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Remy no longer had a body. She existed somewhere else, somewhere far below in the earth, in the soul of the land.

She lay there in the womb of life, looking up at the body above her. The vision was blurry, as though she lay at the bottom of a lake, watching the scene: her limp body lay in the leaf litter. Knelt beside her, holding her so tightly the veins in his arms were popping out, was Hale. Beyond him, a transparent form flickered: Baba Morganna.

The old witch had projected her spirit to the site of Remy’s death. It was powerful magic that would likely drain the High Priestess for a long time once she let go.

Baba Morganna had a light brown face that was deeply lined. Her white, wavy hair hung loosely past her shoulders. Her eyes shone like polished bronze, even in her spirit form. Red magic sparked from her hands. She did not hunch but stood rod straight as though she wore an invisible crown, chin held high, her red flowing cloak covering the rest of her body.

It appeared as though she were speaking to Hale, but Remy could not hear. Hale shouted at the ghostly image, teeth bared, his soul seeming to tear apart as he gripped Remy’s lifeless body.

Baba Morganna’s voice rang out from the blackness. It was all around Remy, echoing into the earth.

“It has been a long time since I’ve seen your face, Little Sparrow.” The red witch’s form was still speaking to the prince above Remy, but she spoke through the earth at the same time.

“Don’t call me that.” Remy protested in her mind. She spoke no words. She did not have a mouth, but she communicated with the old witch as if the words flowed from her lips.

“You deny who you are even in death?” The witch’s voice was scratchy, higher than the tone Remy had remembered.

“So I am dead then?” Remy knew it and couldn’t believe it at the same time. She could not absorb the truth that this was the end of her.

“That depends on you,” Baba Morganna said. “You have a choice before you now. Go forward: claim back your body, claim your rightful place in this world, or go, leave all the pain and destruction, yes, but leave any future too.”

“How do I know my future will be worth the suffering?” She doubted it could be. If she lived, it would lead to war.

“How does anyone? The things that bring us the most joy are the things hardest won. However hard you fight you will be equally thus rewarded,” Baba Morganna prophesied.

“And if I don’t want to fight anymore?” If Remy had a body she would cry, but her voice only echoed desolately through the darkness.

“Then I will tell you this,” Baba Morganna said. “You may think that you are untethered to this world, but your choice is not yours alone. It will ripple out into the realm in ways you cannot yet fathom, and you, Little Sparrow, will exist in the afterlife, watching it all unfold, unable to lift a finger to change it.”

“That is cruel.” Remy ached in the darkness.

“It is the burden of those who pass: to watch, to bear witness to all that comes from the lives they led, to watch the ripples of all that they have done. With time it will fade. You will become an earth spirit, watching from the soil and the rivers and the trees, whispering and nudging as much as the earth will allow.” The old witch’s voice was calm, yet tinged with sorrow. “I have seen so many of your family fall.”

“They’re all gone.” Remy had never felt more truly alone. Even her body abandoned her now.

“Not all.” Morganna’s voice cut through the emptiness. “Ruadora lives.”

“Rua?” Remy had mourned her little sister’s death long ago.

“A red witch rescued her that night. The witch hid with her in the forest, slowly finding her sisters and pulling the coven back together. We have been circling through the deep forests around Yexshire but do not venture into the valley, though the Northern eyes that once watched the valley of Yexshire are starting to turn away. Rua is with the red witches. Come to Yexshire. Follow the path behind the temple. You will find our camp there . . . that is, if you choose to come back,” Baba Morganna said more slowly. “I hate to lose another one of your family, but if you choose to go, I will find a way to bear it.”

“Why do I have a choice at all?” Remy whispered. She could feel herself fading into the ether. “Surely most do not get to choose between staying or going.”

“Because someone still tethers you to this world.” Baba Morganna’s voice warmed.

“Who?”

Remy heard the smile in the old witch’s voice. “You know who. You know what he is to you.”

Remy looked at her body. Hale cradled her head in his lap. His forehead pressed to hers as he wept. He clenched fistfuls of her black hair in his hands as his tears fell onto her face.

Remy knew then that she never had a choice. She would hold on to life just to wipe his tears away. That is how much she loved him.

“Good luck to you, Little Sparrow,” Baba Morganna said, knowing Remy had made her decision. “Make sure you cast as many stones into that water before you go, so you may watch those ripples for centuries to come.”

Remy looked to Hale’s broken face and something in her felt again. She felt those thumbs stroking her wet cheeks. She heard the soft tremble of his cries. The sound anchored her to this world. Turning toward her destiny, she decided to make as many damn ripples as she could before time took her again.

“May the Gods help me,” she thought to herself.