HeatMarie

The Witch’s Daughter stepped beyond the sheltering embrace of the forest, her cloak brushing against the blackened earth. The path she walked had once been a lively road with travelers, merchants, and the cheerful clatter of horse-drawn carts. Now, it was a desolate stretch of scorched ground, the vibrant red-brown dirt smothered beneath layers of soot and despair. Shaking her head, she thought to herself, This isn’t just a curse. This is annihilation. Even the wind carried a tainted, warm, lifeless touch, stripped of the forest’s fragrant breath. As she inhaled, her lungs filled with the drifting smoke.

She lifted her gaze to the charred remains of the trees, their skeletal branches clawing at a sky shrouded in ashen haze. Stepping toward one, she ran her fingers over the devastating scorch marks. It told her how the darkness seeped into the ground, burrowed into its roots and ignited a fire from within. There isn’t much time left, she whispered to herself, her heart tightening as doubt gnawed at her. How can I hope to mend this? How can anyone? She blinked against the sting of tears, refusing to let them fall. 

“Took you long enough,” a voice said, breaking her thoughts. It was a stark contrast to the devastation that surrounded her—laced with amusement and levity. A man leaned against the side of an old barn, arms crossed over his chest, his smirk reflecting the arrogance she expected from a man like him. Despite the wasteland, he appeared unfazed, his polished boots barely touched by the dry dirt and ash and his cloak pristine. He carried himself with the effortless confidence of someone accustomed to command.

The Witch’s Daughter shrugged, irritated by his tone. How can he make this out to be a joke? 

He raised an eyebrow, expecting more of a response. “I didn’t think a Witch’s Daughter would have so few words. To be honest, I expected more… fanfare. Perhaps an entourage of spirits or a swirling tempest.”

She allowed the faintest hint of a smile. “Disappointed?”

“Curious,” he corrected, pushing himself away from the barn. “Though I must admit, your entrance was understated.”

She glanced at the horse tethered nearby, noting the stallion’s restless shifting. “And I expected a prince to be less concerned with theatrics.”

“Touche.” He said. 

Ignoring the Prince, the Witch’s Daughter moved toward the horse. The stallion snorted, eyeing her warily. She reached out a hand, speaking in a gentle voice. The horse calmed, pressing its muzzle into her palm.

The Prince watched with a mixture of surprise and admiration. “He doesn’t usually take to strangers.” 

Her hand moved across the horse’s neck and the horse leaned into her touch. “Animals understand more than we do,” she said, stroking the stallion’s neck. “They sense intentions.”

“If you can win him over that easily, then maybe there’s hope for us yet, though I never imagined I’d be working with the Witch’s Daughter.” He looked around with a puzzled expression as though something were missing. “Where’s your horse? Surely you’re not planning to walk the whole way, are you?”

The Witch’s Daughter said nothing. The wind blew faint traces of ash onto her cheek, a reminder of the kingdom’s destruction. Her eyes turned to the line of bare trees. She lifted two fingers to her lips and let out a low, melodious whistle that stood in stark contrast with the lifeless air around them. For a moment, there was only silence. Then, from the depths of the forest, the sound of thundering hooves grew louder.

A sleek black mare burst from the tree line, her mane flowing like liquid night. She galloped toward them, slowing to a graceful trot as she approached. The Witch’s Daughter gave a genuine smile for the first time that day. “Hello, Nyx.”

The mare nickered, nuzzling her shoulder. The bond between them was palpable—an unspoken understanding forged over the years. “Good girl,” she whispered.

The Prince blinked in surprise, his usual quick wit faltering for a moment. Who is this woman? He thought. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, pausing before he smirked. “Good girl, indeed,” he said, his tone tinged with admiration. “I suppose you’re full of surprises.”

She mounted the mare in one fluid motion, casting a glance down at him as she adjusted the reins. “You have no idea,” she replied, her voice carrying the hint of a challenge.

Shaking his head, the Prince mounted his own horse, his arrogant smile returning. “Oh, I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy my time with you. Lead the way.”

