Sparks and heat shot into the air and through the crowd as the bonfire burst in an eruption of light and heat. Screams were lost in the roar of flames as they flared out into the masses, and Lenesa coughed as the smoke clogged her lungs and the impact pushed her backwards along the cobblestones.

Protect, heal, protect.

It seemed like years, but the flames finally receded. Lenesa released her magic and collapsed to the ground, ignoring the way she landed on her wounded shoulder and the fact that it should have healed itself by now. Maybe she lost consciousness, but by the time she was able to focus again, embers had landed on the wooden stage and caught it on fire. Most people were running away in horror at the explosion, but some, including Decliteur, were staying to bring buckets from the fountain to put out the flames.

Was anyone hurt? Lenesa fought to raise her head and look around. A few figures who had been closest to the bonfire were lying unmoving on the ground, but they didn't look too badly injured. Still, Lenesa realized, she should have put up more protections against the extreme heat of the explosion, and not just the flames. Though skin may not have been burned, the heat might have proved too intense.  Clothing of some others closest to the fire had caught the flames, and the smell of burnt hair lingered in the air. The burnt clothing was quickly discarded with fearful cries, and the cobblestones were dotted with smoking remnants of fabric.

Aside from those singed by the explosion, there were also several individuals who were getting trampled in the panicked stampede rushing to leave the plaza. Lenesa had no way of helping those people in her current state, and tried her best to blot out the screams that carried over the shouts and sounds of tramping feet. She looked away, back to the smoldering remains of the bonfire. Where was the Turned witch?

There was no sign of her. Either the explosion had reduced her to cinders, or she had already made her escape—something she herself should do, Lenesa realized through her daze.

She struggled to her feet, swaying against a wave of lightheadedness that threatened to sent her back to the ground. Her legs felt too much like water and there wasn't enough sensation in them to keep her standing for long. Lenesa checked that the hood was still covering her head before taking a few steps towards the buildings at the edge of the plaza. The arched columns beneath the buildings seemed too far away, but there was nothing closer that offered a hiding place.

The sounds around her had grown frightening in their volume, screams and terrified cries echoing through the plaza in an indiscernible cacophony. Someone ran past, bumping into her injured shoulder, and Lenesa let out a pained grunt before she could stop the sound.

"Hey! Someone stop her! Stop that woman!"

The shout carried over the other sounds of panic, and Lenesa turned. The man who had taken notice of her kneeling on the ground earlier was pointing her way, and the witch hunters near the half-blackened stage had now looked up at the order.

She had to run.

Fighting against the darkness that threatened her vision, Lenesa pushed through the crowd, heedless of the pain radiating through her body. The fact that everyone else was already shoving in their terrified haste to get away from the explosion made it even more difficult for her to get away.

Boots pounded on the ground behind her—she didn't dare turn to look back. Shouts accompanied the sounds of pursuit, in cries of "Stop her!" and "Out of the way!"

Lenesa's blood pounded in her ears, her ragged breathing taking in very little of the air she so desperately needed. She was almost at the columns now, where she might be able to lose them in the shadows—

What little hope she had was soon dashed as her foot caught on a discarded shoe and she catapulted forward and down. Time slowed. Her arms stretched out, trying to right herself so she could keep running, but she only grasped air.

They would surely catch her now.

Just before Lenesa could become reacquainted with the unforgiving cobblestones beneath her, however, a pair of arms caught her from behind, one coming around to support her waist and the other looping her left arm over a firm shoulder.

Lenesa's eyes flickered to her left, but with her pursuers so close, there was no time to get a good look at her rescuer. A flash of brown fabric and a hood caught her eyes, and that was enough. It had to be Kivirra. Lenesa let herself be hurried into the shadows beneath the archways at the edge of the plaza. Her feet were so useless at this point that Kivirra was practically carrying both of their weights.

Mindful of their pursuers, they didn't stop beneath the columns. Instead, the two of them ducked around a corner and hurried over to a small half-door in a nook next to a store. The door opened without much complaint to reveal a small storeroom, barely high enough to stand up in. Along the walls, candles burned in reflective metal holders, at the ready for a store clerk's visit to restock supplies during the increased demand of crowds from the festival.

The door shut behind them, the soft thud of the wood against its stone frame the only sound aside from their ragged panting. There was no bolt or latch from the inside—if they were discovered, it would be their end.

