#risin

Serahlin sighs, “They are blessed, Selene, I am sure that comes with oddities such as flocking ravens. Perhaps this is a reward for freeing them of Haleir! You already have your magic, a blessing couldn’t take root in you, but your boys….” As much as Serahlin knows the boys are better off without their fathers, there are still bits and pieces of guilt that rack her. Ileth won’t receive closure with his father, but then again, she doesn’t think ever would have. And while it was certainly justified for both men to die, she still worries that they have done more harm than good. 

“I’m not so sure about that,” Selene whispers so faint that Serahlin almost doesn’t hear it. Her brow furrows and she is about to ask what Selene means when Selene quickly excuses herself, “I have to go, their parent-teacher conference is in twenty and I still need to find suitable pants.”

“Good luck!” Serahlin says before the line clicks off. Really, she worries too much. She worries about the detectives (Templars), she worries about the blessings. Serahlin gets the paranoia in a way, Darris certainly instilled in her a level of constant observation that left her exhausted and immensely resentful, but she worries about Selene. The only place she lets the boys be without her is school. When the boys have a sleepover at Serahlin’s house, Selene comes too, which is not an issue at all with Serahlin - but what if the boys make mortal friends? She can’t just sleep over at some random mortal’s house.

Selene will heal and process things in her own time, Serahlin supposes. In the meanwhile, they’ll look after the boys and make their small coven as resilient as possible. Ideally covens range between eight and ten adult people, covens much bigger tend to run into issues. Being a coven with two can be risky since other covens could war, or other magical beings could prey on them. Still, it’s better than being a solitary witch.

Serahlin finishes prepping the casserole and pops it into the refrigerator. With that done, she starts making a new batch of candles. Selene could use some that are enchanted for both warding and serenity.

She is finishing up the incantation over the beeswax when -

CRASH! Glass shatters in the conservatory - only one room over from the playroom where Ileth is coloring!

Serahlin runs out of the kitchen, grabbing a knife and readying a spell in hand to cast out the intruder. It could be a witch or a Templar, or a malicious spirit -

It is the world’s ugliest bird, flapping and squawking about. No, not a bird - a familiar. She shifts the energy in her hand to an immobilization spell. Crossing her fingers she recites -

“Flap and caw no more, you are still, rooted to the floor.” She casts the energy to the familiar and all at once it ceases movement. After a moment it makes a bird noise that she can only guess is frustration.

“Risin!” She calls. Familiars can communicate with each other even if witches can’t exactly communicate directly with familiars that are not their own. Her familiar trots into the conservatory and jumps up next to the bird and begin to speak. Risin’s ears go back and he hisses before leaping back over to Serahlin.

“His name is Screecher. His witch is being held by The Dark One on the edge of town. Dark magicks are preventing him from reuniting with the witch.”

“And what is this witch’s name?” It’s not surprising by any stretch of the imagination that there are more witches in the area. But it is surprising that the familiar would come here for help - question is, did the familiar come on his own or did his witch send it?

“Who is this Dark One?” Familiars tend to have their own code for these sorts of things but the code isn’t readily translatable to witches much of the time. Risin growls and the bird, if that’s even what it is, makes a distressed warbling noise.

Ileth of course chooses that moment to walk in, “What’s going on, Memae?”

“I will explain later, right now you need to go to your room and light the special candle - can you do that?” To light the candle, he just needs to swipe his thumb over a little rune at the base of the candle. He nods and dashes out of the room and up the back staircase.

“The Dark One steals power and is hurting that one’s witch. He wants help.”

Stealing power? Serahlin hisses in a breath. A warlock, but so close to home? That is...that is not good.

“That is a very serious accusation, Risin.”

“The Dark One is serious.” A glow overtakes Risin’s eyes, turning a bright blue that sends a chill down Serahlin’s spine.

Warlocks are rare for good reason. One, it’s difficult to become one. Where a witch gains power through familiar, book, and coven, a warlock sublimates the need for a coven by acquiring the power from other witches. To be a fully realized warlock is to have at least one book dedicated to each of the gods, nine in total. The witches’ entirety of power is cast into the book, caging the witch, and then binding the witch and their power to the warlock.

When Darris had first trapped Serahlin in this marriage, she had worried she was his first victim, but he had only wanted her.

Second, witches who suspect other witches of becoming a warlock, or are leaning towards that path, said witch is often removed from society one way or another. 

If a warlock has truly taken up residence in the town, he must be dealt with, and quickly. He is a threat to her, Selene, and their boys. She will need to confirm this information, though. To ready for a warlock on the assurance of a familiar she does not know is poor planning.

Serahlin steps to the bird and looks down at him, “We will go to this house tomorrow while my son is in school, and I will be back home in time for the parent teacher conference - I absolutely cannot miss that. If your witch is truly in trouble, I will do what I can to help. Agreed?” She looks over at Risin who watches the bird for a long moment.

“He is agreed.”

Serahlin waves off the paralysis spell and the bird promptly falls to the floor with an indignant squawk.

“If so much as squawk at my son, I will show you how good I am with the rotisserie,” she threatens. Screecher squawks but then makes a cooing noise.

