Page 142 of Night of the Witch
The street, already a cacophony of noise from the battle, echoes with a thunderous percussion, like an explosion, like a burst.
And I know.
Deep in my heart. In the pit of me. The part no longer connected to the Well, but forever a part of it, magic in my blood.
He’s ripped open a gap in the Well’s barrier.
A look of pure joy floods my brother’s face. He is, in that moment, all giddy happiness in a way that is disgustingly innocent.
Then Dieter staggers as if hit by an invisible force. His eyes, fuming, whip around. “Oh-ho, the forest folk want to fight me now, do they?” He shoves his hands back out, redoubling his effort, his face purpling with strain. “That tree cannot keep you safe. Those goddesses cannot keep you safe.I will break open your magic, and you will cower at my feet!”
The forest folk are resisting his rip in the barrier—but only barely. Their charms and spells work to protect the Well, but Dieter has funneled so much straight to it that it is only a matter of time.
There is wild magic to draw on all around us, but the goddesses still capped most of it in the Origin Tree. And he will get in. He will widen what he has started.
Then he will march into the Well, to the Origin Tree, tap into the massive amount of goddess-blessed power there, and destroy us all.
“Otto,” I gasp his name. “Otto,leave.”
He shifts back around to stand in front of me, my manacles locked fast. I watch his eyes go to Dieter, watch him see the inner struggle my brother is engaged in, and when Otto turns to me, I don’t try to hide the brittle, teary-eyed plea in my eyes. His whole face unravels, emotions rippling in quick succession: fury, disbelief, revulsion,refusal.
“You have to leave,” I tell him, wishing my voice sounded stronger. “You have to live to stop him. He’s breaking through the barrier; he knows he doesn’t need me anymore. Please, just go.”
Otto bends closer, grinding his forehead to mine. “No,” he says with such force that I go silent. “No, verdammt, Friederike Kirch,I’m not leaving you.”
He pulls something out of his bag. My gaze fixes on it, bleary, exhausted.
The smoke is so thick. So consuming.
My eyelids grow heavy, drooping—
“Fritzi!” Otto shakes me, his hand cupping my cheek. “I have the bonding potion. It’s thebondingpotion, Fritzi. Share your power with me, and we can defeat Dieter together!”
Is he shouting too loud?Yelling, almost, or maybe the fire is roaring, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
I eye the bottle in his fingers. “The bonding potion?”
“Hilde and I made it,” his voice lowers, and I manage a look at him, confusion ripe. “When I drinkyourpotion,” he says, shouting again, “you and I will be bonded and share power, right? Then we can defeat him! You drank from it already!”
Behind him, Dieter looks up, briefly pulled from his focus.
His eyes go to the potion in Otto’s hand.
“No. Otto.No. I didn’t—you can’t talk about this!” I shake my head, frantic.Don’t give my brother any other ideas; don’t remind him of things he could do—he has access to enormous amounts of magic now, but he is unpracticed in harnessing everything without focus or spells. He could still increase his power even further through bonding potions. He could still drain me, build himself even stronger. “That doesn’t—that won’t work. That’s not how potions work!”
I would have had to make it for Otto to be able to take it. As it is, it would strip me of all magic, it wouldkillhim.
But he will die either way, standing here with me, burning.
Everyone I love has been taken from me like this. My coven. My mother.
I will not lose him too.
This fate is mine alone. This was meant to happen, wasn’t it? Dieter should have burned me in Birresborn. But I was spared, spared though I didn’t deserve it; and through it, I found Otto, this man who has transformed me in irreversible ways.
Otto lowers the brew to his side. “Fritzi—”
“I love you,” I tell him. It rips from me as the smoke builds, strangles out the air; as the flames roar, encroaching on him, swelling the heat to scorching. “I love you.”
