case and it would be done now. Another name should be invented for Rina.  

Mother had suggested first her own name, then Elena, and a bunch of other old female names, Dorian hadn't even listened to half of them.  

He had chosen Solena.  

Dorian had liked the name Elena, but at the same time... if Dorian was honest with himself, he would have liked Rina's middle name to be Sorscha. His father would never have accepted it, and Dorian didn't think his mother would support his choice either. Solena was an intermediate form. A mixture of two names meaning light.  

And when it was announced... when Rina became Havilliard, Dorian made a decision. He had promised Manon to protect Rina, yes. In the chapel, he decided to become a good father. Raising his daughter with love and honor, no matter how difficult it may be.  

Two months had passed since all of that. Two months during which nannies had come... and then gone. Rina did not like the nannies hired for her and managed to evict them in a couple of days by staring intensely at the women. A couple of nannies swore that a demon lived in the girl as they packed things and left the castle. If she did, Dorian had thought while watching the fifth nannies leave, it was probably a family fault.  

Rinan liked few people. Her basic nature was suspicious.  

Apart from Dorian, Rina tolerated only two people. Her nurse, a lovely woman named Olga, with dark hair, crystal blue eyes, and a red cloak that Rina loved and that reminded Dorian of Manon. And then there was Chaol, which Dorian had forced Rina to get used to.  

Today, Rina enjoyed being around Chaol. Laughed out loud as Chaol jumped her on his knee and told what he thought were funny stories about Dorian's youth. Dorian was still not sure if Rina was laughing at him or Chaol.  

Hellästi Dorian nosti Rinan rintansa päältä ja laski hänen vierelleen patjalle. Rinan otsa kurtisti hetkeksi, mutta hän herännyt. Ei edes silloin kun Dorian nousi seisomaan. Rinalla oli oma huone vastapäätä Dorianin huonetta. Olgan huone oli aivan sen vieressä, jos Rina heräisi yöllä nälkään.  

Olga and Dorian both knew that once Rina was put to sleep, she slept all night. The Queen did not think it was appropriate for Dorian to let Rina sleep next to him. Dorian didn't think it was appropriate to require a four-month-old child to sleep in a cradle he clearly hated. Rina preferred to sleep near her father or, alternatively, on Olga's lap - anywhere she could hear another person's pulse.  

Dorian smiled tenderly at his daughter, then picked up the book from the mattress and headed towards his bookshelf. On the way, he extinguished the candles in the room with a wave of his hand.  

He pushed the book onto the shelf, in its own place. Next to it was the history of Erlea and an old novel about the animals of Erlea. All of Rina's favorite books.  

Dorian smiled slightly and was about to turn to return to bed when a strong wind suddenly swept in through the open balcony doors. It threw the papers in the air and waved the dark blue curtains forward, making visible the city lights, the moon and... figurine in front of the light.  

White hair flare in the wind like a white torch, a red cloak wrapped around her like bloody wings. Golden eyes looked dark in the moonlight.  

“Manon,” Dorian whispered and took a step closer. The wind calmed down. The curtains returned to their places, hiding behind them the figure Dorian had seen.  

In a couple of leaps, Dorian was by the balcony doors and yanked the curtains aside just to see... an empty balcony.  

Manon was gone. Lost like a shadow in the darkness of the night.  

Dorian stepped outside, into the cool autumn night. A cold stone bit into the soles of his feet. He placed his hands on the railing—on top of the depressions left over from Manon's hands. She had been here. Manon had been here!  

Went to see them.  

Dorian took a deep breath, looked up towards the star-studded sky, and seemed to see a figure even darker than the sky flying past the moon. He could have sworn it was Manon.  

Manon...Wichling...  

It would be years before Dorian Havilliard and Manon Blacknose met face to face again.  

A new gust of wind touched the ground, fluffed Dorian's hair, and slipped into his room. Rina shivered from the cold in her sleep, but did not wake up. She continued to sleep peacefully, unaware of the world outside the walls of Riftholdi.  

Manon Blackbeak's act had ensured Rina a peaceful childhood. Secured time for Rina to grow. But as Manon had suspected—as many others had known—peace would not last forever.  

Black clouds were gathering on the horizon. The pressure increased. The winds picked up.  

A storm was rising.  

And at its center would be Rina Havilliard-Blackbeak. The witch's daughter. Heir to Adralan.  

A half-blood that would be responsible for the upcoming hurricane.  

