🕯️Lantern🕯️

September sunk its crushing teeth down to the gums into every part of Salem. Occasional windchills threatened skin under coats and socks, even seeping into the woodgrain of homes. The creaking of the forest was barely dulled by afternoon candle flame. Hushed words of concern crept beneath foggy breaths. The sun set further into the ground as the town collectively braced for impact upon the seasonal realization. The comfort of summer stopped lingering long ago. And there was no mercy in the cold eyes that crept upon the air. 

The war flags of autumn came in the slow streaking of grey clouds and sea storms that threatened just beyond sight. Not visible to the eye, but the town still swore they could smell something else in the salty rain. Farmers held onto their tools even tighter despite the already slowly weakening stalks. This was the cannonfire before winter would siege the valley in white blood. 

The growing specks of black feathers on rooftops could be ignored and shooed away no longer. Their black beady eyes stared above and between the slowly drying leaves. They still stayed wary of the scarecrows, but the straw would die with the cold. They stayed bewared of the smell of gunpowder beside the butcher’s garbage. Chilled wind curled just beneath their feathers. 

Whether the cold was from the air or the town’s raised goosebumps, it didn't matter. The collective stomach pits still grew deeper the more they actively leaned toward the candle flame. Families cuddled closer for warmth as beer and cider warmed. At least the alcohol would lift their moods. It was safer than the slowly drying water well beneath the drying dirt and dust. Comfort was exchanged for clarity with a few clicks of coins. 

Within the homes that drew their curtains to keep warm, Ellie drew hers to keep secret. A deal kept between grey lines and the lack of dust beneath her dresser. Her throat still dried as she opened the box, grimacing at the metal lock with an overly familiar mark. The small arrows felt like they sunk deeper the more she put it off, eventually the mirroring scar on her sternum could spread too. 

Ellie had all the time in the world to do this deed for the witch. She could have done it long ago, but here she was. Just on the second potion of six. She took a deep breath as she looked out the window, trying to hide the paranoia as she peeked. But as the tavern owner passed by her street with more barrels, she leaned against her wall in reflection and kicked the box beneath the dresser with a Hail Mary under her breath.

What the hell was she doing? 

Not just in her ‘duty’ to the witch, not in her duty as a hunter. Ellie asked herself what she was doing as a person. Who was she to believe anything? What was she thinking when she did anything she did? Why was she following along with this witch’s deal? It hadn't physically harmed her, and she could fulfill her debt at any time. So why not never? Why not dump the potions? Why not kill the wicked woman?

Ellie dragged her hands along her face. She could hate every part of the situation, every word she said, every footstep she took, every breath she took alone. And she certainly did. Her mind hated its own racing thoughts as much as she tried to quiet the screaming that deafened her most isolated moments. 

She brushed herself off and raised more tall than she remembered she could. 

But try as she might, Something still pricked at Ellie’s foot as she picked up her boots. The faint light from the curtained window. Try as she might, she couldn't push it down; Ellie’s hatred of her paranoia. She was more than capable of killing her enemies. She immediately somehow regretted pushing the potion box back under her dresser, and groaned as her nails shallowly dug into her scalp. She knew the paranoia would kill her later. The decapitated snake could still strike even if thought dead for a moment. 

Ellie nonetheless shoved those thoughts down and swallowed them into her gut like a dry pill. It could fester in her stomach, or she could drown it out with alcohol. She was infected, but could certainly do something about it, if not temporarily. She did, in fact, have a second deal to fulfill.

Jesse perked up at the sound of a knock on his door. He brushed off his shoulder before casually walking to the door, perking up in surprise at Ellie by his door.

“I wasn't aware Tommy called on a night hunt. Though I will admit you aren't quite dressed for it.”

“He didn't." 

Jesse looked back in uncertainty, a long-passed familiar scenario of them alone at each other’s doors briefly poisoning their guts again before Ellie spoke up.

“I still owe you for a night of drinks…Well, shall we storm the tavern?”

Jesse blinked in surprise at Ellie’s tone and the smirk on her mouth, closing his door behind him. 

