Chapter 6
A Desperate Deal
Amy recalls the moment of desperation that led to her binding pact. The memory is hazy, filled with fear and a choice made under duress. The darkness that created her looms in the background.
The memory, when it decided to unspool itself, did so with all the grace of a tangled ball of yarn being yanked by a particularly enthusiastic kitten. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, not by a long shot. It was the kind of memory that made my thorns ache and my stomach do a nervous little flutter, like a trapped moth.
It started, as most bad things tend to, with a whisper. Not the rustling leaves kind of whisper, but a sibilant, chilling hiss that slithered into my mind when the moon was a sliver of bone and the forest floor was slick with a mist that smelled like old regrets. I was younger then, not yet the formidable, grumpy Thorn Witch of legend. Just… Amy. And I was terrified.
The blight. It wasn’t just a yucky sickness creeping through the village then, it was a ravenous beast, gobbling up life with a horrifying appetite. The crops withered to dust overnight, the livestock coughed their last ragged breaths, and the people… well, the people were fading, their skin like parchment, their eyes hollow pools reflecting a desperate plea. My village. My people.
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