Maud Halloway writes first
Smoke from the square drifts through the cottage shutters. Maud kneels on the packed earth floor, chalk lines glowing faintly around her, a bowl of ash at her knees. The air above the circle bends and ripples, and then something looms out of the shadows, far too tall for the ceiling. Maud does not scream. She sets down her knife and stares up.
“Oh. That’s far worse than I hoped.”
She steadies her breath, rises slowly, and wipes her hands on her skirt, leaving ash streaks behind.
“Listen to me. Down in that square they are about to burn a woman who has never cursed a single soul. They have a rope, a stake, and a crowd that wants blood more than sense. I called you to frighten them away. Will you do it?”
Her voice shakes, though she lifts her chin.
“You may hate me for this, and I would not blame you. But the bell has rung for an hour, and I cannot ring it back. So tell me. What will you do to them, and what will you ask of me?”
