CHAPTER 104: CHAPTER 103-THE WITCH

The Witch stood at the edge of the clearing. Bare feet. Calm eyes. Black hair like night water. She looked at no one but Kael.

"You came later than I expected," she said.

Leonard’s hand tightened on his saber. Guards shifted. The adventurers looked between Kael and the woman, uncertain.

Kael didn’t bow. He met her gaze and kept his voice even. "You were expecting me?"

"I was expecting him," she said, glancing past him as if seeing a shadow beside his shoulder. "Your bloodline. Your path. You carry the scent of an old promise."

Leonard stepped forward a pace. "Witch of the Blackroot—"

"Stop," she said softly. Not loud. Not harsh. But the single word pressed the air down like a palm over water.

Leonard did stop. His jaw worked once. A guard to his left swallowed hard and looked at his boots.

The Witch looked at Kael again. "Come. You, and the woman with the silver collar. The rest stay here."

Seris moved without a word. Kael glanced at Leonard once.

Leonard inclined his head. "We will remain." His voice was controlled, but his eyes were sharp. He was weighing this like a battlefield.

Kael and Seris crossed the grass. The air near the small house felt thick, like it remembered things. Flowers along the path opened as they passed. Not from sunlight—there was hardly any. They opened because they wanted to.

At the door, the Witch turned aside and went in. The inside smelled like cedar and rain. Shelves held jars of leaves and dried roots. A long table carried mortars, narrow copper kettles, and neat stacks of paper with tidy ward signs brushed in green ink. In the corner, a clay stove glowed low.

"Sit," she said, pointing to two plain stools.

Kael sat. Seris stood at his shoulder, as always.

The Witch poured water from a kettle into three cups, though Kael had not seen her add tea. The water went in clear and came out pale green.

"Drink," she said.

Seris didn’t move.

Kael took his cup and smelled it. Mint. A little bark. No poison burn. He drank. It was good.

"You know me," Kael said quietly. "Or you know my grandfather."

"Ted," she said at once. The name sat in the room like a weight. "He came here when he was younger than you are now. He crossed the wild, carrying nothing anyone could see, and knocked on my door as if it was a neighbor’s bakehouse."

Kael said nothing. A small ache moved behind his ribs.

"He asked for something," the Witch continued. "Not for gold. Not for power. He asked for a boundary. A veil. He wanted a piece of silence in a loud world."

She looked at Kael over the rim of her cup. "And I gave it to him. In exchange for a thing he promised to return to me when I asked."

"What thing?" Kael asked. The words came out fast—too fast—but he didn’t care.

"A box," she said. "Black wood. Brass corners. The lid is stamped with a ring of small squares and a crescent inside. It is from a place your people call old but don’t understand. He kept it in his house. In the room no one enters."

Seris’s hand brushed his sleeve like a question. He didn’t look at her.

"If I bring it," Kael said, "what do you give in return?"

The Witch’s mouth twitched—a hint of a smile that wasn’t warm but wasn’t cruel. "Straight lines. Good. In return, I will cure the woman the stag-boy seeks me for. The holes will close. Her blood will thicken. Her spirit will settle back into its place."

Kael didn’t look back at the door. He pictured the Marquis’s wife, the empty circles in her skin. He thought of a man burning his name to keep his wife breathing. He nodded once.

"What else?" he asked.

The Witch set her cup down. "You ask like a trader. There is something else. You will speak for me to the stag-house, and to the mayor. No logging crews in the seven groves behind the stone circle. No priests stomping with holy sticks here. They keep their order outside the old line."

"Done," Kael said. "They’ll listen."

"They will listen to him," Seris said, surprising him. "They like what he builds."

The Witch glanced at Seris as if seeing the shape of a girl she’d known once. "And you. Slave with a knight’s spine."

Seris’s face didn’t change.

"Eat properly," the Witch said, as if delivering a command from the air. "If you break, he breaks."

Seris stared at her for half a heartbeat, then gave the smallest of nods.

"When do you want the box?" Kael asked.

"Before the moon thins to a curve," the Witch said. "Three nights. I can hold the marquis’s wife with herbs and silence until then. After that, the holes eat the edges of the edges, and there is nothing to weave back together."

Kael stood. "We’ll bring it."

"Not we," she said. "You." Her eyes were steady. "And the knight, if you must. No banners. No boy with gold hair. If he steps on my threshold, his father’s enemies will hear it in three cities."

Kael understood. "We’ll come alone."

He turned to go. Before he reached the door, the Witch spoke again. "One more thing."

He looked back.

"When you open the door he built," she said quietly, "don’t use a thief’s hand. Use his."

Kael’s chest tightened. "What does that mean?"

"You already know," she said. "You wear it. He left it for you."

Kael looked down at the blue ring on his finger. It felt heavier than before.

He and Seris left the cottage. The air outside felt lighter, as if the trees had relaxed when the door closed.

Leonard stepped forward. "Well?"

"She agreed," Kael said. "I need to fetch something from my house. A... box. Then she’ll heal your mother."

Leonard’s eyes sharpened at once. "From your house? In the capital?"

"Far," Kael said. "But not too far for me."

Leonard studied him for a breath, then nodded. "How long?"

"Two days," Kael said. "Maybe less."

"Then we wait here," Leonard said. "We will make camp at the stone circle. No one disturbs the Witch."

Lysandra looked relieved. "Thank you."