They set off towards the east, the ruins of the kingdom stretching out before them like a bleak canvas. The wind carried whispers of warning, and the ground beneath them pulsed with unease. She closed her eyes, attuning herself to the land and felt the darkness digging deeper.

“Is something wrong?” the Prince asked.

She opened her eyes. “The corruption runs deeper and further than it appears.”

He frowned. “How is that possible?”

“I…” the Witch’s Daughter hesitated. Even I don’t fully understand, she thought. Yet, she knew enough to sense the truth. She wondered how much to reveal, but something in the Prince’s calm stare encouraged her to continue, “It seeps into the soil, feeding off the lifeblood of the land. If we don’t stop this, it will rot the very foundation of our world.” 

A shiver ran through her as she sensed a darkness following them, watching their every move. Shadows shifted in the corners of her vision, creeping closer. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being hunted. Her instincts flared, and she pressed her heels into Nyx, urging the horse to run.

---

Hours passed in silence. The ride through the barren lands had taken a toll on her. The darkness had spread much further on the eastern side of the kingdom than she realized. The devastation made for a long, quiet ride. She was thankful for the silence; it allowed her mind to stay sharp, her focus clear. The sun was well past its high point before they reached the foot of the mountains, where green grass peeked through the blackened dry dirt and the trees still held their leaves. And still, more hours had passed since then.

The Witch’s Daughter tightened her cloak around her as they rode higher into the mountains. The air grew colder as they continued their upward climb, the chill biting into her lungs. She took a deep breath, letting the crisp air refresh her from the dry, burnt taste of dust that still lingered in her mouth.

“We should find a place to make camp before nightfall,” the Prince said as he pulled his horse up next to hers. “I thought we would have reached the base of the mountain by now.”

She tilted her head in agreement.The narrow path opened to a beautiful vista—a serene outcropping that faced south, offering an expansive view of the world below. The mountainside formed a ledge that jutted out like nature’s own balcony, its smooth, flat surface composed of ancient stone. They could see the sun beginning its final descent in the sky to the west and the wonders of rolling hills and dense forests to the east.

“This will do,” the Witch’s Daughter said as she slid down from her horse’s back, reaching into her cloak and pulling out a treat.

The Prince followed without asking questions, guiding his own horse behind her. He dismounted with the same effortless grace.

“We rest here for the night, Nyx,” she whispered to the mare, who eagerly nibbled the treat from her hand. She guided Nyx north, off the path, away from the ledge, and led her to the dense grove of evergreens.

“Come, Thorne,” the Witch’s Daughter said to the stallion. Thorne ripped his reins from the Prince’s hands and trotted up behind her, snuffling at her long dark hair.

“Now, that’s not fair!” the Prince said.

The woman turned to him. “I did not take you for one so melodramatic, Prince.”

“Only when my horse betrays me for a beautiful lady. At least he has good taste” he said, flashing a charming, sinful smile.

She rolled her eyes and grabbed Thorne’s reins, leading him and Nyx into the shade. They walked a short distance before reaching a small waterfall with a graceful flow, creating a shallow, clear pond at the bottom.

The Prince followed her. “How did you…”

She cut him off with a sly glance. “Witches know things,” she said, eyeing him as if daring him to argue. The silence stretched, filled with the symphony of the forest—the distant call of a songbird, the rustle of creatures in the underbrush, the gentle rush of the waterfall.

He raised his hands in playful surrender. “Far be it from me to question the mysteries of a witch,” he replied with a grin. “I’ll just go grab some firewood, then.” He grabbed his pack from the back of Thorne and left her to tend to the horses.

Turning her attention to the animals, the Witch’s Daughter approached Nyx and Thorne, who stood side by side near the pond. Nyx nickered at her approach, her dark eyes reflecting trust. Thorne, usually spirited and proud, regarded her with a curious tilt of his head.

“You both must be exhausted,” she whispered, her voice as soft as the rustling leaves. She reached out to stroke Nyx’s silken mane, her fingers gliding through the ebony strands. 

