Mnou was awakened by muffled calls of her name and banging on the door. For a moment, she was completely disoriented. The room was lit only by the glowing embers dying in the fireplace. The rest of the room was shrouded in night and darkness. The witch groggily groped for her staff. At last, she grabbed it and lit a small light. She had a bad feeling about this.
Who is it now? Last time someone was banging on my door in the middle of the night, it was Esme. Could it be Ruth? Whoever it is, it means trouble. She was awake enough now to recognize that it was a child's voice calling to her. That worried her even more.
"Master?" came a sleepy voice from the darkness. When the dim glow fell on her, it revealed a little girl rubbing her eyes drowsily. "What's going on?"
"Don't worry, I'll find out," Mnou called to her from the door, turned the key, and pushed the handle.
A stormy wind burst in, flinging snowflakes everywhere. Mnou had to cover her face against the onslaught. She tried to focus on the figure swaying on the icy steps outside, buffeted by the wind. She could barely distinguish where the small figure ended, and the thick darkness of night began.
"M... master Mnou, please help us! Mother is very ill!" The wind tore the words from his mouth, but somehow, they still reached Mnou's ears. At first, she didn't understand.
"Wait, wait a minute. Who are you?"
"It's me, Azra!" Even through the storm, his voice was tearful and desperate.
At that moment, she understood. Ruth! She quickly pulled the boy inside and slammed the resisting door shut. She threw off her nightgown and began changing rapidly.
"Master, what's going on?! Where are you going?!" Esme called to her, and only then noticed Azra, who breathlessly explained everything to her. She gasped in horror. In the next moment, fear was replaced by resolve. "I'm coming with you!"
"No, you're not!" Mnou snapped as she struggled into her heavy cloak. "You'd only slow us down, and we need to be fast. There's nothing you can do for Ruth right now."
"I don't care! If Ruth is in trouble, I'm coming with you! Even if you get ahead of me, I'll follow!"
Mnou exhaled in frustration. "I'll take Azra and fly with him. I can't carry you as well. Accept it. And I'm not letting you run around the mountains in a snowstorm at night!"
Azra quietly watched the argument, sniffling.
"I'll fly after you! Just hold me a little," insisted the girl angrily as she struggled into a yellow coat.
"You won't make it."
"I will!"
"You won't!"
"I WILL!" The shout echoed through the room before fading into the sounds of the storm. The girls continued dressing in awkward silence. Finally, Mnou spoke:
"Fine, we'll try. But if you can't keep up and slow us down, be ready to face the consequences," she said coldly.
"I will. And don't worry, I can do this."
Despite the howling wind shaking her, Mnou rose gracefully, elegantly. The boy climbed on her back and wrapped his little arms around her thick scarf. Sweat immediately formed on her brow. It was more strenuous than she had expected. Especially with a passenger and in this blizzard. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and calmed herself. There's no time to hesitate. We must hurry.
She turned and offered her apprentice her left arm, the one not burdened by the staff. The girl grabbed it tightly and closed her eyes to concentrate. It only took a few moments, and she shakily lifted off just above the icy ground. For a moment she teetered, like an acrobat on a wire, until she more or less stabilized. Carefully, she opened her eyes and nodded to her master as a sign that they can go.
Mnou took off slowly at first, then gradually picked up speed. Still, she couldn't fly at full speed due to poor visibility, and she didn't want to exhaust herself completely before reaching the village. She occasionally glanced back to check how Esme was doing. Though she still looked unsure and had to carefully balance her flight, she was doing much better than Mnou had expected. I thought she wouldn't even lift off, especially in weather like this—but look at her. Even though her mind was full of worries, she couldn't help but feel proud of her.
The journey felt like an eternity, and they were truly running out of energy when they finally reached the village. The wind had nearly stopped, and golden-lit shutters winked at them kindly from the darkness. There was no time to admire the scenery. They stopped at a house on the edge of the village, almost entirely engulfed in darkness except for the light of a candle seeping through one windowpane.
Three wind-beaten figures burst inside, slamming the door behind them. They didn't bother to remove their coats and cloaks and rushed straight to the bedroom, drawn by the light. They heard soft voices coming from within. When they entered, they saw who they belonged to—Azra's father and the apothecary Darp.
"Dad, I brought Mnou! She'll help mom for sure!" the boy shouted triumphantly and ran to his father.
"What?" the man looked completely bewildered until realization hit him. He grabbed his son by the shoulders and scolded him: "You really went into the mountains at night!? What were you thinking?! I thought you were fast asleep! What would I have done if you'd fallen into a ravine or gotten buried in a drift?! What would I do if I lost you too!" The man was clearly fighting back tears. He hugged his son.
"Wait, don't tell me…!" Mnou cried in horror and with two powerful strides reached the bed. She couldn't finish the sentence.
"She won't make it," Darp whispered grimly and slumped into a chair beside the bed. "She's still breathing, but… she won't see the morning. I'm sorry."
The witch just stared at him in disbelief and shook her head. "That can't be. No… no, that's not true. She was fine just recently," she mumbled like someone out of her mind. She focused on Ruth.