“Shit, well I can't say I had anything planned, and we both know Seth’s been one to go to morning hunts hungover too… Though he might chew you out more for being hungover-”

“I don't care.” Ellie barked, the tone too familiar.

Ellie sighed through her nose, and Jesse was more than eager to help as he led their path to the tavern. She both hated and admired his care for her. It was appreciated nonetheless, no matter how much reluctance came through her stubbornness. 

“Hope you brought your mortgage payment,” Jesse joked.

“Oh, please. You can barely handle yourself, ill be paying for three beers at most”

Jesse laughed as they walked to the tavern, bringing himself in front of Ellie as he opened the door to the unfiltered drunken ramblings.

The tavern air held a perpetual scent of bitter, tart earth. No matter how the smell came upon you when you first entered, it would dulled within no time. The cold couldn't seep through the warmth of booze nor drunken rambling and belching. Woodbeams seemed permanently soaked. Hunting dogs lapped at spilled beer faster than water. Flushed faces became part of the candlelit air. Natural light was to a minimum through uncleaned windows and mud-tracked floors. Dead pheasants and game lay tied hanging to a chair beside a parchment of splattered prayer.  

It wasn't soaked in riches like the Boston Inn, but it was what Salem had. No one ever seemed to care about the conditions as long as the tables were clean and the cider kept flowing. Water was just as seemingly poisonous as the booze, you might as well pick the safer, tastier option. At least this kind of poisoning was familiar.

The blacksmith raised his pint to Jesse.

“Jesse! Good to see ya! I see you fetched Eleanor from the woods, or did the court finally get recess?”

The man next to the blacksmith hiccuped along with their belching laughter. 

“Just getting some long overdue drinks, though Fowler might be looking to steal some of your pint.” Jesse laughed as he sat next beside Ellie, petting the lazing mutt by their feet. 

With no hesitation Ellie waved the barkeep over, tossing him her a thick stuffed leather pouch as it jingled against the counter. She didn't look back to the Blacksmith and whatever other pair of eyes hid their disapproval, she just wanted something strong to drown it out. 

“However many we ask for. I have more, put it on a tab.”

The blacksmith’s hands tightened as Jesse held no objection to Ellie’s payment. But Ellie had enough. She pulled her cloak over her dress, kicking her legs and skirt beneath the chair while she waited. Jesse didn't want to try easing her while they were sober. His quiet thankful look to her was enough of a gesture for now, though Ellie's stubbornness didn't let her respond in any perceivable way to the others. But Jesse knew despite the unmoved freckled walls. And that's why she hated and appreciated him. 

After the silence seemed like forever the barkeep gave them both a tankard of beer.

“We sold out of our imported wine and won't get any for a good while, but we do have a new local one if you wanna try it. The Johnsons could use help, the husbands’ gotten sick.”

“...Prayers for them, peace be with them. For now, keep the beer and cider flowing, get Jesse whatever he wants, and don't ask questions.”

Ellie could tell he didn't like her attitude, especially from a woman to pay and demand. But he kept his tight expression to himself, accepting the money and unloading another keg for the other patrons. 

Ellie’s leg bounced as she watched the innkeeper pour them their cider. The thoughts from earlier loomed to ruin her night, but she wouldn't let them. She grabbed the lukewarm tankard and made quick cheers with Jesse, slamming it down with haste despite the bitterness.

Jesse took a second, but downed his drink at the sight of Ellie’s already empty cup. With another wooden clink, another drink went down the hatch. Ellie’s mouth twitched mid-sip at the pure dry tart. It tasted like she might as well have gnawed on the empty tankard, but gnawing on an emptying keg would be better than letting the thoughts still gnaw on Ellie's mind. 

The night carried on as their breaths started to match the tavern air. The sting of alcohol dried for the moment, but no one wanted a break for water. Talk was short for now between Jesse and Ellie. His brows furrowed at Ellie's hidden glares to the other men in the bar. Her nails scratched on the tankard handle even as she drank it too fast. 

