Mina began to speak.

  “I have questions.”

  “Ask them.”

  “Mother Tree, your deliberations have associations that you want addressed. Firstly, the transfer of your mantle. Secondly, the ensured well-being of your mushkin. That’s how I understand it.”

  The Mother Tree answered. “You know the truth.”

  “Then I pose my question. How will the next Mother Tree be chosen?” she asked. “Because part of the solution is to find a way for you to pass on. But how can one deliberate on the methodology of your passing through, when it might interfere with the bestowal of the mantle?”

  I had been wondering about the same thing. If Mina hadn’t asked, I would’ve.

  “The Witch will take care of the matter of the mantle, after my passing. There is no need for you to worry,” she said.

  Mina nodded slowly. “Ok then. So it’s safe to say that it doesn’t matter how you die, but you are more concerned with the mushkin’s treatment afterwards?”

  “Correct again, child.”

  Mina was obviously very used to public speaking. She didn’t look just at the Mother Tree, but divided the rest of her attention between the Hudson Witch, Victor, and me, with the majority of it being given to the two older preternaturals. I could imagine her as the valedictorian of a fancy prep school, giving a speech with the gown and cap. She was definitely one of the popular crowd. Then again, she did have a nasty mean streak to her.

  I guess it wouldn’t stop her from being popular, though.

  “And we are being judged on the merit of our solutions? For example, my harabeoji can help?”

  “Your folk are part of your practice,” the Hudson Witch answered.

  “That makes this simple then,” Mina said. She gestured in the general direction of the Mother Tree’s arbor body. “One of the issues is that the mushkin is attached to you.”

  “That’s a nice way of saying they’re parasitizing her,” I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for Wol to hear.

  My feline familiar flicked his tail against my leg.

  “Depending on how you pass away, it could potentially hurt them. I propose a solution of ice,” Mina said. “First, the matter of your passing. Once frostbite reaches a certain point, death by ice is relatively painless. In the same vein, I can freeze the mushkin.”

  The Mother Tree leaned down, bringing her absolutely massive face low to the ground and only inches from Mina. The weight of her attention was gargantuan. “Explain.”

  Holy crap, if the Mother Tree really wanted to, she could rip off our arms and legs like we were insects.

  Mina flinched. Though she had her back to me, I heard the nervous smile in her voice—along with something that could’ve passed for gentleness. “You are worried that your children won’t be accepted by the forest. Of course not. When they awake in the Spring, they will find their mother gone, and the mushkin having fed on your body for the entirety of Winter. What child would respond well to that? I would freeze them. Send them into a false hibernation, similar to what your children are doing.”

  “And what would this accomplish?” the Mother Tree asked, glancing at the Hudson Witch, then back at Mina.

  “Buy time,” Mina said. “Come spring, I will personally speak to those of your forest, delivering your last words, and make sure the mushkin are accepted among them. It would also preserve your body, so that those wishing to say good-bye could pay their respects one last time.”

  The Mother Tree’s face was still low to the ground. She narrowed her eyes in a definite, terrifying kind of way that I didn’t know she could do. She had a neutral expression most of the time, but this expression of obvious discontent and suspicion was capital-S scary. I had to stop myself from running —limping— for the hills.

  The Hudson Witch’s expression was unreadable. “Anything more to say, lass?”

  “N-No,” Mina stammered, but recovered quickly, standing straight against the green giant’s pointed displeasure, “Just one last thing, that the process would be harmless to the mushkin.”

  The Hudson Witch turned to the Mother Tree.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “That will be weighed,” the dryad said.

  Mina turned and returned to where we were standing. Most people show dejection in different ways. Maybe a strained smile, a little lifelessness in their walk, or hunched shoulders. Mina Baek, however, stood as straight as ever, keeping her eyes straight ahead, and gave no sign that she was nervous to the Mother Tree’s reactions.

  I had to admit that was a little impressive. Not everyone can keep a poker face that well.

  “Valentine or Hallow. Whoever wishes to speak, feel free,” the Hudson Witch said.

  Victor’s salamander awoke. Tiny as it was, I was able to see its snout point in my general direction. After a second or two, it returned to resting its head on its tail.

  “I guess I can go,” Victor said and took a single step forward.

  Mina’s suggestion had changed the mood around the Mother Tree. She leaned forward, reaching forward with one gargantuan arm to drag herself along the ground closer towards Victor until her greenish teeth were only inches from him. The pupils of her eyes were dead still and full of tension, locked on the young Valentine.

  “I offer death,” Victor said without preamble. “For both you and your children.”

  And the wailing winter winds went absolutely silent as the Mother Tree’s pupils widened with sudden rage. Even the mushroom children stopped their frolicking and went to hide in the darker-than-night shadows that she cast over the snowy hillscape. They peeked through, empty eyes staring at Victor.

  I heard myself swallow.

  The corner of the Mother Tree’s lips bent derisively. “You would kill my children?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Because that’s the answer I have reached.”