She was pale, like a corpse in a coffin, except for her cheeks glowing red with fever. Her eyes were closed, and it seemed she no longer sensed the world around her. She was wheezing, barely audibly.
Mnou couldn't utter a single word. Then someone tugged at her sleeve.
"Master, you'll heal Ruth, right? You can do it. I know you can," Esme babbled, trembling with fear.
Mnou only nodded and, as if hypnotized, began pulling medicines from her bag.
"It's no use," the apothecary muttered again. "She's basically already gone. The only thing that could save her now is your magic."
"Magic can't heal something like this," Mnou snapped as she searched for tinctures and ointments she could use.
"Then it's useless."
"It is not—until I see it for myself!" she exploded, both angry and desperate, and shot Darp a venomous look. "Then just shut up and get out if you have nothing more to say!"
The apothecary sighed but said nothing. He stayed seated and watched the scene with a heavy heart.
Azra's father took the children to the kitchen so they wouldn't disturb the healer at work. But they soon returned anyway, peeking anxiously from the doorway. Everyone saw them, but no one sent them away. They were allowed to watch the grim, hopeless scene of the witch trying with all her might to bring Ruth back to life. Aside from the clinking of vials, a deathly silence reigned. Eventually, even the quiet, rhythmic, painful wheezing ceased—and with it, the clinking of bottles.
Dawn was just breaking outside.
From a few days after Ruth's death, Mnou couldn't remember anything at all. It was like trying to recall a dream that fades away with the morning light. The only thing she could remember was the all-encompassing lethargy. She felt an emptiness unlike anything she'd experienced since her mother's death. It was a quiet emptiness, spreading within her like an echo in the mountains. Sometimes, she was overtaken by tears, but most of the time she remained sombre and withdrawn. She barely had enough strength to comfort the constantly crying Esme, offering empty phrases like "It'll be okay" and "Just give it time" and the like. It made her feel foolish. So, she mostly kept silent. She stayed quiet and listened to the girl's sobs and sniffles, simply being there for her. It felt like the best thing she could do. Neither of them could talk about it. The wound was still too fresh. But they shared the pain without words.
On the day of the funeral, snowdrifts had fallen, so the whole landscape gleamed in the sunlight like crystal. The witches spent the entire morning clearing snow just to dig their way out of the house. They didn't mind. They had spent most of the past few days indoors by the fireplace or on long walks, during which Esme tearfully admitted she was ashamed that she couldn't bring herself to go down to the village to help Azra.
"I know I should go see him. I can't even imagine how awful he must feel," Esme explained, distressed.
"I understand. You're his friend and you want to help him, but the most important person you need to think about right now is yourself. If you're not ready, you don't have to go." She paused for a moment before continuing. "It'll probably take him years to come to terms with everything. Maybe he never will. That's how it is sometimes. And I believe you'll always be there for him, but right now… right now it could destroy you. A sick person can't care for another sick person. You need to heal first, so that you'll have the strength to help others."
The girl nodded in agreement, and it was clear that Mnou's words had calmed her a little. Mnou knew that Esme understood. At that moment, it felt like she was speaking to a grown woman.
Ruth's funeral took place in the early afternoon. The sun decided to warm the dimmed hearts of the mourners with its gentle rays. The wind that had been howling for days quieted, and a perfect stillness settled over the world. It was as if everything had gone silent, holding its breath to watch.
The entire event was over in just a few minutes. It was nothing elaborate. A coffin was placed into a snow-dusted grave, and four men from the village, including Ruth's husband, began to fill the grave. It all happened without a word. It was tradition to remain silent at funerals so as not to disturb the dead. But many tears were shed—mostly by the children. Mnou's heart sank with sorrow. She had an irresistible urge to turn around and run away. Not because she didn't care, but exactly because she cared too much. The whole situation hit her like a heavy boulder. Still, she chose to bear it. She stood there like a tree in a storm. She laid her hands on the shoulders of the two children standing in front of her in a protective gesture. Esme nestled even closer to her.
A single tear glistened on Mnou's cheek. She let it fall onto the white blanket beneath her feet. No others followed. I must be strong. For Esme… for Azra. I've cried enough in recent days. It's not that I don't want to. If I could, I'd cry for you for days, Ruth. But I can't. I can't let myself be swept away by grief like before. Back then, I was alone. Now I have people I need to care for. I believe you'd understand.
The silence continued even after the funeral ended. Four figures trudged toward the edge of the village. Mnou held Esme's hand, and Ruth's husband held their son's. The witch exchanged a few words with the man. She offered her heartfelt condolences and told him she'd be happy to help around the house from time to time, and that he and Azra were always welcome to visit. He accepted her offer kindly. Mnou felt as if she owed him something. In a way, she felt responsible for Ruth's death. Rationally, she knew that wasn't true, but her conscience said otherwise. You knew for so long and still couldn't help her. With a long sigh, she pushed the thought away.
Esme, who now seemed at least a little calmer, stayed behind with Azra. Mnou watched the small figures as they slowly walked off into the snowy fields. Then she set off home on her own.
A frigid wind picked up, and the sun disappeared behind the clouds. Soon, heavy snowflakes began to fall from the sky.