Aisling crouched in a field of nothing, her palm pressed to the ground she couldn’t quite feel. This wasn’t reality, or even a place, just the space of her mind where only she should exist.

And yet, there was another.

A darker energy that gathered in the corners. A witch queen who screamed into the darkness that she refused to die. Aisling was pleased that she would fight. She wanted to feel the witch’s anguish as she squeezed the life from her throat.

Slowly she stood, stretching her body, feeling the ache of exhaustion building in the muscle of her lower back. Carman’s magic forced her to constantly shield her mind. She’d allowed her to take control for a few moments, knowing that the witch would get too confident, being thrown into the void of her own mind had been unsettling.

No more. Carman might be the witch queen of old, but she hadn’t learned any new tricks.

The bubble of her shield extended outward. White mist swirled around her legs as she walked to the very edge where Carman slammed her fists against the wall over and over again.

Aisling could finally hear her enraged screams.

“Let me out!” she shouted. “You’re killing us both. Give me control!”

“No.”

“You foolish girl! My life is not worthy of death. Let me out or take control over your body again. You are going to die.”

Aisling nodded, tucking her hands behind her back. “Yes, I likely will. But so will you. And the world will be a much better place without you.”

“How dare you?” Carman pressed herself nearly flat against Aisling’s shield, teeth bared in a snarl. “I am the Witch Queen of Greece who razed these lands to the ground. I have destroyed many witches before you. You will never defeat me.”

Anger made Aisling’s heart beat faster. Sweat slicked her palms, and a menacing grin spread across her face. She stepped closer and pressed her hand to the shield, mirroring Carman’s position. “I am the descendent of a thousand witches you let burn.” Her lips twisted into a weak grin. “And now, so shall you.”

Green spears of light slammed down from the sky. They imbedded in the ground around Carman, creating a cage around her. More and more fell, each new spear forcing her closer to Aisling’s shield until she was pressed against it entirely, her cheek next to Aisling’s hand.

And yet, through it all, Aisling only felt pity. This was a woman who had never experienced love. Not truly. Even her sons hadn’t expressed their love when they came back alive. They just fought for her, blindly and loyally, but without any true connection at all.

Aisling stroked her finger against the shield. “I’m sorry, my sister. There is no other way.”

“Aisling, we’re dying!” Carman screamed.

She could feel it. The way even her mind seemed to blur. The mist was more than just mist now, but a white light dragging her away to another place.

“I know,” she whispered. “I know.”

It didn’t matter if she had to destroy herself to rid the world of Carman. Aisling knew her kingdom would live on without her. They would find shelter tucked under Bran’s wing, kindness at Lorcan’s side, and love within their ranks, all without a queen to assist them. The world would continue on without a witch with them.

Sometimes, it stung how little she mattered. In the grand scheme of things, a life like hers was only a heartbeat in time.

Carman had been alive much longer. A woman made of magic that came deep from within the earth always was an ancient. Perhaps it was harder for her to let go of life.

The witch queen stared at her with wide eyes, reaching her hand through a small hole in the green spears to press against the shield. “Please,” she begged, “don’t do this to us. You don’t really want to die.”

“I don’t,” Aisling said. “But is there another way?”

“I have seen countless kingdoms fall, watched men take thrones and lose them in a breath of time. I have seen dreams shattered and prideful men lose everything. In every end, there was another choice that would have led to a different path. There is another way.” Her hand pressed harder against Aisling’s shield, slipping through the magic until she could hold her fingers out for Aisling to take. “We are witches, Aisling. We are fateless, deathless, and immortal if we wish to be.”

The words were tempting, but the meaning behind them shallow and weak. Aisling shook her head, reached out, and laced her fingers with Carman’s.

“Close your eyes with me,” she whispered, letting her lids drift shut. “Let us sink deep into ourselves, into the magic that builds around us.”

“No,” Carman replied. “Don’t do this to us.”

“A witch never dies. We return to the magic from whence we came. We become the magic. Come with me, sister. Redeem yourself in the eyes of all you have failed.”

“We have failed because of you.”