“He gets it. He’s...a bit odd, I don’t understand much of his thoughts.” Risin follows Serahlin out of the conservatory and back into the kitchen. She has to restart with the candles, which is fine. If she’s going to fight a warlock, she is going to need very specific spelled candles to deal with him.

**

Screecher tries to preen Ileth before he heads to school. Risin says something about Screeching calling Ileth a hatchling, which she supposes makes sense. Risin referred to Ileth as kitten for awhile. Ileth laughs and pats Screecher on the head, calling him a good bird before she ushers him into the car. After dropping Ileth off at school, she calls Selene over and explains the situation.

“A warlock. Shit,” Selene says.

“My exact sentiments. But we need to confirm that he’s a warlock and not just a nefarious witch.” Hence why Serahlin had changed into a pink tweed suit to pose as an AVON saleswoman. She adjusts the pillbox hat on her head as Selene simmers the concealing potion on the stove. She adds a single lyrium salt crystal to the mixture, causing it to POOF into the air. Selene waves at the air, switches the heat off with the snap of her fingers and transfer the potion into an emptied hairspray bottle. She screws the top back onto the bottle and shakes it thoroughly.

“Twirl.” Serahlin does as she instructs and spins slowly while Selene sprays the potion all over her. It’s scentless and invisible and will completely disguise her magic to any other witch that she doesn’t have a blood pact with.

“How do I look?” Serahlin asks, striking a pose with her hands on her hips with her best sales smile. She is a vision of pink upscale stay-at-home mom who sells AVON while her husband is at The Office. Her stilettos are sharp and she’s got a couple of hidden knives on her, plus a recorder in her little cap.

The bird familiar informed Risin that his witch, a man by the name of Thenvunin, is a fan of nice lotions and perfumes. Serahlin raided her stash of samples from the salespeople who still liked to stop by because she bought a few lipsticks once. Each sample was then infused with magical nourishing serums Selene had the kindness to brew. Warlock or not, there is clearly something bad happening and it sounds like Thenvunin could use all the help he can get to break away.

“Perfect, like one of those snowballs you can buy at the store.” Just the look she was going for. She grabs a matching purse as they go through the plan.

“I’ll go in while you wait in the car, you should hear everything in the pin,” Serahlin flashes the small pin they enchanted to funnel all audio to Selene’s cuff earring. “I’ll set the case down and activate the spell to sense all types of magicks in the house. That should be enough.”

“What if he doesn’t let you in?” Selene asks and Serahlin purses her lips.

“Then I’ll have to somehow sneak in as a cat and place the spell to sense the magicks. It just needs to be planted and then six hours later - we have a full report of what kind of magic is in the house.” They could just break in like this, but it’s rude to break into a fellow witch’s home, even with a warlock on the loose. She also wants to speak with Thenvunin, see what the damage is and help him in any way she can.

They have spent most of the day preparing, and they only have an hour and half before she has to get over to the school for Ileth’s parent teacher conference. She can do this, in and out.

Selene takes a seat on the passenger side of Serahlin’s car. Screecher, Risin, and Des sit in the backseat and direct Serahlin to a neighborhood thirty minutes away. It’s a neighborhood full of those new construction houses with the beige colored brick and tacky front-facing garages. It’s devoid of character and the only prestige that comes with the houses are the gargantuan sizes. Serahlin’s home may be a spacious six bedroom, but at least it has some personality to it. These homes are just...plain.

She’s surprised that a witch chose to hole up in an area like this. They’re naturally drawn to more historical places that have character and time to attract spirits and other energies. For a moment, she worries that it is not a warlock or even a nefarious witch “imprisoning” Thenvunin, but a mortal with their mortal expectations.

Thenvunin’s house is one of the smaller builds, a more modest one-story with a long driveway and a stone path leading to the white front door. There is a bird house and bird bath out front and a wind chime hanging from another tree by the front door, but other than that, there isn’t much personality. Serahlin parks the car.

“What a stifling place to live,” Serahlin comments as she rights her cap and grabs her case.

“Remember, in and out. Set the absorber, and get out!” Selene reminds her as Serahlin steps out of the car.

“Screecher does not feel the Dark One’s presence. His car is absent - a rare event,” Risin mews from the backseat. Excellent, she would just bop in, place the absorber and speak a little with Thenvunin then bop right back out.

She heads up the stone walkway and rings the doorbell. A few moments later, the door cracks open.

“Hello?” A tall man asks. She can see the faint wisps of magic floating around him, dimmer and fewer in number than they ought to be. His hair is long and fair blonde, his eyes a lovely shade of green. He is a beautiful man, turned gaunt and weak.

“Hello! My name is Serah and I wanted to give you a few Avon samples!” She gives him a bright smile and tilts her head somewhat as the small enchantment spell she’d cast over her clothes begins to take effect.

“What sort of samples?” He asks and she displays the case.

“We just got new rejuvenating and hydrating lotions as well as some truly lovely perfumes.”

He hesitates for a moment before opening the door, “Come in, it’s been awhile since I purchased new products.” She follows him into the house, the door clicking shut behind her. 

