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Books. Change. Lives.
Copyright © 2021 by Rachel Griffin
Cover and internal design © 2021 by Sourcebooks
Cover design by Nicole Hower/Sourcebooks
Cover images © Monica Lazar/Arcangel; borchee/Getty; mdesigner125/Getty; Maria Tishchenko/Getty
Internal design and illustrations by Michelle Mayhall/Sourcebooks
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Sourcebooks Fire, an imprint of Sourcebooks
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
sourcebooks.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Griffin, Rachel M., author.
Title: The nature of witches / Rachel Griffin.
Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Fire, [2021] | Audience:
Ages 14. | Audience: Grades 10-12. | Summary: Witches, who for centuries
have maintained the climate, are losing their power as the atmosphere
becomes more erratic, and all hope for a better future lies with Clara
Densmore, an Everwitch whose rare magic is tied to every season.
Identifiers: LCCN 2021000997 (print) | LCCN 2021000998 (ebook)
Subjects: CYAC: Witches--Fiction. | Magic--Fiction. | Weather--Fiction. |
Seasons--Fiction. | Love--Fiction. | Environmental protection--Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.G75245 Nat 2021 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.G75245
(ebook) | DDC [Fic]--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021000997
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021000998
Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Summer
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Autumn
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Winter
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Spring
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Summer
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Autumn
Chapter Forty-Three
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Cover
For Tyler. You are my sun.
Summer
Chapter One
“Being an Everwitch means two things: you are powerful, and you are dangerous.”
—A Season for Everything
Everything is burning, so many flames it looks as if we set the sky on fire. The sun has long since vanished, hidden behind a haze of smoke and ash, but its magic still rushes through me.
The fire has been raging for six days. It started with the smallest spark and became all-consuming in the span of a breath, flames spreading chaotic and fast, as if they were being chased.
Starting the fire was easy. But putting it out is something else entirely.
It’s our last wildfire training of the season, and it’s more intense than all the other training sessions combined. The fire is larger. The flames are higher. And the earth is drier.
But wildfires are a threat we now have to deal with, so we must learn. There are more than one hundred witches from all over the world here on campus to take this training.
The other witches help. The springs provide fuel, growing acres and acres of pines to sustain the fire. The winters pull moisture from the trees, and the autumns stand along the perimeter of the training field, ensuring the fire doesn’t spread beyond it.
We have to learn, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to burn down our entire campus in the process.
The rest is up to the summers, and we have one job: make it rain.
It’s not easy. The winters pulled so much water from the ground that it feels more like sawdust than dirt.
My eyes sting, and a layer of ash clings to the sweat on my face. My head is tipped back, hands outstretched, energy flowing through my veins. Summer magic is a constant rush, strong and powerful, and I push it toward the forest, where water soaks the earth and a lazy stream moves through the trees. The power of the witches around me follows, and I send it deeper into the woods.
It weaves around trees and skims the forest floor until it finds a particularly wet stretch of earth. Goose bumps rise along my skin as the heat of my magic collides with the cold moisture. There’s enough water here to coax from the ground and into the clouds, enough to vanquish the fire and clear the air of smoke.
This is the first time I’ve been involved in a group training session since I was on this same field last year, practicing with my best friend. Since the magic inside me rushed toward her in a flash of light, as bright as the fire in front of me. Since she screamed so loudly the sound still echoes in my ears.
I try to push the memory away, but my whole body trembles with it.
“Keep your focus, Clara.” Mr. Hart’s voice is steady and sure, coming from behind me. “You can do this.”
I take a deep breath and refocus. My eyes are closed, but it isn’t enough to erase the red and orange of the fire, a dull glow I’ll continue to see long after the flames are out.
“Now,” Mr. Hart says.
The rest of the summers release their magic to me, weaving it into my own. I tense under the weight of it. Our combined power is far stronger than individual streams flitting around the forest, the way a tapestry is stronger than the individual threads within it.
But it’s so heavy.
Most witches could never support the weight of it. Only a witch tied to all four seasons can control that much magic. Evers are rare, though, and our teachers didn’t have one in their generation—I’m the first in over a hundred years—so this is a learning process for us all. But it doesn’t feel right, holding the magic of so many witches.
It never does.
“Deep breaths, Clara,” Mr. Hart says. “You’ve got this.”
My hands shake. It’s so hot, heat from the
