The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis

The air inside the war pavilion held the bite of early snow, though no one dared comment on it. The brazier glowed near my side, but I didn't move closer. I didn't need its pitiful warmth. Not when the fire in my lungs was hotter.

I stood at the center of the southern war table, surrounded by ministers who still hadn't learned how to shut their mouths. Half of them were talking over each other, squabbling about Baiguang's use of disguise, the false Daiyu uniforms found on their corpses, the green silk sewn into enemy hems.

"It's treachery!" one barked.

"It's desperation," another muttered.

"They want to frame her—frame the Crown Princess—"

That much was obvious. But what they hadn't realized yet—what they refused to understand—was that it didn't matter.

I picked up a black lacquer stick from the table. A thin metal pointer, usually reserved for demonstrating troop movements. Then I slammed it down across the map.

The sound cracked through the room.

Everyone froze.

I let the silence steep.

"They already knew they couldn't win a war of swords," I said. "So now they're trying to win a war of stories."

My voice was calm. Steady. And for that reason alone, the Empress let me speak.

"They wear our colors," I continued. "Our faces. Our movements. They want to be seen as us when the cities fall. And when the people scream, they want those screams tied to my name."

Murmurs.

The Empress didn't flinch. She stood beside me like iron dressed in silk. Her eyes tracked each man who dared open his mouth.

"You will not entertain sympathy for them," she said softly. "You will not pity those who gave up honor for theater. They chose to wear her face. Let them burn with it."

I met her gaze and dipped my head, just enough.

"The moment they tried to take my identity, to wear my name," I said, "they forfeited any right to mercy."

Yaozu stood beside the entryway, silent as ever. But I saw the way his hand rested on his lower hip, just near the hilt of his blade. He was waiting for me to give the order. Even now.

"I want fire," I said. "Controlled burns near the border villages. Let them see what happens when you mock a witch."

A young official paled. "But those are our own territories—"

"And if Baiguang steps foot in them again, those villages won't be our own for long. Better ash than stolen."

Sun Longzi spoke for the first time. "We can use the wind. The terraced fields haven't been watered in three days. The soil is dry. It'll catch fast."

The Empress nodded. "Approved."

A minister in the back raised a tentative hand. "And what of the rumors coming from Fanxia? It's right at the northern border between Daiyu and Baiguang. People are watching that place to see what happens next."

My gaze snapped to him.

He faltered. "They say a figure in red has been seen near the Baiguang camp. A woman, but they think she's a ghost."

A ghost. Or a warning.

I looked down at the map again. The red fan sat folded near the edge—a silent token left by the man no one could prove existed.

"Let them tell their stories," I said. "Let them whisper about ghosts and witches. It saves me the trouble of writing warnings."

I stepped away from the table. The Empress didn't stop me.

As I passed Yaozu, he followed without being told. The others knew better than to ask where I was going.

------

The cold hit harder outside. The wind carried the smell of oil, leather, smoke.

"We light the terraces tonight," I said.

Yaozu kept pace. "I already have men at the perimeter. They'll start the first burn when you give the signal."

"Good."

He was quiet for a moment. Then: "There are two scouts who made it back from Fanxia. They swear they saw one of Baiguang's officers carrying a hairpin like yours."

My steps slowed.

He continued, "They said it was bent. Damaged. As if torn out."

I closed my hand into a fist. Not because I cared about the jewelry. But because I knew exactly whose hands it had passed through.

"Have the scouts been debriefed?"

"Twice. They're shaken. One of them claims the officer muttered your name before being pulled away."

I didn't ask what name. Hazel Anne or Zhao Xiuying—either one would do.

"Get me the officer's description. And send the report to Yan Luo."

He hesitated. "Are we trusting him now?"

"No," I said. "But I trust that he'll act in my interest. And that's more useful than loyalty."

Yaozu didn't argue.

We reached the high ridge overlooking the southern fields. Below us, the terraces stretched in steps of frost-dusted earth. A single lantern burned at each corner, placed earlier by men who didn't need to be told how to vanish.

"Ready?" he asked.

I nodded once.

He took a slow breath, then drew a short blade from his hip.

I raised my hand.

And with a flick of my fingers, the metal rings along the edge of the lanterns began to rattle.

Then I let the fire rise.

It started small—a curl of orange at the lantern mouths. Then, as the wind picked up, it leapt. Crawled. Consumed. The terraces lit like a prayer, each level igniting the one below it until the whole slope glowed with fury.

The sky turned gold.

"They won't be able to put it out," Yaozu said. "Your flames are like nothing they are used to."

"That's the point."

He looked sideways at me. "You're not worried about the land?"

"Fire cleanses. The land will be fine after the ashes settles."

I watched the flames for another long moment.

Then I said softly, "Let them try to erase me. Let them wear my colors. Let them whisper my name in their final breath. I will not be the girl they believe that they left to rot. I will be the woman who answers with ash."

The fire roared back like it understood.

And I didn't blink.