Misty clung to the leaves, a smile breaking from the corners of her lips. "Takin' me back to nature," she said.
"To help us feel safer," Cordelia replied, her hand pressing more intensely on Misty's leg. Cordelia's words enveloped her. Nature was something they both understood and revelled in. It was their safe haven.
"I can't make the fire go away. Even where I've forgotten things, it sits there like a wedelia plant after a storm – refuses to die," Misty said. The words started to creep out of her. It was an unfamiliar experience; allowing Cordelia to share in her torment, to recover her from it. This freedom was what she'd been searching for.
Misty traced over the surface of each leaf and continued, "When I came back, all I could remember were flames. They still ain't gone yet. Took me a while to work out why they were there... what it was that Mother Nature was tryin' to tell me. As I lost myself in the swamp, in the trees, it started comin' back to me. I remembered all kinds of stuff about my home an' my family, an' finally what happened to me. It was like they recognised what I was before I did, and burned me alive for it... The strongest memory I have is of the heat and how it devoured me." She shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe she wasn't ready yet.
Smoke was gathering in her head again, confusing her, misleading her. She did not notice how her teeth ground together, or how her palms trapped the leaves within them. She balled up her fists, not in anger but in anguish. All she could feel was burning.
Noise accumulated in Misty's ears. The chants and jeers of her executioners grew violent. She was afraid of them now. The night-time masked her cries as she fought hopelessly to escape. Ragged bushes clawed at her exposed flesh with talons as sharp as glass. It was the only time nature had betrayed her. It simply watched as they dragged her towards the stake, each man satisfied by his own godliness. Their hatred burned as fiercely as the waiting flames.
The fire wrapped around her chest, quickening her breathing. She did not notice her legs recoil, or Cordelia withdraw her hands sharply, concerned. The dense buzz of voices surrounded her. She was ensnared and isolated by the frothing memories. They ambushed her. The flickering match, the menacing silhouettes; burnt into her body and into her mind, where even the swamp had failed to heal her.
"It's you that will end in flames – I swear it!" Those words danced inside her and were lost in the billowing haze. The fire slithered up her limbs like a vine, constricting her, suffocating her. It hissed into her ears, both in warning and in mockery. She could only concede under its strength.
Hands struggled to restrain her. She fought against them, striking out with her clenched fists.
"Misty!" someone was shouting. "Misty! I'm here, come back to me." The calm tones coaxed away the flames and allowed her to breathe again. "It's ok, you're ok."
Misty gasped and dropped her arms. She opened her eyes; saw the leaves strewn across the floor. Her hands twitched in terror and her chest palpitated. Cordelia's scarred, reassuring face looked back at her, yearning to remove her pain.
"It's ok," she repeated, bringing her hands up to Misty's shoulders. "We don't have to do this now. I'm sorry, I asked too much of you."
Misty fell against Cordelia, her body quivering as she chased away the remaining sparks of memory. She felt Cordelia's arms embrace her, a new kind of safety. She could find peace here.
Cordelia had held Misty and passed innumerable hours cradling her until she slept. The swamp witch was wounded beyond Cordelia's comprehension. She deserved the freedom to repair in her own time.
Cordelia had guided Misty, with difficulty, to her bed and waited for sleep to reach her once more. She left only briefly to search for chrysanthemums, which she arranged atop Misty's pillows. They would prevent the fire from attacking again. She monitored the rhythm of Misty's breathing and guarded her until it steadied.
Misty was still finding her voice. The Seven Wonders were out of the question and Cordelia was determined to protect her from their horrors.
Seizing her cane from the ground, Cordelia stormed into the corridor, invigorated. Her blindness didn't bother her as she paced towards the staircase, sensing the warmth of sunlight on her back. The very walls of the Academy seemed on edge.
Her boots clacked over the wood in accompaniment with the tap of her cane. The rest of the house stayed silent in response. She was filled by a new intensity and will to fight for the rights of her Coven. She descended down the staircase, gripping the banister, fixated on every step she took. Almost with a skip, she arrived on the ground floor and grinned at her ease of movement.
She strode towards the lounge, listening out for the oscillation of a Theremin nearby. Satisfied by the quietness, she continued towards the archway of the lounge and walked in.
"Auntie Myrtle?"
"Ah, Delia! I wondered where you had been hiding all morning!" Myrtle replied enthusiastically. She rose dramatically from her seat and glided towards the doorway. "Tell me it wasn't you I almost stumbled over in the darkness last night," she laughed, leaning to plant a kiss on Cordelia's cheek.
Cordelia smiled, detecting tasselled fabric from Myrtle's outfit gloss over her arm. Even in blindness, Cordelia could sense her extravagance.
"Dear girl, why do you look so concerned? Come, sit with me," Myrtle said. She grasped Cordelia's hand and led her to the sofa, signalling their arrival with her spare arm. Her grandeur did not require an audience.
"I came to talk to you about Misty," Cordelia began, arranging her cane between her knees.
"Ah yes, our glorious swamp witch," Myrtle replied.
"I don't want her involved in the Seven Wonders. She's too broken," Cordelia started, but was brashly interrupted.
"Life has ravaged her... and that's exactly what this Coven needs." She gestured at the space they sat in, conducting attention to the each historic artefact within it. "She brings intensity – the passion and wilderness this Coven aches for to survive. She will compete."
"But she is still healing, Myrtle. I don't think she's ready for this kind of challenge. There are too many risks," Cordelia bit back.
"I've said it before, Cordelia, and I am not afraid of repeating myself. She has brought more people back from the dead than Jesus Christ himself!" Myrtle ascended from the sofa and floated across the lounge. She paused beside the fireplace, sighing in disappointment. "Our Coven has suffered because of those who took too much initiative but never applied it. If Misty Day is willing to participate then I wholly support her. Nay, I insist upon her presence. There is more to her than even you can see, Cordelia."
Cordelia tensed up at Myrtle's emphasis on her sight. She poured her shoulders back and raised her head. "There is too much danger for such an inexperienced witch. What about Descensum? I need more time to teach her before I let her undergo such an ordeal. I won't let her become someone for the other girls to ridicule. She's suffered enough because of them." Her boots rocked irritably on the floor.
"As the remaining Head of your Council, I demand her participation," Myrtle concluded. "She will partake in the Seven Wonders. On the spirit of Elsa Schiaparelli, I affirm it." There would be no further arguments.
With the flick of her head, Myrtle alighted from the room, hesitating only to place an authoritative hand on Cordelia's neck. The headmistress accepted it resentfully, knowing full well that she would continue to fight for Misty.
She thought of Misty's naive eyes, of her eager face. Nature brought them safety, but if Misty was to have any hope in the Seven Wonders, Cordelia would have to teach her how to overcome it. And prepare her for the fallout.
She picked herself out of her seat and trod delicately back to the staircase. She felt a breeze bombard her as footsteps approached from the corridor.
"Smile, Delia! You could be looking at your new Supreme," Madison smirked, swaying past her. She was too caught up in preparation to reply. Stabbing her cane in the air, she preserved the image of Misty in her mind.
I will protect you, she whispered, longing to hold Misty's fragile body. I will be your safety.