#darris

“Was the witch good or bad?” Ileth asks, settling into his currently space themed bed sheets.

“Witches are neither good nor bad,” Serahlin tells him, “they simply make choices and sometimes those choices are helpful and sometimes those choices are harmful.”

“Oh. What choices did they make?”

Serahlin considers that for a moment, “She liked to make helpful choices, but sometimes she had to make harmful ones, to protect herself. But one day, a man stole her book of spells.”

“What’s that?” So curious, like a true witch. It makes her heart swell with pride.

“The book of spells is one of the three sources of power for a witch. The first source is the familiar, a witch’s companion. When a familiar arrives for a witch, so do the witch’s first powers. The familiar helps focus the power. The book of spells is the second source of power, as it holds the knowledge to use the power.”

“What’s the last one?” Ileth asks and Serahlin smiles wistfully.

“The last source is a coven of other witches, to help and protect, to love and support.” She smooths a hand over hair and sighs.

“What happened to this witch?” He whispers. Her sadness turns to a wicked anger; her eyes flash with emotion as she bends over and kisses his forehead.

“She married the man in hopes of one day finding the book and putting an end to his harmfulness.” She finishes tucking him in and reaches over, ticking the light off. The stars on his ceiling glow in the darkness, making his one bright golden eye shine. Her beautiful, rare boy, such a gift in such a trying time. She will raise him to be better than the male witches before him, better than his father who is out on the town tonight sleeping with his secretary.

Serahlin rises from Ileth’s bedside, but it seems his questions are not quite done yet.

“Does she stop him?” Ileth asks in a small voice. A good question, and one she finally knows the answer to.

“She does, because after six long years of subservience, the witch found her book and her familiar returned to her all unbeknownst to the man. Now sleep, my darling, tomorrow is a very big day.”

“Night-night, Memae.”

“Goodnight, my sweet boy.” She stops in the doorway and murmurs a small incantation to help with his sleep. Insomnia plagues all witches on the eve of a full moon; a restlessness that infects all of their kind and her son is no different.

Serahlin shuts the door and heads to the kitchen. For so long Darris had kept her book stored away, sealed behind heavy magicks that she could not hope to touch. Out of fear, Serahlin had sent her familiar away so that he would not be killed in Darris’s mad attempt to control Serahlin. She comes from a prominent witch line, a stronger one than Darris’s own, and she would have been able to overpower him had he not impregnated her and managed to steal her book.

She did not tell Ileth everything about the power the book holds. Each witch has one book that they enchant to store a portion of their power to grow their knowledge base. Without the creation of the book, a witch will never grow their power and would become a liability to the coven. But if the book is stolen, then the witch is beholden to whomever has the book.

Serahlin holds her hand out the book, an innocuous enough looking copy of The Princess Bride manifests, floating above her palm. One would not know it is her book of spells simply by looking at it - not even other witches would know. Darris had only known because she had fumbled for a pregnancy testing spell. He had seen the true form of the book and while she was reeling over the reveal of the life growing inside of her, he snatched the book from her grasp. A shock had run through her body, and she had known he had done this on purpose.

It was only by chance that she discovered her book once more. Locked away in a box in the attic. Her familiar, returned to her after being sent away for its own protection, broke the seal on the box and she was once more reunited with two thirds of her power.

Darris had been quick to move her from Orlais, away from her coven. But Serahlin is nothing if resourceful.

She takes to the kitchen and begins baking. She is still baking when the front door creaks open and the newly enchanted stone on the windowsill above the sink glows red. Ah yes, her darling husband is home. She waves a hand over her book, quickly shifting its appearance to that of a cookbook, open to a cinnamon apple muffin recipe to coincide with the scents filling the house.

He shuffles into the kitchen, squinting his eyes at her, “What are you doing up?” He accuses. She does not give him the satisfaction of turning around.

“Ileth’s grade has a bake sale tomorrow. I found the letter in his backpack this afternoon, he forgot to give it to me a week ago.”

“That boy,” Darris sighs, disappointment lacing his tone.

“That boy is my son, watch what you say,” she snaps back.

“Or you’ll what?” He snorts, all too still pleased with himself about stealing her book. “And he is my heir.” She resists smiling to herself at that. Not for long, Darris, not for long.

She scoops batter into a muffin tin and crosses to the oven.