Chapter Text

“Bitch, I said what I said 
I'd rather be famous instead  
I let all that get to my head 
I don't care, I paint the town red  

Mm, she the devil 
She a bad lil' bitch, she a rebel  
She put her foot to the pedal 
It'll take a whole lot for me to settle.” 

Pain town red 
Doja Cat 

Silence. Deep, charged silence. Like a moment before a thunderstorm.  

The atmosphere of the meeting had changed in an instant, from intense negotiation to the silent shock of the grave.  

Manon stared at the surface of the dark oak table, refusing to look up. She felt the stare of the King of Adralan. She sensed a slowly growing rage inside her grandmother sitting next to her.  

Nononono...Manon had done everything—given up so much—to this never happen. Manon sensed my Asterini — who was standing by the windows with two other second — preparing for battle.  

They were not allowed to take their swords with them to this negotiation with the king, but if a battle broke out – the irontooth witches would not need swords to do damage.  

Apparently, the other witches in the hall had also figured out the situation. Manon had heard a sharp breath from the mouth of Blueblood matron– Cresseda – when she had realized what had caused the Blackbeaks Matron to remain silent.  

Yellowlegs Matron had not moving, but a dangerous twinkle shone in her eyes as she too understood what – who - was sitting in the hall.  

Iskra, the heir to the Yellowlegs, stared at Manon hungrily, as if waiting for the Blackbeaks Matron to tear her throat open in front of everyone. At times, her gaze quickly glanced at Dorian, who stared at the surface of the table as if a cryptic message had been written on it.  

Manon could see Iskra's thoughts on her face. If the situation had not been so charged, she might have attacked the heir to the Yellowlegs.  

Petrah, the heir to the Bluebloods, did not look at Manon. And no Dorian. All her attention was on the person sitting next to Dorian. There was an intense look in her blue eyes, as if she was trying by willpower to get an explanation for the situation.  

That is what they all wanted.  

The king of Adralan broke the silence. "Dorian," he thundered from the end of the table, gettting up, while the Blackbeaks Matron grunted lowly, "Manon."  

"What does this mean?" The king asked, staring fiercely at his heir, his eyes burning with rage. Manon felt her grandmother's hand clench around her wrist. How ironnails pressed into the skin.  

"How do you explain this, Manon?" the grandmother hissed in Manon's ear. "What have you done?"  

Manon made the only mistake she could make in that situation. She looked up. At the same time as Dorian.  

Their eyes met. Golden eyes met sapphire blue. It might as well have been a confession.  

Grandmother took a breath, as if preparing to yell at Manon. Adralan's king's eyes lit up with rage. Yellowlegs Matron and Iskra's face had a bloodthirsty expression as they watched the situation unfold.  

Bluebloods' expressions were neutral, but Manon sensed the curiosity emanating from them.  

The deuces near the windows had seconds to move restlessly. The situation was an explosion at the point. One move and everything would slide into chaos...  

A hoarfrost laugh pierced the silence like the blade of a sword. Everything stopped. It's like time has stopped passing.  

Manon's gaze slowly turned to the girl sitting next to Dorian, who laughed again and stood up.  

"And I thought this was going to be boring," Rina spun glass sharp voice and grabbed a red apple from the basket in the middle of the table.  

She had now caught the attention of everyone in the room.  

Rina walked unhurriedly around the table. Black, wide-legged trousers hissed as she walked. The blood-red blouse shone in the sunlight coming into the meeting room.  

When she reached the end of the table, Rina stopped to look at the situation. She met their stares, red lips turned into a small smug smile.  

Rina ran her tongue over her perfect white teeth thoughtfully, while polishing an apple on the shoulder of her red shirt. As she tilted her head, her long, open hair wobbled.  

Except for minor details, Rina's face was a replica of Manon's. From red lips to eyes.  

Manon quickly took a breath and Rina's gaze snapped at her. Their eyes met. Just a moment. Then Rina averted her gaze. But during that moment, Manon was able to see behind a mocking smile. She caught a glimpse of the confusion beneath her daughter's skin and... and slow-burning rage. It almost struck oxygen out of Manon's lungs.  

"This is much more interesting than I expected," Rina said lightly and smiled widely, revealing her white teeth. Black hair waving when she turned her back - turned her back! - to the king, her father, the three Matrons and their heirs.  

Manon heard her daughter's teeth sink into an apple.  

"This is going to be fun," Rina muttered more to herself than to others as she swept out of the hall. I t takes all her willpower to stop herself from running...  

Avemclaritse's Ice Heart ends here