She moved to Thorne, meeting his gaze. “And you, my noble one,” she said, gentle laughter mingling with the constant flow of water. “We are going to be great friends.” Thorne snorted as she ran her hand along his neck.

From her saddlebag, she brought out a brush made of polished wood and boar bristles, and with deliberate, soothing strokes, she groomed them. As she worked, she hummed a lilting melody—a song of the woods and earth, passed down through generations of witches. The notes flowed like a stream, winding their way through the trees and blending seamlessly with nature’s sounds.

She offered the horses a handful of dried herbs and oats, which they accepted with unbridled excitement, their soft munching adding a gentle counterpoint to her song. “Rest well,” she whispered. “We have a long journey ahead.”

Before leaving, she placed a light kiss on Nyx’s nose and gave Thorne a final affectionate pat. 

Satisfied that the horses were settled, she walked back to the clearing where the Prince was crouched next to a stone fire pit. The wood was carefully stacked in a neat tower at its center. The Prince struck flint against steel, the fading sunlight highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the quiet determination in his eyes. No matter how many times the wind snuffed out the tiny flame, he continued, undeterred, striking flint to steel.

“Let me,” she said, and with a gentle touch, pushed him to the side. She knelt beside the fire pit, cupping her hands around the tinder. Whispering an incantation, she breathed a slow long breath on the wood, and the fire sprang to life, flames dancing despite the wind.

He raised an eyebrow. “Convenient.”

She gave a shrug and wandered toward the edge of the plateau. The cool evening air embraced her, carrying the distant murmur of the waterfall hidden within the woods.

She stepped onto the flat rock ledge, sat down, and kicked her feet over the edge.

The sun was low, painting the sky in deep hues of red, orange, and purple. She closed her eyes, feeling the wind and smelling the fresh earth mingled with the scent of the small fire burning behind her. Pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she let the wind tug at her long, dark waves. She opened her eyes and noticed, off in the distance, the darkness of the curse creeping further across the land. What have you done, Mama? How could you do this? How could you not care?

Soft footsteps approached from behind her. She didn’t turn around or acknowledge him, only let out an annoyed breath as he sat down beside her and handed her a small bowl of stew. She accepted it with reluctance, feeling the warmth seep into her fingers.

“I’m surprised—a prince who can cook?” she remarked.

“I might have learned a few practical skills,” he said, glancing at her. “Besides, it’s only fair. You conjured the fire; the least I can do is provide the meal.”

“A fair trade.” she said.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, turning his head to look out at the world below them. The unexpected sincerity caught her off guard; the words hung in the air between them, soft and almost… vulnerable.

She let the silence stretch and felt a brief flicker of something she hadn’t felt in years—appreciation for beauty, even in the desolation. Still, she said nothing. Her eyes like his, fixed on the horizon as the colors of dusk blended into the encroaching darkness. Beside her, she could feel the Prince’s presence–not just his body, but something more. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, or why his arrogance didn’t bother her as much.

“How can one part of the world be like this when another is headed for damnation?” he asked.

“It won’t stay this way for long. There…” She pointed back to the west, where a lone tree sat smoldering in the darkness. “It’s still a ways off yet.”

The Prince followed her finger out past the distant hills, he watched as the smoke rose high up into the sky. “I’m going to save her,” he said.

The Witch’s Daughter didn’t look at him. She wouldn’t; even with the smoke rising in the distance, the night was too beautiful to pull her eyes away. She wanted to remember this moment, to burn it into her memory—so that when the darkness consumed the world, she could close her eyes and recall the exact scene. “Why do you care so much?” she asked, her voice soft but steady.

“Because I owe it to her,” he replied, the words simple yet heavy.

She nodded. She didn’t press him, didn’t ask for more.

The Prince felt the need to continue. “She doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve to be locked in that cage.”

The Witch’s Daughter snapped her head towards him, eyes hardening. “She made the choice.” Her tone was still, calm, but beneath the calmness lurked a biting cold. “Besides, I’m sure it’s hardly a cage. She deserves it. She wanted power; she wanted all the love. She asked for it. And when a little wasn’t enough, she demanded more. This is your result—your world in damnation.”

