The Vampire & Her Witch

Cerys took a shaky breath, trying to organize thoughts and memories that seemed to shift like sand through her fingers whenever she tried to hold on to them.

”I remember feeling like I was dying,” she said quietly. ”There was this great, cold darkness that pulled at me. Like falling into a well with no bottom, or sinking into deep water. And there were voices on the wind, calling to me. Crying out for me to let go, to fall into the darkness.”

She shuddered at the memory, and Cynwrig’s hand found hers, his warm fingers wrapping around her cold ones.

”The voices weren’t kind,” she continued, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. ”Some of them told me that I’d done enough harm, that it would be better if I died now. Others said my family would be better off if they were rid of me. That I was a burden and a danger, and that everyone would be safer if I just... stopped.”

”Cerys...” Cynwrig started, but she shook her head, needing to get it all out.

”There were other voices too,” she said, forcing herself to continue despite how terrifying it felt to confront the memories. ”Gentler ones. They praised me for giving birth to two good children. They told me that my work was done and I deserved a rest. That I’d earned peace.”

She could feel tears streaming down her face now, but she couldn’t seem to stop them.

”They promised me the pain would end,” she said. ”And the closer I came to the darkness, the less it hurt. Everything was fading away: the cold, the fear, even the love I felt for you and our children. It was all just... slipping away. And I found myself wanting to let go. Wanting to fall into that darkness because at least there, nothing would hurt anymore.”

”But you didn’t,” Cynwrig said, his own voice thick with emotion. ”You didn’t let go.”

”I don’t think it was my choice,” Cerys admitted, shaking her head and using the sleeve of her uninjured arm to wipe the tears from her eyes. ”I remember falling toward the darkness, ready to surrender to it, and then suddenly there was this flood of cold water. It was like being dunked in an ice bath. It woke me up and reminded me of all the pain I felt. Everything hurt, and it all came rushing back.”

She paused, trying to put into words what she’d experienced next.

”After that, I found myself sheltered among the roots of a strange tree,” she said slowly. ”It had a broad trunk, broader than any tree I’d ever seen, and roots that stuck up out of the water like soldiers standing guard. And it put itself between me and the darkness like a wall. Like a shield protecting me from harm.”

”A tree?” Cynwrig asked, frowning slightly, before he understood. This must be the tree that Harrod had mentioned, the one that thrived where it flooded... the tree that Ollie drew his powers from. Or, perhaps, it was a manifestation of Ollie himself, standing between her and death the way Milo said he had.

”I don’t know why it was there,” Cerys said, confusion evident in her furrowed brows and narrowed eyes. ”But I heard it. Or felt it. I’m not sure which. It told me that it saw me. That a mother should be able to hold her child again, and that it would protect me from the darkness so I could return to my children.”

She could see the thoughts swirling in Cynwrig’s eyes, but he didn’t interrupt. Instead, he stroked her hair soothingly and nodded for her to keep going.

”The darkness clawed at the tree,” she continued, her voice growing distant as she remembered. ”Like it refused to be denied its prize. I watched as the darkness tore leaves and branches from it, ripping pieces away. But the tree still protected me. It stayed between me and that terrible cold darkness, keeping me safe even as it was being torn apart.”

Her hand tightened on Cynwrig’s.

”And slowly, the pain went away,” she said. ”Not all of it. I could still feel my broken arm, my ankle, the bruises. But the deeper pain, the pain in my head and chest that made it impossible to think or breathe... that faded. The tree sheltered me until I was safe. Until the darkness couldn’t reach me anymore.”

She looked at her husband, needing him to understand even if he didn’t believe her.

”After that, I felt myself being lifted. I remember being carried somewhere warm and dry,” she said. ”And that’s the last thing I remember before waking up here.”

There was a long silence in the carriage. Cynwrig sat very still, his hand still holding hers, his face unreadable.

”Do you think I’m mad?” Cerys asked quietly. ”That the fall addled my wits?”

”No,” Cynwrig said slowly. ”No, I don’t think you’re mad.”

He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was careful, measured.

