Content WarningInternalized and external transphobia, attempted assaults, and forest fires.

  [colpse]

  Then

  Her body was making a slow but inevitable turn back towards a boy’s puberty; without water from the grove, she'd be no different than a man soon enough. She saw herself slipping closer to them, her body growing into a man’s body, a stranger’s. There had to be a different way to stop it. Some other magic must be capable of changing her. The Goddess’s magic had given her the gift, and now she had found a way to use magic for herself. It was getting easier to make fire, she had the trick of it by then. Magic really was everywhere, and when she didn’t have access, it was easy to pull on the fire inside of her, even if doing that left her feeling more empty every time she did so. But, it was easy to see the flows and pools of it all around her. When the need, the burning inside of her that she had to indulge or lose her stability, grew too great, and she had to release the heat somewhere, it was easier to do so when there was magic to draw on. It liked odd pces, like graveyards, lover’s hills, the stairsteps that all the locals skipped for superstition.

  It exalted on continuity. Skip the stair? Find suddenly that you had fewer to climb to reach the top. Leave flowers at the oldest tombstones, despite never knowing the names of those dead, and find that your own family’s stone never grew moss.

  A grandmother’s hands spun with light as she worked bread with decades of experience. A Master smith’s forge came to know him so closely that only his hands could bear the fmes, his hammer never missing a strike.

  Everyone lived with magic, but no one Kate met used it like she did. They might know that magic affected them, were proud to have it, but they relied on the side effects. No one else took it and shaped the essence itself. So she followed the wandering dust mites of magic to its thickest points, where, like the grove, reality had warped and changed with the sheer saturation. She sat among it all, holding out her hands and trying to pull what she wanted out of thin air. It never worked. Cursed to be too eager a craftsman, she bmed her tools. There just wasn’t enough magic in this spot. Here, it was already too bent towards other things. The wind had shifted, and blown it away before she’d found the trick that would let her body remain on the path she’d chosen for it.

  She followed rumor and intuition, roaming far in search of her change. Eventually, her skill with fire made her valuable, and she joined caravans of merchants, using them to fund her wandering after. Kate tended their cookfires and kept the cinders from catching on anything but logs, all the while winding her way up and down the country, locating magical pces, and keeping alive the hope that one of them would be like the grove.

  After more than a year, her body was a halfway thing. She dressed in thick, shabby traveling clothes, spending most of her meager income on used colorless sets in the Wellosian style— since they were blessedly androgynous— even if it added to her estrangement from the rest of the caravan. Merchants were surprisingly loyal to their local fashions. “Look too out of pce, and no one wants to buy from you,” one of them had told her, kindly hinting that she shouldn't hang around when there were customers present.

  She told them nothing about her, able to dodge the question because her skills afforded her that little bit of leeway. The kinder caravan drivers took to calling her “the kid”, avoiding name or gender entirely. The crueler ones tried to find her in the dark and force the information out of her, and Kate often had to spend hours hiding until they moved on, bored without a chase. Being around only when she was needed became a necessity. Her days were spent in the woods, keeping ahead and out of sight of the slow moving carts. The world was exactly as the Goddess had warned her, but the isotion was familiar, and at least being alone meant there was no one else to see her body deteriorate.

  She turned sixteen by the sea, spending the whole night in between two crates while the drunk merchants searched for her and called her things she wanted to forget. It was nice, at least, to watch the sailors load their wares onto her merchant’s wagons to be taken innd, to focus on their rhythms, the sound of the waves and the solid wood thunk of the boxes, better than it was to listen to the people calling for her. It was a heartbeat, and another form of magic that Kate watched grow slowly as the sailors worked as a single being. Still wasn’t anywhere close to what she needed.

  Almost a full year and eleven more caravans ter— it was never good to stay too long with one group, or she was inevitably the center of some trouble— Kate went farther north than she’d ever gone, close to the pces her great-great-grandparents had come from. They spent weeks travelling up the coast, looking for a pce where they could access the countries to the north via two little strips of territory that were cimed by all three of the local nations. Kate’s home of Harduza had the cim by geography and history, while Karonil to the northeast had some trade documents naming it their territory, and the northwestern Anasyl cimed it by conquest, the same way they had formed the excves that Kate’s family lived within. Now, since no one had real cim over the nd, it was easy to pass through and into the north without needing to pay tax.

  After they passed through the border, manned now by farmers who used the metal ttice gates as a trellis and the walls as shade for their more finicky crops, Kate found herself suddenly able to blend in with the locals. Through paranoia and isotion, her family had retained the pale, ruddy linic look that was much more common in the north than it was back home. For once the merchants found her presence useful for more than their fires.

  It also meant that she could blend in, have some escape from being around the same people so constantly. This caravan wasn’t particurly bad to her, but they had a lot of people, and there were always fires that needed tending. Long nights bled into longer days, either away in town or hidden in the trees, walking ahead of the caravan.

