Sophrayni's Quiet Hunt Chapter 13.

 

Chapter 13.

 

Resolution.

         

Now,” said Sophrayni, “back to the cottage.”

“Why?” asked Tess. “Are you going to keep the sack there?”

Sophrayni shook her head. “That would be too dangerous. I’ll explain when we get there.”

She took Tess’s hand and, with a thought, brought them both to the cottage in the Dark Forest. The cat was still sitting on the table, watching them with an unblinking stare.

“He thinks he owns the place,” said Sophrayni fondly.

She put the sack down. “We have three choices. We could take this to the Valley of the Wraiths. Even if she got out of the sack, she couldn’t leave unless she was covered in Citspal—which would destroy her again. There’s a spell on the Valley that stops anything from leaving.”

“That would work,” said Tess.

“The spell only lasts for a thousand years, though. Eventually, she might escape,” said Sophrayni. “And asking the leader of the wraiths to mind the sack would be deeply unfair. He knows what magic is. He’s felt its power before. So perhaps not.”

“Or?” asked Tess.

“We could send it to the Dragon Islands. Magic stops anyone or anything other than a dragon from going there—or leaving, if they got there,” replied Sophrayni.

Tess grinned. “But?” she asked.

Sophrayni shrugged. “But the Dragon Islands don’t answer to us. If we send it there, we lose all say. All watchfulness. If it stirs again, we won’t know. We won’t be ready. No, there’s a third solution.”

“Which is?” asked Tess.

“Near here is a gateway between this world and another. It’s closely guarded to stop anything from coming through in either direction. The important thing is that going through it changes the nature of whatever passes,” explained Sophrayni.

Tess frowned. “So, whatever is magic in this world wouldn’t be magic in the other?”

“Exactly,” agreed Sophrayni.

“Is there a problem with putting the sack through the gateway?” Tess asked.

“Sort of,” said Sophrayni. “Someone would have to take it through, empty it out, and then be sent back by the other world.”

Tess sighed. “Me or you?”

“You, I think,” said Sophrayni. “Just in case she comes back, I have to be here to deal with her.”

Tess nodded. “I see. Then the sooner the better.”

“Rather than disturb the families that guard the gate, I’ll use the spell that stops people from noticing us,” said Sophrayni. “It works as long as we go gently.”

She led Tess along the path, past the guardians’ cottages, and stopped at a gate in a gap in a tall hedge. “This is it,” she said.

Tess took a deep breath and stepped through. The air changed—not colder, not darker, just… thinner. The houses here were different: brick-built with grey slate roofs. Behind her was no longer a hedge with a gate, but a tall brick wall with an open door.

She walked to the middle of the road, the sack cradled in her arms. It didn’t pulse anymore. It didn’t shimmer. But it still felt full, it felt like the air had stopped moving.”

She knelt and opened the knot.  For a moment, nothing happened. Then the sack exhaled.

Not light. Not sound. Just dust. Fine and grey, like ash from a fire that burned too long. It drifted out and scattered on the wind, weightless and quiet. No shape. No voice. Just the remains of something that had once been power.

Tess waited. But the ground didn’t shift. The air didn’t stir. The door didn’t close behind her.

Instead, it pushed. Not with hands. Not with force. Just with certainty.

She felt it in her bones—a gentle pressure, like the world saying no. She wasn’t meant to stay. Not without balance. Not without something to take her place.

The sack, now empty, fluttered in her hands.

And then she was back. Sophrayni was waiting.

Tess looked down at the sack. “It was just dust.”

Sophrayni nodded. “That’s all that was left.”

Tess hesitated. “And me?”

“You were never meant to stay,” Sophrayni said. “You’re not done here.”

Sophrayni watched the sack, now quiet in Tess’s arms, and glanced toward the gateway.

“You know the rule,” she said softly. “If something crosses, something equal must take its place. Otherwise, the gate spits it back.”

Tess frowned. “Equal how?”

Sophrayni didn’t answer right away. “Not just weight. Not just shape. Something that fits. Something that balances. The gate knows. It always knows.”

She looked toward the houses on the other side—quiet, still, waiting. “That’s why the guardians live in pairs. One here. One there. If one crosses, the other stands ready.”