  The spirit’s face seemed to grow, twisting in on itself and threatening to transform into something else. The Hudson Witch was at the dryad’s side in a few sure steps, putting a calming hand on the giant’s hand. “Calm, old friend. We have agreed to hear.”

  The Mother Tree sneered down at the Hudson Witch, her eyes clouding over into the tiny voids, mirroring the eyes on the mushkin. The mushkin began gibbering in their strange language, voices harmonizing yet discordant in the same note.

  Seoul growled and stepped forward protectively in front of Mina. “Infection,” he said simply.

  I felt my hand reaching for my knife too, about to… I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do, to be honest. If the Mother Tree decided to throw down right here, holy hell, I wasn’t sure how that was going to go. This wasn’t some boss raid in a video game. The spirit was a giant. And this sudden transformation radiated with fell-turned anger, and I felt it grate against my skin like sandpaper.

  “Old friend, please,” the Hudson Witch pleaded.

  The Mother Tree closed her eyes and opened them again. They were back to normal. When she spoke, her voice was huskier than before, trembling with something thick. “I am listening.”

  Victor hadn’t batted an eyelash in the onslaught of the Mother Tree’s anger. I had to give it to him. The guy had balls. “You are in pain,” he said, as if that explained everything

  She tilted her head, slowly, but a little less aggressively. Finally, she gave him a slow-moving nod.

  “It is not just the wound on your stomach. It is the presence of the mushkin. They grow stronger by feeding off your life force. Quickening your death,” he said, “My grandmother told me Mother Trees take their time in choosing a successor. But you… You want to hurry because you are suffering. You don’t want to hurt anymore.”

  The Mother Tree’s body grew less tense with every word. She closed her eyes, then a small shiver went through her neck and shoulders. “Yes, young one. I hurt.”

  “I can end that for you. End your suffering,” he said, his tone more gentle than I’d thought possible out of the Valentine, “But we both know that after your death, the mushkin will suffer. No matter what anyone does, they will never be accepted. Because the basis of their existence lies in killing others to live.”

  “We all do, child. We all do,” the Mother Tree said, but there was no fight in her voice.

  “After you’re gone, your children and the mushkin will fight. You know this?”

  Weary, she nodded.

  “Especially because the new Mother Tree will believe that her mother was killed by the mushkin. When they awake, they won’t hear your words. Many will believe that you would have been saved if it weren’t for the mushkin. It will be a small war.” Victor finished saying. “That’s why I propose this. I can give you release from pain, and the mushkin release from the coming conflict.”

  The mushroom kids —mushkin— started to gibber more. Some of them reached out of the shadows with their gnarled fingers, clawing towards Victor’s general direction. They hissed and ground their teeth, clicking them.

  “Hush, children,” the Mother Tree said.

  One of the mushkin bit into the Mother Tree, using his entire mouth. Not because it was hungry, but because it was angry. She winced, but showed no other signs of pain.

  “I am an evocator of fire,” Victor said. “I can condense months of your suffering and years of the mushkin’s war against your children into a single instant. It would be quick. Painless.”

  “How?” the Hudson Witch asked.

  Victor cupped his hands and put Sparky on a nearby branch. Sparky slowly stood up and began to glow with embers. Eventually, fire sprouted from the tiny familiar, creating a little palm-sized bonfire.

  Instinctively, I reached out with my Third Eye and was surprised that it wasn’t normal fire. It began to glow white, and faint magic emanated from it.

  “It’s enchanted,” I mummured. “But there’s no emotion in it. It’s just… empty.”

  “I was gifted this fire from my great-grandfather, who fought in the Vietnam war,” Victor said. “It’s called White Fire.”

  I was the only one who hissed, while everyone else waited for Victor to elaborate. He turned my way. “You know what this is, Hallow?”

  “Anyone who took any basic U.S history class knows what White Fire is,” I said, taking a step back and dragging Wol and Hwari with me. “They used it in the Vietnam War. A war that we fucking lost. White phosphorous. Willie Pete. It’s basically napalm. It sticks. It burns through everything. It’s… It’s a fucking bomb.”

  Victor stared at me, his expression blank. “Yes. But this is just a memory. The memories of a person who experienced napalm in their dying moments, burned into the fire. My grandfather gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday, and I had Sparky eat it, keeping it stored until now.”

  “So it’s not actual napalm, and more a magical-memory version of it?”

  Victor nodded.

  My heart slowed to its normal rhythm, and I let myself breathe.

  Victor turned back to the Mother Tree. “With this, your death will be painless. Peaceful.” He jerked his head towards the hissing mushrooms. “And so will theirs.”

  With that, he returned to where Mina and I were.

  The Mother Tree was still. She looked down at her wounds, at the mushroom children, then at the limits of the forest a few hundred feet off up the hill. Victor had offered her a way out, and on top of it, to off the mushkin with her. I could see the charm in it, from a non-emotional, cold, detached, logical standpoint. Without the mushkin, she wouldn’t have to worry about their well-being. If her worry really was so far enough in the future that there would be a small war between the mushkin and the dryads, I could see the appeal.

  Holy shit, she was considering it.