“Sometimes it is just so difficult to get to the store,” she says, keeping the bubbly personality charade, “I have a son and getting to the store with all of his activities and my life - well, it just doesn’t happen much. Oh what a lovely living room!” It is in fact, not a lovely living room. The drapes are dull, the couch is brown, and the carpet is a beige color trying to be white. This is not the home of a witch, this is a mortal’s home.

“Yes...I haven’t managed to get to a store in awhile. My name is Thenvunin by the way.”

“What a pleasure, Thenvunin,” she says, shaking his hand. His magic has been nearly drained, and what remains is the barest amount tied to Screecher. It certainly feels like the work of a warlock, but the house says mortal.

Serahlin sets the case down on the coffee table and pops it open. She takes out the lotion sample with the strongest concentration of serum.

“This is our best seller. It is super hydrating, rejuvenating, and smells wonderful.” She hands the bottle over to him and “knocks over” another sample bottle. “Oops!” She ducks under to grab the bottle with the small absorber bag. She attaches it to the underside of the coffee table and rises back up with the fallen bottle.

Thenvunin rubs a little of the lotion onto his hands and he sighs, “This feels heavenly.”

“That is wonderful to hear! Here is a catalogue to order it from at your own time. And now this is good for someone special in your life. Are you married, Mr. Thenvunin?” She asks, her voice saccharine sweet. Thenvunin’s eyes grow shadowed and his lips thin.

“I...was. I live with someone else now, and he’ll be back soon. I don’t think he would care for someone being here. Thank you for the catalogue, Miss Serah, but I must ask you to leave.” He ushers her out the door and locks it behind her.

Well then. She did what she could and ultimately fulfilled the mission. Still, she cannot help but feel there is something decidedly wrong happening here. He was married? Yet he lives with someone else. It’s all very curious.Witches have long mourning periods as is custom, and remarried witches are seldom heard of, except in cases like Serhlin's or Selene's.

Serahlin gets back into the car and pulls away from the curb.

“Well? What did you find?” Selene asks.

Serahlin purses her lips, “There could be a warlock. There is definitely something going on in that house.” Thenvunin's aura had definitely been dimmed similarly to Selene's when Haleir had her book. It stands to reason then that Thenvunin's book is definitely not in his rightful possession and control.

“The absorber should be finished by the time we get the boys to bed. Why don't I bring Ileth over after the conference and we can brainstorm.”

“Sounds good. I really hope it's not a warlock. The boys…” Selene trails off but Serahlin knows her worry. With the twins being so young and to apparently be blessed, they are exceptionally encticing targets, and with each day that that brings them close to their sixth birthday, the more enticing they become. As much as the sixth birthday is beloved and celebrated, it is also when a young witch is most vulnerable to the attacks of other witches. It is forbidden by common witch law to prey upon children, but warlocks have already forsaken witch law - there is no telling what they will or won't do.

“Whatever comes, we will handle. Our boys will be kept safe.” Serahlin tries to reassure Selene, but it's difficult when she holds similar worries for Illeth. He is only three weeks away from his birthday. Can they dispatch a warlock before then? If there is one...they will have to.

But now that she has fulfilled this part of the day, it is time to put on her mom hat and head over to the school for the parent-teacher conference. There is no time to change so she heads directly to the school. Selene thankfully understands and agrees to simply wait with the twins on the playground while Serahlin sits in with Mr. Paenir.

There is scarcely any time left when she pulls into the school’s parking lot. She barely has the mind to take off the pillbox hat before dashing into the school. Her hair is still pulled into a formal bun and her face is painted to sell makeup, so it is...more than she normally wears. For once, she feels the slightest bit self conscious as she walks through the halls as other wealthy mothers waiting for their own conferences to begin watch her.

She can feel the whispers as they take in her pink tweed glory. It’s too soon, they say, to be wearing such a bright color after her husband’s death. She should still be shrouded in black and it should be clear she is sad, but not so clear that her face is puffy.

Sometimes she quite loathes the rich’s social expectations and constraints.

The kindergarten hallway is bright and the walls are decorated with art and projects each of the classes have done. Ileth and the twins’ class is the last door on the right, surrounded by a large caterpillar created by construction paper and little stripes that have barely legible facts about caterpillars and butterflies on them. Ileth is sitting outside of the room with a few of the other students, coloring what looks to be a scene of playing puppies.

“Memae!” Ileth shouts when he sees her, scrambling to his feet to run over to her. She cannot help the smile that spreads across her face as she dips down and wraps her arms around him in a hug.

“There’s my baby! How was your day?” She kisses the top of his head before he begins to wriggle, eager to tell her everything.

“We went on a bug hunt!” He announces, “And I found the grasshopper!”

“You did? That’s wonderful! Okay, I’m going to go talk to Mr. P now, and then we’re going over to Darevas and Felasel’s house.”

“Is it a sleepover?” Ileth asks excitedly. Serahlin nods and he pumps his fist in the air.

“Yes!”

She laughs, any discomfort over the other mothers forgotten as she steps into the classroom.

She knocks on the door jam, making the young teacher jolt in his seat before lifting his head to her.