“Careful what you taunt, Darris,” she says. It is less of a warning and more foreshadowing of what is to come. She takes a batch of muffins out of the oven, smiling when she sees the small of magic rise from them as they exit the heat. Just a small spell to test her powers again - a lovely little lice preventative; a gift from her to the other parents at the school.

Darris has his face in the refrigerator, picking at the food instead of simply making a plate for himself.

Don’t kill him yet. Tomorrow is the full moon, when her power is highest. Ileth has yet to come into his power, which means she still holds some of it within her, keeping it safe until his familiar arrives on his sixth birthday. All witches who carry babes hold this power, and Ileth is moon blessed - his white hair marks him so. Moon blessed witches are granted incredible power during the full moon, at the cost of vulnerability during the new moon. The combination of these facts mean that Serahlin will by supremely powerful tomorrow night.

A wicked smile crosses her face as she plucks the muffins from their tin and places them into a basket.

Darris finally leaves for bed in a thankfully separate room from hers. After seizing her book, she had fought him well enough to grant her the reprieve of her own room. She may not have had her magic, but she had her ability to scratch and bite and kick while he slept. After turning him black and blue a few times, he had shouted enough and she had won her own room.

The new house, so grand with its six bedrooms and three living rooms, has plenty of space between her and her unfortunate husband. Darris resides in the eastern wing of the house, claiming the true master bedroom, while Serahlin and Ileth sleep in the western wing.

After cleaning everything up from her night of baking, Serahlin ascends the stairs and only stops to prick her finger on the small knife she brought with her. Her nose scrunches up at the pain, but it is necessary as she raises the now bleeding finger and draws in a warding rune on the door to Ileth’s room.

“Room filled with precious life, be guarded by this door, may none who wish harm enter, may they feel the cut of a knife.” She breathes the spell into the wood and it glows pink for a second with her magic before reverting to its natural dark wood.

Good. Next is her own door, which she similarly enchants. The door clicks behind her and she breathes a sigh of relief. She calls her book back to her and marvels at its beauty. She has much to review before tomorrow night comes.

**

Darris has left for work by the time she wakes for her day.

Serahlin is the mother who wakes early and makes her son’s breakfast and lunch. She braids his hair and dresses him in a handsome outfit befitting the full moon tonight. He is brimming with energy. The teacher will likely reprimand him for being unable to sit still, but she will not punish him for his natural inclination this day.

Once he is made ready, she packs him with all his things into the car and drives him the three miles down the road to his elementary school. She drops him off in the carpool line, promising the teachers tending to the line that she will be back at one for the bake sale.

When she returns home, she heads straight to her makeshift office occupying the third bedroom in the western wing. Her familiar, Risin, is waiting for her on her desk, window open and drapes billowing with the autumn breeze. She runs an affectionate hand over the grey cat.

“It has been too long, my dear friend,” she coos in Orlesian. “How will we dispose of my husband, this eve?”

Risin mews long and his green eyes glow brightly with malicious intent. Serahlin holds her hand out and her book manifests eagerly, opening to pages upon pages of spells that she could utilize.

Which one to use? She could asphyxiate him, squeezing his throat closed without laying a hand on him. There is a spell that will make his heart burst, and another that will make all of his veins rupture at once. She quickly crosses the last one off the potential list - it’s too messy and should Ileth come down the stairs, he will be traumatized. As horrible as his father is, she does not wish her son to experience undo sadness or strife.

Serahlin works her way through the spells, making a pros and con list for all of them. She consults with Risin on his thoughts, finally settling on the spell to use. A simple potion, to be applied to his wine glass. Better yet, the potion is easy enough to make that she has time to bring the muffins to the bake sale, tend to the entirety of the sale, then return with plenty of time to create the potion before Darris returns home.

Unfortunately she doesn’t have time to dig the grave, but she can always do that after he’s dead.

She leaves for the bake sale with all the muffins and arrives in good time to help set everything up.

“Serahlin! Good, you’re here. Go set up next to Selene, and try to make the store-bought look a little less store-bought?” Mrs. Corninkle asks and Serahlin smiles her nicest “I don’t actually like you” smile. The fifth grade teacher thinks she’s all that because she once won a blue ribbon for her oatmeal raisin cookies at a local fair, but really, the woman must be a witch because who in their right minds chooses oatmeal raisin over chocolate chip? That blue ribbon will be Serahlin’s this year.