The Prince shook his head, rubbing his forehead. “She didn’t understand what she was asking for.”

“How can you say that? She saw how it was hurting people, how it was destroying lives, and even then she didn’t stop! She is cruel and selfish.” The Witch’s Daughter clenched her jaw as she struggled to contain the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“You don’t know her. She’s not like that.” He turned to watch the smoldering smoke rising in the distance.

A cold wind swept between them, mirroring the chill in her voice. “And what of the people now? How many are dead? How many creatures have lost their souls because of her? And what happens when we return? Do you honestly believe that everything will magically go back to the way it was? Do you truly think she won’t beg for the love she so desperately craves? Hell, after the kingdom wakes from the spell they’re under, I bet she’d purposely destroy the damn world just to have her way.”

“That’s enough,” the Prince snapped, his eyes flashing. “I told you she didn’t know! The witch, though—she knew! Where are your words for her?”

The Witch’s Daughter stood, the sudden movement startled a squirrel hidden in the bush next to her. “I’m here to fix what she destroyed.” Without another word, she took her bowl and walked back to sit by the fire. Pressing her bare feet into the loose dirt, she dug her toes into the soil, grounding herself to the earth. Closing her eyes, she focused on the warmth of the flames and the gentle breeze, remembering that a part of the world was still fresh, still breathing. She pulled the warmth deeper into her body, searching for the magic that would release her anger.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” the Prince said, sitting on the log beside her.

She opened her eyes, took a bite of her stew, and set her focus intently on the fire.

“Look,” he said, his tone measured. “We might be doing this for different reasons, but we have the same goal. My advisors told me of the places we need to go, but they gave no more detail than that. I think it’s time I know exactly what we need to do.”

She sighed, the tension easing from her shoulders as she let go of her anger. “I suppose there are things you should know—things I didn’t tell your advisors.” She bit her lip, trying hard to think of the best way to explain the real problem they were facing.

He leaned forward; the firelight casting shadows across his face. “Then tell me. If we’re to succeed, I need to understand what’s ahead.”

Setting her bowl aside, the Witch’s Daughter poked at the embers with a slender stick, watching the sparks swirl upward. “The darkness we face isn’t just a curse—it’s a living force. A monster born from imbalance and it’s feeding on the essence of our world.”

The Prince raised an eyebrow. “A monster?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice low as she continued to stir the fire. She raised a hand, her fingers brushing the air above the flames. The fire responded, shifting, swirling, slowly rising. As if drawn by her will, the flames shaped themselves into images. “It has a snout like a twisted boar,” she said, as the fire morphed into the silhouette of a grotesque beast. “Eyes as piercing as icy waters.” The blue flames flickered, forming eyes like ocean waves that seemed to stare back at them. “And claws that rend not just flesh but hope itself.”

The fire hissed and crackled, expanding the shape of the monster. It grew larger in the flames, towering, its jagged claws striking the ground, scattering fiery embers. The Prince watched, horror creeping into his expression as the fire continued to shift.

“It breathes in beauty and exhales despair,” she murmured, the flames now curling into the form of a tree–a mighty oak with its branches full of green leaves. But as the fire twisted, the tree shriveled, its branches blackening, until it was nothing but a shadow of what it once was.

The Prince sat back, staring into the fire, absorbing the horrifying images.

Her voice softened as the fire twisted into the shapes of animals. A pack of wolves formed, their snarls flickering in the flames, their eyes glowing with unnatural light. “It turns animals against one another, tearing apart the balance of nature.” 

“Every moment, it grows stronger,” she continued. “It’s gathering an army.” The flames shifted again, this time forming human silhouettes. They stood tall at first, but slowly, as the fire pulsed, they bent, twisted, and fell to their knees. “Humans turned into creatures of despair, hollow vessels for the darkness.” 

Her eyes turned towards the dirt, avoiding the next image the fire created.

The Prince’s gaze darkened as the flames formed figures of men and women–faces he remembered, faces he knew–twisted beyond recognition, their bodies misshapen, consumed by the darkness. “The missing people from your kingdom,” the Witch’s Daughter whispered. “They’re not missing. The darkness has them. It consumes all things living.”

