Chapter 26

“Morgan!” Sean Byrne screamed in frantic delight upon seeing his daughter. “You’re safe! You’re alive! Oh, my daughter!”

“Dad…!” Morg cried, her eyes tearing up. It had been so long since she had seen her family, and while she was happy here in this little town, she of course missed her parents more than anything. Morg moved toward her father, ready to rush into his arms, but a heavy hand gripped her shoulder, holding her firmly in place.

“Not so fast, Mr. Byrne,” came Father Nicolas’s drawling voice. “We still do not know whether or not her soul has been corrupted by the devil.”

“That’s… right,” came a voice from within the group of men. Morg turned to look at him, surprised to find that it was the very man Songbai had turned to stone mere seconds earlier.

“Brother Richard, are you alright?” Father Nicolas asked calmly.

“Yes, thanks to Brother Edmond,” the man said, giving a slight nod to the person next to him. As he brushed the dust off his shoulders, he turned to look at Morg. “Now that we have this child, we can lure the rest of the witches back to us.”

“Brother Richard. That is a cowardly way of thinking,” Father Nicolas chided. “This child may be innocent. And we must protect the innocent. It would be dishonorable to use her as bait.”

Brother Richard bowed his head reverently, and spoke in a voice as if he had just heard the words of a god.

“Forgive me, Father. I still have much to learn.”

“Then… then how do we know if she is innocent or not?” Sean Byrne suddenly spoke up, casting nervous glances at his daughter. Morg tried wriggling her way out of Father Nicolas’s grasp, but the older man’s iron grip did not break.

“It is as I said before. Brother Aaron’s holy fire will not harm the innocent. She need only walk through it to prove that God still lives within her soul.”

Morg looked at the blazing white fire devouring the wilderness surrounding what used to be Maisha’s hut, the flames leaving spots in her vision.

No… Father won’t let them. Father wouldn’t let something like that happen, Morg thought blankly as she watched the fern fronds and salal bushes of the forest floor before them turn to ash. Morg looked back at her father in anticipation, waiting for him to tell them. To tell them that of course she was innocent. She may have flaws, but she had never done anything warranting this. She was… well she was his daughter!

“Go ahead, Morg,” Sean Byrne said in a gentle tone, gesturing towards the growing fire. “Show them your innocence.”

Sweat dripped unceasingly down Morg’s back, her face flushed hot as if with a fever, her lungs stinging from the smoke. The heat from the white flames weighed down on her like a suffocating blanket- she couldn’t remember being so unbearably warm in her entire life as she was now.

But at her father’s words, Morg felt her blood run cold. Her palms suddenly felt clammy, and her stomach felt as if it had an icy block of lead stuck in it, dragging her down. Morg glanced back at the fire and swallowed hard.

“Can… can someone come with me?” Morg rasped out, looking for any way to stall. “You said that the innocent won’t burn, right? So can one of you come with me?”

The clergymen around her suddenly tensed. Even her father refused to meet her gaze.

“We are all men of God here,” Father Nicolas said resolutely. “We have nothing to prove. And we cannot risk the tricks of a witch.”

Morg clenched her jaw, her frustration mounting. She hadn’t done anything wrong! So she had nothing to prove either!!

“I don’t want to go!” Morg yelled, trying for the umpteenth time to wrestle her way out of Father Nicolas’s grasp. “You can’t make me go!”

“I understand you’re frightened,” Brother Aaron said with a reassuring smile, “But if you are still pure of heart, you have nothing to fear. It will just be like a walk through the forest on a warm summer day.”

“Then you go!” Morg wailed, struggling with all her might as Father Nicolas steered her closer to the fire.

“It is not his path to walk tonight,” someone from the crowd said in response.

“Trust in the Lord, Morgan,” Sean Byrne comforted in a shaky voice as he nervously wiped the sweat from his brow. “He will protect you. He will lead you to salvation.”

“Shut up!” Morg snapped shrilly before maneuvering her body just enough to be able to reach Father Nicolas’s forearm with her teeth.

“AARRGH!” the old priest shouted out as Morg clamped her jaws down as hard as she could and finally wrested her way out of his grasp.

Dodging the slew of hands immediately reaching for her, Morg weaved her way around the clergymen and sprinted into the wilderness. She had originally wanted to run for the door Songbai had conjured, but the simple earthen structure had already collapsed. So she decided to run towards the village proper.

Her vision was still swimming with the feverish heat of the fire, and her body had a cold sweat that made her feel like she might collapse at any moment. So when the small cottage appeared through the trees in front of her, hot tears of fear and frustration welled up in her eyes.