“Of course, Mrs. Corninkle,” she says and takes her plentiful homemade, lice-preventing muffins to the table where Selene Lavellan is currently setting out her store bought cookies. Really, is store bought so bad? She will take store bought chocolate chip cookies over homemade oatmeal raisin any day.

When Selene looks up, the breath leaves Serahlin. Witch! A fellow witch! The magicks swirl around the other woman in purple tinted smoke, only visible to other witches. The loss of Serahlin’s book must have blinded her to the truth of Selene’s nature.

And yet there is no recognition in Selene’s face for Serahlin, never once has Selene addressed Serahlin in the traditional way. And the magic surrounding Selene is dull, as if it is far away and diluted.

Her book has been stolen as well.

She’ll just have to fix that after her husband is dealt with, then.

“Hello, Selene,” Serahlin greats, setting the tupperware on the table. Selene looks up from her arranging the cookies.

“Hi, Serahlin - I didn’t know you baked,” she says, slightly despairing at the look of Serahlin’s large muffins.

“Only a little. The cookies look delicious, by the way, much better than any oatmeal raisin.” She can feel Mrs. Corninkle’s glare, but Serahlin can’t be bothered. Selene’s lips turn up some.

“Thanks. I’ve never been any good at baking.”

“There are other talents to be had. Now let’s get this looking beautiful.”

In the end, the bake sale does wonderfully. And Serahlin ensures that Selene’s cookies sell better than Corninkle’s.

Serahlin drives Ileth home and takes him aside.

“Ileth, I need to listen to me, and listen well,” she says in a low voice. Ileth goes still.

“What is it, Memae?”

“Do not leave your room tonight. I will let the moonlight into your room and bring in all of your toys. You can eat all the candy you want - but you cannot leave your room. Do you understand?”

He nods in grim understanding, already wiser than his years. Witch children are cunning and observant creatures, they know when there are monsters and that sometimes those monsters must be dealt with.

She kisses his forehead, “There is a good boy. But it is not night quite yet and the garden is quite lovely this day.” She waves her hand out and the doors in the back of the house open wide to let her son run out to play. Ileth beams and run out to the yard. It is large with a border of old growth trees that lean over the maintained clearing. There are a total of nine trees, one for each of the Creators and each one holds a blood ward to protect the clearing and the house. Ileth is safe out there, safer than he is at school even.

Back in the kitchen, Serahlin keeps watch over Ileth from the sink’s window and with Risin perched on the porch. Serahlin gets to making the potion. It takes an hour to combine, then another thirty minutes to boil to the right shade of blue.

Once complete, she takes out a wine glass and dips the rim into the potion. She holds it upside down, murmuring the activation spell -

“Blue to clear, life to death, make him fear, make him lose his breath.” The blue of the potion solidifies and turns clear, making itself until it can no longer be perceived.

Darris comes home at sunset. She allows him to greet Ileth one last time before Serahlin nods to her son, “Remember what I told you this afternoon?” He nods and she smiles, “Go now, my love. I will get you when everything is ready.”

“What’d you tell him?” Darris asks, setting his work bag down then working on his tie.

“That he needs to clean his room. I’ll get him when dinner is ready.”

“Good, good,” he says, as if he really has ever taken that much interest in parenting her son other than making comments on he is soft, and unfortunately seems to take after Serahlin’s line. Of course he takes after mine, you idiotic oaf, my line is stronger.

“I drew you a bath,” she tells him and he arches a brow.

“You lie.”

“It is the full moon, Darris, and I wish to celebrate. Go bathe and join me for wine in the garden. Dinner has an hour yet to be done.” In truth, she has already eaten with Ileth, filled him with lamb and vegetables as is customary of the full moon.

“You have not drawn me a bath in years,” he says and she shrugs.

“I did tonight. Now go, remove the stench of humans and corporate from your body. I long to feel the moon’s light.” Her tone is sexual and it works almost as well as magic. Men, always eager to fall for a woman’s sex appeal.

Darris dashes up the stairs, dunking himself into the treated bath. Unbeknownst to him, the water is enchanted to strip all magic enchantments. She added another charm to make it totally hidden, using no small amount of her power. But tonight she is strong and tonight he will pay.

By the time Darris joins her in the garden, she is on her second glass of wine. The moonlight is addictive, no wonder the moon blessed crave its seductive illumination.

“That bath was spectacular, dove,” Darris murmurs, sliding his arms around her waist. Resisting her snarl of disgust, Serahlin sips her wine.

