I’m a witch. And witches burn.
There are other ways for a witch to gather power, of course, but the pyre is the best. When I’m burning, I’m completely focused. Every micro-joule of energy is converted into power. It’s almost like I can’t waste any part of my pain. Like agony itself is another source of power. When I come to the pyre, I remember that I am alive.
I also remember what I owe for my life—what I did to keep it. I remember what I must do, even if it makes me the villain of my own story. Most importantly, I remember that the good of the many really does outweigh the good of the few. Even if one of those few is me.
It took me eight months to find the right candidate, to watch and wait, and now she’s finally ready to come. She’s strong. She’s independent. She’s a survivor. She has all of my power, but in her world she is powerless—sickly, even. I need to be certain that I’m not stealing the savior of another world in order to save mine. But most importantly, there is no Rowan in her world. If there were, I’d never be able to convince her to leave. I wouldn’t bother trying. I know what it is to love Rowan and what it feels like to lose him. I’d never ask that of another.
I feel like I’ve been roasting on this pyre for days, but I know that in reality only a few seconds have passed. I haven’t even begun to transmute the energy of the flame and use it to bring her body from her world into mine. Funny how quickly the mind moves, but how slowly time does when you’re in pain. I always think of Rowan when I’m in pain, probably because the comparison comforts me. If I survived the pain of losing him, I guess I can handle anything.
This logic has served me well over the past year. Whenever I’ve felt weak and doubted my path, all I’ve needed to do is think of Rowan and what I did to him. If I didn’t have mercy on him, why should I be merciful with others? There’s a clarity that comes with cruelty. When you’ve alienated everyone who means something to you and you’ve sacrificed every last sense of self, then there really is nothing left to lose.
This girl I’m about to steal has no concept of loss. She doesn’t understand the difference between infatuation and love. That’s a good thing. I don’t want her broken like me. I want her wounded, yes, but stronger for it. There comes a day when every girl loses the stars in her eyes. And then she can see clearly.
This is Lily’s day.
*
The voice went away for a few moments, and Lily thought that was that. She didn’t really think anything would happen. Then all sensation left her body and the voice came back.
It will be terrifying. It was for me.
There was no more warning than that. At first, she was too stunned to be frightened, but then the fear came, just as the voice had promised.
It was like being numb, but not the warm, tingly numbness of Novocaine. This was absolute sensory deprivation. Lily couldn’t feel the clothes on her body, the hard rock under her legs, or the weight of her skin on her bones. She couldn’t even feel the panic that she knew she was experiencing; she could only think it. She was disembodied and she wondered if that meant she was dead.