There was no fanfare. No big cheer from a crowd of people. Just Mina’s sharp intake of breath and her frighteningly large eyes turning to look at me, the Mother Tree, and the Hudson Witch one by one. Seoul whined. The Hudson Witch gave me a curt nod. Wol leaned against my leg, and Hwari bobbed in the shadow too. I noticed all these with the same degree of excitement I reserve for rainy days.
Winning this trial didn’t change a single thing about how I felt. I saw too much of my situation in the Mother Tree and the mushroom kids. I know, I know. I’m not some creepy mushroom-headed parasite spirit that chews on my mom’s skin for sustenance. It was the juxtaposition of the situation. The Mother Tree was dying, and she was leaving behind children that she knew would be hated by others. The people involved who had a say in the mushkin’s future had chosen to eliminate them rather than risk a war. Coexistence was out of the picture.
I mean, Wol had practically said that my mom had made me into a weapon. I hadn’t forgotten about the fresh tattoo of the Cold Sickess’ on my wrist, nor the way everyone kept referring to me as the Diabolist—quite literally one who consorts with daevils. Hell, maybe I was wrong on the mushroom spirit front; I had dark circles for days, and it gave the mushkin’s void-eyes a run for their money. And maybe I was no different than the mushkin to all the other preternaturals who thought I was dangerous: a threat.
But the difference was that my mom chose to raise me anyway.
The mushkin would never have that.
Not all stories have mildly-OK endings. Mine’s still up in the air, as a matter of fact.
“Victor Valentine, Jain Shin Hallow, you two will take the next trial,” the Hudson Witch said. Her tone was exactly the way I felt, bereft of celebration. “But first, we will take care of the Mother Tree. You may rest until the time comes.” Then she walked in the direction where Victor was preparing a working with Sparky.
Before I could do anything else, Mina whirled on me.
“Well, I guess congratulations are in order,” she said and reached out for a handshake. “Good job, Hallow.”
My hand stopped halfway. I eyed her hand suspiciously.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a trick, you dolt. I’m just congratulating you.”
“You? Congratulate me?” I said incredulously. “Didn’t you want to win?”
She scowled then stabbed her hand towards me. “Well, yeah. So what? Did you want me to stomp my feet on the ground and start crying when I lost?”
For the life of me, I can’t remember why I decided to carefully reach out and take her handshake. Still, I did it slowly, ready to take it away at a moment’s notice. Mina let out a frustrated sound, grabbed it, and shook before letting go. “You’re such an asshole.”
I looked at my hand, trying to see if it would fall off or start rotting. “I’m the asshole?” I said, but it was more of an afterthought.
“Yes. You’re acting like I’m some bitch who’s out to get you.”
I was flabbergasted because she had managed to flabbergast me.
I sputtered. Literally. Made the stupid noise and everything. She was some bitch who was out to get me. The push down the hill, the punch to my burnt arm, and now calling me an asshole, they flashed through my head with such clarity that it left me speechless. Either she was lying and manipulating me, or she sincerely had zero clue about how her actions were perceived by other people.
When my thoughts clarified enough to string words together again, it was too late.The Hudson Witch returned with Victor in tow.Sparky —I liked Sparky better than Spark— the salamander was glowing entirely white, and Victor gently cradled him with both hands.
“I will draw the circle, lad.”
“Thank you,” Victor said and began walking in a huge circle around the Mother Tree. Wherever he went, the snow on the ground melted.
The Hudson Witch reached into her satchel and brought out a leather pouch. She opened it and began to scoop out grayish-white dust: ashes. She began the long trek around the entirety of the fallen tree, following the footpath created in the wake of the salamander’s heat, and traced a circle. Once in a while, she bent down and used her fingers to draw either runes or sigils on the ground.
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“Wol, what do you call practitioners like her?” I asked.
“She seems to be a druid.”
“The only druid I know is from the MMORPG. Sparknotes it for me?”
“A practitioner who’s a caretaker of nature. One with the world around them. Bringing them into herself to give, and vice versa,” Wol explained.
“How is that different from a shaman? I remember her saying something about shamans having to know all this crap,” I gestured towards the working. It looked like the Hudson Witch was doing most of the heavy lifting. From what I could see, Victor was simply walking and preparing the way for her.
“Shamans mostly deal with the dead,” Wol answered. “The definition of druidism and shamanism has blended a lot over the lifespan of mortal practitioners. I would consult the books, my practitioner.” Then, almost like an afterthought, he added, “You are badly in need of catching up with your readings.”
I saw Mina spying on Wol out of the corner of her eye, trying to pretend she wasn’t. When our eyes met, she looked away. “I knew your familiar was smart. But he’s even smarter than I thought.”
“Thanks,” I said begrudgingly.
Mina shook her head from side to side like a bobblehead, pursing her lips and thinking, looking like she wanted to say something.
“Hey, I want to talk to you about—” she began.