A wide smile lights up his face and he bustles out of his seat, “Mrs. Elethari! I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Oh, I couldn’t miss this. Ileth’s education is a big priority.” She takes a seat in one of the small chairs at an equally small table. Mr. Paenir plops into the seat next to hers after grabbing a file off his desk.

He’s a tall man, handsome with his golden hair pulled into a loose bun and his button-up shirt’s sleeves folded up to his elbows, revealing shapely forearms. 

She may be a widow, but she’s not dead. Besides, it wasn’t like her sex life was exactly active for the last few years. Darris may have been an ass, but she also had her ways of making sure he never turned into that. Such ways included being exceptionally good with knives, guns, and self-defense. 

“That is great to hear! Ileth is doing well overall. He has made some really pretty things in art - and he’s getting better about coloring inside the lines.” He hands over several lovely pictures her son has made, along with little projects that have lots of cutouts and glitter sprinkled over everything. Her heart warms at them all and a proud smile spreads across her face as she flips through them. Mr. Paenir also shows her his work with writing, practicing letters and putting them together to form sight words.

“He’s doing great with the technical aspects of school - the projects and listening and reading - but I’ve noticed he has been a bit...down lately. He said his father recently passed away?” His voice turns soft and concerned. While he doesn’t know that Darris was horrendous person and she’s glad to be rid of him, the sympathy is appreciated, particularly as it applies to her son.

Serahlin plays the part, allowing her face to fall slightly and to perhaps feel a little sadness at the lack of a father figure in Ileth’s life.

“Thank you. It happened so suddenly. I’m doing the best I can to help ileth adjust, but...he’s just a baby still, really.” Her poor baby, feeling so down and sad about the loss. She supposes she hasn’t paid enough attention to it recently with everything that happened with Selene and the twins.

“Of course. I’ve brought him to the school counselor a few times. Have you thought about taking him to see a therapist? Just to help him work through all the emotions he must be feeling right now.” The man certainly is sweet, keeping his voice low and understanding even as he tells her thing she does not want to hear.

“I hadn’t but that is a good thought. I want to do everything I can to make sure he’s okay.”

“Of course!” He says, “and I am not saying you’re not, by no means - Ileth is a good kid and very bright. This is just something where a professional may help.” She agrees with him. It is something she will need to investigate. She can’t stand the thought that Ileth is hurting or confused or needs help and isn’t getting the support he needs. Perhaps she should suggest it to Selene as well. The boys may be better off, but that doesn’t mean they’re not confused or missing someone who has always been there.

Serahlin leaves the conference feeling concerned but also so proud of her young son. He is smart and clever and truly has been incredible in adapting to everything that has been thrown at him. Losing a parent is not easy, least of all for the young, even if the parent was awful. Perhaps it’s even more difficult, the guilt at feeling relieved that they’re gone.

Ileth skips over to her after she leaves the room, smiling brightly up at her. The light catches his multi-colored eyes and his hair has a shine to it that makes him look shrouded in moonlight.

“What did he say?”

“He said you are doing great! You are one smart kid.” She takes his hand and they start to walk down the hall to where Selene and the twins are playing.

The rest of the evening is spent in domestic bliss with the kids. Except for the part on getting the boys to eat their vegetables. For some reason, green beans are suddenly the most intolerable things in the world. Towards the end of the stand-off, Serahlin wonders if it is unethical to ensorcel your kids to eat their damn veggies. They eventually negotiate that each boy is to eat three green beans each, which is at least something.

Selene and Serahlin put the boys to bed in one room then return to the parlor to review whatever the absorber has revealed. Serahlin empties the bag connected to the absorber onto a small tray. The small bundles of herbs fall, sizzle, then catch fire - except the flames are black.

“Shit,” Selene says at the site of the black flames. Serahlin’s heart falls and a more intense worry blooms in its place.

There is definitely a warlock in Thenvunin’s home, and judging by Thenvunin’s low energy and demeanor - he’s not the warlock, but the victim, just as Screecher said.

“Now what do we do?” She asks, staring at the black smoke in despair. She wants to help Thenvunin, she does, but her and Selene have kids. But they can’t just stand by and do nothing, the longer the warlock drains Thenvunin, the powerful they become, and the greater threat they’ll pose to Serahlin, Selene, and the boys. It leaves them with one course of action.

They have to fight.

Serahlin and Selene stay up later into the wee hours of the morning, pouring over their Books of Spells as well as the libraries both Haleir and Darris had locked away. By the time they need to take the boys to school, they’ve formulated a plan.

They nap for a couple hours after dropping the boys off at school, then set to work. Serahlin grabs the shotgun out of Darris’s study and rolls the shells in a spell-bath of dispel and destroy. Selene made the mixture.

“Where did you learn to shoot a gun?” Selene asks while Serahlin cleans and loads the shotgun. She smiles and shrugs slightly.

“Memae always believed in knowing how to defend yourself in all manners of ways, not just magically.” She slides the shells into the barrel and closes it. With a little murmured spell over the barrel for accuracy, she feels like this not-so-little weapon is ready.

After setting the gun aside, Serahlin starts working on the silencer barrier. It’s an herb pack that will seal off any noises encircled within it. 

The boys have an after-school program today, so they don’t need to worry about them until five. Around one, they’re finally prepared to go see Thenvunin and his warlock.

