Meagan, Keeper of the Crooked Key's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Meagan wanted one simple thing before winter: a ward strong enough to shield every lost creature who crawled to her door. Tonight that wish turned against her. Something had come scratching at the threshold, and she couldn't tell if it needed saving or wanted her throat. She stood in the doorway of her crooked cottage, candle high. Rain hissed in the dark woods. On her sill sat a strange plant she hadn't planted. Smoky black leaves. Silver crescent blossoms. Blue witchfire burning at its roots. Gray dust clung to the petals, the same dust she'd found on the moth three nights ago. Another witch had left this here. It was bait. Glint pressed against her boot. Her jar goblin's own blue flame flickered low beneath his feet, matching the plant's glow. He hated the thing. He bared small teeth and tugged her coat toward the door, wanting it shut. Then the thing in the yard stepped closer. It crept from the tree line on four legs. A black dragon, cat-sized, with green-pewter scales and crescent horns. Blue fire ran along its spine like the plant's. Its silver eyes locked on the glowing blossoms and it crept nearer, hungry, shaking with rain. Meagan's hand rose to the ward. One word would snap it shut and throw the creature back into the cold. Glint shrieked and pointed at the dragon, then at the dusted plant, meaning the same thing. Danger. The witch sent both. She almost spoke the word. Then the little dragon stopped at the glowing roots. It didn't attack. It curled its body around the plant and shivered, drawn to the witchfire the way Glint was drawn to her. The dust hadn't made it a weapon. The dust had made it a lure, pulling in a starving creature that fed on that same cold light. The witch wanted Meagan to fear it. To ward it out. To let it die in the rain. "You're not the trap," she said. "You're the one he's trying to drown." Glint grabbed her sleeve hard, furious. Meagan knelt anyway and held out her open hand, rings catching candlelight. The dragon flinched. It looked at the plant, then at her. Slowly it uncoiled and pressed its wet snout into her palm. Warmth passed between them. Its flame steadied and climbed brighter. "Inside," Meagan said. "Both of you." She carried the dusted plant in with tongs and set it on the table. The dragon followed, dripping. Glint sulked on the stairs, arms crossed, flame sparking with jealousy. Meagan bolted the door. She had saved one creature tonight. But the dust on her table proved the other witch knew exactly where she lived, and knew her ward had a hole in it a child could walk through. Her protection wasn't strong enough. Not yet. She looked at the glowing plant and understood her next move. To close the gap, she had to learn how the enemy's magic worked.