A white light fell over them both, glimmering with magic and power. To Aisling, it felt like the most comforting blanket spreading over her shoulders and pulling her back into kind arms. It was quiet happiness, light and beautiful and all that was good in the world.

She breathed in the essence and sighed, “Oh Carman, we haven’t failed them at all. We’ve simply given them space to grow.”

She felt her body take its last breath. A gasping inhale rocked her form and that of her soul trapped in her mind with Carman. The witch queen sobbed, fell forward into Aisling’s waiting arms, and together they held each other as their shared physical form died.

The form of Carman melted away into white ash that drifted out of her arms on a breeze. Aisling waited for her own time, staring into the white mist that swirled around her, then closed her eyes with a sigh. This wasn’t where she thought she would die.

Perhaps it was childish to hope she would die in the arms of someone who loved her. She’d thought she would die in Bran’s arms, where he would pour love and kindness into her last moments until she forgot how painful death was.

But she discovered now that death wasn’t painful at all.

It was just sad.

She waited for the moment when all the weight of responsibility would lift from her shoulders. Waited for the next stage of her afterlife, the unknown world she’d heard the humans talk about so much. Was there a heaven for faeries? She didn’t know.

A hand touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes and turned to stare at the woman who grasped her shoulder. Tall and lithe, the blonde wore a diaphanous robe that undulated around her body. She smiled softly, light glowing from within her body, then gestured behind Aisling.

She was surrounded by women who all looked remarkably similar. Each with hair as white as hers, silken robes, and a smile on their face that was both proud and kind.

“Aisling,” they said as one. “You’ve saved us.”

“Who are you?” she asked. But she didn’t really need to ask at all.

These were the numerous Raven Queens who had come before her, or should have been. They smiled at her because, finally, after all this time, the curse was truly broken.

Aisling let her head fall back in relief. “Then it’s done.”

“It’s done.”

“Am I to go home with you?” she asked. She didn’t really want to. She wanted to return to her home with the man she loved, to a kingdom that should prosper. That should have prospered for hundreds of years if not for the effects of Carman.

“No. Your time in here is limited.”

Aisling frowned. “Limited? But I died. I could feel my own death.”

“A true Raven Queen cannot die. She’s connected to the earth, to Underhill itself. Carman stole that from us long ago.” One of the women reached out and touched her cheek. “You have taken that magic back. The land heals you, Aisling. It feeds you; it gives you power. And it would never let you die.”

Power surged into her body, lacing through her veins, like a bolt of lightning striking a tree. She was on fire, burning with magic, flaming with the possibilities. It wasn’t just her sisters, and it wasn’t just the excitement of life flooding through her. The magic was threading through her like the land was stitching itself into the fabric of Aisling’s being.

Underhill was pleased to have her home.

Magic sizzled hot and powerful, pulling her from the space of her mind. It dragged her back into a physical form that was the same, but not. Now, there was so much more to her than just Aisling the witch, Aisling the Raven Queen. She was Underhill itself. A small goddess, but powerful beyond measure.

The rope around her neck was uncomfortable, but no longer burned. She lifted a hand, touched a finger to the burlap, and felt the weaving unravel immediately.

The hanging tree let her go with a sigh of relief and pleasure. It hadn’t wanted her to swing in its branches with the rest of the condemned souls. She was suited here, watching over this land and its people, alongside her king who would now become infinitely more powerful when he fed off her power. She wasn’t just a witch now; she was Underhill itself.

Together, they would bring Underhill back to its former glory. They would bring their people to prosperity. But most of all, Aisling knew they would live their lives together with so much love they would feel full to bursting.

Aisling’s feet touched the ground, toes sinking into soft loam that suddenly felt squishy with life. She sank deep into the earth. It breathed beneath her, flexing with new life that it hadn’t had before. Underhill sighed with relief as a new era began in the heart of a Raven Queen.

She spread her fingers wide. This body, although the same, felt different. Far more different than she’d expected. It was hers but it was…more.

Earthen magic flowed in her veins. Greenery blossomed at her feet, spreading like a wave everywhere she looked. Dead, dried dirt turned into chocolate-colored loam that rolled in great waves farther and farther from her.

