Wanda Embermoor's Arc

Chapter 2 of 10

The winged eye was gone, but its warning stayed. Something had marked Wanda's forge. She stood over the burning altar and forced herself to work. The crown had to come first. She fed a strip of gold into the white heat and shaped it with a scarred hand. Then she heard boots crunch the ash outside. Wanda snatched a burning coal from the altar and spun toward the door. A woman stepped through the broken frame. Red curls spilled from under a straw hat. Frost crept along the stone where her boots touched. Wanda knew her. Elizabeth Frostwyn, her friend, the only ice witch who had ever made her laugh instead of fight. "Put the coal down," Elizabeth said. Her voice was clipped. "I'm not the one you should worry about." "Then who is?" Wanda asked. "An eye flew to me too. It's leading someone here. I followed the frost in my own spell to find you first." Elizabeth glanced at the crown glowing in the hollow. "You lit an eternal flame. Half of StarVeil felt it wake." Wanda's stomach dropped. She turned back to the altar. The crown was still soft, half-formed, useless if she fled now. "I can't leave it. Not yet." "Then we buy time," Elizabeth said. She moved fast. She pressed both palms to the broken doorway and breathed out. Ice climbed the frame in thick white bars. It sealed the door shut. Cold rolled into the tomb and fought the forge's heat. Steam hissed off the stone. In the corner, a crouched purple statue of a winged woman went silver with frost. A shape struck the ice from outside. Once. Twice. Cracks spread across the frozen door. "That won't hold long," Elizabeth said. Sweat stood on her freckled face. "Ice near your fire is the worst wall I could build. But it's a wall." Wanda understood. Elizabeth had trapped herself in a burning room to give her these minutes. Wanda plunged both charred hands into the white heat. The pain came, sharp and old, but she did not pull back. She pressed the gold into a ring of flame and locked it into shape. The crown held its form at last. Fire ran along its edge and did not go out. The ice door shattered. Cold air and daylight poured in. A cloaked figure filled the broken doorway, face lost in shadow, one gloved hand raised. Wanda lifted the finished crown from the altar. It burned in her hands and did not burn her. "Go," Elizabeth said, throwing up a second wall of frost between Wanda and the figure. "Out the back. Now." They ran through the charcoal trees, the crown blazing in Wanda's grip. She had it. The forge was lost, the watcher had a face now, and the whole of StarVeil knew her fire had woken. But the crown of everlasting flame was real, and it was hers.