Something that the girlwitch had said—she with the enormous gold-green eyes—when she touched him and brought him into that red haze. What was it? A phrase, a thought, a feeling. It felt like something distant from a dream, fuzzy and half real. But he knew it was real. He had been there after all, and that pyre had lit up, they all saw the smoke. Something real had happened.
“They were right, they were right, send up the light?” Frix whispered it aloud. It sounded too singsong, but maybe that’s how the witches spoke to one another? The pattern of speech was locked up in the feeling. It wasn’t even words, it was…
:)