Page 24 of Liar Witch

There are still figures moving around the rubble. Witches calling for one another. Babes crying. The hurried yells of those trying to create order from chaos.

I spot a beacon of gold amongst the monochromatic chaos and angle my broom straight for her.

“Mother Solar,” I call, as soon as I see her.

She raises her head at my call. Some unnamed weight in her eyes lifts as recognition hits. The moment I land, she strides over, studying me with a gaze that seems to see too much.

Her gold dress is stained with blood, her hands similarly coated. But her eyes are calm as she assesses me. She’s an experienced leader and healer with years of experience in portraying calm while the world fractures around her.

“Shadow. You’ve returned?”

I’ve failed, I think, but I keep that to myself. The last thing Sophie needs right now is that kind of news.

“I have,” I reply, searching the crowd as I prop my broom against the wall.

It’s a struggle to hide the panic in my gaze as I fail to spot any familiar faces.

Where is Petra? Elsie? Reva?

“There is someone you need to see.”

Sophie doesn’t give me a chance to reply as she drops the scroll she was focusing on and hurries past me towards one of the buildings which remains standing. Witches scramble to get out of our way as she passes and a stone settles in my gut at the look on their faces.

They’re looking at me like I’m their last hope. Like they expect me to say something, anything, that will make this whole attack seem justified. Some of them are looking at the long shift I woke up in with confusion, but for the most part, their eyes are curious as they study me.

They want me to tell them I’ve killed the Eagle.

Sophie shoves through a curtain that’s been hastily rigged in place of a door and into a room crammed with healers and the wounded. The Solars look exhausted and the Lunars they’re treating look crushed.

This is what battle looks like when you’re on the losing side. This is defeat.

“You’re wounded,” the Mother Solar whispers, sparing a glance back at me.

“I can wait.” My wounds are nothing compared to the witches being tended around us.

Sophie nods, accepting my response. “Good. We need to hurry.”

She knows, I realise, she already knows I’ve failed. From the look in her eyes, she doesn’t even judge me for it.

Then Sophie pushes open another door, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat.

Petra.

Shit.

The Mother Lunar—the only other Shadow—is carefully arranged on a bed in the middle of the room. The Solar attending her bows as Sophie walks in, then quickly leaves, not meeting my eyes.

“She’s dying.”

Sophie doesn’t need to say it. It’s painfully obvious from the blackened bruises covering the Mother Lunar’s face. She looks like she’s been crushed by something, and her arm is sticking out in odd angles. By her side, her familiar is curled up, her fur dull and her eyes closed.

“This tiny flesh wound isn’t going to kill me until I’ve spoken with her.” Though her words are steely, Petra’s voice is wavering and thin. “Get over here, girl, I have something for you.”

My footsteps are heavy, almost too loud in the already mournful silence of the room.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been waiting to join the stars for over a century. In that time, I’ve prepared for this.” Her hand motions weakly towards the wrapped bundle on the dresser beside the bed. “In there is a full history of the Shadows. Instructions, techniques, training exercises. I’ve had a second copy sent to Danika in case you fail again, but your copy contains those letters from your mother I told you about.”

Her words are as brutal as ever, but I shrug it off. “I’m not ready. I still need you.”