Although it felt strange to share so much of her power at once, it also felt right. A weight lifted off her shoulders, and she finally found relief after struggling for so long.

Aisling looked down at the knife buried in her chest. Blood still leaked from the wound, but far slower than it had before. She grasped the hilt without thought and slid it from the hole in her chest.

The wound closed as soon as the air touched it.

Aisling dropped the knife to the ground and pressed her hand against what had been the wound. Was it possible that Underhill could heal even a mortal wound? She hadn’t expected the magic to be quite so powerful. Defying death had always seemed impossible, even to a witch.

“Aisling?” the words were carefully said, as if the speaker didn’t believe it was her. “How?”

When she looked up, her gaze caught on a dark one, eyes as deep and expansive as the night sky. It took a moment for her to recognize him. The dusted black feathers over his right eye that stretched back over his head. The same side held a yellow eye that whirled wildly over the length of her body. But the other, the dark eye, was the one that watched her with a fascination that put the memory back in place.

“Bran?” she asked quietly, her voice wavering slightly.

It was him. She knew it was him, even though it felt like she was looking at him with new eyes. This was the man she loved, the one who had given her so much freedom and had stolen her heart on a journey that would change her life forever. How could she have forgotten him?

He stepped forward, halting and stiff. His face was white as snow and his hand shaking as he lifted it. “Is it you behind those eyes or Carman?”

“The witch queen is dead.” She could say that with certainty. She’d feel the witch if she wasn’t. Her presence had lurked in Aisling’s mind long enough that she knew the acidic flavor of her dark magic. “She won’t return.”

Bran blew out a disbelieving breath, still hesitant in his movements. “How are you doing all this?”

The earth had changed in the mere moments they’d been speaking. The mausoleum had melted away until the hanging tree stood in first a desert, then a meadow, as her magic spread throughout Underhill.

Aisling lifted her hands and reached for him. “This is what was stolen so long ago from the Raven King and Queen. You look out for the people and are tied to them. To the sluagh. The Raven Queen is tied to the land, and she ensures its survival.”

And how good it felt. Finally, after all these years, she had a purpose in life. It wasn’t just to be a witch, to heal, to keep others safe. She was here to keep Underhill alive.

Bran let out a choked sound, stumbled forward, and then rushed forward like a storm racing across the plains. He crashed into her, harshly pulling her against him and sealing their mouths together. He tasted her like a starving man, like a man denied the world who then had it given to him on a platter.

The magic of the Raven Queen drifted away on the taste of wine that poured from his tongue. Their teeth clashed in battle, but she didn’t care if he drew blood from her lips. Let him have it since he already had everything else. Her respect, her dedication, her love.

She pulled back slightly, out of breath and with worry making her hair stand on end. She stared up into his eyes and noted the mulberry bruises surrounding them. How his lips were chapped when she remembered them velvet smooth. He looked tired. Bone tired, the kind that made a man not think straight.

His body shook under her hands so she drew him closer. He trembled in her arms, ribs shaking with breaths, knees shivering with emotion so strong she didn’t know how to comfort him. Aisling ran her hands up his sides. “What’s the matter, my love? You looked troubled.”

“Troubled?” he said on a huffing breath of disbelief. “You just died in front of me, because of me, and I didn’t know if I could—”

When he paused, she saw the panic in his gaze. He searched hers for signs of life. She was certain he needed to remind himself she was there so she touched her fingertips to his ribs again.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere again.”

Bran reached up and feathered a fingertip over her lower lip. “I promised you a thousand sunrises, and a thousand more after that, until the sun no longer rises from the sky and the world falls into darkness that only we could love. And I thought I’d have to break that promise. It nearly ruined me, you reckless woman.”

“I knew it wouldn’t,” she replied.

“How?”

“Because there is no darkness powerful enough in this world to take me from your side.” She leaned up and pressed her lips to his. “I love you. Every aching inch of your moonlight soul.”

He pressed a hand onto her lower back and drew her closer. “And I every part of your wildflower heart.”