The SUV gets loaded with all sorts of magical equipment and they suit up themselves. Serahlin opts for some hefty work-out leggings, the new kind with the mesh pockets, and some good sneakers that give her arch support. Her hair goes up into a tight bun with lots of hairspray to prevent any of that unfortunate slippage always seen in movies. Sure, it looks good, but long hair can reduce visibility and she is taking no chances with a warlock.

Selene is dressed similarly, though there is a bigger sense of unease around her. On the way to Thenvunin’s, Serahlin takes Selene’s hand.

“It’s going to be okay.” She has to believe that.

Before long, they’re parked a block away. Des and Risin hop out with the noise barrier pouches. They’re to carry the herbs around the house so no unsuspecting mortal hears the goings on in that house. That horrible, horrible house.

Really, how did Thenvunin end up in this house anyways? Warlocks were once witches, their tastes veer towards closer to witches. But this house has mortal written all over it.

Perhaps...perhaps Thenvunin’s husband was mortal? It would certainly potentially weaken him, making him an excellent target for a warlock. Not all mortal partners are bad, Serahlin has heard of a few who were able to adapt to the life. But there is a danger to being with one - they can have expectations, inflexibilities that are incompatible with magical practices. When a witch stops practicing, they make themselves vulnerable, their magic slowly becoming more distant.

“Alright, I get him with the shotgun, which has enough magic poured into it to stun him, hopefully drain some magic from him. While I shoot him, you get out the potions to strip him further of magic. After the third bomb, we recite the banishing spell.” Serahlin reviews and Selene nods. It’s a guns blazing approach, which she’s torn on. They could try and sneak into the house, but that risks getting caught and split apart. They can’t afford that risk.

“Warlock black magic here, purify purify magic instill, so warlock may wither, warlock we kill. Three times should do, right?” Selene asks, going over the bombs in her pack. Serahlin nods, checking to make sure the shotgun is loaded properly. The pump-action has five shells before needing to be reloaded, so she will just need to be as accurate as she can. The tight confines of the house will help with that. 

Just have to remember all the shooting practice Memae had me do.

They send the familiars off to create the sound barrier and to find the warlock’s familiar. That creature, whatever it may be needs to be waylaid to not interfere. 

Everything in place, they leave the car and head over to Thenvunin’s house. 

The shotgun’s glamored to look like she’s simply carrying a large scroll case and it lets her walk right up to Thenvunin’s door with Selene. Serahlin knocks on the door and waits.

It is not Thenvunin who opens the door, but a tall man with cruel eyes.

“Why, what do we have here?” He asks.

Serahlin does not hesitate to raise her hand, “Get thee away from me!” She flicks her wrist and he goes flying into the house, crashing into the coffee table.

“Quickly now!” She says, following him into the room, shifting the shotgun into her grip. Selene tosses a weakening bomb at the Warlock. Purple smoke explodes all over him even as he gathers energies to himself.

“Stalking?!” Thenvunin calls from somewhere else in the house.

“We are being attacked! Come to me!” The man calls.

“Stay away, Thenvunin!” Serahlin says before firing a round into the warlock’s arm.

“AH!” He screams but the shot doesn’t seem to otherwise phase him as he leaps from the smoke. Serahlin fires off another shot before he tackles her to the ground, snatching her gun away. Long, gnarled fingers closer around her neck as his facade falls away to reveal his new bestial nature.

Long, yellowed fangs bared from hissing mouth, cracked lips and saliva drip down. Serahlin struggles against his hold, remembering her self-defense. Aim for the eyes! Knee up to groin! But this creature does not respond like a man.

“Get off her!” Selene screams, “Go far, off of her!” Serahlin feels the tickle of magic but he counters it, sending Selene careening into the foyer.

“Selene!”

“Ah, Sylaise, I feel it on you,” he hisses, dragging claws down her throat, drawing blood. She screams, thrashing at the pain. Her magic! She can feel it being pulled! Even Ileth’s!

“NO!” She shoves at him, pulling at her magic to throw him, dispel him, weaken him - something! He forces her down, fingers encircling her throat.

“Stalking!” Thenvunin shouts again. She thinks he’s at the foot of the stairs? “What are you doing?!”

“They attacked our home!” He wails.

“He’s a warlock, Thenvunin! He’s been draining you!”

“SHUT UP!” The warlock, Stalking apparently, sends a bolt of magical pain through her body. A scream wrenches itself from her throat and she flails against it, against him.

“No…”

**

This was a bad idea. Selene knew it was bad idea to come here and challenge a warlock in his territory, but she also knew it was a worse idea to let him drain this Thenvunin and then come for her newly formed coven. Her babies.

When he countered her spell, throwing her back, she thinks she landed poorly on the console table. Her legs tingle and her head feels light. Her magic feels different too - while it used to lurk deep inside her, ready for her to harness, it feels like it is just underneath her skin, moving like her blood. Now, her magic seems to run along her skin. But it doesn’t quite feel like her own either.

She can feel the air - that warlock is trying to quickly drain Serahlin, he hasn’t harvested a witch dedicated to Sylaise. Or maybe he has and just likes the taste.