Jesse had a lack of words for the stale air, opting to drink another tankard and petting the hunting dog now curled at his feet. Ellie reached to pet Fowler but her fingers twitched back to the last time she was that close to canine teeth. Still, the blissfully ignorant dog leaned his head into her hand. Her mind struggled to forget the gaze of that damned black goat, and how its maw opened wide and canine. That night it snatched Sarah away. Black fur, those piercing eyes, teeth that shredded flesh, the transformation that collapsed cobblestone. The way those eyes still held flecks of gold despite the sliced pupil.

Those eyes.

“Ill take another.” Ellie waved to the tavern keeper.

Just as quick as called, she craved the earthy sting of another beer with Jesse.

“After that last hunt, I know I sure needed something. Shit, Ellie, at least let me pay for one round, I got too caught up in that boar chase…”

Ellie wanted to fight him, but the will couldn't even leave her throat. The small nod she gave more than sufficed. 

“Jesse, it's fine. It was a crazy boar, it ran for a while, Shimmer just couldn't keep up with the stallions…” 

Ellie's throat tightened at the memory of the woman and children far scarier than the snarling boar. 

“Yeah, and we got it. Ellie, you should have seen the look on Dina’s father’s face, he looked like he wanted to buy that whole boar himself.”

Ellie teasingly softly smiled as she finished her drink, “So you are trying to impress her father.”

“Oh shut it, Williams.”

Jesse chuckled as he took another sip.

“Hey, Ellie, if I…”

Ellie's brow perked as she fully leaned back in the chair. 

“I know we talked about it…if ‘talking’ is a word, but you wouldn't be mad if I…”

“Asked Dina to marry you?”

“Its just, you're still a friend to me, Ellie. We're all friends. And I didn't want Dina to know about— that night in case it caused something bad between us…I love Dina, just, women and their secretive jealousy, you know?”

“Jesse, we’ve been over this. When you made that offer, I was in a weird spot.”

He had tried to brush it off with another sip of beer, but Ellie saw how his brows didn't relax. 

“Jesse, we're fine.” Ellie spoke, “Thank you for sticking by me. You and Dina.”

She sighed, blinking at how her sentence made no sense, but she knew Jesse understood. He really was understanding. 

Ellie looked to the cider in her now full tankard.

“I meant what I said that night. You deserve a good wife.”

Ellie held her breath, already sensing the pitiful look he couldn't hold back.

“Some girl you can be proud to build a home with… Show off to the town, have beautiful kids, make something for yourselves. A woman like Dina would deserve a good husband like you. We’ll still all be friends, I can figure myself out. I don't need—” 

Ellie shut up before she made things worse again. Her teeth froze in place and her eyes widened like she almost misstepped off a cliff. One shaky breath, and she decided her tankard was far too full. 

Jesse decided his tankard was too empty and waved for another round of cider, his smile not leaving his face after the pleasantries were done. Ellie could see Jesse fully lighten. It was a welcome sight. 

“God bless the invention of cider,” He proclaimed as he sipped, letting a thorough exhale escape his lungs.

His smile couldn't escape his face. Jesse was right where he wanted to be. He smiled back to Ellie, clicking his cider to Ellie’s to tell her she should drink some too.

“Ciders’ gotten better, ey?”  

Ellie’s mind, however, still couldn't escape that one night. The haze reminded her of the clouded courtroom windows. Days of waking up and forced to speak her perspective, yet not saying a single word could leave her mouth. The arguments that would have breached into yelling if there weren't so many eyes on her already. Eyes so sunken in mourning that it was a struggle she stayed so– as other townsfolk called it, ‘irrational.’ 

The scent of blood lingered in her nose for weeks. Blood, settling dust, and residual salt on her cheeks. Yet she had barely enough time to properly mourn before being dragged to court. No matter how much like a father Joel was, he never took her in officially. No matter where their hearts were, she struggled to fit in as the ideal daughter. 

Weeks proceeded regarding Joel’s last will and testament. The defense, the prosecution, and the matter of Joel’s home. Ellie swore the chairs knew her fingerprints. His brother wouldn't take it, and the court would never give such an estate to a barren woman like Eleanor Williams. 

