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

The inner council room had no pillars, no incense, and no audience. It wasn't meant to impress. Only to hold the weight of decisions that changed empires.

Zhu Mingyu stood by the window, watching as the wind dragged streaks of frost across the stone courtyard outside. The sky had already faded to slate… a testament to winter creeping earlier with each passing day. Somewhere in the rear courtyard, she was still walking. Still alone.

He should be the one beside her right now, but he took some comfort in the fact that Yaozu was there beside her…

That the assassin would protect her just as much as he would.

Behind him, the doors closed with a low thud.

Deming entered first, his boots nearly silent on the old wooden floor. He didn't speak, didn't ask for pleasantries. He simply nodded at Mingyu once and moved to the round table at the center of the room.

Sun Longzi followed soon after, his movements and pace precise and deliberate, shaped by years of discipline and command. He poured himself tea without being offered and settled opposite of Deming.

No one else had been invited.

Mingyu waited until both men were seated before turning from the window.

"She's gone," he said simply.

Longzi glanced up. "Back to the mountains?"

"No." Mingyu walked toward the table and sat beside Deming. "She didn't say where."

Deming arched a brow. "And you let her go alone?"

"She asked to be left alone," Mingyu replied. "Yaozu followed. He's the only one she didn't push away."

That earned a faint hum of acknowledgment.

For a moment, the only sound was the distant howling wind outside the narrow walls.

Then Mingyu spoke again. "Li Xuejian called her 'the widow who didn't weep.'"

Sun Longzi frowned. "What?"

"He said she's either too beautiful or too hideous to look at—depending on which myth you believe. And that no one would leave a woman like her alone unless she was mourning a dead husband."

Silence.

Deming stared at his hands for a long moment. Then he muttered, "She's never mourned anyone. Not publicly."

"She's not required to," Longzi sneered with a shake of his head. "She's not, and has never been, a widow."

"I told him that," Mingyu replied, his voice sharper than before. "But it made me realize something. That's how they see her. Not as a general. Not as a crown princess. But as a ghost in silk. A rumor they're finally trying to chase down."

Deming leaned forward. "So? What do we do with that?"

"That's why I called you here." Mingyu placed both palms flat on the table. "This isn't just a war anymore. They've started shaping her into a symbol—and that's more dangerous than any siege."

Longzi nodded slowly. "Symbols can't be negotiated with. They can only be feared or destroyed."

Mingyu's gaze didn't leave theirs. "We know what she's done. What she's willing to do. You've both seen the aftermath of the southern lines—how her mist spares no one now."

Deming's voice lowered. "Even civilians."

"She warned them. They crossed the line. She doesn't care anymore," reminded Mingyu. The two men in the room with him, while they might be close, didn't always look at things the same way.

They all went quiet again.

Then Mingyu asked the question he'd brought them there to answer. "If it were you... what would you do next?"

Deming didn't answer immediately.

He leaned back, folding his arms. "Are you asking what I think she'll do—or what we should?"

"Both," Mingyu said.

Deming tilted his head. "She won't stop now. Not after what they did to her village and her mountain. She'll drag Baiguang to its knees if no one reins her in. And she won't listen to orders anymore—not even yours."

"She never really did," Longzi murmured.

Mingyu didn't argue.

Deming continued, "But the court won't stand for it. Not if word gets out that she's unleashing poison mist on civilian provinces. They'll call her a war criminal."

"Then we control the story," Mingyu said. "Before they can."

Longzi finally spoke again, his voice steadier than it had been since he returned from the southern front. "You want to frame it as punishment?"

"No," Mingyu said. "I want to frame it as what it is—justice."

"That's a thin line," Deming warned.

Mingyu looked down at the tabletop. "It always is."

They all sat with the weight of it.

Then Longzi leaned forward, his tea untouched. "What happens when she turns back around? When she comes down from the mountain again, after all this?"

Mingyu met his eyes. "Then we welcome her. As a woman who did what none of us could."

Deming's mouth twisted. "And if the Empress doesn't agree?"

"She will," Mingyu said. "Because she's seen what Xinying protects. She's seen who she protects."

Longzi's gaze narrowed slightly. "You're not planning to rein her in."

"No," Mingyu said quietly. "I'm planning to clear the path for her."

Deming shook his head, but not in disagreement. "You're not afraid she'll lose control?"

"She already has," Mingyu said. "But only because the world made it clear that it would never listen to reason. Only force."

They all remembered the sickened villagers. The black mist that burned through rows of homes like judgment. The children screaming.

"She's going to make a point," Mingyu said. "And we need to decide if we're going to stand in her way—or at her back."

Longzi looked at Deming. "You've known her the longest."

Deming didn't smile. "She used to plant herbs under her windowsill. Wild mint and feverroot. Said it made the air easier to breathe."

"And now?" Mingyu asked.

"Now she's suffocating the world."

None of them flinched.

Finally, Mingyu stood. "We'll let the Baiguang envoy stew for three days. No answers. No apologies. I want them unsettled."

"And Xuejian?" Longzi asked.

Mingyu's voice turned cold. "Let him write back to his court that he met a monster wrapped in fur and silk. That he insulted her and lived—but only because I was in the room."

Deming raised an eyebrow. "That true?"

Mingyu looked down at them both. "I have never been caught in a lie."

A beat.

Then he added, "But if he looks at her like that again, I might make it the truth."

Deming chuckled once.

Longzi sighed. "So what now?"

Mingyu walked to the door. "Now we plan for what kind of world she's going to leave behind when the killing stops. And make sure she's still standing in it."

He paused, one hand on the doorframe.

"And if she isn't," he said quietly, "then we burn Baiguang to the ground and bury her in silence."

Neither man questioned him.

Because they both knew he meant it.