The cure

  Miraculously.

  The glow faded. The itch retreated. The heat between my legs no longer throbbed like a cursed drum at a fae orgy.

  I sat cross-legged on a mat that smelled like mildew and cat piss, cheeks flushed, thighs damp with swamp-sweat and relief, while the swamp hag cackled like she'd just exorcised a particularly randy poltergeist.

  She ladled the last of the brew into a cracked mug and handed it to me with a wink. “Bottoms up, luv. Clears the last o’ the spores. Might taste like feet.”

  It Like feet had mated with pond scum and fermented over despair. But I choked it down.

  She watched me like a proud midwife. “There we go. Nice an’ clean. Like yer nethers been baptised in brimstone and vinegar.”

  I wiped my mouth. “How much?”

  She held up three stubby fingers. “Three copper pennies.”

  I blinked. “That’s it?”

  “And yer firstborn.”

  My jaw dropped.

  She held the moment.

  Eyes gleaming.

  Then grinned, toothless and smug. “I’m luv. I got no use for babies. Can’t even pickle ‘em proper anymore.”

  I let out a shaky laugh. “Don’t like that.”

  “No promises.” She reached for her teapot. It hissed. She patted it fondly. “Besides, yer womb’s probably cursed seven ways from Sunday by now.”

  I stood, still woozy, still vaguely suspicious. “So that’s it?”

  “Mostly,” she said. “Though you notice a few side effects. Temporary. Mostly harmless.”

  I froze. “What kind of side effects?”

  The raven shrieked from its perch. “”

  I flinched. “What the hell?”

  “Oh that?” the witch said, waving a hand. “He’s bound to yer aura now. Only for a moon cycle or two. He’ll follow ye home.”

  The raven flapped and cawed again. “”

  I stared in horror. “He ”

  “He ” she corrected.

  “Can’t you unbind him?”

  She shrugged. “Not unless you bed a bishop under a full moon. Or bathe in unicorn sweat. Bit of a toss-up.”

  The raven landed on my shoulder. Talons dug in. Breath smelled like curses and pickled onions. He nuzzled my ear.

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  “”

  I whimpered.

  The hag cackled. “Think of him as yer conscience, luv.”

  “I have a conscience.”

  “Then think of him as karmic garnish.”

  I turned toward the door, muttering to myself.

  Behind me, she called out, “Mind the nymphs next time, sweetie! Or at least wrap it in barkskin!”

  The raven whispered: “”

  I walked back into the swamp.

  It was going to be a moon.

  I stomped down the creaking swamp planks, sodden sandals squelching with every step, mosquito-bitten, dignity in shreds, and a bloody on my shoulder whispering moral slurs into my ear like a judgmental aunt at a brothel funeral.

  “Tart,” it croaked. “Loose-legged leaf-fucker. Taaart.”

  “I to all twelve slutty goddesses,” I snarled, spinning on my heel and pointing a finger back at the crooked shack, “what if I drown the damned thing?”

  The swamp witch was still on her porch, rocking in a chair made from ribs and ill intent. She sipped something steaming from a mug that said

  She grinned, wide and gummy. “You’ll ‘ave to it first, won’t ye?”

  The raven flapped up, perched on a crooked branch just out of arm’s reach, and cackled. “Slattern. Hussy. Sheath of shame.”

  “Oh I’ll catch it,” I growled. “I’ll pluck every feather and it over a Drizzle it in honey. Serve it with turnips and a fucking apology.”

  The hag wheezed, slapping her knee. “Oh, you are! Go on then, bird-murderess. Just remember—killin’ it don’t stop the curse. Jus’ gives it a louder voice ”

  I froze.

  The raven cocked its head. “Internal shame. Now in stereo.”

  I glared. “You made this ”

  The hag raised her mug. “Nope. did.”

  I turned and trudged away, muttering obscenities and dragging my pride behind me like a wet cat. The bird followed, flapping from branch to branch, calling out like a town crier of my sins.

  “Limp of virtue! Tavern bed thrice warmed! Taaaaart!”

  Gods help me.

  I was going to eat that fucking bird.

  By the time I made it back to the cave, I was one mosquito bite away from murder.

  My hair was a nest. My boots squished. My thighs still itched in a phantom way. And the —the gods-damned cursed judgment crow—was still with me. Hopping from boulder to boulder. Mocking. Squawking. Narrating my sins like a perverted town crier with a vocabulary of innuendo and slander.

  “” it cried as I stumbled over a root.

  “”

  “”

  “I eat you,” I hissed, spinning on it.

  It flapped up to a ledge and smirked. I didn’t know birds could smirk, but this one had studied under the best.

  Dragon was lounging by the fire, nose buried in some ancient scroll like he hadn’t been eavesdropping on my swamp shame spiral from ten leagues away. His eyes slid toward me with a dangerous amount of amusement.

  “Welcome back,” he said, deadpan. “I see you brought a friend.”

  “” said the raven helpfully.

  I groaned and dropped my pack. “Don’t start.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Dragon said, still watching the bird.

  “” the raven called cheerfully. “”

  There was a

  A very long, dangerous pause.

  Then Dragon inhaled through his nostrils.

  A quiet, focused breath.

  And —a thin, precise puff of fire, barely more than a sigh.

  The raven didn’t scream.

  It didn’t flap.

  It simply turned into mid-perch, in a blink.

  A soft poof, a rain of gray powder, and the echo of smug silence.

  I stood there, blinking. Jaw somewhere in the floor region.

  “…What the ” I croaked. “What about my It was bound to me!”

  Dragon shrugged. “Magic fire. Purifies.”

  I stared at the pile of ash, still faintly warm.

  “”

  He gave me a look.

  “It was funny.”

  I sputtered.

  He stretched, wings flexing, then added casually, “There be some karmic debt. But honestly—” he glanced at me over his claw, “—given record? Hardly a footnote.”

  I kept staring.

  The ashes blew gently into the fire pit.

  I muttered, “You owe me a bath, a drink, and a hundred apologies.”

  “Make it to the waterfall and I’ll handle two out of three.”

  “Which two?”

  He grinned.

  I sighed.

  And together, we left the last of the raven behind. May it judge someone else in its next life. Preferably a tax collector.