  When they stopped for extended stays in this pce or that, Kate spent most of her days at inns, ears open to rumors of magical hidden pces. Part of her always hoped to hear about more people like her, people whose gender was helped along by some secret deity; but if they knew, they weren’t going to tell a stranger, and she didn’t know how to ask.

  To win herself a meal better than the dried things the merchants ate, Kate took to helping innkeepers and cooks. It saved them a lot of hassle when she could take a bundle of logs and turn them to a perfect cookfire of coals with a wave of her hand. If the caravan stayed in one town long enough, she’d start to gain a reputation, and more and more people would seek her out. It was a good way to hear rumors, alongside the food, so she said yes more often than not. But, when an old man, the head of some local noble family, met her in one town after a week of starting fires for smiths and cooks, she knew it wouldn’t be for something as simple as a cookfire. There was a forest fire to the east, a big one that was building in intensity, and earlier that day, the wind had shifted. In all likelihood, it would destroy the whole town. A lot of the townspeople had already left. Her caravan was preparing to turn around and try to avoid the fmes by heading back south. Kate had felt the fire before she saw any evidence of it. Whatever she had ignited in herself responded to it, even from miles away. It was a dry summer. Something had caught in a forest full to bursting with tinder.

  The nobleman pulled her to her feet from the floor where she was working on starting a mother’s fire, and begged her to protect the vilge. If she was good with fire, then couldn’t she— not that he called her she, he seemed firmly set on calling her “young man”— direct it away from their home? With promises of a hero’s reward, she said yes. Plus, the caravan had left hours ago, abandoning Kate, so protecting the one pce she knew would give her work just made sense.

  The air choked with ash. The sun dimmed, distant and red. They didn’t even expect her to stop it.

  “Just save the town!” Shouted the nobleman as he led her to the outskirts, where small farms filled the spaces between copses of trees. “They said you’d witching for fire! Please, young man!” Sweat was pouring from him as they got closer. It ran into his eyes and soaked the bandana he wore to cover his mouth; Kate was warm but unbothered. Ever since she ignited the fire in her chest, she’d never been troubled by smoke or heat.

  She promised to do all she could. The nobleman left her atop a hill, one that overlooked the whole town and surrounding nd, and she saw her charge in full. The vilge was small, about fifty homes spread over a wide ft nd next to the main road. There were other towns, bigger pces in the distance that had already been caught up and wouldn’t still be standing when the night was over. She could just make out the high towers of an old manor behind the smoke. There wasn’t time to save those, this vilge would be all she could manage.

  The fire was swarming. She watched it find a field and swallow it whole in minutes. No fire she’d ever made had been so hot, or so rge.

  She had to act fast. A creek separated the edge of the town from the fire, but with so much heat and the trees so close together, hanging over the creek, it wouldn’t be any obstacle at all. She ran down from the hill and into the water with a pn to burn the trees with her own fmes. By accelerating the burning she could have the trees into ash before the main body of the wildfire arrived. If there was nothing left to carry it over, it wouldn’t be able to cross.

  At first, there was enough magic in the river to fuel her. Natural borders always attracted magic, but soon the natural reserves had run dry and she still had a half a mile of creek left to clear. There was nothing else at hand. She’d have to use the magic inside of her, the st reserves of the Goddesses magic that was keeping her wayid puberty away.

  This would make her truly the boy who had left her home at twelve years old. Maybe it was fitting for this to happen in the north, the home her family had thought they’d left generations ago. The gender she’d once thought of as a bad dream. An inescapable past.

  She burned the st of the Goddess’s blessing. It was enough. The creek was cleared, and unless she’d missed something, there shouldn’t be any way for it to cross and keep advancing on the town.

  She went back to the hill and watched the fire. Tried to tell herself it had been worth it. Wished it had been easier. Of course it was the right thing to do. What were the st scraps of the grove’s magic, scraps that were rapidly dying out on their own, regardless, when compared to the lives and homes of so many people.

  This was what she deserved, after all. This was some small payment for all of the people who she had turned away. She was like them now. That was justice. A pebble paid back of the mountain she owed the world.

  The wildfire surged on, and when it reached the creek, it stayed and turned to the south, as she’d pnned. So close, the power that fueled it was impossible to look away from. This could have eaten the Goddess’s grove in seconds. It didn’t take long for her to be proven right.

  Three days before, she’d been to visit a local tangle of magic. An ancient tree, devoid of leaves but for spare bck wisps. There was nothing there that could help her, that pce had nothing like the magic in the grove. Still, it was nice to be surrounded by so much magic again. Kate had indulged her nostalgia, and slept under the boughs. While she slept, it crept into her head and whispered words. This had been a butcher’s grounds, long, long ago. Before people had homes and written nguage. Some ancient ancestors of the people who lived here had taken their kills to this pce and done the bloody work to turn them into food and furs. Everyone else had forgotten, but the tree remembered. It survived millenia on memory and old blood. It was a pce of messy necessity, and the soft echoes of it still kept people away. She’d woken in the te evening to find that, while she slept, she’d dug into the dirt and in her closed fist was an ox’s jawbone.

