The Vampire & Her Witch

”All of Lady Ashlynn’s witches are unique and precious,” Harrod said as he desperately searched for words that would help to pull Ollie back from the darkness that seemed to have overtaken him at the edge of death.

”Each of you has something that no one else does, even before you became witches, and that includes you,” Harrod said firmly. ”Lady Ashlynn didn’t send Heila on this mission. She didn’t send Virve or Isabell. She sent you, Sir Ollie, because there are things that only you can do, and deep down, you know that it’s true.”

”What things?” Ollie whispered in a voice that was filled with a combination of soul-crushing doubt and a deep certainty that he had nothing unique to offer.

Harrod opened his mouth to answer, then hesitated, struggling to find the words to explain what made Ollie special. How could he describe the way Ollie cared for people, or the way he saw the good in everyone, even when they couldn’t see it in themselves? The way he built bridges between humans and Eldritch when everyone else saw only walls? How could he put into words the quiet strength that Ollie possessed, the determination to protect others even at the cost of himself?

Ollie’s strength wasn’t often flashy. He simply showed up and did what needed doing. When the people who fled from Milo’s village needed a hot meal, Ollie showed up and cooked for them. From the outside, when you said it, it sounded like something anyone could do. Georg could cook, and so could most any housewife or hunter.

But when Ollie cooked for people, he went further, finding ways to nurture a person’s spirit along with their body, whether it was by finding a way to make sweet treats for dozens of displaced children who needed something to look forward to, or preparing fortifying soups and stocks that could be fed to people like Old Nan who had been so overcome with depression that, without someone to spoon feed her, she would have wasted away.

Ollie just showed up and did what needed doing... It sounded simple, but it was so much more than that.

”It’s hard to put into words,” Harrod finally admitted. ”But I know that Lady Ashlynn sees things in people that they can’t see in themselves. She wouldn’t have made you a witch if she didn’t see how amazing you truly are. You have to trust her, Sir Ollie. Trust that she knows what she’s doing. Trust that you’re exactly what she needs you to be, even if you can’t see it yourself.”

For a moment, Milo thought it might be enough. He felt Ollie take a deeper breath, felt some small measure of tension return to muscles that had gone slack with exhaustion. But then Ollie’s eyes drifted closed again, and when he spoke, his voice was even weaker than before.

”She’ll be fine... without me,” Ollie murmured. ”She’s strong. She can... find someone else.”

Panic clawed at Milo’s chest. The mission wasn’t enough. Lady Ashlynn wasn’t enough. He needed something else, something more personal, something that would anchor Ollie to the world of the living instead of letting him slip away into the darkness.

”What about the village?” Milo said desperately. ”What about everyone there? They need you, Ollie. Old Nan needs you. Daithi needs you. All the people we’ve taken in, Samira and Noomi and all the rest, all the families we’ve helped rebuild their lives, they need you.”

Ollie’s lips curved in the faintest shadow of a smile, sad and resigned.

”The hard part... is done,” Ollie whispered. ”Others can... carry the burden now. Daithi... Eamon... but most of all... you, Milo. If anyone can... safeguard what we built... It’s you. You’re strong... capable. You’ll protect them... even better than I ever could.”

”No,” Milo said, and his voice broke on the word. ”No, Ollie, that’s not true. I’m not as capable as you at understanding people’s hearts, at caring for them the way you do. I can protect their homes, yes. I can fight off raiders if anyone ever makes it into the Vale to threaten our home, hunt game, and build dams,” he said in a rush.

”But you,” Milo continued, forcing his words out even as his throat tried to seize up. ”You guard their hearts, Ollie. You make them feel safe in a way that has nothing to do with walls or weapons. The village works because of you, because you see people for who they really are and you help them see it too.”

Tears were streaming down Milo’s face now, mixing with the water that still dripped from his fur. His voice shook with emotion as he tried desperately to make Ollie understand how much he was needed, how much he was valued, how impossible it would be to continue without him.

”You can’t leave us,” Milo said. ”You can’t leave me. Not yet. Please, Ollie. Please hold on.”

But Ollie’s breathing was growing more shallow, more distant, and the shadows in his eyes seemed to be growing deeper. Nothing Milo was saying seemed to be reaching him. The void was calling, and Ollie was listening, and Milo didn’t know how to pull him back.

Then, suddenly, an idea struck him with the force of a lightning bolt. He’d forgotten, but he shouldn’t have. Ollie might not be a member of the clan, not by birth, but he was a Heartwood through and through... And because he was Sir Ollie Heartwood, the Cypress Witch who proved every day that he was worthy to bear the surname he’d chosen to honor the family he’d found among the Eldritch, there was one way that Milo was certain he could reach Ollie’s heart.

Moving as swiftly as he could, Milo released Ollie and scrambled to his feet, racing across the clearing to where Ollie’s belongings still lay by the trunk of the dying oak tree. His clawed hands tore through the pouches and pockets, scattering their contents across the frozen ground in his desperation to find what he was looking for.

”Milo?” Harrod called out, confused by his companion’s sudden departure. ”What are you doing?”

But Milo didn’t answer. His fingers finally closed around a small object wrapped in cloth, and he pulled it free with a gasp of relief. He clutched it to his chest as he ran back to Ollie’s side, dropping to his knees so hard that the impact should have hurt, but didn’t even register through the fear and hope that warred in his heart...