She blinks and everything seems to slow down -

There is Serahlin on the floor with the warlock on top of her. To Selene’s left is who she presumes is Thenvunin, white-blonde hair flying around him as he runs. There are dark circles under his eyes and he is skinny for his form, his clothes seeming to hang on him more than they should.

This warlock has taken much.

Her magic, now coursing so fast and strong, surrounds her back, sinking deep to the bones and nerves. The tingling disappears and she rises from her prone position. Why is everything so slow? There is so much magic in the air, it begins to color the actual room. Pink and white surround Serahlin, slowly being swallowed up by the festering mustard yellow of the warlock. It’s sickening.

But what can she do? She can’t throw an alchemical bomb without catching Serahlinin in the blast. And what will Thenvunin do? Will he come to the warlock’s aid? Does he even have enough strength to do anything?

Selene blinks and turns her head just enough to catch herself in a mirror across the room. Shock, and no small amount of horror, takes hold of her. Her hair is glowing white, the strands from her pony-tail waving with fictitious wind. But it’s her eyes that are the most startling - once green now glow bright blue.

“What is this?” She whispers.

Her magic swells as if in answer. Two other fonts are at the fore, moreso than her own magic and she knows - these magicks are her sons’. And she can use them.

The dark being she made a deal with comes back to mind as she pulls deep within herself, at the magic swirling around her now. The warlock dies now.

When she speaks, it is in a tongue older than even the old tongue they know. It is ancient and powerful and it sinks claws deep into the warlock’s form. She moves her hand back and he moves with the gesture.

Feeling the magic, his attention snaps to her.

“Dirthamen?”

“Shut up,” she says. Not the most eloquent, no, but she’s had enough of all this talk of Dirthamen and her babies. She has power enough to kill this asshole. So that’s what she does.

She commands the magic to sink deep inside of him, to loose all the magic he has stolen. He screams, writhing as she flails him from the inside out.

Loose all of your secrets,

Tell no more lies,

Return what you stole,

Then die.

The words fill her mind, power exploding from her as if shot through a cannon. The magic rips the warlock apart from the inside out, unraveling stolen magic, and tearing him into pieces in the process.

The warlock explodes in a flurry of light and magic, filling the room with a riot of colors that move in every which way. Time reverts to normal as do her eyes and hair. All the magic in her body seems to give way.

One moment it’s there, the next, gone. With her magic, go her legs, collapsing to the floor in a huff.

What. The. Fuck. Was that.

She is almost too scared or too pissed to dwell too much on it. The boys are blessed, the dark pact she made - it’s too much to think about and yet it seems imperative that she has to now.

Well, shit.

She can just hear Des’s I told you so.

“Wha - Selene!” Serahlin cries, crawling over to Selene. There are claw marks all over her neck, blood staining her shirt, but still she crawls to Selene to see how she is.

“Serahlin, you’re hurt.” Selene reaches into her fanny pack - an exceptionally convenient invention for witches everywhere - and pulls out an elfroot poultice. She pulls Serahlin down to sit, who is quick to go.

“What’s going on, I-I, what happened to Stalking?!” Thenvunin sputters, stumbling into the room. He gapes in horror at the dark mark covering the wall in a way that can only be described as an oversized splat. Selene glances over at him as she opens the poultice.

“Long story short, the man living with you was a warlock. Your familiar brought us to you to help. He was stealing your power, your very soul. We had to kill him.” She turns back to Serahlin and begins to apply generous amounts of the poultice to the slash marks. Serahlin hisses at the contact, even as Selene whispers little soothing spells. The wounds are mostly superficial, and the warlock thankfully missed the jugular.

“You’re wrong! He was helping me! Making me strong so I could - well that’s none of your business!” He shouts and Selene winces at the noise.

“Think, Thenvunin, did he ever actually make you feel stronger? Or did he just seem stronger?” Serahlin asks softly, wincing still..

He shakes his head, “You don’t know what was happening. You - you’re the Avon saleswoman!” He shouts, “You lied! You infiltrated my home!”

“He was a warlock. Here, I’ll show you.” Serahlin reaches under the now broken coffee table and reveals the small absorber she placed yesterday. She squeezes the bag and black smoke rises. “Did you not see how he turned into his true form when he attacked me? Witches do not do that. But you know that.”

He stares at the smoke for a long moment before a broken, warbling sound escapes him. He falls back against the wall, hand rising to his lips in horror.

“No,” he protests even as he begins to accept the truth. Selene’s heart hurts for him. She and Serahlin always knew their husbands were horrible, abusive monsters. But realizing the abuses heaped upon you suddenly like this?

“You’re free now. We will ask nothing of you,” Serahlin says, turning from Selene and the poultice to crawl over to Thenvunin.

“Why would anyone do this?” He whispers as Serahlin reaches him.

“Some people are just evil and awful, only interested in power,” Selene says as Serahlin takes his hand. He swallows and begins to cry.

“He...he said Seth died because I wasn’t strong enough and that he would make me stronger,” he whispers. Rage fills Selene and she almost wishes she could kill the warlock all over again.

“Was Seth your husband?” Serahlin asks softly. He nods and cries harder, burying his face into his hands.