  Now, the oldest tree that she’d ever seen had caught fire, and the fmes turned to twisting shapes. Stampeding oxen of fire raced out in the air, far ahead of the main body. Giant burning bats took flight, their transparent bodies twisting in the air. They ran fast and far, disappearing into the wilderness. The giant bats made wild twirls in the sky, falling on whatever unburnt ground they could find.

  Kate rushed to any spot where they touched, dampening the fire by using the radiating magic that blew away from the destroyed tree. While she was busy putting out one fire, a bat dove fast, aiming for her. It was a burning dart that at the st second spread its wings and jaws to consume her. She held firm. Found the shape of it in her mind. Its form was magic, a series of knots that she could undo with the right tug.

  There. Just as its teeth found her neck, burning and breaking the skin with the first real heat she’d felt all night, the bat fell to nothing against her. The twisted magic that comprised it was, she found, even better fuel than the wild magic she used herself. This was like the Goddess’s magic after all. She took a moment, with her eyes closed, to remember the structure of the knots.

  More bats were coming. This time, she reached out and caught the magic before they reached her. They fell apart, she took their heat. The oxen, even in the distance, were also tight balls of magic. A thousand thousand knots tying them together. She could disassemble them, pull their structure to bits and wrap it around her own heart.

  Kate’s lungs struggled to keep up with the air she needed, hyperventiting with excitement. If they weren’t up to the task, she’d weave them anew with this magic. This was real power. The spark inside of her was fring up again. This whole time, she’d never tested it. Only managed it. The body of the forest fire was closer now. She could feel it. There was magic underpinning that too. Something as complex, as dense, as the illusory creatures, but spread over miles. She could take it.

  How brightly would she burn? With a sun inside her? That would surely be enough to chase out puberty, enough power to shape her body however she wanted it. That was everything she had ever wanted. Even in the grove, she had always resented how she needed so much help to do what other girls did naturally. If their own bodies were capable of making these changes, then why couldn’t she take the same power for herself.

  Fuck giving up her girl’s body. That she would ever give up fighting for this chance was ughable. The very first chance to have it back and it’s all she wanted.

  She forgot the vilge. The future she’d caught in her eyes had chased out every other thought.

  No more caravans. Merchants wouldn’t chase her, trying to tear at her clothes to find out what she really was. Others her own age would never run from her again, afraid of her because they couldn’t pce her gender. They’d never run from her. Not unless she wanted them to. She could finally, finally, finally, live a normal life. Kate would not be a monster, a faggot, a freak, ever again. This was what she had been searching for. It had to be.

  She walked into the fire. It died around her, swirling into her hands. The scars on her knuckles were white hot with light. Kate carved a cold gash into the ndscape, searching for the brightest point, the juiciest morsel. She’d sink her teeth in and find out if she truly had the stomach for this.

  It wasn’t in the ancient tree, its magic was already spent. Only memory after all. She didn’t need that, she needed the future. It was on the edge of a ruined town, who hadn’t been so lucky as to have her to protect them. Hara pines, pnted here maybe only thirty years ago, far from their native soil. They were tall trees that grew plentiful in the forests that weren’t made for them. Someone had been bringing them north, in hopes that they could sell the lumber. The brightest point. The center of the swirling web of magic that had formed with the fire. It must have started here, something hot catching on branches not meant for the drier clime. Matchbox trees.

  Before she could even get to them, they blinked out of existence one by one. Or, no, they hadn’t disappeared. Only the fire had, and the cold charred wood underneath was being hidden in the gloom surrounding. Something was killing her future, her final chance at really being a girl.

  Deep in the heart of the fme, there was a bubble of blue sky and sunshine. So out of pce in the red sky and hot fire that it was hard to even understand what it was. A nice, temperate day. Not too hot, not too cold. Somehow, it was coming from a ntern, held up on a knobbly stick and tied with thread to the saddle of a donkey, who chewed on the green grass under him as if nothing extraordinary was happening. On top of the donkey was an old woman. She had in her hands a bundle of papers, nails, and a hammer. Clicking her teeth and tapping her heels at the donkey, she urged it on to the next burning tree. Throughout the heart of the fire, there were other bubbles like hers. A group of people working to put out the fire from the inside. When she got close, and the trunk was within her bright blue day, she took the paper and nailed it to the tree. The whole thing turned instantly dark and cold.

  The old woman turned to look at Kate, whose astonishment was melting away into anger. Those were hers, she had been ready to take them in. If she could break the old crone’s ntern, would that vanish her blue sky? Make her feel the heat? They’d see if she could stand up to it like Kate could.

  The old woman just clicked her teeth again, and the donkey waddled over to Kate.

  She looked at the inferno that burned behind Kate’s eyes, said, “Hm…” and pressed something, a paper, against her forehead. Kate took no notice, focused solely on shattering that cold mp, her hand outstretched to destroy it.

  But, as soon as the paper touched her, the world went dark and still.