The Prince’s expression tightened. “You mean…” he broke off his words. Closing his eyes tight, he tried to wash the images from his mind hoping that would be enough to force the truth from his lips.

She sighed and bowed her head. “Yes. They’re no longer human. They’ll do whatever the darkness commands.” 

The fire flickered as if in response, the shapes in the flames dissolving into embers once again.

With sharp words, the Prince turned from the fire and glared at the Witch’s Daughter. “Why wasn’t I told any of this sooner?” 

“Fear of causing panic,” she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. “If word got out, the fear alone would help the darkness spread faster–we would do half its work ourselves.”

“How do we stop it?” he asked, staring back into the fire, watching the last of the flames flicker back into shape–monsters with flaming orange, red and blue eyes prowling through the darkness. 

“To defeat it, we must restore balance. That will take more than swords and bravery.” 

“What do we need to do?”  

She took a deep breath. “First, we gather the Aurora’s Mornlight–a flower that blooms only at dawn along the eastern shore. Then, we venture into the Shadewarren Caverns for the Duskshade Stone. After we have both, we’ll forge the Eclipse Shard at the Veil of Horizons during the eclipse. The rest…” she trailed off, “…will be up to fate.” 

“And this monster–will try to stop us? Does it know what we’re doing?” the Prince asked.

“It knows,” she warned. “It senses threats to its existence. The deeper we go, the stronger it will become. Once we retrieve the Mornlight, the darkness will know we’re closer to weakening it. By the time we reach the Duskshade Stone, it will be waiting for us.” 

The Prince met her gaze, determination hardening his features. “Then we’ll face it together.”

She allowed herself a faint smile. “Perhaps you’re more than just a prince who can cook.” 

He casted her a wink. “I like to think I have a few other talents.” 

She rolled her eyes, but her expression turned serious again. “There’s something else you should know.” 

“What is it?” he asked, all his attention on her.

“The darkness…” she bit her lip again, choosing her words with care. “It uses emotions against people. It doesn’t just feed on things that are beautiful. It twists emotions, manipulates them, turns them into something darker.” 

“We’ll be fighting ourselves, too?” 

“This is how it consumes souls. At first, the corruption leaves the body intact, but over time, the more one obeys the darkness, the more creature-like they become.”

He swallowed, the reality sinking in. “She didn’t deserve this,” he said, his voice quiet as he clenched his fists around his bowl. “I should have seen what was happening before it went this far. Maybe if I had…” 

The Witch’s Daughter noticed the tension in his posture. She wasn’t used to hearing regret from someone like him, but there was something raw in his words. Before he could continue, she spoke, “The darkness feeds on emotions like that,” her voice gentle and soothing. “If you let it fester, it will find a way to use it against you.” 

He looked at her, pleading. “How do we fight something like this?” 

“We’ll have to figure that out ourselves. The writings say little about how to fight it. It only says that to do so, we need the Eclipse Shard.”

They sat in contemplative silence; the fire crackling between them. The night air grew cooler, and stars blinked in the sky like distant beacons of tiny hope.

The firelight danced across her face, and for a moment, the Prince couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Her expression held a mixture of determination and weariness. Who is she, really? He thought.

The Witch’s Daughter noticed his gaze lingering, even as she kept her focus on the flames. The attention unsettled her, making her aware of the small space between them. Still, an unfamiliarity stirred inside her. 

He hesitated, then spoke again. “Earlier, you asked why I care so much about saving the Princess…”

She looked at him, waiting.

“It’s not just about duty,” he admitted. “I know there’s good in her. When we fix this, you’ll see. I promise.” 

She nodded, then stood, wrapping her cloak tighter around her. “We should rest. We leave at dawn.” 

He watched her for a moment before rising as well. As they prepared their bedrolls near the fire, the Prince spoke, “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I’m not doing this alone.”

The Witch’s Daughter looked over at him. “As am I.” A faint smile passed between them, a fragile thread of understanding forming in the glow of the dying fire.