Page 65 of Uncharmed
‘What are you doing? Let me get to her,’ Annie yelled, struggling to free herself.
‘It’s her time,’ he shouted back into her hair. ‘Let her fix this for herself. She’s brave and she deserves it. She wants to shine.’
‘But...’
‘We’re here to pick up the pieces if she fails. But she won’t. Let her try.’
Annie knew he was right. Her whole body fell limp against him and it was as though the world stood still, stopped spinning on an axis altogether.
This was Maeve’s moment. Their eyes locked and Annie hoped the look that passed between them would remind Maeve that they were here, waiting in the wings, along with everything that she had told her before the chaos began.
Maeve, you are capable of shining brighter than every star in the sky. ..
With her very last ounces of strength and determination, Maeve threw her casting hand directly upwards. Annie couldn’t understand what she was trying to do. But then she saw that she was wielding something between her fingers.
A pink pencil. The one that Annie had enchanted with the silver tip of starlight all those weeks ago, which the girl had used to sketch the portrait of their funny family before any of them had recognized it for what it truly was.
Annie couldn’t believe she had kept it. The silver tip winked in a perfectly satisfying, magical way that, even in the chaos, reminded Annie of her special pink ribbons back at Celeste.
Perhaps she really had passed on something useful to Maeve – even if it was only the importance of a momentary sparkle.
The last of the stars that peppered the dawn sky were lured towards her, recognizing her special magic – familiar in its uniqueness, beauty and creativity.
Silver starlight met milky morning moonlight in beams that gleamed onto the girl.
It all pulled downwards to her, allowing her to harness its power and light into the pencil, and she threw her wrist in wide, circling motions, dragging the starlight towards their battle ground to draw firm celestial loops around each of the Heralds.
The starlight solidified in sweeping lines, just as it had that night on the meadow.
Before they could even recognize what was happening, each of the Sorciety was trapped in an unyielding silver rope.
A few of the bravest Selcouth members, including Hal, quickly acted to reinforce her grip.
But even starlight itself wasn’t enough to hold Glory.
The explosive rage of her unnaturally strengthened powers, the most poisoned, superfluous amounts of witchcraft gathered from years of dangerous sacrifice, allowed the Supreme Herald to break free.
She sent the starlight reeling back at Annie and the coven to scatter them, then turned to the girl alone.
Glory approached her in prowling, predatory steps.
‘Almost gone and I’ve barely lifted a finger,’ she said calmly once face to face with Maeve again, although venom poured from her voice.
‘I can already smell the death on you. Normally, I’d insist on doing this the proper way to honour tradition, to save the ritual for when we’d returned you to the Tempest Theatre.
But you haven’t much time left and it would be wrong to waste it.
’ She towered over Maeve, who stumbled backwards away from her, groaning in pain as she spat out a glob of blood onto the woodland floor.
Glory brought her left hand to Maeve’s throat and squeezed, her right palm opening wide to summon her darkest magic. ‘Your life lines are already blurred, your binds are weak. Your magic is ripe for the taking. Hold still, girl. Do as you’re told and I promise this won’t hurt a bit.’
‘That’s good.’ Somehow, Maeve raised her head. ‘Because this will.’
Annie couldn’t fathom where the girl found any more strength, after everything she’d been through.
But with one last punch of her fist, wielding the pencil like a sword, a deluge of her magic exploded in tangles.
So beautiful and so bright was Maeve’s tidal wave of incantation that every witch, warlock, wicchefolk and creature who had been watching on had to shield their eyes from the light.
Taken by surprise, Glory screamed and reeled, blinded by the astonishing silver starburst inches from her face.
The Supreme Herald stumbled backwards, arms flailing and legs kicking out in front of her.
One step too far. The moment her boot stumbled and slipped into the dirt inside the witches’ ring, the circle of mushrooms set alight.
It glowed indignantly at the unwelcome visitor who had dared to cross it, uninvited.
A flash of undignified panic appeared on Glory’s face, normally so poised, as the witches’ ring caught hold.
Her eyes went unnaturally wide as she realized her unfolding fate. In a blink, she was gone.
Once the starburst began to dim, the coven sprang into action.
Each of the four remaining Heralds, caught so unaware by the surge of incendiary magic, found themselves with no choice but to surrender.
Maeve’s magic had bought precious moments that allowed Selcouth to finally seize them for good.
Morena bound two of them, one in each hand, with only the slightest fraction of a satisfied smirk.
Hal lunged for Vivienne’s father, while a skinny rake of a warlock from the coven made light work of securing the fourth Herald.
Annie could barely believe it. They had really done it. They had won. Overthrown the Heralds and exposed the Sorciety, taken hold of a force so incomparably controlling, sinister and manipulative, its whispered secrecy the unforgiving bind that had held her life for so long.
‘Maeve, we did it! You did it!’ Annie squealed as she spun, her hands frantically clapping of their own accord, a wildness in her eyes and her voice that she had never felt before as the whole of Selcouth erupted into celebration.
Then she registered the fall of the silence.
She saw Maeve go limp and fall to the ground as the final glimmer of magic drained from her young body.
She had turned grey, wilting in a way that Annie had never seen her do before as the last of the starlight, entwined with her own natural magic, emptied from the pencil with a stuttering jolt and returned to the sky.
Just as she always did – the reason that Annie had admired her from the moment they first discovered one another – Maeve had given every ounce of her extraordinary, authentic self to the moment.
Always. That was why Annie loved her. The girl knew no other way to live.