#witch!evie

The Evil Queen lived up to her title, most of the time. She wasn’t afraid to starve her daughter {the most powerful magic is born out of pain, not comfort} so that Evie would be as beautiful as the faded picture of her step-daughter. She had no qualms with smacking the girl across the face, hard, just so long as it didn’t bruise {well, even bruising wasn’t too terrible- concealer and foundation were easy enough to make, for a witch}.

{It’s more like... a story about morally-grey misunderstood witches}.

But her daughter had shown a brilliant intelligence and a talent for witchcraft from a young age and who was she to let the art die?

From the moment Evie was born, the Evil Queen would tell her daughter stories about the Princess Who Wished to be a Witch and the story of the First Witch who saved Womankind’s Dreams. Baby Evie’s only lullaby was the lullaby of witches, as a way to protect from the darkness that liked to come crawling in with the use of magic.

{May you rise with the sun ready to make hay

May the rains come at night to wash your sins away

May you sleep with the angels sitting on your bed

May you be an hour and heaven before the Devil knows you're Dead}.

In Evie’s first years, the Queen wasn’t sure if any of it took. The girl was a perfect lady, of course- never speaking out of turn, always with her back straight and a pleasant smile, always with perfectly coiffed curls and pristine makeup- but it always seemed as if she was more interested in science and the physical world than in what dreams and tinctures could show her {the Evil Queen tried her best to stamp that out, of course. But Evie didn’t even like to eat anymore, it seemed, and the only punishment she had left at her disposal was locking the girl in the closet, which never seemed to stir her (maybe that was because the Evil Queen would still softly sing the Witch’s Lullabye outside the door- it wouldn’t do for all of her hard work to be spoiled)}.

But then one morning when they were walking through Coward’s Market- Evie was only 6 at the time- and she was knocked over by a boy {about her age, and with too much brute strength for his own good}.

Grimhilde had promised herself swift revenge on her daughter’s behalf {most likely on the boy's father, who sometimes came to her shop asking for poultices and potions to keep magic at bay- she always denied him, of course. Witches did not serve men}.

But before she could even scold the boy, tiny Evie had spat at the boy’s feet and hissed, “Go bhfaghaine bás gan an sagart.”

May you die without a priest.

{He did, eventually, die without a priest nearby, but as Evie later found out, it didn’t matter to Jay, for a number of reasons}.

When Evie turned thirteen, she was already a prodigy among witches.

She knew her great-grandmother’s grimoire like the back of her hand. She was already creating and performing complicated summoning rituals. She’d mastered the art of the cards. She was allied with a fey girl {Maleficent’s daughter, who didn’t trade in money but rather favours and milk and honey, with her wildly curling horns and cat’s eyes, was the witch’s best friend. No one asked how it came to be like that. No one really wanted to know}.

Then she discovered thread magic.

First, it had started with a witch’s ladder.

Witch’s ladders were simple charms, but until she turned thirteen, Evie hadn’t ever bothered to try one. She hadn’t had something to wish for before she turned thirteen.

Witch’s ladders were made with a length of string, a couple of feathers, and witch’s hair {Mal had silently plucked one mauve strand from her own head and handed it to Evie when she saw what the witch was doing}. A witch would tie nine knots in the strands of string and hair, both to attach them to the feathers and to activate the spell, chanting a simple rhyme as she went.

{By knot of one, my spell’s begun.

By knot of two, it will come true.

By knot of three, so may it be.

By knot of four, this power I store.

By knot of five, my spell is alive.

By knot of six, the spell I fix.

By knot of seven, the future I’ll leaven.

By knot of eight, my will be fate.

By knot of nine, what’s done is mine!}

Look, the wish wasn’t particularly complicated. She was thirteen. She just wanted Jay to like her {like, like-like her}.

{She’d untied the knots as speedily as possible- without damaging the components, that is- when he’d refused to stop following her around for a full forty-eight hours- she blushed just thinking about it (Carlos’s sad, confused eyes following the boy from a distance had also been a pretty good motivator).

Mal had just laughed when Evie tried to complain}.

Next, she’d tried simple embroidery. She’d been practising for years {her mother believed it was the ideal womanly craft- it didn’t take up too much space, and was a silent activity. Evie had hated it}.

She started with dark green pentacles on her sleeves, so small they were nearly invisible {she’d cut them off as soon as she realized she hadn’t seen Mal for a couple of days. Magic was always there, even if she couldn’t see it.

The next day, Mal had invited her to go and create some chaos. Evie had smiled and taken her offered hand}.

A purple sign, asking for beauty, stitched into a lace necklace that she wore daily.

