Ophelia brought the blanket closer around her, huddled closer to the fire. She didn't know whether she was more discomforted by the burning of the fire and the numerous memories it engendered in her, or the desolate, forbidding weight of the sheer, flat nothing that seemed to surround them.

She felt vulnerable here, knew without a question that she would not catch a grain of sleep in the snow-covered desert she huddled on.

The sound of Winnie's voice made Ophelia jump after the half hour they had spent in mutual, surely horrified, silence. "I've been trying to think of what to say. Goddess, but what is there to say?"

Ophelia slammed her eyes shut, felt her mouth as it seemed set on pulling her lips into its vortex. Finally, she said, "How could any of this be possible?"

Winnie was sat, not quite next to her, a few feet away from Ophelia. The older Witch looked as though she were deep in thought - or shock - her chin rested on her arm, her knees drawn to her chest. Her eyes, whose color and energy reminded Ophelia once of the bright surface of river water in the summer time, now seemed cold, stonier.

The Witch dragged a hand through her filthy hair - a trait Ophelia shared, now - and said, "Why, don't you know, anything's possible, with Magic."

Ophelia brought her arms tight around herself. "Then fuck it." As soon as the words left her mouth, Ophelia began to weep. She clenched her fingers to her eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears from flowing. She shook with emotion. Anger, fear, sorrow, despair-

The feel, of Winnie drawing Ophelia close to her, brought a relief that could not hope to stop the pain she felt, but was a welcome surprise. For a moment, Ophelia thought that she could almost recall what it felt like to drink cocoa on a winter night like this, safe in the belief that nothing could ever harm the gentle women who called her their Sister.

Ophelia ducked her head into the crook of Winnie's arm, sobbed openly, muffled against the fabric that was rapidly warmed with her shaking breaths. She did not know how long they spent like that, but in her mind she recalled memories that would never leave her, would infest her nightmares.

Two robed figures, trying to beseech a God they thought they could assuage, once they realized they had no control over it. Ophelia could recall the terrible quality their faces possessed as they begged for their lives to the creature on the altar. 

In memory, their faces most reminded her of a horrible, vivid painting she had once seen, depicting sinners at the mercy of a Judeo-Christian demon. Those people in the painting had seemed to have been rendered genderless as they shared the experience of terror, eyes bulging, pale hands raised in a universal gesture of helpless groveling.

Winnie spoke, breaking the pull that terrible, oh so recent memories called to Ophelia. "We survived."

That they did. Again, Ophelia was compelled to remember the flight of the two robes figures, then the second who died in that room. Hera had taken hold of her eldest daughter's shoulder, then seemed to pull her in for a shockingly intimate embrace.

Hera had told her that she was vampiric, and it was not until that moment that it had truly sunk in for her.

It almost seemed as though Hera had pulled her eldest daughter to her in for a last kiss, and Sia began to jerk, spasming. Then came her screams, which echoed louder still, it seemed in Ophelia's memory, than Netta's had. 

After she sent her already decaying eldest to the ground, Hera fled the room, her movements taking on a jerking, rapid motion that seemed to go well beyond what a physical form should have been capable of.

Ophelia shook herself out of the memory, raised her hands out, trying to will the warmth of the fire into her cold skin. She wondered if she could ever feel warmth ever again.

Winnie seemed to struggle to find what to say, then finally said, "We have to move, in the morning. There have to be - we must find some other Coven, some... community, where we can be safe."

We'll never know safety.

Ophelia shoved herself forward, away from Winnie. She thrust her hands closer to the heat of the fire, then became transfixed for a moment by the sight of the snow that was eaten by the resonating heat of the fire.

The sight of the snow, as it melted, brought back unwelcome memories of the last moments in the house.

Ophelia found herself gazing at the creature, as it seemed to expand, to rise. She was transfixed by the sight of it, shocked to see, for the first time in her life, a powerful Monster as it seemed to swell with power, anger.

Long, dark hair fell over Its face as it hunched on the altar, sitting on it as though it belonged no where else in the world than in the throne the altar resembled. Its eyes seemed to be holes that were not simply flames, but were rather portals into some hellish inferno.

Try though she might, Ophelia could not erase from her mind the image of the creature, recalled what she saw as she stared at it in the moments before the light of the fire in the brazier had sputtered out.