I know I wasn’t running in the straightest of lines towards the village, but how is it that I actually ran in a full circle?! The little witch thought, moving to turn back around even as a strange sense of deja vu washed over her.

Wait… Maisha’s hut burned down, but this one… this is the one I used to visit to play the harp!

“Morgan!” a voice cried, scooping her up from behind and causing Morg to cry out in fright.

“Ah! Dad! L-let me go!”

“My sweet daughter. I’m sorry. You must have been so scared, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let them try to hurt you. Even if the holy fire protects the innocent, I shouldn’t have…”

Morg turned a hopeful expression towards her father, though couldn’t bring herself to fully relax.

“Dad. Let… let go of me first.”

“Even if you are a witch, how could I… How could I watch my own daughter get hurt?” Sean Byrne choked out. “When the church agreed to help me I thought… I thought I would get you back for sure. I never stopped searching. I never abandoned you. Morgan. Come back with me. We can fix this. If you’re not a witch, I’m here to save you. If you are… we can figure it out! The clergymen of this church have told me of someone who specializes in exorcisms. We can fix you! We can put you back the way you were before all… this! Before those wicked women corrupted your soul. So come back with me first,” Sean babbled, hugging Morg so tightly she thought she might suffocate. Morg clenched her fists and furiously willed the tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes to stop.

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“Dad,” the little witch sobbed in a pleading tone, “Dad, I don’t need to be fixed! I am exactly who I have always been! I’m not broken.”

“I know. I know, of course you would think that. You can’t help it, your mind has been corrupted. Just come back with me first, everything will be okay,” Morg’s father crooned.

“Dad, let me go,” Morg begged, her voice cracking.

“Mr. Byrne,” a familiar voice sounded from the dark cover of the woods. “I see you’ve found the witch.”

“No, wait. Listen, we haven’t determined if she’s a witch yet or not, but if she is-”

“Mr. Byrne. The innocent would not run from the judgment of God.”

“Father Nicolas, excuse my insolence, but any child would be scared in the face of-”

“Mr. Byrne. Don’t tell me the little devil has bewitched your mind. Bring her here, and we can test her innocence if you are truly unconvinced.”

“Dad, let me go,” Morg hissed again, desperately wishing he would see reason.

“No. You’re right, Father Nicolas. My heart is biased. She is my only child, so it is difficult for me not to believe in her… But if we could find a way to test her without-”

“We will test her with holy fire. It is the only way,” Father Nicolas said staunchly.

“Yes, Father Nicolas,” Sean conceded, dragging Morg back to the clergymen as Brother Aaron began praying.

“No… Dad, let me go!” Morg begged, the tears she had been holding back now welling up in her eyes again. “Let me go! Dad, let me go!!”

Smoke filled the air as those white flames came to life again, surrounding them with their pale, dry heat. Sean Byrne gently guided Morg towards the flames. She clenched her eyes shut. She couldn’t get away. She couldn’t fight back. She couldn’t reason with them. But she had magic.

Morg quickly thought through everything she had learned on her most recent trip with Songbai, racking her brain for a way to protect herself without really hurting anyone.

If she were a better witch, she would just use transformation spells like Songbai and turn them all to stone.

But she didn’t trust herself to have that much control over something so large as a transformation spell. So she went back to the basics. She recalled her practice slicing leaves into fine pieces- if she could make little nicks deep enough on anyone who tried to grab her, surely she could evade capture.

All it took was… channeling mana into the fingers, into the air, focusing on your target, on her father’s hands gripping her shoulders, and…

Morg’s eyes snapped open when a scalding heat seared her hands and arms, her skin crisping and peeling, emanating the scent of cooked pork.

“Ah….” Morg breathed in shock at the sight of her own burnt flesh, the world seeming to slow as she took a step back from the fire. It took a full second for her to realize the hands on her shoulders had disappeared- that she was free to leave. But the hot liquid dripping down her back and legs and the overwhelming scent of iron kept her from immediately moving. Morg slowly turned her gaze from her own damaged hands to the pool of blood gathering at her feet.

“WIITTCH!! SHE REALLY IS A WITCH!”

“BURN HER! BURN HER, QUICK BROTHER AARON, BURN HER!”

The clergymen began screaming into the once quiet night, but they may as well have been whispering to Morg’s ringing ears. The little witch slowly turned around to face her father, wishing now that his hands remained on her shoulders. Wishing that he was still trying to comfort her, however empty the words may have been.

