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

The council room was silent when I entered.

There were no murmurings, no adjusting of seats, no subtle scraping of boots across tile. Just quiet. Sharp, respectful. And most importantly… tense.

At the head of the table, Zhu Mingyu sat in full armor, his outer robe thrown over it like an afterthought. Dust still clung to the hem, and it was clear that he hadn't rested.

Then again, neither had I.

Shi Yaozu stepped in behind me, his presence unannounced but unchallenged. He didn't sit—he never did during wartime sessions. He stood at my left, a shadow made flesh, like he was telling everyone where he stood… and not in the physical sense.

"Where is the courier?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

A hand lifted from the far end of the table. Lord Rui. Still bruised from our last encounter, but too old and too proud to show pain. He gestured to a folded cloth pouch placed carefully on the center stone. No seal. No name.

I walked to it without hesitation.

The pouch was made of paper. But not normal paper. Black, thick, soft as velvet to the touch. In some parts of the world, this was used only for funeral notices. In others, it was a challenge—a declaration of war.

I opened it slowly.

The inside held a single sheet, folded with precision. On it, no title. No introduction. Just seven lines of brushstrokes in narrow, elegant hand:

To the fire that burns too bright—

You have taken the tree, the stone, the air that fed it.

Now I take what fed you.

The mountains no longer belong to you.

The myths are breaking.

There is no home for you to return to.

Let us see what a woman becomes when she has nothing left to protect.

I reread it twice. Then folded the paper again with deliberate care.

Zhu Mingyu didn't speak. He waited.

"It's a bait letter," I said finally. "Designed to provoke a response from me."

"What do you mean? Why would you think that they are looking for a response?" General Liao asked. "You've already razed the elm. You would think that they are too scared to go against you again."

I set the paper down. "Apparently, they aren't scared enough," I sighed. "Not if they are willing to take a running leap over a line that should never have been crossed."

Yaozu's voice was quiet. "They're targeting the mountain."

A chill passed through the room like a knife drawn under silk.

"Did they touch your home?" the Empress asked, her brows furrowing with worry as she looked at me.

"I don't know," I replied. "They only mentioned the mountain."

There was a difference.

My home was just wood and stone. But the mountain—the territory I carved out with blood and teeth and fire—that was legend. My legend. And Baiguang had always been good at rewriting legends.

"Scouts reported activity west of your old domain," Yaozu said. "Small fires. Too controlled to be accidental."

"I've sent no one back," I said. "And the villagers wouldn't burn their own homes."

"Then someone else is laying claim," Mingyu muttered.

Lord Rui shifted in his seat. "Perhaps it is time to let the land go. There is nothing strategically vital in those slopes."

I turned my gaze on him. "There's people there. Villages of men, women, and children that depend on the mountain for their survival. That mountain is what stops Yelan from simply waking in and taking Daiyu land. Do you really want to let the land go and give it to our enemy?"

He swallowed.

I stepped away from the table and walked to the wall behind the Empress's seat, where the old tapestry of Daiyu's founding hung. It depicted the rise of the imperial bloodline. Myth. Fabricated history. Sewn with gold threads and lies.

"Baiguang doesn't want to win with soldiers," I said. "They want to win with stories. They want to rip mine out by the root and plant their own."

I touched the edge of the tapestry. It felt brittle beneath my fingers.

"The mountain was mine before the throne was Mingyu's," I said. "Before Yaozu's mask. Before the court. If they're burning it, they're not just declaring war."

I turned to face them again.

"They're declaring that I was never real to begin with. That there is no need to be fearful of Daiyu because there is no witch in the wood. They want to tell everyone who will listen that Daiyu is ripe for the taking because they relied on myths to remain untouched. If they succeed, then we won't just be dealing with Baiguang, we'll be dealing with every other nation, too."

No one spoke for a long moment.

Then the Empress stood.

"I'll go with you."

"No," I replied with a shake of my head.

"I'm not asking permission."

"She'll be watched," Yaozu added. "Too dangerous."

Mingyu nodded. "We'll send soldiers."

"They'll just die," I said simply. "Baiguang isn't looking for bodies. They're looking for meaning."

"So what do we do?" Longzi asked from the doorway. He hadn't spoken before now. His armor was half-fastened, and the knuckles of his left hand were bloodied—probably from training or something worse.

"We will be going back," I shrugged. "But not all of us. Just me."

"No," Yaozu said immediately.

I looked at him.

He didn't flinch. "If they're trying to erase your name, they won't hesitate to carve it into your corpse."

"I won't die. The plan is to remind them of why they've been so scared of me for the past 11 years."

"That's not the point."

I exhaled through my nose. "Fine, then you can come with me."

He blinked.

"You, Shadow, and one scout. That's all. No army. No banners. We walk the long path."

"You mean—"

"The one I took as a child," I said. "The path no one else knows."

Mingyu stood. "You're doing this to make a statement."

"I'm doing this to remind them that they didn't invent fire."

He stepped around the table and placed a hand on my shoulder. His expression was tired, but not uncertain.

"You'll come back?"

I nodded once.

He looked to Yaozu. "Make sure she does."

"I always do," Yaozu murmured.

I looked down at the black letter in my hand again. Let them try to undo me. Let them try to pull the stories apart.

I'd write new ones.

With blood, if I had to.