Its horns - they seemed to twine and twist, writhing in an angry mass as they rose like creeping vines towards a nonexistent sun. Black, curved and heavy looking, the crown of the God-thing seemed to expand, to grow. Its limbs were also heavy, thick, hands ending in long, pointed black, curving claws.

It was the angular face of the creature that held Ophelia's focus most, however. What became most branded in memory, what she saw when she shut her eyes for a moment's reprieve. It looked like a gaunt skull, as It smiled, Its heavy, barbed teeth seemed to split thin lips apart.

Ophelia had felt that she had been gazing at death Itself, unpeaceful, hair-rending, screaming death.

Winnie spoke, her voice a welcome intrusion of the memory that played in Ophelia's mind without end or beginning. "Technically, we don't know if she died - back there." Winnie rested her hand on Ophelia's shoulder, a supposedly comforting weight.

Ophelia jerked away from her, could not bear to glance back at her companion. "I know what I saw." And heard.

The creature had spoken, Its voice, unmistakably, Netta's, almost warm. "Leave now, Ophelia. Take Winnie with you."

Ophelia shut her eyes again, felt herself beginning that infernal rocking motion that she so wished she could just stop.

Ophelia had taken hold of Winnie's hand, gripped it with all of the strength that she had left in her. The other Witch had faltered, and Ophelia had not blamed her, in retrospect. There had to be something left of Netta in that creature, when it spoke with her voice, her personality.

Still, Ophelia obeyed the voice of her hero, took hold of Winnie's hand and ran. Hera had thrown the door open and she ran through it, hearing as she crossed the threshold the sound of crashing, cracking.

Ophelia spun around, pure instinct controlling her. She looked, saw as the creature, grown massive so that Its elbows were pressing against the ceiling in something that struck the terrified teenager as a sick parody of the illustration she had seen once in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland after the main character had drunk the growing potion.

The ceiling was crashing down on the creature's head, all that Ophelia could see of the transformed Monster's face was Its jutting, bone-like chin. When she turned and began to run anew, she heard a terrible, groaning rumble above her. As she ran down the long, transformed hallway, she looked up and saw the fractures, hair-line at first, then broadened, blooming against the white ceiling.

The creature was breaking the roof, would surely bring it down on all of them.

Ophelia did not know how long they ran down the enchanted hallway, with her hand clutching Winnie's in her own. She kept her hand tethered to Winnie's, even as the roof seemed as though it would come crashing down her at any moment. Ophelia was aware of one thing above everything else.

She would not lose her last Sister, would do anything to save them.

Still the hallway seemed to unwind in front of her, unspooling more of itself as the cracks in the ceiling seemed to chase them down it. When Ophelia turned to look at Winnie, she saw an almost mirror image of the emotions that spilled so freely through her.

As Ophelia's mind drifted back to the experience of running down the hallway, she heard as Winnie stood up behind her. She turned, watched as the Witch staggered to where the light of the fire began to fade against the snow.

Ophelia tensed. "Winnie..."

Winnie gave her a tired, dismissive wave, when she spoke, she sounded tired, cross, but not unkindly so. "Hush, child. I'm only going to relieve myself."

Still, Ophelia watched as the woman walked into the dusk, disappearing behind a thick bush on the taller side. This was not a night that Ophelia appreciated privacy. As she waited for the older Witch to return to the fire, Ophelia returned her gaze to the fire, recalled, joylessly, when they had reached the end of the hallway, at long last.

Hera was there, seemed to have difficulty opening the door. She struggled against it, putting her foot against the wood while her hands clawed, yanked at the knob. As she seemed to realize their presence - they stood there, stunned, watching as Hera clawed at the door like a rabid animal - she spun around, flattening her back against the wall.

She opened her mouth, was talking, but Ophelia had either been too shocked to understand what she had said, or simply could not recall it. She could not recall anything Hera had said, save for one sentence.

"-Monster won't heed me - give Its magic to me. Obeying only the abomination's will..."

The loud crack from behind them stopped her talking, drew all of their attentions behind them, back down the long, long hallway. Ophelia watched as the ceiling began to collapse in earnest down the hallway, heading in their direction.

When Winnie let out a loud, shocked cry, Ophelia turned in time to see as Hera had clasped her hand to the base of Winnie's throat, was pulling the Witch to her.