After a mugging that left her beaten and bruised and slightly purple, she carefully embroidered a deep blue mark asking for protection into each article of clothing she owned.

She adds a crimson symbol for strength to her leather jacket and various ribbons that she ties into her hair {she uses her hair’s braids for magic too- braiding more sigils into her hair in order to ask for more blessings based on the coming day}.

And when Carlos approached her looking for a way to calm Cruella down when she was in one of her rages, Evie dived into the world of personalized sigils.

To Create a Sigil

There are several steps in creating personalized sigils. Make sure you have three or four sheets of paper, something to write with, a quiet space, and a good amount of time on your hands.

Write down your sentence. Be as specific as possible. Instead of “I wish to have more money”, one would write “I will get 300 dollars in the near future”. Instead of “I want to fall in love”, “I will fall in love with a good, kind woman who returns my feelings”.

Remove all the vowels. They’ll clutter your spell.

I will fall in love with a good, kind woman who returns my feelings

Remove repeated consonants

wll fll n lv wth gd knd wmn wh rtrns my flngs

WL F N V TH GD K M RS Y

Move the remaining consonants around. Take as long as you like, and make sure it feels right. Some witches use a grid or spiral for this step. Others just close their eyes.

VTRW LND KFYG HMS

Turn the letters into a sigil use them in whichever order you wish. Be creative, and take your time. You may feel the need to make several versions of your sigil. That’s fine too. For magic to work, it relies on intent.

-From the grimoire of Anja Grimhilde

{Evie made do with a piece of chalk, the pavement, cotton wool in her ears, and Mal standing guard

I WILL BE CALM, she wished.

She stitched it into each and every one of Cruella’s coats, one at a time, over days and weeks, using a greyish thread that blended into the inners of the coats}.

Over the next days and weeks, Carlos’s bruises faded, and they weren’t replaced.

After that, they were thick as thieves.

Of course, with Carlos came Jay, and while she blushed and stammered awkwardly for the first couple of days, eventually the four of them settled into an easy equilibrium. She also started adding sigils to their clothing, too.

She used rust-coloured thread to add a triangle of circles- peace- to Jay’s leather jacket.

A small neon green sigil for healing found its way onto Mal’s gloves {she never went anywhere without them, after that}.

She embroidered a sigil blessing Carlos with heightened agility and speed into his socks {he laughed and kissed her on the cheek. She didn’t- didn’t- go pink}.

By the year of her sixteenth birthday, Evie had a steady hand and quick fingers, and rarely ever bled out onto her material anymore.

She also ran her mother’s tea shop. It had garnered her an abundance of support amongst the other citizens of the Isle {because she was the only one who could provide women with tansy tea or Queen Anne’s lace, mostly}.

This meant that, in the week before her sixteenth birthday, she received various small gifts from all sorts of people across the Isle- a moonstone from Uma, Harry and Gil, a hand-painted deck of tarot cards from Mal, an empty leather-bound book from Carlos and Jay, and, in a twist she absolutely didn’t see coming, three strands of hair from Hades himself.

She wove them, along with Mal’s single hair from all those years ago, and several strands of her own hair, into a single piece of thread. And with that piece of thread, she spent hours stitching her most powerful sigil yet into her one good bra {so that she could always wear it}.

Her wish was simple.

I WILL GET OFF THE ISLE OF THE LOST.

She stitched the same symbol into Mal’s gloves, and Jay’s beanie, and Carlos’s jacket.

And then, on her sixteenth birthday, Maleficent told them that they were being sent to school in Auradon.

{Mal kissed her in excitement, and then pulled back, fear in her eyes. Evie had kissed her again and smiled against the fey girl’s lips}.

When they left the Isle for the last time, Mal had a deep purple bruise on her cheek, courtesy of Maleficent, who’d given it to her as a ‘polite reminder’ to make sure she found the Faerie Godmother’s magic wand.

“Is féidir leis an chéad uair eile a thagann tú, tú riamh ardú,” Evie whispered under her breath.

They didn’t use magic in Auradon.

No one did. Not the fairies, not witches, not humans. Magic had caused so much pain for the heroes of the golden age, it had become completely taboo in Auradon.

That didn’t stop Evie, though.

It made her more careful, sure. But it also made her rededicate herself to her magic {and thank the triple goddess that she did because the dirty looks that Audrey and her friends shot at them probably had enough magical intent to- at least- seriously injure someone}.

She started by adding more sigils to their wardrobe- asking the triple goddess for safe passage and putting fear into enemies, for psychic awareness and protection for my loved ones.