Her gaze landed on his broken form, his body having been split clean in two from the crown of his head to his groin. Bright red organs spilled from the cross-sections of his torso, his intestines slick and twitching like worms, his lungs dark and shuddering, as if gasping for a last breath. His heart, still faintly beating, still attempting to pump blood through his veins, even while smeared in mud and dirt.

Morg stopped herself from looking up at his face, frantic tears obscuring her already blurred vision. How could she have thought she was innocent? When she could do something like this to her own father?

“THAT WITCH!! HOW COULD SHE?! TO HER OWN KIN?!”

The words of the angry clergymen, echoing Morg’s own thoughts, brought the little witch back to herself.

“Calm down, Brothers. Back away or Brother Aaron will be unable to-”

“WE MUST CAPTURE HER! CAPTURE HER BEFORE SHE ESCAPES AGAIN!”

“BRING HER TO THE FIRE! THE FIRE!!”

“It… it was a mistake,” Morg muttered as someone grabbed her roughly, nearly causing her to slip in the slick blood beneath her feet. “I… I can fix it! Don’t touch me! I can still fix it!” Morg cried desperately as she fought off the hands grabbing at her.

“I GOT HER! I CAUGHT THE WITCH”

“STOP!” Morg screamed desperately, “I STILL HAVE TO FIX HIM, I HAVE TO SAVE HIM, IT WAS A MISTAKE, IT WAS JUST A MISTAKE, I CAN STILL-”

“Enough. Knock her out and throw her in the fire before she can take any more lives with her schemes.”

“NO!” Morg screamed, flailing her legs helplessly as one of the men carried her closer to the fire. “NO, PLEASE! PLEASE!”

In a flash of motion, the hands clutching Morg disappeared. The young witch landed on her feet in horror, afraid she had split someone else in two. But when she looked up, she was met with the sight of a crooked scarecrow standing between herself and the group of men. It looked like it could be knocked down with the slightest gust of wind, an unmoving and unassuming stick figure with straw sticking out of its clothes and loose threads hanging from the stitching in its face.

Scarecrow… Beaux?

The clergymen stared at the scarecrow with as much perplexity as Morg felt. But after that initial moment of shock, Morg leapt to her feet and took off sprinting; She could think about things later. But she needed to get help now. She had to escape these crazy men. And more than that, she needed to find Songbai.

Song Laoshi is really talented, she’ll know exactly what to do, Morg consoled herself, her heart racing in her chest.

“If a broken arm… can be fixed… this can be… fixed, too,” she muttered to herself through ragged breaths. That’s right, I just made a mistake again, it can be fixed, just like last time, it's a simple transformation, if she can turn frogs back into humans, of course she can mend a broken body. Just like last time…

“AFTER HER!”

“CAPTURE HER! CAPTURE THE WITCH!”

Morg tried not to panic further at the sound of the clergymen chasing after her. Her legs were already pumping as fast as they could, her breaths only growing more ragged with every step. She couldn’t afford to slow down any more. She had to keep-

“Morg!”

The little witch snapped her head up at Songbai’s voice, her heart soaring in relief at the sight of her mentor.

“S-S-Song Laoshi!” Morg hiccuped, immediately steering her trembling legs towards Songbai and barrelling into her arms. “M-m-my father… my father…”

“It’s alright. It’s alright.”

Morg felt her body relax as Songbai wrapped her arms around her and stroked her head with gentle hands.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner, I’m so sorry. It’s alright now. You’re safe now.”

“My father… my father…”

“Let’s leave first,” Songbai said, her voice hardening. “Before those troublesome-”

“I FOUND THEM, I FOUND THE-”

Songbai flicked a wrist, turning the man that had suddenly appeared from the bushes into stone before he could finish his sentence. With one arm still wrapped around Morg, the elder witch used her other hand to draw a rune on a door, her eyes never leaving their surroundings. Morg hadn’t seen her do it, but it seemed Songbai had already carved a door into the tree behind them. Before Morg could fully process what was happening, Songbai had pulled her out of the dim forest and into a warm afternoon light. The little witch just barely glimpsed Father Nicolas coming into view before the door swung shut with a heavy thud, closing him off.

Morg sank to the ground in exhaustion, but her hands still gripped onto Songbai’s clothes as tightly as she could muster.

“Song Laoshi, my father… my father needs help, we have to go back. My father still needs help, we have to go save him,” Morg rambled, unable to control the trembling in her limbs. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t… we can fix him, right? We have to go back and fix him, we have to-”

In one swift motion, Songbai struck the back of Morg’s neck, causing the little witch to slump against her, unconscious. With a long sigh, Songbai gently lifted the young girl and carried her into one of the nearby buildings.

They could talk about everything later. But for now, the young witch needed to rest.