She reached out and took Tess’s hand. “Back to the cottage now.”

As they walked away, neither of them noticed the single seed, caught in the breeze from the non-magic side, drifting across the threshold. Small, round, and ordinary—until it passed through.

It didn’t glow. It didn’t hum. But its surface changed, just slightly. A faint shimmer, like dew that never dried. A whisper of memory clung to it, harmless but altered. Not magic, not quite. Just touched.

It landed near Tess’s boot, unnoticed.

They sat outside the cottage, the sack now folded and quiet beside them. The rooks wheeled overhead, calling to each other in rough voices. The air smelled of nettles and woodsmoke.

Tess broke the silence first. “She said you could rule together. You and her. Equal power.”

Sophrayni didn’t answer right away. She watched the sky, eyes distant. “She did.”

Tess frowned. “Was it a lie?”

“No,” Sophrayni said. “Not exactly. She meant it. But it wouldn’t have worked.”

“Why not?”

Sophrayni turned to her. “Because Nesthana didn’t share. Not really. She offered balance, but she built it on hunger. On fear. She would have let me stand beside her—but only if I stood still. Only if I stopped asking questions.”

Tess thought about that. “So, it would have looked equal. But it wouldn’t have been.”

“Exactly,” said Sophrayni. “She would have ruled the way she always did—by swallowing everything that didn’t agree with her. Slowly. Quietly. Until there was nothing left but her voice.”

Tess looked down at the sack. “She was strong.”

“She was,” Sophrayni said. “But strength without listening turns into something else. Something sharp. Something lonely.”

Tess hesitated. “Would you have said yes, if she’d really meant it?”

Sophrayni smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I might have. Once. Before I understood what kind of queen she wanted me to be. And before I learned what the Witch of the Dark Forest ought to be.”

They sat in silence for a while longer.

Then Tess said, “I think I’d rather be a question than a crown.”

Sophrayni looked at her, really looked. “Good,” she said. “Questions change things. Crowns just hold them still.”

They moved inside and sat by the cottage window, the light soft and slanting through the trees. The sack lay folded on the table, quiet now. The rooks had stopped calling.

Tess stared at her hands. “I don’t want it,” she said. “The magic. I don’t want to be like her.”

Sophrayni didn’t speak right away. She watched Tess carefully. “You’re not like her.”

“But I could be,” Tess said. “I found you without training. I crossed places I didn’t know. I felt things I shouldn’t be able to feel. That’s not normal.”

“It’s not,” Sophrayni agreed. “It’s rare. But rare doesn’t mean dangerous. Not if you learn.”

Tess looked up. “You want to teach me?”

“I’d like to,” Sophrayni said. “To help you understand what you carry. To make sure it doesn’t carry you.”

Tess was quiet for a long time. Then she shook her head. “No.”

Sophrayni blinked. “No?”

“I don’t want to learn control,” Tess said. “I want it gone. All of it. I want to be normal. I want to walk through the world without worrying what I might break.”

Sophrayni’s voice was gentle. “That’s not a small thing to ask.”

“I know,” Tess said. “But I’m asking.”

Sophrayni looked at her, really looked. Tess was pale, steady, and braver than she knew. “If I take it,” she said slowly, “I can’t give it back. Not ever. Calizone said magic couldn’t be removed — but she meant by spells. Citspal isn’t a spell. It’s something outside magic entirely.”

Tess nodded. “That’s the point.”

Sophrayni reached out and took Tess’s hands in hers. “Then we’ll do it carefully. Quietly. And with respect. Magic isn’t a curse. But it can be a burden. If you’re ready to let it go, I’ll help you.”

Tess didn’t speak. But she didn’t pull away.

Sophrayni picked up the sleeve from the black dress. “This will do,” she said. “I can put your power in here, where it will be safe.”

She stitched the sleeve slowly, her fingers steady even as the Citspal cloth resisted.

Tess sat nearby, quiet, watching. She didn’t speak. She didn’t cry. But her hands were clenched in her lap, and her eyes never left the cloth.