She hissed curses behind Audrey’s back {náire agus aithir chugat} and spat at the entrance to Mr Delay’s classroom.

Mal was less subtle.

When Chad Charming tried to force a kiss on her, Mal had punched him, hard {the Faerie Godmother had put her in detention for a week, but Mal had just rolled her eyes- she didn’t intend to be at the school for another week, let alone attend those detentions. Not that any of them intended to follow Maleficent’s plan- they weren’t idiots, Maleficent was deranged, and they hadn’t spent their entire lives wishing to get off the Isle only to be thrown back on for trying to steal a wand they didn’t need or want}.

When Doug tried to ask her on a date, Mal had kissed her for so long that they were both given demerits for bad conduct and Evie was dizzy for the need of breath {the boy didn’t mean any harm, but Mal took no shit}.

When Audrey’s lip curled and she had laughed at Evie’s covered hair on the night of the Beltane Sabbat, Mal didn’t hide her small spells causing the girl to trip or wishing her bad luck. And when Jane had found Evie in the girl’s bathroom {the only adequate place for the rites Evie could find in the one day she’d had to prepare} at midnight on the Sabbat and tried to interrupt her, Mal had pulled her away without breaking Evie’s concentration {she didn’t know what Mal had said to the poor girl, but Jane burst into tears every time Evie got too close}.

They planned to run the day after Ben’s coronation- when the entire city was relaxed, and the day was passed, and no one was thinking too seriously about the four charity cases back at the school.

Evie used the time leading up to the coronation to make each of them a carefully designed outfit, lined with runes to keep them warm or cool and safe and dry and clean. She stitched mostly in the Witching Hour by only the light of the moon, and wouldn’t let anyone else even touch her work {she assigned Mal the much easier task of sewing their outfits for the coronation, and makes sure that she’ll have time to add some protection before they’re surrounded by people who are terrified by their parents}.

{Jay used the time to make as much money as possible- he nicked it out of the heroes’ overflowing pockets and rolled his eyes when they didn’t miss it.

Carlos stocked up on food, stealing non-preservatives from the cafeteria during lunch for Mal to charm and cans of vegetables and beans and pasta from the kitchen while Evie was sewing.

Mal, their strategist, planned their escape. The route went through three towns and then out to the moors where her mother’s wall of thorns still kept everyone out and involved splitting up and glamors and leaving false trails.

All four of them tried their best to fade into the background of Auradon Prep, but it was difficult. Jay and Carlos helping to win the tourney match didn’t make it any easier}.

The night before the coronation was a full moon, and the four of them snuck out to the Enchanted Lake. They found the shallowest part of the lake, where they could all stand comfortably, and, under Evie’s instruction, formed a circle. As they stood there, shivering in the water, hands joined, Evie began to chant.

Anseo táimid ag seasamh

Lámh ar láimh

Atá ar dochloíte, banna gan briseadh

Lig a gcumhachtaí breosla mo chuid féin

Leis na focail seo, tá ár gcumhachtaí éis fás

Three times, her mother’s voice hissed in her ear, magic works in threes. So she called the spell twice more, and then let the circle break, panting heavily.

Jay and Carlos’s eyes were wide, and Mal’s skin was glowing pale blue in the moonlight. She smiled and softly kissed her girlfriend, unable to resist the pretty sight.

They collected as much water as they could carry back with them and slipped back into the school, all four of them in the girls’ room. Evie put on the kettle, filled with one of the flasks of water, and brewed each of them a cup of white tea- thick with the scent of lavender. They sat in silence and drank their tea, before turning in- Mal and Evie crammed onto Evie’s bed, and Jay and Carlos on Mal’s.

The day of the coronation dawned with a peculiar sense of excitement- this was the final step of escaping the Isle- after this, all they would need to do was escape Auradon.

Evie braided knots of safety and protection into her hair, along with Mal and Jay’s. She double-checked every sigil and rune, all of which were blended into the outfits so perfectly they were all but impossible to spot. Lastly, she handed out the jewellery she’d secretly commissioned for the four of them- bracelets for Jay, cufflinks for Carlos, a delicate hairpiece for Mal, and a tiara and ruby necklace for herself. The pieces had cost all of what she’d managed to earn of the Isle of the Lost over the years, but they were immensely powerful conduits.

The four of them slipped into the upper level of the church, perfectly content to watch in silence as the new king was crowned {Ben was a good man, and he would be a good king. That didn’t mean that the four of them wanted to hang around and see it and risk getting shipped back}.

Of course, no preparation magic that Evie could perform was strong enough to keep someone else’s plan at bay.

