Page 40 of The Witch’s Spell (Season of the Witch #4)

Aurora

FAOLAN, ALDEN, ROWAN, AND HARRISON watch us from the tree line.

They’re outside the ring of crystals Rowan set up, just in case.

I don’t want them stuck in here with us if something goes wrong.

And there’s a high chance something could go wrong.

I still don’t know if I’m powerful enough to help Thorne with this plan.

But I’m going to do my best. Everyone is depending on me. On us . I can’t walk away now.

Thorne and I stand in the center of the clearing.

He’s across from me, looking down into my eyes.

I’ve grown slightly more used to his unglamoured face, but when he’s out in the woods like this, in a meadow hidden beneath snow and with the cloud cover overhead, he looks even more otherworldly.

Every so often when I look at him, I can see how obvious it is that he’s not human.

If his subtle shimmer didn’t give him away, the rest of him surely would .

“Will you take my hands?” he asks, holding his palms out to me. Rowan is holding his cane, and Thorne stands slightly askew, but he doesn’t look to be in pain.

With a small nod, I remove my mittens and tuck them into the deep inside pockets of my cloak.

Then I ease my bare hands into his. And as soon as our skin makes contact, I’m whisked back to yesterday on Niamh’s couch.

I feel his naked skin on mine, hear his breathing in the candlelit room.

It makes my stomach flutter, but I quickly force those feelings down.

If this works, Thorne will be free to leave. For all I know, these might be my last few moments with him. And even though it pains me, I want to enjoy them. I don’t want to squander what could be my last chance to see him, to touch him.

I force my eyes to meet his, and for the first time since yesterday, I hold his gaze steadily. “I’m ready. Just tell me what to do.”

His fingers wrap around mine. “I don’t need you to try to control the magic, but I do want to attempt to calm it. Chaotic magic is unpredictable magic. If we can calm its chaos, it will be easier for me to redirect. Can you do that?”

My teeth nibble my bottom lip. “I’ll do my best.”

A brief smile flickers across Thorne’s inhuman face. “I believe in you, Aurora. You can do this.”

When tears threaten my eyes, I quickly close them.

Then I take another deep breath, grip Thorne’s fingers, and tap into the earth’s energy through the thick soles of my winter boots .

She’s a bit harder to find when I’m separated from her with footwear, which is one of the reasons I prefer to go barefoot whenever possible. But after a moment, I find her beating heart, and I reach out to it, connect to it until my pulse thrums in time with hers.

I picture a whirling vortex of fog—not so unlike the one Thorne used to separate Faolan and Cathal—then seek to comfort it, to calm it without subduing it.

I already imbued the quartz crystals with my intention: to stabilize the energy, but not to hold or absorb it.

Last time I tried that, the fairy magic shattered my crystals, expressing its refusal to be tamed.

I don’t want to tame you , I think. Just calm you. Reassure you. Ground you.

I breathe in and out, then whisper to Thorne, “Okay. Your turn.”

His fingers tighten on mine, comforting me, holding me firm. “Brace yourself.”

With my eyes still closed, I hear rather than see Thorne’s magic. The wind around us picks up slowly, increasing in its intensity with every moment that passes. Only when I’m certain I have a strong hold on my stabilizing magic do I dare open my eyes.

Across from me, Thorne stands tall, his eyes closed. His white hair billows around his face as the wind circles us. And in the distance, being pulled through the trees like water being drawn down a riverbed, is the fog.

It rolls toward us, soon impeding my view of the others, who’re still standing at the tree line. There’s so much fog, I can’t see through it. All I can see is Thorne standing across from me.

There’s a furrow in his brow now, a look of focused concentration on his face. The wind intensifies, feeling like it wants to lift me off my feet.

So I call upon the earth, ask her to keep both me and Thorne rooted here.

In response, I feel something slithering across my boots, and I look down to find strong brown roots have wrapped around my ankles and Thorne’s. A smile threatens my lips, but it’s quickly whisked away by the fog as it begins to spiral around us even faster now.

At first, it moves in a circle, but then, as Thorne flexes his fingers in mine, it shifts, creating an infinity symbol, spiraling around and between us, like we’re the two circles and our joined hands are the one point of contact.

The wind is frigid. It buffets me, sending my hair and cloak snapping wildly.

I’ve never been in a hurricane, have only heard about them in tales from the coast, but I imagine this is what it must feel like to stand upon the shore as the storm moves in with a might that can rip trees clean from the earth and level villages in a matter of minutes.

Calm , I think, squeezing my eyes closed against the onslaught of air. It feels like tiny icicles are pelting my cheeks, stinging and stabbing my exposed skin. We’re sending you home. You won’t be trapped here any longer.

When I dare peek through my squinted eyelids, I can no longer see Thorne standing across from me. I’m wrapped in such dense fog that it feels like I’m completely alone in a world of gray. If not for his hands still grasping mine, I might think myself lost in the void.

The roots around my boots creep higher, wrapping around my stockinged calves. They hold me to the earth like a tree, refusing to let the vortex of fog rip me away.

Just a little longer , I think, gritting my teeth as the wind tears at my clothes. Then you’ll be home.

There’s the sound of the earth splitting around me, but I can’t see through the fog and have no idea what’s happening.

All I can do is cling to Thorne’s hands and pull as much magic as I can up from the earth and through my body, projecting it out into the crystals, which may have been hurled away by the power of Thorne’s storm.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold on like this. If not for the roots wrapped around my legs, I’d have been sucked up into the storm, thrown far over the trees and into the distance.

I can’t let that happen. I have to hold on.

Tears stream down my cheeks, but they’re whisked away immediately by the force of the vortex. I’ve been gritting my teeth, holding as firm as I can, but a cry finally rips from my throat.

“ Thorne! ”

And at that exact moment, the air shifts.

It flows between me and Thorne, being sucked away into a world I can’t see. The fog spirals around itself, whirling and twisting and writhing.

When it’s gone, it leaves me standing in the fairy meadow in almost deafening silence.

My hands, holding Thorne’s just a moment ago, are empty.

And when I fully open my eyes, I find a thick tangle of roots arching over the place where my and Thorne’s hands were connected, like a perfect gateway between our two realms, meeting at the spot where our skin was touching.

But across from me, all I see is empty space.

Thorne has vanished along with the fog.

My chest aches. My cheeks and eyes burn.

How can he be gone, just like that?

The roots that were holding him to the ground are gone as well, as if they were pulled into the fairy realm along with him.

I release my magic slowly, pushing it back into the earth, where it originated from. The roots binding my legs retract into the frozen soil, and when I look down, it’s almost as if they were never there at all.

And it’s almost like Thorne was never here at all.

But I’m not ready to let him go. I feel like I just grasped ahold of him.

The archway is standing right in front of me, the tangled roots that form it firm and unmovable. I stare through the archway, and in my peripheral vision, I see a sparkle, a hint of a world that’s not my own. A longing swells in my chest.

I don’t want to let him go. Not yet.

One of the guys calls my name—Faolan, I think—but I don’t turn.

Instead, I take a step forward, my intentions clear. And I vanish into the portal.