The Hudson Witch and Victor finished their loop around the tree and interrupted her. Victor placed his salamander on the ground, inches from the circle. His movements were heavy, as if he were weighted down by something. Slow and tense, Victor gave a curt nod to the Hudson Witch. Then he placed both hands on the floor right behind his familiar, closed his eyes, and began to mutter one word over and over again.
“Ignis,” he chanted.
Slowly, the circle began to glow with white light, reminding me of induction stoves starting up, then burned with white fire. Within seconds, the fire began to encroach towards the Mother Tree and her unwanted children.
The Mother Tree closed her eyes as the mushkin began to scream their silent, undulating cries. She hugged a few of them close, tears streaming down her face. They fought back with fury, tearing into her with claws and teeth. Hatred filled their eyes as the ones closest to the flames screamed in terror and ran to find shelter that did not exist.
One of the mushkins was curious and reached out with a finger. The fire licked his hand, then stuck to it gleefully. The mushkin waved his hand with fury, trying to set it out, but it was too late. Soon enough, the fire swallowed the entire limb, then his body. But before it did, the mushkin seemed to grow drowsy and fell to the floor, eyes half-lidded and mouth mumbling something slowly. The fire devoured him from the inside out, giving me a full view of mushkin anatomy, which was nothing like grilled mushrooms. Blood, organs, innards, sinew —supernatural but too human for me to ignore— all of it was there.
It made me sick, and I looked away.
“Ahh, ahh, ahh,” the Mother Tree half-moaned and half-screamed, looking towards the east, where the sun was beginning to paint the sky with broad brushstrokes of light.
Unable to stop myself, I reached out with my Third Eye to see without really seeing.
The fire was enchanted with the dying memories of soldiers, moments before their death. It didn’t just burn, it put all the mushkin it touched under hypnosis. This was the magical equivalent of a tranquilizer for death row prisoners —painkillers and poison in one.
Except the mushkin hadn’t really committed a crime yet. Their sin was simply existing in the wrong place at the wrong time. The same went for the Mother Tree. She’d been pushed into a situation where death had become the next best option, rather than prolonging what little time she had left.
It took nearly half an hour for the Mother Tree’s physical form —the tree— to be burned to glowering pieces of burnt wood. The real Mother Tree, the giantess, had been burned alive, and I was glad to have chosen to look away.
The working was done.
White smoke rose in a twisting spire towards the sky, resembling the skyscrapers of Manhattan. They blended into the light blue of the morning air, disappearing.
No one spoke. The air was somber, and weighted with the same mood as funerals. It somehow felt disrespectful to speak out right now. I didn’t fully grasp what exactly happened just now, nor did I fully feel the entire weight of the Mother Tree’s death. But the general mood coming off of the Hudson Witch said that this was a big deal.
So we stood in silence.
Victor was steaming. Literally. He reached out, and the salamander clambered up his arm into the crook of his neck, where it curled up and promptly fell asleep. He stood up without any trouble and walked back to us. He gave us a tired look.
The druid had helped with the working, but didn’t seem half as tired as Victor.If anything, she seemed refreshed.
The skill difference was real.
She let out a long breath and crossed over the fading boundary of the circle. Without even waiting for the embers to cool, she rolled up her sleeves and stuck her hand into the smoldering pile, and began stirring through it. Eventually, she pulled out a small orb covered in ashes. She wiped off the ashes on her moomoo dress, then pocketed it into her knapsack.
“What was that, a golden nugget?” I muttered in an attempt to lighten the mood. It was mostly towards Wol.
“Really? A leprechaun joke? That’s racist,” Mina said cuttingly.
“Nuh-uh,” I said. “Leprechauns are Irish. She’s Scottish.”
“Ireland and Scotland are practically the same.”
“That’s really racist.”
“Too tall to be a leprechaun,” Victor blurted.
“You would know, wouldn’t you, Mary Poppins?”
Victor gave me a blank stare.
When the Hudson Witch walked over to us, we grew silent. “I would speak with you about the second trial. Lass, you are free to remain or take leave.”
“I’d like to stay, if that’s alright with you,” Mina said.
I swallowed and glanced at Victor.
It was just him and me. Depending on what sort of trial the Hudson Witch gave us, it would change everything. Victor had finished a working, but he already looked better. I, on the other hand, had a burnt arm and broken ankle, all the while running on less than six hours of sleep in the past two days. This trial also showed me that Victor could win even in a trial of wits, that he had tools which could help him in unexpected ways.
I was feeling less hopeful by the second. The chatter earlier had just been a distraction for me. A smoke screen, used to hide how nervous I actually was from myself and everyone else.
“Victor Valentine, and Jain Shin Hallow. You two will take part in the second trial, and the winner will be declared the Shin heir. Do you two understand this?”
Victor answered before I could. “I do.”
“I understand,” I said a beat later.
“Then here is my task for you,” the Hudson Witch said, “The Mother Tree’s killer resides in the city. Find him, and bring him to justice. That is what I ask of you. You both have six days, before the new sun rises. Best of luck.”