Snow gives her a gentle punch on the shoulder. ‘That’s what I like to hear. Bit of common sense around here.’
Gretel walks back to the cottage, thinking. She walks past a pack of wolves slinking away to find somewhere to rest. She walks past the sleeping bears, with Gilde curled into the warmth of their bellies. She walks past the nettle patch where Jack still silently stitches, as Hex beadily watches him from a nearby tree. She walks past some of the northern wood creatures setting up a temporary camp far from the fire damage of their own territory. She walks past a group of villagers carrying stretchers back towards Mudd Farm. She walks past Scarlett and a handful of villagers surveying the cottage’s roof. She walks past Daisy bent over a slate, sketching out designs as Patience hovers over her, making comments that are only occasionally helpful. She enters the cottage, and hears Buttercup and Trevor upstairs, cheerfully discussing how they’re going to move things around to fit in all the new beds. Hansel gives her a cup of tea and a big smile.
‘This is nice,’ Hansel tells her. ‘I like your new friends.’
‘Yeah.’ Gretel takes a sip. It’s disgusting. She can’t believe she’s forgotten in these few months away just how terrible her brother is at making a simple cup of tea. She grins down into the revolting brew. ‘I’ve been pretty lucky so far, all things considered.’
‘Here’s hoping it holds out.’
Gretel nods, taking another sip of horrible, beautiful tea. ‘I might need it. I’m going to go with Snow to see the Glass Witch. Whether Snow likes it or not.’
‘Oh,’ says the Mirror from its corner, softly.
An odd expression crosses Hansel’s face. For a moment, the shadows in the cottage seem darker, more tangible, somehow.
‘You all right?’
Hansel snaps out of it. ‘Yeah. Sorry. Don’t know what happened there. I thought I was getting a vision, but then it just… went. It’s like… you know when you think you need to sneeze but then it sort of goes back in?’
‘Hmm.’ Gretel turns to the Mirror. ‘Sorry, what were you going to say?’
‘The Glass Witch,’ says the Mirror. ‘I’m not sure… No, sorry, it’s gone. Forget I said anything!’
‘Do you know anything about the Glass Witch?’ asks Gretel.
‘Um…’
Gretel sighs. ‘Mirror Mirror, please do snitch, what know you of the Glass Witch?’
‘I did know something,’ the Mirror tells her, unsure. ‘Reports from Ashtrie, from back when I was king. But now… I must have forgotten it all. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh.’ Gretel frowns faintly. ‘Well, I suppose it can’t be that bad, then.’
And so, the residents of Myrsina, within the Darkwood and without, go about their days. To the west of Darkwood, word of the new head huntsman gets around. The abomination lists and ducking stools are torn down. In the Citadel, and in towns and villages from Slate up north-east near the mountains to Goldenharbour in the south-west, kissing the Golden Sea, people celebrate, free at last from the tyranny of abominations. The witches hiding amongst them celebrate along with the unmagical, swallowing down their terror at being caught out. Morning Quarry and her huntsmen, unmasked and smiling out at the world, return to the castle and begin making plans for the final push to completely purge the Darkwood.
To the east of Darkwood, there is a river. It’s quite small, just a trickle really, but it officially creates the border between Myrsina and Ashtrie. In the Ashtrian side of Darkwood, all is quiet and still.
Utterly quiet. Utterly still. No chirp of a bird, no rustle of a rodent.
Deep within the silence, a smile splits, cold and sharp as glass, beautiful as crystal. The Glass Witch, queen of all she surveys, shares her stunning white smile with the glittering walls of her empty palace. A new opportunity is approaching. An opportunity for more praise, more worship, more power. More fun.
A new opportunity for revenge.