The stars were cold above the holler that night. The kind of cold that settled in the bones, not just the skin. Inside the war barn, the last firewood crackled low, casting long shadows over half-scrawled attack plans and empty potion jars. Ellie Mae had fallen asleep with her head on the map table. RG, Nickie, and Alexis had long since dragged themselves off toward the cabins, weapons left by the door like weary sighs.
Ma stood outside alone, just past the porch rail, her gaze fixed on the old iron hook where the mountain lantern still hung.
It wasn’t lit. Hadn’t been for over two years. Ma swore she’d never light it again.
And yet her hand hovered like a memory. Like the ghost of a choice.
They were barely scraping by. Territory Wars had gutted them. Too many defenses, not enough troops. Uncle Kinxy and Cletus were still gone, off chasing whatever glory pulled him from the hills. The young ones were fighting above their weight. Even Pa had returned to the war maps, tired but steady, picking up his end. There was no room for breaks. No room for mistakes. They needed power, strategy, more warriors.
And Ma had just enough desperation to consider the one thing she never thought she would.
Anny.
The name tasted like rust and regret.
Anny was strong, there was no denying that. Stronger than most. Back when Ma had been part of Anny’s clan, before the holler and even before Olympus, they’d never once worried about war strength. She had many well seasoned fighters in her arsenal. The firepower she brought with her was legend, and she trained her troops like she raised them, sharp, fast, loyal. Ma had once trusted her like kin.
Until the betrayal. Until the truth of who Anny really was unfolded quiet and cruel.
But Ma wasn’t standing there for nostalgia.
She was standing there because her clan was vulnerable and needed strength.
The thought that haunted her most was one she hadn’t even said out loud, not even to Pa.
Maybe…. just maybe….if she lit the lantern, Anny would come. Maybe time had softened her. Maybe helping would start to mend something, even if it couldn’t be fixed.
Maybe pretending could pass for peace.
It would be for the clan, Ma told herself. For the good of all. Not for her.
Her hand moved toward the hook.
“Thinkin’ about takin’ one for the team?” came a quiet voice behind her.
She startled but didn’t turn. She knew that voice.
Pa stepped up beside her, boots thudding softly on porch boards. He didn’t look at her, just stood there facing the same mountainside she was.
“I was,” Ma admitted, voice low. “Didn’t light it. Just thinkin’.”
He nodded once. “That’s all it takes sometimes. A little thinkin’ in the wrong direction.”
The wind stirred the leaves. The holler held its breath.
“I thought maybe.…” Ma said. “If she came, if she helped, it could… not fix things. But help build somethin’ stronger. Even if I had to pretend for awhile.”
Pa finally looked at her. There was iron in his voice when he spoke. “She won’t come back different. She’ll comin’ back meaner. If she even comes at all. And you know it.”
Ma’s pursed her lips. She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t.
“She’d see you needin’ help and twist it. Use it,” Pa continued. “Might smile while she did it, but she’d be layin’ traps behind the smile.”
“I know,” Ma whispered. “But we’re tired, Pa. Real tired. And there’s not enough of us.”
“I know that too,” he said, gentler now. “But you don’t trade peace for power. Not here. Not in our holler. That woman’d set fire to the war barn if she thought it’d make you look weak. Just to destroy something that mattered to you. She’s already tried it more than once.”
Ma exhaled slowly, shoulders falling. “You’re right. You’re always right when I don’t wanna hear it. I just thought maybe….”
Pa gave a slight shrug and patted her on the shoulder. “I know. You give too much credit to people sometimes and you hope for the best outcome. It’s a trait I love about you, but if you’re not careful, it can really bite you.”
Silence fell again. He didn’t reach for her hand, didn’t offer comfort in a way anyone else might’ve noticed.
“We’ll figure things out in our own way, in our own time. We’ve got a good bunch of goblins. It may take awhile, but we’ll get there,” he reassured her.
She turned from the hook, walking back toward the cabin porch. He followed a pace behind.
As they stepped inside, she glanced once more toward the dark ridgeline.
“I wouldn’t have really lit it,” she murmured.
Pa raised a brow and smiled. “Witchy, I believe you.”
But when she passed him at the door, he reached out, not to stop her, not to scold, but just to rest a hand on her back for a heartbeat. Grounding. Reassuring. Protective in the way only Pa could be.
The lantern stayed unlit.
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