When the sack was finished, Sophrayni placed it on the table. “This will hold it,” she said. “All of it. Every thread. Every flicker.”

Tess nodded. “Good.”

Sophrayni looked up. “There’s another way,” she said. “I could leave you a little. Just enough to charm. To sense things others can’t. You’d still be ordinary, mostly. But not quite.”

Tess didn’t answer right away. Then she shook her head. “That would be worse.”

Sophrayni blinked. “Worse?”

Tess nodded. “Because I’d know. I’d feel it. That little bit would remind me of everything I lost. Every time I couldn’t reach far enough. Every time I felt the edge and couldn’t cross it.”

Her voice was quiet, but steady. “I’d rather have nothing than almost.”

Sophrayni set the bowl down. “That’s a brave choice.”

Tess looked at her. “It’s a scared one.”

Sophrayni smiled, just slightly. “Bravery and fear aren’t opposites. They walk together.”

She reached for the sleeve. “Then we’ll take it all. Carefully. Kindly. And when it’s gone, you’ll still be you.”

Tess nodded. “That’s what I want.”

The cloth twitched once, then stilled.

Sophrayni tied the knot carefully. Not tight. Just enough.

Then she climbed the ladder to the rafters and hung the sack from a beam, high above the hearth. It didn’t pulse. It didn’t shimmer. But it was there.

Waiting.

Tess looked up. “Why keep it?”

Sophrayni stepped down, her voice quiet. “Because there always has to be a Witch of the Dark Forest. Someone who knows the old paths. Someone who listens when the trees speak.”

Tess frowned. “But I said no.”

“You did,” Sophrayni said. “And I listened. But the forest doesn’t forget. And if something happens to me… someone will need to answer.”

Tess stared at the sack. “So, it’s mine. Still.”

Sophrayni nodded. “Only if you choose it. Only if the forest calls.”

Tess didn’t answer. But she didn’t look away.

Outside, the wind stirred the branches. The rooks wheeled once, then settled. And the sack hung quiet in the rafters, holding a power that no longer had a name.

The gates of Lord Rocco’s manor house stood open. Not wide. Just enough.

Tess stepped through. The gravel crunched under her feet, familiar and strange all at once. The trees lining the drive were the same. The windows still caught the light in the same way. But something had changed.

She had changed.

The door opened before she reached it. Lord Rocco stood there—not in his robes, not in his formal shoes—just in a soft shirt and worn boots, like he’d been waiting without ceremony.

He didn’t speak. Just looked at her.

Tess hesitated. “I came back.”

He nodded. “We hoped you would.”

Behind him, the hall was warm. Firelight flickered. The scent of bread and herbs drifted through the air. And further in, the Rocco family waited—not with questions, not with judgment. Just with space.

Tess stepped inside.

No one asked where she’d been. No one asked what she’d done. They simply made room at the table. A chair—not the one by the wall. Not the one near the servants’ door. One in the middle. One that had always been empty.

Lady Rocco placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not a guest,” she said. “You’re not a servant. You’re not a stray.”

Tess looked up.

“You’re family,” she said. “You always were. We just didn’t see it.”

Tess sat down. The fire crackled. The bread was passed. And for the first time, she didn’t feel like she had to earn her place.

She simply belonged.

Later that day, Sophrayni came. She had collected Shade from the Coaching Inn stable, where he had so patiently waited. Tess stood by the gate, watching.

Sophrayni smiled. “You’ll be safe here.”

Tess nodded. “I know.”

Sophrayni placed a hand on Shade’s neck. “Wilgan is on his way to King Syldan to be put on trial for treason. So, you don’t need to worry about him.”

She lifted the reins and got ready to leave. “There are parts of the kingdom that have forgotten. And some that remember too well. I need to remind them.”

Tess tilted her head. “Remind them of what?”

Sophrayni swung into the saddle, her voice quiet but clear. “That the Witch of the Dark Forest still walks. That she listens. That she chooses.”

Shade turned toward the road, ears flicking forward.

Sophrayni looked back once, just once. “If the forest calls you again,” she said, “listen.”

Tess nodded. “I will.”

And then Sophrayni rode out toward the kingdom that had waited too long to remember.