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

I don't sleep anymore. Not because I'm haunted. Just because it seems like the work never ends.

The command tent was a mess of half-rolled maps and discarded ink brushes, the brazier still glowing orange from when Yaozu fed it more coals two hours ago. Everyone else had been dismissed for the night. The only sound was Shadow's low breathing near the corner, and the faint whistle of the wind against the canvas.

I stood by the northern edge of the map, staring at a line of river crossings that should've been quiet. But they weren't.

Not anymore.

I traced the pattern again with my finger—Baiguang supply movements near the old tea route, avoiding anything marked on official maps, but not avoiding everything.

They were probing. Not like an army so much as scavengers. Fast, shallow bites, looking for soft places to dig in. They reminded me of the bugs in my gardens, trying to take out my vegetables before I ever even saw them.

But I always see them.

The metal inside the tent shifted slightly—quiet, but not to me. I flicked my wrist and it bent back into place. A snapped brass hook. One of the lanterns had tilted too far.

Yaozu didn't even look up. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor now, his eyes closed, and his breathing slow. He'd learned how to rest without fully sleeping. A habit from his years in the shadows.

"I don't like the pattern," I said quietly.

"You're not meant to," he murmured. "It's meant to unsettle."

"Then it's working."

I crossed the tent and crouched beside him. "You still tracking the merchant woman?"

His eyes opened. "She's gone silent. I sent three watchers after she changed robes. Only one came back."

"Dead?"

He nodded.

I looked back at the map. "Then we're being studied."

"No," he said. "You're being studied. They don't care about the war. They care about how you think."

I should have felt alarmed. I didn't. It was just another layer of the same game. Another player who wanted to wear my skin long enough to understand how it didn't tear.

I reached for the brass clasp that held my outer robe together. Let it fall.

"Too hot?"

I nodded. "The air's getting thick."

"You're burning," he said softly.

I didn't deny it.

The brazier trembled slightly. It wasn't the wind.

"I want them afraid," I said after a moment.

"They are."

"No. I want them so afraid they start making mistakes. I want Baiguang to send their second sons and cousins and start losing them. I want the ground to feel cursed."

"You want a myth."

"I want to leave a message that nobody forgets."

He shifted, folding his arms over his knees. "Then we give them one."

I looked down at him. "What would you do?"

His answer was immediate. "Kill something sacred."

My lips twitched. "Such as?"

"A shrine. A symbol. An oath they swore to keep. Break it in front of them."

"And if they don't care?"

"Then make it matter."

I exhaled slowly. "Burn the tree."

He looked up. "Which one?"

"The one they planted after their last border victory. It's in the southern hills near the stone path. They call it the Victory Elm or something stupid like that."

"That would mean sending someone into Baiguang-claimed land."

"No," I said. "It means sending me."

He didn't blink. "You want them to know it was you."

I met his gaze. "I want them to wish it hadn't been."

The flap of the tent shifted before he could respond. Shadow rose instantly, lips curling, but relaxed when Sun Longzi stepped inside.

"I heard you were still up," he said, brushing snow off his shoulders.

"I'm always up."

He nodded toward the maps. "I came from the forward line. One of the Baiguang soldiers tried to cross under a false banner. He didn't get far."

"Did he talk?"

"Only to say your name."

I tilted my head. "Was it a prayer or a curse?"

Longzi's expression didn't change. "I couldn't tell. But he bled like it mattered."

I stood, brushing off my palms. "Good. Then they're starting to feel it."

He stepped forward and set something on the table.

A severed ribbon.

Green silk. Torn.

"From his belt," Longzi said. "I thought you might want it."

I took it. Rolled it slowly around my fingers.

They were still using the same symbols. Still invoking the same dead empress from Baiguang's past, hoping to rewrite the story around me.

I let the ribbon crumple into the brazier.

It caught instantly.

And the scent that followed wasn't smoke. It was jasmine. Faint. Unmistakable.

Even Shadow sneezed.

"Poisoned," I said.

"Trace amount," Yaozu murmured. "More a warning than an attempt."

Longzi's mouth tightened. "They're trying to make it personal."

"It already is," I said.

I turned to the back of the tent and reached for the second sword I kept hidden beneath my armor rack. Not the one gifted to me by the Crown. Not the ceremonial one either.

This one had a broken hilt and a blood groove etched by my own hand.

It was the first sword I'd ever killed with.

I strapped it to my back without looking at either of them.

"I'll leave before dawn."

"You're going alone?" Longzi asked.

"Yes."

"No," Yaozu said.

I looked at him. "No?"

He stood, slowly. "Not alone."

I opened my mouth, but he shook his head.

"You're not the only one who burns," he said.

That stopped me.

And in the quiet that followed, I realized he wasn't asking.

He was telling me that this wasn't a request. That he'd made his choice the moment I said I wanted them afraid. That this wasn't about duty, or Mingyu, or the court.

He would walk into Baiguang's land not because I needed him, but because he needed me to know I wasn't alone.

Not anymore.

I turned back to the maps.

"This isn't a mission," I said. "It's a message."

"I know."

"We'll burn the tree."

He stepped up beside me. "And then?"

I smiled faintly. "We'll make sure they don't forget who lit the match."