CH335 · Rewrite
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Chapter 335: Sudden Changes

On the third day, the Hawk Eye lifted into the grey sky.

The new hot-air balloon had taken its name from its expanded purpose. The basket could carry the full complement of witches; canvas walls kept out the wind and the snow that had been falling intermittently since morning. After brief farewells to Roland in the garden behind the castle, the balloon rose through the cold air and turned northwest toward the Concealing Forest.

They flew low by design—close enough to rooftops that descent and engagement could happen quickly if circumstances demanded. The altitude made the departure into a spectacle. Residents stopped in the streets below to stare; some stood rooted to the spot; voices reached the basket shouting “Long live His Highness,” presumably because only Border Town’s lord could be responsible for something like this.

When the Hawk Eye crossed the western wall, the First Army soldiers on duty turned and saluted in careful formation—directed toward the sky, toward Lightning and Maggie flying alongside the balloon, toward all the witches they’d come to know over months of shared seasons. Lightning had earned a particular affection from the gunner teams; she’d been their eyes on countless engagements, directing fire from above, and their cheers for her were audible even at altitude.

Then the town was behind them, and the Concealing Forest opened ahead.

The Month of Demons had buried the forest in white. Snow packed the upper branches of every tree into broad, smooth domes—from above they looked like great white flowers pressing upward through the ground, dense and even as far as the eye could reach. Beyond them, a range of mountains rose grey under the haze, their feet invisible in the fog so that only the arrowhead peaks showed, floating in the colorless air.

“What a sight,” Shavi said softly, from the basket’s edge. “I’ve never seen this much snow in the western region before.”

“Aren’t you from the western region?” Wendy asked.

“I grew up in Fallen Dragon Ridge—farther south, closer to the warmer coast. It rarely snowed there in winter. I heard about Lady Tilly and Sleeping Island later, and slipped onto a ship at Clearwater port.” She paused. “I didn’t know what I was sailing toward, but the news seemed worth following.”

“Our Royal Highness would commiserate,” Wendy said, with a faint smile. “He’s been griping for months about the poor reach of his recruitment rumor—turns out his agent was a step behind Lady Tilly’s network the whole time.”

“Your agent is named Theo?” Ashes said. She sounded pleased with herself. “I caught him in Silver City. Red-handed.”

“You caught him because you’re a witch and you noticed the rumor was unusual,” Andrea said flatly. “If you hadn’t already met Lady Tilly, you’d have been on your way to Border Town the week after.”

“I would never serve under His Royal Highness—”

His Royal Highness,” Andrea repeated, mimicking her cadence with perfect precision. “My. You’ve had quite a bit of practice with that particular phrase.”

“Pfft!” Tilly laughed before she could stop herself—a full, unguarded laugh, rare enough to draw looks. Yesterday Andrea had worn an expression that suggested permanent defeat; apparently she had recovered her range overnight. Among Sleeping Island’s witches, Andrea was the only person who reliably found traction with Ashes, and the dynamic had a specific gravitational pull that Tilly found herself grateful for.

“We’re all family here,” she said, “whether that’s Sleeping Island or Border Town. No need to sort each other into categories.”

She let her gaze move through the basket.

Everyone had spent time before departure learning what the others could do—enough to assign roles quickly if fighting started. The combat witches at Sleeping Island outnumbered Border Town’s by a significant margin, but Tilly had come to understand over the past days that the Witch Alliance’s strength wasn’t concentrated in combat ability. It was distributed through every part of the town. They had built this place—the furnaces, the grain stores, the clean streets, the winter wages—not by fighting, but by working until the work became something the town couldn’t function without.

Her gaze settled on Anna.

If she had to name the woman who had left the deepest impression on her since arriving, it was Anna. Not because of anything spectacular she had said—Anna said very little, and her expression rarely moved. But standing near her produced a feeling Tilly couldn’t quite put language to: a heaviness and gentleness combined, the way flat ground feels when you’re lying on it and realize for the first time how solid the earth actually is. It let you relax in a way nothing vertical could.

Sylvie had told her: Anna was the witch who had advanced fastest in Border Town. Her magical reserves were enormous; her black flames, which she could shape freely into any form, were capabilities Tilly had not seen in anyone else. And she had been the first witch to read Theoretical Foundations of Natural Science cover to cover.

That last detail had caught in Tilly’s mind like a splinter. She could imagine sitting with Anna by a fire during this long winter, working through the miraculous passages of those books together—and the imagining produced something that felt like anticipation, clean and specific, the way anticipation feels before something genuinely good.

She shifted her attention to Lightning, who was flying outside the basket in the snowfall, face turned into the wind. The girl was the daughter of Thunder, the Fjord’s most famous adventurer, and she had inherited every useful quality: curiosity, energy, the particular temperament of someone who finds the air more comfortable than solid ground. Thunder had hoped for a steady life for his daughter. Watching Lightning now—checking the horizon, adjusting her angle, noting something, noting something else—Tilly thought: she’s going to surpass him. The only question was how far.

The only thing Tilly could do for her was protect her until she no longer needed it.

“We’re almost there.” Lightning’s voice came through the canvas. She had already moved to the basket’s edge while Tilly was thinking. “Maybe a few minutes.”

“Come inside and rest a moment.” Wendy’s concern carried across the space. “Your lips are white.”

“Just numb.” Lightning patted both cheeks; they glowed red from the cold. “The scarf His Royal Highness gave me keeps my ears from freezing. The rest is fine.”

The first half of the journey had been straightforward. Whatever demon beasts moved through the forest below occasionally raised their heads and roared—but no beast had the reach to threaten a balloon at altitude, and the devils who had been active near the stone tower in previous months were nowhere in evidence. The flight was, in its way, almost peaceful.

Then the Hawk Eye passed over the destination, and everyone fell silent.

The forest below had been destroyed. Not burned, not felled—torn apart, as though something vast had moved through it without caring what was in its path. Trunk fragments and broken branches lay scattered over a wide swath of ground; snow had been churned into the soil; the chaos of it extended in a rough line northwest, out of sight among the trees.

And where the stone tower had stood, there was nothing.

Only a hole. Black, circular, dropping into darkness that swallowed the eye completely. Whatever had made it had been very, very large.

“Where’s the tower?” Ashes said.

“It was here.” Lightning’s voice was stripped of its usual certainty. She pointed straight down. “It… it was right here.”

“Sylvie.” Tilly kept her voice level. “What’s in that hole?”

Sylvie’s brows drew together. Her complexion shifted—something passing behind her expression that was not quite fear. “It’s a—it looks like a maggot. An enormous maggot. Moving northwest.” A pause. “The ruins are inside it.”

“Inside.”

“Inside its stomach. I can see the stone tower—and the ice coffin you mentioned.” She was still looking, still searching. “It swallowed the entire ruins. The whole thing.”

Everyone turned to Tilly.

She took a breath. The information settled. A giant worm had consumed the ruins they’d come to explore—including the crystal coffin with its sleeping occupant—and was now moving away from them through the earth. The math was simple and unpleasant.

“Anything else besides the worm?” she asked. “Devils, specifically.”

Sylvie observed for another moment. “Some demon beasts in its belly, but they all appear to be dead. No devils.”

“Good.” Tilly straightened. “We descend. One team guards the perimeter outside; the other follows me down. We go in, we kill whatever needs killing, and we take back the ice coffin.”

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