“Drink your wine, Darris, it is traditional black wine.” She had paid a pretty penny for it, knowing it would be worth it to have his favorite on hand.

“Ah!” He takes the glass and sips it greedily. She watches with rapt attention. Even now, though, she worries he will not perish, he will sense the enchantment, will counter it and keep her trapped.

He drops the glass. It shatters in the dirt as he reaches up to clutch at his neck. His lips are blue and his eyes are beginning to bug; his knees buckle and his eyes flash in understanding.

“You….” he chokes, trying to summon an ounce of strength. But there is none to be had, because that bad did not just strip him of protections, but of power as well. Serahlin grins victoriously.

“The witch found her book, you see,” she says continuing her story from last night as if Darris is a child, lifting her foot, placing it on his shoulder, “her familiar returned, and after all this time, her power had indeed grown more powerful than the man who had enslaved her. In the end, he was no match for her.” She takes a final sip of her wine before pouring it over him.

“You...bitch,” he wheezes before falling over into the dirt. His body convulses once, twice, before he passes out. She counts the minutes until twenty have passed.

Time of death: 8:22pm.

The house heaves at the loss, the spells he had woven over the place breaking. She reaches out and commands the magic to flow to her, warping it to her whim. The magic is eager for a mistress, binding itself eagerly to her.

Serahlin inhales the power and looks down at her now deceased husband.

She’s a widow now, funny how that happens.

The next step is not nearly so pleasant as watching the light die in Darris’s eyes. Serahlin grasps Darris’s ankles and drags him out to the yard and into the patch she had decided would look nice for a new tree.

It takes several hours to dig the hole, even with magic. Risin is watching over Ileth so he is not here to help. Eventually, the hole is ready. She tosses in a jar with a renewal potion that will help the earth accept this offering.

Next, she rolls Darris’s body into the hole.

“From death comes a new life, freedom blooms for this wife, and may so a tree, so grand and strong and free.” She tosses in another jar for good measure and begins the arduous work to bury her dead husband.

By the time she is done, she is covered in dirt and it is so late that it is early. But the moon is high and so is she. She is free! At last!

Barefoot and filthy, Serahlin twirls into the house. The house that Darris decorated. It is full of grey and white and modern touches that she loathes. It is time for some redecorating, she thinks.

With deliberate slowness and purpose, Serahlin strides through her house, dragging her hand along the walls. From painted grey they turn to luxurious wallpaper and soft pastels. With a flick of her hand, the furniture rearranges itself, reformats itself into comfortable, inviting, plush shapes. The fireplace roars to life as a traditional mantle stretches from the single raw edged monstrosity Darris had bought. Chandeliers descend from the ceilings in a flurry of twinkling lights. The animal heads all disappear, replaced with tapestries and paintings of her ancestors. The altar to Falon’din is torn to shreds, thrown out an open window. In its place, a small shrine to Sylaise rises, her line’s patron goddess.

A navy runner dotted with white flower slithers down the grand staircase. Curtains frames in the windows that were once only covered by blinds. Animal fur rugs are replaced with lush threaded rugs that do not terrify her son.

When her alarm goes off, she is finally done, reclining in her bathtub with a victory cigarette. The husband dead, the house transformed, Serahlin is a true free woman now. Free to live with her son in comfort.

She rises from the tub and goes to collect her son. It is time to ready him for school.

**

The sun is high in the sky the next day and Serahlin wears a wide brimmed hat to keep her protected. After her night of murder and redecoration, she slept the previous day away, then danced in the moonlight with Ileth. She twirled him about and showed him her magic.

“This will be yours one day, my dear,” she said.

“Really?”

“Yes! When you turn six, a familiar will com to you and you will start your journey to become a witch!” He had beamed at that, despite the deep melancholy that lingered over him after hearing that his father would not ever return.

He’ll understand one day.

Now Serahlin stands on the front porch of a lovely house, holding a plate of homemade cookies. She twitches her nose and the doorbell rings. A moment later and the door cracks open.

“Serahlin? What are you doing here?”

“Sister Selene,” Serahlin says, inclining her head, “I hear your husband is on a business trip. May I come in?”

“Sister...oh,” Selene pauses a moment before something settles in her. The door closes and Serahlin frets for a moment that this will be it, but then she hears the clicking of a chain being undone. The door opens and Selene steps aside.

“Be welcome, Sister Serahlin.”