A moment of tense silence passed, and then Lenesa heard them. Leather slapped against stone just outside as several pairs of feet ran past. But they were unaware of the witches' refuge, and Lenesa and Kivirra remained undiscovered.

Had they really managed to escape? Lenesa sucked in a relieved breath, now registering the smell of sawdust that permeated the storeroom. Shadowy barrels and crates occupied most of the space, and Lenesa let herself be lowered against a burlap sack that shifted behind her like grain. She gritted her teeth as pressure on her injured shoulder sent another jolt of pain along the right side of her body. Even the wounds when she had fought Parnelius hadn't taken this long to heal. Maybe she should try a poultice when she got back home. Sometimes injuries just needed a little more encouragement to heal.

Lenesa opened eyes she hadn't realized she had closed when the touch of cool metal pressed against the skin of her neck. Her eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the dim lighting, and it took a few moments to focus on the figure leaning over her. Once she did, the shock had her starting back against the burlap behind her.

"Theiden," she gasped. His face was dark and serious, much like the time they had first met. How could she have been so foolish? She should have paid more attention than a passing glance when someone had helped her out of the plaza. More than just Kivirra wore a brown cloak, but Lenesa hadn't imagined anyone else besides the older witch would have helped her. The lack of Kivirra's strong aura should have been her first clue that it wasn't the older witch.

"Take off your gloves," Theiden demanded, not bothering with a greeting. Lenesa's heart sank at the cold detachment in his voice. Was this the end? Now that they had agreed to treat each other like strangers, would he kill her now?

"Your gloves," Theiden repeated when she failed to respond. "Take them off."

The sharp blade he held dug into her neck, cutting the skin. Lenesa drew a sharp intake of breath and struggled to take the glove off the hand of her injured right arm. It hurt too much to do the same with her left glove, so Lenesa hesitantly brought her hand up and tugged it off with her teeth.

Theiden's gaze broke their stare as he assessed the ominous black designs lacing her skin. Lenesa didn't expect the inquisitive look when his gaze returned, and the fierceness in his expression made her stomach flip. Where was the anger, and the vow to slay her before she killed any more innocent souls?

"What are you?" he finally asked, the words brushing against the silence of the room. On the other side of the door, muted sounds of the chaos after the bonfire disaster continued.

Her voice trickled out like gritty sand, threatening to make her cough as she responded, "What do you mean?"

He gripped her injured shoulder, heedless of her pained grimace at the action. "Did you kill the guards at the river gate?"

Lenesa closed her eyes. This was it. He would kill her as soon as the answer left her lips. "Yes."

A trickle of blood rolled down her neck as the blade cut deeper.

"And the woman picking berries in the forest?"

Lenesa's eyes opened again, slowly. "No. I only eased her pain."

Theiden moved closer, his warm breath brushing her skin. His clothes smelled like forest pine and old leather, with only the faintest hints of the disastrous bonfire smoke. "Why?"

"Why what, Theiden?" The pressure of the knife made her eyes water, and it was getting harder to breathe. She might be able to push him away with a burst of raw magic, but she was too weak to stand up and run very far, and she was too tired to summon any more protective spells at the moment.

"Why did you kill the guards?" Theiden demanded. His grip was nearly crushing her injured shoulder now, and Lenesa bit back a whimper, refusing to appear any weaker in front of him.

"I was frightened," she whispered. "It just happened. I only wanted to escape."

"Then why help the berry-picker?" he challenged, the rumbling growl at the back of his throat suggesting that he didn't believe her words.

"It's part of my magic," she said. "If they are beyond healing, I take others' pain as my own to lessen theirs." She looked away, trying to ignore the painful tug of her skin on the knife blade at the motion. "I wanted to lessen her pain."

Theiden's hand mercifully left her shoulder, but came to grip her chin and turn her face back to him. For just a moment, his thumb brushed over the scar along her cheek.

"Are you Turned?" he asked. This time, his voice was gentler, but the fire in his eyes still burned bright.

She hated the tear that slipped from the corner of her eye. "I don't know," she whispered. "I don't want to be."

At her words, Theiden released his grip, looking a bit regretful at his earlier display of roughness. The knife at Lenesa's throat, however, remained, and the questions continued.

"What happened with the bonfire?" he demanded. "What was that? The witch hunters think you can control magic that isn't your own—that isn't healing in nature. Did you make the fire explode?"

Lenesa moistened her dry lips before she replied, not sure how well her answer would be received.

