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But my enemy is wrong. We are not the same.

I raise my hands, trace the sigil in the air, and continue my attack.

Shock fills her eyes as she realizes my intention. “You will die, too!”

“I would rather perish than see my sister die in my place.”

The destroyer falls back, losing her balance, and collapses to the ground at my feet.

The purple circles under her eyes deepen as her cheeks start to hollow. Fingers clawing at the ground, she tries to rise to her feet, but is too weak.

Falling onto her side, she weakly lifts her head to gaze at me. “Please, do not kill me!”

As always when in battle, the aspect of me that craves to kill and destroy speaks louder than mercy. I will all my power into the curse, every last bit of it. I was not being duplicitous. I am willing to sacrifice all to save my sister, even my own life.

The girl who had helped destroy the Witch World writhes on the cold dirt, her limbs becoming emaciated as she wastes away. The life is drained from her, a fair recompense for her participation in the destruction of the Witch World. As she releases one last breath, the fire within me consumes my body. I gaze down at my hands to see flames crackling through fissures in my skin and know that this is the end of who I am, too. As I fall, I catch a glimpse of my sister rising to her knees and crying out in terror when she sees me. I only feel joy because I have saved her.

Then I, Erzsébet the Battlewitch, am no more.

I sprawl upon the ground and darkness takes me….

…before being roused by my sister calling my name.

When I open my eyes, Ágota is leaning over me. Her long fingers dig into my shoulder as she shakes me. “How could you, Erzsébet?”

“I had to save you, Ágota. I could not let you die.”

“You forfeited your magic for me! Erzsébet, you are mortal now!”

“I would do anything to save you, Ágota. I cannot let you die. Not when I can save you. I saw what I could become when I gazed upon the destroyer. I now know why you were so afraid of me being the Battlewitch. I wish you had told me the truth.”

Sobbing, my sister wipes away her tears. “Balázs and I thought it best that you did not know. We wanted to protect you.”

Around us, the coven is slowly recovering from the destroyer’s attack. They avoid gazing in our direction. Even Henrietta is unable to look upon me. Is it because of what I have done? Or because of what they have done to me?

“So the creation of the portal between here and Gratz was not about me returning for the preservation of the coven, but so that you would be able to observe me and protect me from myself.”

With a somber expression, Ágota helps me sit upright. “I never believed that you would become a destroyer, but if there was the slightest possibility I had to ensure that I could save you.”

“You should have trusted me, Ágota.”

She averts her gaze, which says volumes to me. “I wanted to, but killing came too easily to you, Erzsébet.”

“You underestimated me far too many times, my sister. I alone could save you and the coven, and I did. The destroyer and I were eerie reflections of each other—not just in appearance, but in our abilities. In her I saw what I could become, and I made a choice. She attempted to deceive me when she said I would die if I finished the curse. She sensed I was half mortal and knew I could sacrifice the witch half of myself and still live. The curse would take my magic, but not my life. Unfortunately for her, I realized that truth myself.”

Chastened, Ágota whispers, “You are very wise, Erzsébet.”

Though the pain of the curse has passed, my body still aches. The enormity of my loss weighs me on my soul, and I fight against the unexpected tears. How can I possibly reconcile what has happened with the knowledge that those dearest to me deceived me?

“I sacrificed my magic for you, Ágota, because I love you. But do not expect me to forgive you. I am leaving for Gratz and not returning. You conspired with your father and the coven to hide the truth from me. I am no longer witch and I no longer belong with the coven.”

My pride in tatters, my heart is broken and filled with an aching void where my magic once dwelled, I pull free from my sister, stand, and stride from the courtyard and into the night. Ágota and the others do not follow me. It is a wise move on their behalf.

It is not until I sit beneath a pear tree at the edge of the vineyard that I see that Valentini has joined me. The black cat settles at my side and rests a paw against my knee. This simple, caring touch fills me with gratitude. In his solemn gaze, I observe that he understands the enormity of my loss. He is a powerful familiar, but I cannot resist and lift him into my arms so I may stroke his silky fur and kiss his little head. It is a sign of his compassion that he allows this indignity.

“My time here is done, Valentini,” I say with great sadness.

He meows and kneads his paws against my shoulder.