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

Shi Yaozu returned just before dawn, silent as ever, soaked in shadow and dust and smelling like a horse.

I was already awake. I hadn't slept more than an hour or so... Not well, anyway.

After Yan Luo left, I spent an hour watching the mist dance along the garden stones, wondering how many enemies I'd gained in the span of a week. How many more were still pretending to be allies.

I didn't look up as Yaozu entered my chambers. He didn't speak, didn't bow. Just stood in the corner like he always did—quiet and grim and perfectly still.

Until he finally muttered, "I should've been here."

I tilted my head. "You were gathering intel."

"There was a knife against your skin."

"It didn't get that far," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "A single assassin is nothing compared to an entire army."

He didn't answer. But his hands were clenched at his sides. "You can stop blaming yourself," I sighed, setting the brush back in the inkwell beside me. "He's dead. And his skull made a lovely addition to Lady Bai's pillowcase."

That got a flicker of amusement from him—just in the corner of his mouth. "I kind of wanted to see it. She would have been twins with Lady Yuan when she tried the assassin route as well. I heard Lady Bai scream and faint when she woke up. One of the guards thought it was overkill," he admitted. "But effective overkill."

"I wasn't trying to be subtle," I replied, narrowing my eyes.

"Clearly."

He crossed the room and dropped a sealed scroll onto my table. I didn't reach for it yet.

"From the South?"

He nodded once. "Their soldiers are pulling back from the riverside towns. Not retreating—just repositioning. They're waiting for something."

"Supplies?"

"Or reinforcements."

I frowned. "They wouldn't be stupid enough to attack from the South again, not after what happened. And I really can't believe that they have more men to sacrifice crossing that border."

"They aren't doing it alone," he said, voice lower now. "I couldn't confirm who—but I heard the name 'Northern Winds' more than once."

That made me still. "Northern Winds? I assume that they are from the North?" I asked.

"They've been seen in merchant convoys. Ships bearing their banners have docked near Chixia territory. Not officially. But enough times for it to not be a coincidence."

I leaned back slowly, the wood of my chair groaning under the shift.

"And the Emperor still refuses to admit this war is real."

"He still thinks he has time."

I scoffed. "He doesn't."

There was a long silence between us. The kind that only comes when both people are circling the same truth but waiting to see who speaks it first.

Yaozu broke it.

"If the North and South ally, and Yelan stays in play… we'll be facing a three-front war. Given the fact that we still have an ambassador from the East… I'm going to assume that they don't want to be left out either."

I hummed in agreement. Right now, four against one was an easy win… I just wondered when they would realize the true price when Daiyu fell. After all, there can be only one standing at the end of the day. "Can Daiyu handle that?"

He didn't answer right away.

"Not like this," he said finally. "We're stretched too thin. Supplies are failing. Nobles are hoarding. And half the generals are playing politics instead of prepping troops."

I studied him for a moment.

Then asked the question that had been blooming slowly in my chest like a thorned flower. "Is it really that big of a deal if Daiyu falls?"

He blinked, startled at my question.

I smiled faintly, though it didn't touch my eyes. "Without the capital, I'd be back in my mountain, remember? Living the life I actually want. No veils, no poison, no thrones. Just the garden and the river and maybe a few chickens that don't try to kill me."

His jaw tightened.

"Xinying—"

"I'm serious," I said, leaning forward. "Let them burn the country to the ground. The palace. The court. All of it. Why should I care? I am not one of them, and they have made it perfectly clear."

He stepped closer, quiet but intense. His eyes locked on mine like he was measuring something.

"If Daiyu falls," he said slowly, "every member of the royal family will be executed. The Empress. The concubines. The children. All of them."

"That sounds like a them problem," I muttered, even though I wrinkled my nose at the idea of something happening to the Empress. Then again, she was a lust demon, I was pretty sure that she could hold her own if push came to shove. And then she could always come back to my mountain with me.

"Sun Longzi will be killed."

That, too, made my breath catch, just slightly. I didn't like the man, but he didn't deserve to die either.

"And Zhu Deming won't stand a chance," Yaozu continued, relentless now. "He'll probably be one of the first to die."

My fingers curled. Clearly, I wasn't about to let something happen to him, either.

"And the North will make sure Zhu Mingyu is the last."

I looked down at my hands.

The calluses. The faint ink stain on my thumb. The white scar on the side of my palm where I'd burned myself in the mountains. So much of my life was carved into my skin.

So many things I never planned to protect.

"What about you?" I asked, pressing my lips together. "Where in that order will you die?"

He didn't blink.

"Somewhere between Sun Longzi and Zhu Mingyu."

"That's a narrow window."

He shrugged. "The Shadow Guard are the last line of defense to the Crown Prince. We die when he does. Or just before."

My mouth went dry.

And I hated that it hurt.

I didn't want it to hurt. Not for him. Not for any of them.

I'd spent eleven years burying that kind of weakness in the dirt beneath my garden beds. But here it was again, clawing its way out of me.

"Well," I muttered. "Fuck."

Yaozu's lips twitched.

"I guess it is my problem after all," I sighed.

He didn't say thank you, he didn't offer reassurance or comfort.

He just stepped back to his usual place in the room—shoulders straight, expression unreadable. But his eyes were softer. Just a little.

"You're not alone this time," he said.

"I know," I murmured.

And for a moment, I hated the fact that I let myself care for so many people.