Cora Fenwick's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Cora Fenwick knelt in the black mud, her cracked wand held out toward three waiting creatures. She was supposed to bond a familiar today. A witch chose one spirit for life, and the spirit chose her back. But the swamp had gone wrong. Malachar's old curse was broken, yet his cruelty still clung to some creatures like rot. Choose the tainted one, and she would tie her soul to something that hated her. Her potion-stained sleeves hung past her fingers. She could feel where her totem used to sit at her throat, passed down from her mother's mothers, felt cold against her skin. She remembered that it’s in the bottom of the deep water set as an original trap for Malachar by Bailey. The hawk landed first. It was small and soft-feathered, with dark eyes that seemed to smile. It hopped close and tilted its head, sweet as a pet. Cora reached for it before she could think. She stopped. Sweetness was easy to fake. She pulled a radiant crystal lens from her robe, a thing that showed a spirit's true nature through its flawless facets. Rufus, the trapper who nursed hurt swamp creatures, had pressed it into her hands that morning. "Look before you love," he had said, gentle as ever. "The swamp lies now." Cora lifted the lens to her eye and looked at the hawk. Through the crystal, the soft feathers peeled away. She saw a shape of oily shadow behind the dark eyes, coiled and waiting. The hawk's sweetness was bait. It leaned closer, hungry, sensing she almost had chosen it. Cora's stomach turned. She had nearly bonded to that. She swung the lens toward the second creature, a mud serpent hissing low. Through the crystal, more shadow. Tainted. Two of three, ruined by Malachar. Her hands shook. Only one waited by the reeds. A fox, glowing soft, its fur marked with tiny points of light like stars. It had not begged for her. It only watched, patient, its eyes clear green. Cora raised the lens a third time. She braced for shadow. The crystal showed none. The fox glowed true through every facet, clean light all the way down. No coil, no rot. Cora let out a breath she had held too long. But the hawk struck. It shrieked and dove at her face, talons out, furious to lose its prize. Cora threw up her arm. The fox moved faster. It leaped between them, snarling, and drove the hawk back into the mist. The serpent fled with it. The fox turned to Cora. It stepped forward and pressed its glowing head into her open palm. Warmth ran up her arm, steady and sure. "You chose me," Cora whispered. The bond took hold. She felt it settle, a thread between her heart and the fox's. It would not break. She had her familiar, and it was pure. But the tainted ones had fled into the swamp, wounded and angry. And now they knew her face.