The Wisps appeared twice in the distance, and Ona wasn't convinced. It looked too much like the typical things these wandering fires did, but Tiyan looked restless and almost excited, as if the spell promised him to find his sister safe and alive, and the mere presence of the Wisps meant her safety and Tiyan's victory.

She didn't blame him... yet his ravenous trust was as naive as it was cruel - for him and him alone. He was sure that the solution lay where the gate to Ain'asel let him into the fairy realm. But no one ever really returned from there - sane. Who knew what dangers awaited him there - for it was obvious that it was dangerous.

And she couldn't go with him.

Not because she was afraid. Not because she thought he would betray her if Brusha spoke for him. Because she didn't know how much time she had left - she only knew that she had little of it. Both her siblings have been kidnapped. Neither will ever sacrifice their own cause for the other.

Isnan wouldn't make it if Ona decided to help Tiyan. If Tiyan forgot his sister, she would be condemned to a cruel death. No decision was easy in this macabre reality.

Tiyan's normally brown eyes burned white in the darkness, and that alone reminded her of the white and blue flames that consumed him.

The Fae waited for him. For his flames. And somehow Ona suspected that they wouldn't use them for good. At least not in the name of humanity. Their plans could cause even more suffering.  And Tiyan was - unwillingly - a key to that.

"Do you hear that?"

Ona looked at him in surprise. It was the first time he spoke today. It had become a rather comfortable habit for them not to speak for hours. They didn't feel the need to fill the silence with words. They didn't need words. They were replaced by a silent understanding of each other's situation. Even if Ona never told him about Isnan, not completely, for fear he would ask more.

About magic. About witchcraft.

People hated magic now. Ona wasn't a witch herself, but Isnan was a very strong one, blessed by the Goddess with healing powers. Her good heart was supported by an inner flame and strength of personality. She was prepared to fight for her beliefs and for those she loved. Ona only hoped that she was the same.

Ona listened.

No. Nothing.

But that's what Tiyan meant. No wind. There was no wind. No branch moved. No rotten leaf whispered in the falling darkness, rustling softly.

The world seemed dead.

She nodded. She heard that. Listening to the silence, she caught the absence of all life.

The night came, dark and unforgiving, and Ona, prepared as she was, suddenly felt the emptiness in her chest. These trees were always dead... but not petrified forever, turned to stone, eternal and cold, lasting for centuries.

That was part of the Fae enchantment. And somehow Ona felt that they were very close. Very close to Ain'asel. Which was in the north... but not in the strict sense of the word.

Tiyan's eyes lit up, he understood that too. Ona could feel the suppressed worries emanating from him. They were almost tangible.

And then time stopped.

The first thing Ona felt was an intense smell of blood. Heavy, hanging in the air with crimson notes; old blood that was still fresh enough to stink.

She couldn't help but notice how Tiyan had changed - had to change - over the past two weeks. With a sullen, stern expression on his face, he decided to check it out. Ona almost suspected that the fire he burns at night was slowly, very slowly, hardening him.

The branches and snow-covered bushes stood in their way, but both Tiyan and Ona managed to clear them from their path, literally feeling the heavy atmosphere that hung over this part of the forest.

Something was happening here. Something wrong that still had a rotten smell of magic on it, pressing everything down with its power.

Tiyan went first, and so he saw it.

Ona, following in his footsteps, emerged from the white overgrowth - but she wasn't ready for the sight that unfolded before her, like a sick painting made of dark bark and blood.

A young man was tangled in the branches, his legs spread, his spine bent, his skin on his back, his hands sunk into the tree as if it were trying to swallow him. Tiny sprouts were growing from his skin, and Ona was horrified to see them coming straight from his veins. The blood pooled beneath him, slowly feeding the hungry snow. The tiny sprouts seemed to be eating him alive, Ona realised. Some of them burrowed back into his flesh, deeper, to return to where they came from, trying to widen his veins.

Worst of all, the man just looked at them, no longer desperate. He was still alive, for Goddess only knew how long.

Tiyan groaned, a small, painful sound. They approached the man, felt the aura around them tense and begin to attack their minds.

Ona touched the young human's tortured skin and almost felt him tremble with pain. She quickly pulled away.

"It's my fault," Tiyan said, his eyes fixed on the human's. Ona could see real guilt in them.

"You realise it was the fey," she didn't want him to blame himself again.

"The Fey," he said, his throat tightening. "They told me I was too slow."

Meanwhile, Ona inspected the young human. He was completely drained of blood, but somehow still alive. And she knew what had to be done.

But that didn't make it any easier.

The man moaned as he saw her reach for the knife. And she saw in his eyes an even stronger plea, a death wish so intense that it moved her more than the sight of sprouts growing from his veins.

She took a breath, gathered her courage and before Tiyan could react or even say anything, she buried the knife in the man's still beating heart.

Tiyan gasped.

The man wheezed in pain. The branches of the tree that held him captive reached Ona at once, but as the life drained from the human, the tree became less animated.

As his head rested on his chest, the branches began to pull back, less and less alive. As if trying to catch the last bit of life, they dragged through the blood that was spreading under the man's feet and then... they stopped moving at all.

"I'm sure they want you to think it's your fault," Ona summed up, still feeling the unpleasant sensation of how easily the knife had sunk into the man's heart, "but the more you torture yourself, the more unprepared you'll be for what awaits you out there."

She knew her words were harsh. But Tiyan was the least guilty of all. Her initial suspicion that he was working for Ain'asel was reduced to almost nothing. She saw only a desperate man, forced to make a journey that was too much for him. One that had given him - or cursed him - strange powers of which he probably had no knowledge.

She decided to tell him. Perhaps then, when - if - they parted, he would know better what they might want from him.

In the distance, flickering fires appeared.

Tiyan looked stunned, but he saw them too. The Will-o'-the-Wisps danced across a small path that led to the grove of dead trees. Their open mouths, which now seemed to be eyes again, opened and closed in an eternal, hungry dance.

For flames.

For the flames that Tiyan carried.

Ona found the sight of the wisps strangely comforting. Perhaps if they hurried, there would be no need for reminders. The last thing she wanted was to be the cause of another death. Even if it was not their fault, she had to remember, something she wanted Tiyan to understand.

Even if she had just ended a life.

Even if sometimes... death was a blessing.

"We must tear him from this tree," Ona said heavily. "Bury him, at least under the branches."

Tiyan nodded gravely and they began to pull the man out slowly, carefully. To give him the last honours. And not allow anything to feast on his body.

It was the least they could do.