The Witch Phoenix

20250613

Prompt from PrideOnThePage

The tang of ash and regret chokes the air. I angle my wings and soar down, down… not towards the charred skeleton of a hut or the corpses within, but to the other end of the pitiful trail; the cowering figure huddled deep in the woods.
“Ack! St-stay back!”
She is perhaps seventeen. Her fear only grows as I alight on the ground and shape my flickering form into something more human.
I soften my voice as best I can. “What happened, child?”
While I suspect I know, no pain was ever healed by having another’s story plastered over your own truth. Listening is the deepest root of magic.
She squirms back against the tree trunk. Whimpers apologies and pleas which tell me nothing.
I wait. Patience is another root of magic.
Finally her fear ebbs. Her gaze is locked to her dirty, bleeding feet. “Did you see?”
“Yes. I saw. And I know it was not rage which drove you.”
“No.” She hugs her knees tight. “I-I didn’t mean to. I just…”
Perhaps a different angle will help her explain. “Who were they?”
“Marcus. And his dad. And his dad’s crew.”
“Why did they visit you?”
“I…” From the way she’s blinking, she ran out of tears long before she was done with them. “Marcus wanted to marry me. Wouldn’t accept my dithering and dodging the question. Hounded me for a proper answer. So I confessed that I had no wish to marry any man, and he… went away. But that night he came back, with those others. Said that if I wasn’t going to be a wife I was no good to anyone, and they might as well m-make some use of me, and…”
She’s shaking. Scrubbing her palms on her arms.
“I don’t… I don’t know what…”
I slowly sink down to kneel in front of her. “In fear, you reached through your blood to the magic. And it answered. But fear is a dangerous root.”
When I gently peel her hands free I find her palms pale with burns. And I see grey coming in at her roots. The magic nearly devoured her.
“Well. A tragic awakening.” Though, unlike me, at least she had a life in front of her. “But awakened you are. And to try and be a witch alone is beckoning misfortune. Let me guide you to another, who has the wisdom to help you grow and flourish.”
“Alright.” She whispers, her unease shifting to awe. “Are… are you an angel?”
I laugh and glance down at my form, my bones held together and moved by fire and will and spiteful defiance against my fate. “Of a sort. Though it’s closer to call me a ghost. My name is Lynn. What’s yours, little witchling?”
“Heather.”
“Well met, Heather.” I tug her to her feet and step back, my bones rearranging into wings. “Come. Let me guide you to a friend. We will grow beauty from these ashes.”
It’s what I do, after all.

Prompt was “Ashes”.