”I was there, you know,” he said softly. ”As soon as you fell from your horse, Sir Ollie’s brother, Milo, the one who shot your horse, sent up a signal to summon help. Sir Ollie brought me to you as fast as he could... I was still in my dressing gown, with no shoes or socks, but he gave me his cloak and pulled me onto a horse so we could race to your side,” he said, shaking his head in wonder as he recalled how decisively the young knight had moved.

”You were dying, and Sir Ollie’s Eldritch friends were trying to help you, but you wouldn’t let them do anything,” Cynwrig continued as his eyes grew misty. ”But Sir Ollie refused to let you die. He carried you into the stream where his powers would be stronger so he could heal your body the way he healed Sir Gavin last night.”

”Only, you were hurt so much worse than Sir Gavin was,” Cynwrig continued, clutching her hand tightly as he recalled the extent of her injuries. ”And Sir Ollie had to endure all your pain to heal you. He had to fight death itself to save you, and he nearly died in the attempt.”

”Why?” Cerys asked, blinking in confusion. ”Why would he do something like that... for me? Is it to put you in his debt? To force you to do things even darker than...”

”Don’t! Don’t you dare finish that,” Cynwrig said sharply. ”You didn’t see it. You didn’t see how close to death he was or how Milo and Harrod had to struggle to pull him back from the brink of death. I don’t care what the Church says about witches, that man is a hero who risked his life to save you, and he did it for the purest reason you can imagine,” Cynwrig said fiercely.

”I, I don’t... I don’t understand,” Cerys said. ”What reason could he possibly have to risk so much if it wasn’t to get something in return?”

”He did it for Hope,” Cynwrig said, shaking his head at how much it sounded like something from a storybook. ”One of Sir Ollie’s virtues is ’Hope.’ He saved you because he hoped for a better tomorrow, and he wanted us to share that hope.”

”I know you love your brother, and you listen to everything he says,” Cynwrig said, pursing his lips as he looked at his injured wife. ”But the Church has lied to us about the Eldritch and about witches, too. They aren’t forces of evil that we need to fear. Sir Ollie risked his life to show us that... and if you can’t accept that he’s a good man who saved our family, then maybe our family can’t be saved.”

”Cynwrig,” Cerys said, her eyes going wide in panic. ”Cynwrig, what... What are you saying?”

”I’m saying that the only chance we have to continue as a family is if you can admit that what you did was wrong,” Cynwrig said in a voice that was both quiet and firm. ”If you can’t make peace with witches and the Eldritch and find a way to earn Lord Loghlan’s forgiveness for everything you imperilled when you ran away from me... then I can’t let you be around the children or me anymore.”

”Cynwrig, no!” Cerys said, fighting to sit up in the makeshift bed, clutching at her husband’s tunic with her only working hand to pull herself up. ”I can’t... I can’t lose you or them,” she cried. ”I,I saw what death is like... what it’s like to lose everything. I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose any of you, I...”

”Hush,” Cynwrig said as he gently placed a finger over her lips. ”I know our family matters to you, but does it matter enough to confront the lies the Church has told you all your life? Lies your brother may not even realize are lies? Can you open your eyes wide and see things as they really are, even if it contradicts everything that you believe?”

”I, I don’t know,” Cerys said honestly as she slumped against her husband’s chest. ”I, I can try though,” she said. ”For you and for them,” she promised. ”I can try.”

”Good,” Cynwrig said. ”Because we’re about to reach the village of Maeril, and according to Sir Ollie, Lady Ashlynn will be waiting for us there.”

”I don’t know how Sir Ollie and Lord Loghlan are going to explain what happened to him,” Cynwrig admitted. ”But it’s the truth that he nearly died because of what you did, and I expect that she’s going to demand that we answer for that, one way or another. I’ll do what I can to help her understand that you’ve learned the error of your ways, but after that,” he said, his voice trailing off as he shrugged.

”After that, we can only pray that the Great Witch is as kind, generous, and forgiving as her Cypress Witch has been with us,” he said solemnly. ”Because if she isn’t, then there isn’t anyone in the world who will be able to protect us from her.”