“Oh, sweet Thenvunin, it wasn’t your fault!” Serahlin insists even though she does not know what caused this Seth to die. Serahlin had been convinced there was a mortal involved with Thenvunin somehow and this just may be it. The house is certainly an indicator with its monotonous look and lack of history.

“I could have warded his car or something, but he...he didn’t like magic,” Thenvunin continues, “I should have done it anyway.”

“That would have violated his desires. You did nothing wrong, you are not responsible for other people’s actions.”

And despite the turmoil now with him, Thenvunin looks better. Less sallow. The motes of light and magic around him are brighter, his aura is shifting from a pale, sickly yellow back to what she suspects is his normal purple.

“Warlocks are nearly impossible to defend against without a coven. I don’t sense any other witches, are you alone?” Selene asks softly and he nods,

“Seth wanted a normal life.”

Selene catches Serahlin’s frown, but it’s replaced with concern quickly enough. The more she hears about this Seth, the less Selene likes him. Everyone is taught the dangers of shacking up with the wrong mortal. There will always be more of them than witches and it does not take much to get a mortal to remember pitchforks and Templars after all. The thought makes her worry for the boys at the school, surrounded by mortals.

“Do you still have your book, or…?” Serahlin trails off but they can all finish the sentence - or did Stalking take that too?

Thenvunin shakes his head and curls away from them in embarrassment.

“Shh, it’s okay. We’ll find it. That’s what we do you know, we find books. My husband, may he rot, stole my book to force me to marry him. I had a baby with him, and after many years I found my book again.”

“And then she helped me find mine. My father bartered it away to my now dead husband as some sort of debt repayment,” Selene continues and Thenvunin peaks through his fingers.

“Really? You...lost your books too?”

“Yes. And it wasn’t our faults, just like it wasn’t yours. Abusers know how to take things and make it seem like you did it, but it was all them. It was always all them.” Serahlin smooths his hair down and Selene thinks that perhaps some tension in him has eased.

“I don’t know where he kept it,” he whispers.

“That’s okay. Screecher can help us too.”

“Screecher’s here?” He asks, interest piquing.

“Yes, we had him accompany our own familiars to keep Stalking’s at bay.” Selene waves her hand and summons Des. Serahlin follows suit for Risin. Soon enough the two cats accompanied by a bird of unknown origin arrive in the house. Screecher makes a loud noise and swoops down to Thenvunin.

“Screecher!” He exclaims while the bird preens and covers Thenvunin with his wings. Des mrows, running quickly to Selene himself. He rubs against her and begins to purr loudly - his own spell in a way. Familiars can calm their witches, one of the perks of being connected to so much of their magic.

“What happened? There was something, I felt it.”

“I’ll explain later, Des,” she whispers, running her hand through his soft fur.

**

Serahlin has no idea how Stalking suddenly just died, but she isn’t arguing with it either. One moment he was clawing at her neck, the next he was wrenched off her, exploding in a flurry of light and shadows. A foul stench now fills the space, and she feels filthy, and not just from being covered in blood. All she wants is to go home and take a long, hot shower.

She looks over at Thenvunin, who is being greeted by his very enthusiastic familiar. The poor thing needs more help than she could have predicted. He was harmed by both a mortal and by a warlock. The mortal must have weakened him by expectation of the “normal life” giving no thought that a normal life for a witch involves magic and ritual. It primed him for the warlock to come in. Isolated and vulnerable, he never stood a chance.

“We need to find your book, he likely has others’ books too,” she says wondering what happens to the witches who has already drained. It’s not ever something she thought she had to worry about before, warlocks were little more than stories told to children to warn them of the dangers of being alone in this world.

Thenvunin nods and slowly rises to his feet.

“He spent a lot of time in the shed,” he says and so they follow him outside to a small shed in the horribly overgrown unattended garden. Serahlin frowns at the amount of concrete off the back of the house. She is getting this man out of this depressing place as soon as she can. Either she’ll convince him to go home to his birth coven or...or maybe he’ll join Serahlin and Selene’s. They could use another member, and it’s not like they don’t have room in either of the houses for him. Serahlin would even be happy to help him find an appropriate house full of color and history with a proper garden.

The shed is locked when they reach it, the lingering effects of a locking spell. It opens easily with an unlocking charm, the locks sputters then gives out. The door swings open revealing more magicks. They cross the threshold to feel a sudden vertigo, the inside of the shed lightens and stretches before them to morph into a decadent hall with large stone pillars wrapped in ivy. The floor is marble and between the pillars are pedestals, nine in total, four of whom have books sitting atop them.

Thenvunin gasps at the reveal, turning around in disbelief.

“He was capable of creating a portal?” He whispers. Portals are higher level spells that typically require the focus and ability of a coven - but he was a warlock, and there are four books. Stalking was packing the power of four witches, plenty of power to create a long-standing portal if he wished.

They walk through the hall slowly, wary of any traps. But if there were, they’ve all died with his life force. If they’re all disabled, how did the portal still work? Perhaps the portal was tied more to the books themselves than to Stalking’s life force.