Still reminiscing, the sound of Winnie calling out to her brought Ophelia's attention back to her. "I'm back. I managed not to die or be captured while urinating, which I'm sure you'll be relieved to hear."

Ophelia turned to her, and for once since they had escaped three hours ago, she allowed herself to feel relieved - shocked - by the fact that the Witch was alive.

Hera's other hand reached up, pressing Winnie's head towards hers. Ophelia knew that this was the Witch's final move, her desperate attempt to escape by sucking the magic - life - out of her last remaining Coven Sister. Ophelia did not allow another moment to think, acted instinctively.

She leaped, bringing her shoulder back with all of the rage and sorrow that she had experienced in the last few weeks, curled her hand into a tight fist and swung.

Ophelia hit Hera, smashing her nose, feeling the cartilage as it seemed to bow under her fist before she pulled away. As Ophelia pulled back, about to land another punch on the Witch, she watched as Hera let go of Winnie, as though touching the woman had burned her. Her hands flew to her nose as she screamed. 

Ophelia had only seen it for a moment before the Witch had clamped her hands over her face, the ruined, bleeding mess in the center of it.

She did not then have the capacity to exalt in the aftermath of what she had done to Hera, but as she sat in front of the fire, Ophelia felt the edges of a smile threaten at the corner of her lips.

As though guessing her line of thought, Winnie took a seat next to her - close to Ophelia - and spoke in a soft hush. "Hey - don't think I've had the chance to say it yet, but thank you for saving me. At this point, I think everyone's had a chance to save me, I can't seem to do the same for anybody."

Ophelia turned to look at the Witch. For a moment, she was almost overcome with the impression that she was looking at the last, the only, member of her family. She felt tears pricking the corners of her eyes, she ran her hand across her face fiercely to keep them at bay.  She was sick of crying, decided there and then that no matter what more happened to her, that she would never cry again. "Don't mention it. I'm sure you'll get your chance with me, one of these days."

Winnie, the ever-tired, cautious Witch, gazed back at her. In spite of her near-exhaustion, Ophelia thought that she could see a glimpse of what the woman could look like, when she wasn't cold and distant or in a panic.

She looks like someone I could love, like an auntie. It was the raw, if not somewhat sad, kindness in the woman's eyes, the cautious smile that didn't reach the rest of her face, attempted for Ophelia's benefit.

Finally, Winnie glanced away, back at the fire. The strained smile faded from her face. "How will we survive?"

Ophelia gazed back into the fire, as though she could see, there, the same thoughts that Winnie was alone privy to.

What she recalled was the fire that had consumed the house they had been kept hostage in. Unerringly, Ophelia remembered how Hera had fallen to the floor. At first, Ophelia had thought that the Witch was reacting to a tremor she felt, the house felt as though it was on the verge of collapsing on them, after all.

But then Hera began to scream, and she was beseeching something, groveling, reacting as though she alone could hear a voice and was reacting to it. She reached hands, coated in her own blood, to the ceiling, as though crying to the spreading mosaic of cracks that advanced on them.  At some point, Ophelia began to really hear what the woman was saying, over and over.

My child. My child.

And then Hera stopped.  She got to her feet, standing, her movements stiff, as though she were no longer in control of herself.

The Witch began to bawl, then her hands extended in front of her as she walked, infant-like and awkward, down the darkness of the hallway. Down she walked, past the ever-widening, ravenous-looking cracks in the ceiling, into space where the walls had begun to show cracks.

It was the heavy, crescendo of crashes that snapped Ophelia out of her horrible fascination, as she watched the Witch as she seemed to be compelled to walk back down the hallway. In the distance down the hallway, it sounded as though the world was collapsing in on them.

Ophelia spun around, her instinct to escape snapping her back to reality. She turned, just in time to watch as the door that Hera had struggled at, cracked open, then began to open.

Next to Ophelia in the snow, Winnie shifted, drew the thin jacket that she had been wearing since they had been originally abducted, closer to herself. She said, "How long till we find another Coven? And who would believe us, even if we did?"

Ophelia brought her legs up, clutched them tight to her chest. "We don't need another Coven."

"Now, what are you talking about?"