"There was a Turned witch that killed the woman in the forest, who was working with the faun that Decliteur killed," Lenesa whispered. "She was the one who fed the fire with raw magic until it exploded—I was just trying to set up a protection spell. I know there's no way for me to prove it and you wouldn't have even seen her because she wove an illusion of invisibility, but—"

The knife disappeared from her throat, and Lenesa gasped to take air more fully into her lungs.

"It makes sense," Theiden said softly, returning the knife to its sheath at his belt. "We saw a witch that could create mirages when we encountered the faun, and Decliteur challenged her to come to the bonfire tonight."

Lenesa's eyes shuttered closed again now that the threat of the knife was gone. She could barely manage a flicker even when she felt Theiden's hands brush against her shoulder, assessing the injury.

"You need to set this," she vaguely registered him saying. His voice carried through the darkness around her, like thunder on a stormy night. She could barely manage a hum to let him know she'd heard. Her body was too heavy. Too much magic, too much pain, too much fear. If Theiden turned her in to the witch hunters, it would be better that she was sent to them this way. She wouldn't have to suffer as long at their hands.

"Lenesa."

Sawdust wasn't a bad smell, she decided. And grain or not, whatever filled the burlap sack behind her was comfortable enough to settle into.

"Here, bite this." Something like a wad of cloth that oddly tasted of salt and citrus was held up to her mouth, and Lenesa vaguely registered doing as instructed. "It'll be over quickly."

Was the man still talking? Why?

Blinding white pain shot through the darkness of Lenesa's vision as the gentle fingers on her shoulder turned firm and forceful, wrenching her arm back into place. Lenesa's scream was muffled by the object in her mouth, and she spat it out as soon as Theiden's hands retreated, now fully alert again.

"You—!" she swung her good left hand out to hit him, but ended up knocking over an empty bucket she hadn't seen in the darkness instead. "Ow. What was that for?"

Theiden frowned and held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I was just trying to help," he said, glancing warily at the upturned bucket. "Don't you feel better?"

"I know what you did, the question is why," Lenesa snapped, feeling her newfound energy fading quickly. "The last time we met, we agreed to treat each other like strangers from then on. By all rights, you should be turning me in to the witch hunters, not...helping me."

Exhaustion crept up on her again, and she slumped back against the burlap sack.

"I was wrong," Theiden said. "The witch hunters aren't what I thought they were. The witches aren't what I thought they were. And you certainly aren't what I thought you were."

"I'm not even what I thought I was," Lenesa mumbled. "So if you know anything about me, please feel free to share."

"The point is, we're too caught up in each others' lives to try to go back to the way things were before we met," Theiden said. "And I realize now whose side I should be on. The witches and Patachal City can't keep fighting like this, or we'll destroy each other. I want to help you, and Kivirra, and any of the other witches who haven't Turned yet."

He paused, and looked down at Lenesa's ungloved hands. "I only hope I'm not too late."

Lenesa struggled to keep her lids from falling closed again. "You would help me?" she asked. It seemed like so long ago now when she had bargained with him to help her fight off the Turned creatures in exchange for his freedom. She had been foolish then, and selfish, to demand such a steep price from him—the skirmish with Audeste had taught her that.

"Yes," Theiden said. "I would. Back in the mountains, I was starting to understand that this whole matter is more complicated than what I originally thought. But when I found out you'd been lying to me, I dismissed all I'd learned as just a trick of your manipulation.  I've taken a closer look, however, since coming back home, and learned more about what is going on in this city. And I just can't side with the witch hunters' beliefs any more. You may do wrong at times, but you mean well. I can't say the same for them."

Her limbs were impossibly heavy, but somehow, Lenesa managed to move her hand, just enough to reach out and touch the back of his.

"Thank you," she said, voice barely more than a breath of air. "But what do we do now?"

She heard more than saw him shift in the dim light, a soft scuffle of soles against the floor as he moved to sit beside her. Lenesa tensed at the proximity, awareness sparking at her skin where the fabric at their shoulders just barely touched.

"Rest for a bit, until the witch hunters stop searching for you and the mayhem outside has died down," Theiden said. His voice was calm and soothing, and her fatigue was winning over her will to stay alert. "We'll figure out what to do after that."

Lenesa's head nodded, and she found herself starting to lean against him but too tired to care. A slow blink turned into a longer one, and then she surrendered to the dark oblivion of sleep.

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New chapter, yay! Please vote if you liked the chapter and let me know what you think!