“Please, help me now. Help me make things right,” I whisper to the forest, and I feel something open inside me, as if all the blood is pooling in my feet, spreading like roots, like capillaries through the earth, connecting me to the trees. Warmth rushes through my toes, twining up my legs to curl like spring fronds in the center of my chest.

I raise my hands and the trees respond.

“This will never—” Emmi’s words are cut short as the branches move, curling into fingers that make a fist as I ball my own.

My head fills with a sudden buzzing, as if a thousand bees have chosen the inside of my skull for their hive.

The branches reach down and wrap around Emmi, pinning her arms to her sides. She struggles in the forest’s grip, then stills and gazes at me with an expression I’ve never seen on her face before: it’s equal parts horror and wonder.

“This stops now.” I glare at Emmi and the buzzing gets louder.

“It’s over.” Mom stands beside me.

“It’s over for me,” Emmi says. “And it’s only right that I should give back to the forest what I’ve taken from it. But we won’t stop—not until balance is restored, or you drain every last drop of magic from this world.” She turns her stare on me. “Taika, please. Try to understand.”

My fists tighten and the branches squeeze, robbing the chaos mage of breath. Not Emmi, not the teacher who was kind to me, but a chaos mage who hurt Natalie and Hannah, who cut the hiisi, who stole what she had no right to. The mage closes her eyes and I blink the film of tears out of mine.

Mom puts her hands on my shoulders, making me aware of how tense I am. My whole body is rigid as I try not to think about how much I liked Emmi, how I trusted her and believed the care she showed me. I want her gone so she can never hurt anyone ever again.

The forest shivers and a gust of warm wind, ripe with the smell of damp earth, blusters through the clearing. The branches envelop the chaos mage, vines tangling through her hair, around and through her limbs. Now it isn’t only sap running in red rivulets down the tree trunks. The smell of copper fills the air and I want to be sick. The buzzing in my head gets louder and louder, until it’s so painful I’m sure my head will explode and release an entire stinging swarm.

Thank you, a creaking voice cuts through the buzzing, stilling the frenzy.

“It’s okay, Taika,” Mom says. “It’s over now. The forest has claimed her. You can stop now. Whatever you’re doing, it’s enough.” She peers into my face, stroking sweaty hair off my forehead.