Ophelia turned to stare back into the fire, feeling, for the first time that whole, nightmarish evening, the certainty of one thing. "I'm going to find my sister's widow, I'm going through with a promise I made to that Monster."

When Winnie spoke, she sounded too weary to come off as truly authoritative. "Don't leap to conclusions like what you're considering."

Ophelia felt a knot form in her chest. Don't give yourself to a union with a Monster. Sometimes, Ophelia forgot that she was not considered a woman by the standards of Humans or Witches, but the last month had made it all too easy to forget that.

Being an adult, Ophelia felt, was all about power. The power to protect what you care about. And if she entered into a union with a Monster...

The fire in front of Ophelia, a friendly, tame thing that kept both the cold and the insidious darkness at bay reminded her too well of the wild, angry vortex that she had seen just a few short hours ago.

As they had run out of the hallway - with Hera's screams ringing clearly in Ophelia's mind - they entered the house proper. They ran through it, their hands entwined once more, locked tightly.

At first, the sight of the house managed to take Ophelia's breath away and she almost stopped running. The house seemed almost to be rotting, decaying as though everything was rapidly wilting. What Ophelia could clearly recall was the sight of the pictures on the wall as they seemed to droop, the tight, straight lines of the frame contorting, melting.

The furniture they ran past seemed to lose its shape, collapsing to the floor, and the colors of everything seemed to muddy, grey. She smelled it - the acrid, hot smell of fire, smoke - seeming to envelop Ophelia's every olfactory sense.

They were about to run past the living room when Ophelia was almost hypnotized by the sight of the pot belly stove.

Its hinge door was fully open and it breathed fire, seemed to infect all around it with crazy flames. They were flames that seemed to explode, burst with every shade of red, yellow, white, black possible. It was Winnie that pulled Ophelia, forcing her to move, to run with her as they cut through the house. As they were passing by the dining room, Ophelia saw the blaze of light which almost transfixed her.

There was a fire that was blazing, huge and unspeakably bright in the kitchen. For a moment, all she wanted to do was stare at it. The flames seemed to compel Ophelia, seemed to possess a life of their own.

In their movement and vividity, Ophelia thought that she could somehow sense engulfing rage, yes, but almost more than that she thought that, she could sense triumph. If not for Winnie, who only allowed her a brief moment to stare, open-mouthed at the flames as they breathed and grew into the dining room, she would have stood there hypnotized.

What she recalled most of all of what was they saw, as they turned around after stopping. Ophelia could not even recall breaking through the front door, running outside. But the sight of the burning house - that felt as though it had been imprinted on Ophelia's mind.  Like the afterimage of a dream that refused to leave her memory.

The flames seemed to wrap around the house like the petals to some horrific tulip, their sharp points piercing the night sky, sending up plumes of black, oily smoke.

The sight of it managed to stop Ophelia finally. She dropped to her knees, numbly watching as the flames ravenously engulfed the house. In the middle of the flames, Ophelia saw that the house seemed to be collapsing, the roof caving in, the walls shuddering and dropping.

Winnie had to of taken Ophelia by her hand, had had her run with her. The next time that Ophelia felt conscious of her surroundings, She was running through the heavy snow-caked desert. When she looked behind her, Ophelia could see, in the distant sky, the ethereal, glowing beauty of the inferno that they had run from.

And now -

"We're going to be okay," Winnie was saying, sounding unsure herself. "We still have each other."

Yes, I'm not alone right now, I'm not dead -

The sound, of someone - something - moving rapidly through the shrubbery brought both Witches to immediate attention. Ophelia leaped to her feet, spun around, looked in the direction that she knew the sound had come from. In the near perfect darkness beyond the circle of fire light, she could not hope to make anything out. It all looked like anthropomorphized shadow, swaying in the cold breeze.

She nearly leaped when she felt the hand on her shoulder, but turned slightly and realized that it was Winnie.

Ophelia turned back to the direction that she knew she had heard the noise from. Perhaps she was only imagining it, but she thought that she saw a shadow that stood out from the rest.

Yes, it was vague in the distance, but there was something to it that seemed to her to retain some quality of a human form.

Ophelia hesitated, then brought her hand up to rest, in a movement she hoped was reassuring, atop the hand that Winnie had placed on her shoulder.

Raising her voice, she demanded, "Who goes there?"