Jane, who was in the front row next to where her mother would be seated later in the ceremony, snatched the magic wand right out of the Faerie Godmother’s hands.

“I can do magic,” she insisted, tearful, even as the wand rebelled at her touch. Mal’s eyes widened with a horrible look of realization and Evie wondered again what she’d said to the girl the night of Beltane.

But then Mal hitched up her skirts and pushed her way through the crowd, while people closer to Jane just stared in horror. Evie followed her and could feel Jay and Carlos right behind her.

As they ran towards the centre of the church where Mal was already wrestling with Jane for the wand, dark clouds began to cover the sky. Evie watched with trepidation as a dark shape shattered the glass ceiling of the chapel and landed on the dais at the same time that Mal managed to finally wrest the wand from Jane’s hand.

“I was being cruel, Jane,” her girlfriend tried to explain, “to keep you away from Evie. There are ways to learn magic, but you can’t start with a powerful object like this. It’s dangerous.”

Maleficent cackled.

“Oh yes, very dangerous,” she faerie agreed, and Evie shuddered at the sound of her voice, rasping and cold. She waved her staff, almost casually, and the Beast, who’d been running into an attack, slammed headfirst into an invisible wall. When Ben tried the same- he hit the wall too.

Maleficent wanted an audience.

Evie reached up to her hair, slowly and carefully, and pulled it loose. Without drawing attention, she tied a single knot into plucked a couple of strands from her head and brought them down behind her back.

She tied a single knot into them.

By knot of one, my spell’s begun.

“But only for weak little girls like you. My daughter's a good actress, isn’t she? Isn’t she?” she questioned more thoroughly when Jane didn’t respond. The girl squeaked in fear and nodded frantically.

She tied a second knot.

By knot of two, it will come true.

“Pathetic,” she murmured, and then turned towards Mal- “the wand, Maleficent.” Mal winced at her given name.

By knot of three, so may it be.

“No,” her girlfriend protested, “Leave us out of this, mother. Go back to the Isle. Don't make this a problem.”

By knot of four, this power I store.

“It’s already a problem if you’re defying me,” Maleficent hissed with fury, “Clearly I didn’t discipline you well enough.” Evie thought about all the times she’d had to cast healing spells over Mal and wondered what Maleficent thought counted as well enough.

By knot of five, my spell is alive.

“The wand, Mal, give me the wand!”

Mal shook her head, and several curls fell loose from her braids.

By knot of six, the spell I fix.

“And what’s stopping me from taking it from you, you silly girl?” Maleficent questioned, and her voice was vicious.

By knot of seven, the future I’ll leaven.

“Us,” Evie said, finding her voice, stepping up next to her girlfriend {Maleficent hadn’t even considered her, Carlos, and Jay as big enough threats to wall them in. Her mistake}.

By knot of eight, my will be fate.

“You? A hedgewitch? A street rat and a puppy? What can you do?” Maleficent asked scornfully.

By knot of nine, what’s done is mine!

“Enough,” Evie told her, as Ben finally managed to break through the barrier Maleficent had set up and sent her crashing to the floor.

They waited in worried silence for her to stand up and try to fight, but she never did.

Evie dropped her witch’s ladder and pulled Mal tight against her. She could feel the wand pulsing with foreign magic- Mal’s magic- against her chest like a second heartbeat.

Mal sighed into her and hugged back just as tightly, an arm reaching out to pull Carlos and Jay into the hug as well.

The four of them stood there, quiet and content until they heard a cough from up on the dais.

“I hate to interrupt, but-” Ben interjected, confused, “what just happened?”

“We stopped Maleficent,” Evie told him, frowning. “We’re safe.”

“I didn’t hit her hard enough to kill her,” Ben insisted, and Evie’s face softened in realization.

“No, you didn’t,” she reassured him.

“The last time I saw her, I put an old curse on her- next time you fall, may you never rise. It’s a witch’s curse.”

She made eye contact with Mal from the corner of her eye.

“I’m sorry,” she told her girlfriend. Maleficent was an evil bitch, but she was still Mal’s mother.

Mal shook her head, and pulled Evie, Carlos and Jay closer, burying her head in their necks.

Several years later, the four of them sat in a cave on the moors. They’d disappeared from Auradon as soon as possible- albeit with permission and help from the crown. Now, they were waiting for the witching hour in a cave high on the nearby tor.

They sat in a circle of chalk, around a thin silver candle. It burnt, oddly enough, with a blue flame.

Mother goddess, hear my plea,

By the love of these three,

Let there be a babe for me.

It was her first English spell- because it was the first one she’d written herself.