Thenvunin moves to a pedestal with a small book that resembles a popular romance novel from about ten years ago. He reaches for it -

“Thenvunin, wait!”

- he touches it. All around them the room begins to shake. The pillars begin to crack and large stone chunks fall from the ceiling.

“What?!” Thenvunin shouts.

“This entire place was tied to the books! Now that it’s reunited with you, it can’t sustain itself!” Serahlin shouts in turn, “we have to get out of here!”

“What about the other books?!” Selene yells and dammit. She’s right. They can’t just leave the books. Serahlin runs and grabs the one closest to her just as Selene grabs the one closest to her. The entire structure shudders and heaves. The pillars do not merely crack, but they begin to give way.

Thenvunin grabs the last book they all run towards the portal, only to find that it too has collapsed without the support of the books.

“Oh shit!” Selene yells.

Thinking fast, Serahlin places her hand on the mysterious book dedicated to June and pulls at the magic inside.

“Help me! Visualize Thenvunin’s foyer!” She calls as the floor begins to crack and groan as well. Selene curses but grabs hold of Serahlin’s arm. Thenvunin takes hold of the other and Serahlin inhales deeply.

“Portal open here to there,

Here we stand,

There we go,

We command,

From crumbling tomb

To Thenvunin’s front room!”

They scream as the magic burns from within them all, wrenching them from the collapsing hall through space to Thenvunin’s home. The magic claws into them and for a few confusing moment, Serahlin feels them both - the strengths, the weaknesses, the drugging weight of power, their power, bending to her spell.

Is this what Stalking felt all the time? Is this what it’s like to be a warlock? Addictive. But also horrifically overwhelming and terrifying.

All at once, the swirling mass of energies ceases. The world snaps into place as they arrive in Thenvunin’s foyer.

Serahlin drops the book, turns, and promptly vomits. Her head pounds with the sudden influx and subsequent lack of power. Dizzying, maddening, not right. Knees give out and she is vaguely aware of Selene calling her name.

She doesn’t know how long she stays on the floor, waiting for her hearing to return to normal, for her magic to make sense to her once more. She thinks Risin comes and curls up next to her, vibrating with warmth and focus. Yes, focus.

Bit by bit, her vision clears, her hearing returns, and her stomach ceases to roil.

Serahlin realizes that Selene’s hand is upon her back and she is whispering small healing spells all over her.

“I’m okay,” she murmurs, still not quite able to sit up.

“Oh thank the gods,” Thenvunin says.

“Yes, thank the gods. Serahlin, how did you know you could do that?” Selene asks.

“I didn’t. I just knew I had to. Ileth can’t lose both of his parents.” Selene makes a noise of agreement as she takes in just how close they came to orphaning their boys.

When she sits back up, Thenvunin hands her a glass of water and offers her an aspirin. She snorts at the idea. Aspirin! For a witch! He blushes in embarrassment and fusses that it has benefits even to witches. He’s learned a lot from living a magic-less existence these last few years, after all. There are ways to cure ailments that do not involve magic or herbalism.

But he forgets that they’re not mortal. Their systems work differently, they’re meant to connect with magic in all ways - particularly for healing. She doesn’t remind him of this, though. Today has had enough in it without adding in an argument about such things. Instead, Selen takes away the aspirin, mentioning something about potential interactions between the elfroot and the aspirin.

When Serahlin can stand, she looks to the door, eager to get home to her son. Coming close to death makes her eager to be reassured that her baby is okay. Selene seems to be in agreement and they both move to leave, but Thenvunin remains in the foyer, staring at the ruined interior of his house.

“Come home with us, Thenvunin,” Serahlin says, “I have plenty of room and it looks like you could use some...distance from all this.” And to get him away from this awful house. She can still feel the oppression and the bad history.

Despite what they all just collectively went through, Thenvunin looks surprised,”You don’t even know me.”

She smiles and stifles a chuckle, “We know you well enough to brave a warlock for you.” He opens his mouth as if to argue then shuts it again.

“I suppose you’re right. Who knows what kind of maleficence Stalking put in the home.” Still, he looks sad enough that it makes Serahlin sigh.

“We’ll come back after we’re rested. This place needs a good exorcist style cleaning,” as evidence, the dark splotch where Stalking was starts to give off a slight stench that has everyone wrinkling their nose.

Thenvunin nods and heads upstairs to gather his things while Serahlin and Selene get the car.

“Are you sure about this?” Selene asks.

“We can’t just leave him out here. If it were me, or worse, if it was Ileth, I would want someone to help. Two people preyed upon him, first that mortal husband and then Stalking. What if it were Darevas or Felasel?” She asks in turn. Selene falls against the passenger seat, hand against her forehead.

“Shit. You’re right.”

“He can stay with me, there’s plenty of room to spare.” He can have the guest room that Selene has not claimed as her own when she’s over. And it’ll be good to have another man around for Ileth and the twins that isn’t an abusive asshole.

Back at the house, they help Thenvunin load his things, of which there are surprisingly few. They lock up and ward the house as an extra precaution. Thenvunin slides into the backseat and Screecher follows suit. Des and Risin sit in Selene’s lap, purring loudly.

All set, Serahlin pulls out of the driveway and sets the course for home.