Ellie silently begged to scream. She had enough of merely sitting watching even more men determine her fate. The only man openly on her side was below the freezing earth, but even he didn't take her in officially as his daughter. Too much stigma that they never followed the traditional family structure. Whatever tradition meant in this savage land anyway. 

Until one last night when Jesse knocked on her door. He knew his best friend too well, swallowing when her tired eyes met his pitiful ones. Ellie’s teeth bit into the side of her mouth to keep an audible sigh. She could tell his heart wasn't into his proposal. 

He really was a good friend. His intentions were good. If they married, Ellie could keep the home. But it broke Ellie’s heart at the inevitability that Jesse would be the one to force her into traditional domesticity, even if he didn't want to. The more Jesse rambled on about the benefits, the more she just wanted to scream. She couldn't do that to him. He was so caring to even offer a marriage just so she could keep her childhood home. Jesse deserved so much better than Eleanor Williams as a wife.

Jesse was a good man. Offering Ellie the comfort and community she needed and had on the surface, but the glass was always arid. Jesse was perfect. How she wished to accept his deal and be part of the housewife chatter. But she cared so much for him. She couldn’t let Jesse be tied down to such a disappointing wife. And Ellie knew Jesse wasn't doing this for mutual benefit. She’d drag him down, too. And with that thought, another drag of beer flowed down her throat.

Secretly Ellie hated the men speaking and tossing around her future, even if it was from one of her best friends. Yet because of the refusal of his marriage, the court would regurgitate and debate over and over again. The woodgrain of the chairs grew accustomed to Ellie's silenced lungs. Her soul longed to just sit in silence beside Joel’s grave, but instead she sat silenced in the same courtroom. The home that Joel, Tommy, and Ellie loved so dearly simply collected dust for weeks on end. Beds only laid dust to rest. 

Ellie scowled as she buried her face in her clawing hands. Those weeks of suffering, silence, and mourning, and where was Joel’s own brother? Tommy’s fiance had died months ago at that point, and he had loved Maria so deeply despite being engaged in such little time. 

Ellie slammed down another pint of beer. Bitter nettles stung her breath at the thought that was finally too sharp to ignore anymore. 

She was the one leaning on Joel’s graveside. She was the one holding back tears when they pulled the cloth over Joel’s speckled hair. Her vision was watery, but boiling with morning rage at just how still Tommy carried himself. His own brother was passing from the horrific hunting accident, yet Tommy barely carried grieving emotion, especially when compared to his open, toughened weeping for his fiance.  

Maria had passed months before Joel’s will dispute. But where was Tommy in all of this? Ellie's teeth tasted of earth as she ground them together. 

Her vision blurred in rage the day Tommy finally spoke up. She had begged in the small private moments with Tommy, but he seemed far too lost in his head. His eyes always seemed to point to the graveyard. Since Maria died he devoted himself to her memory, charging forth and spearheading the witch hunts since the day her death made a mockery of the women he burned himself. You could never miss the standstill stare he gave to the confessional booth his bride to be burned to death in. 

Tommy moved into her family home, and left Ellie barely any guidance. He wasn't obligated to. Ellie was never his niece on paper. A mere barren maid who unfortunately could hunt as well as her late mentor. Yet, for growing up with Tommy as well, he sure left Ellie to grow behind. 

She chugged the tankard only to blink and see it was once again full. 

Only when Jesse spoke up to Tommy about Ellie’s marriage refusal did he finally put a stop to the court. Weeks and hours spent in the courtroom, and only did a small bribe in her favor finally permit Ellie to breathe alone. Ellie's breathing even now still shook with the same refined, caged rage. Her lip upturned in disgust at her own thoughts. She shouldn't be so insensitive, Tommy loved Maria so much despite knowing her for so little. But her ears still rumbled from her teeth crushing together at the intrusive thought– he mourned a fiance more than his brother. 

Yet Ellie started to cradle in on herself– succumbing to the thought dredged her like a sword scraping her spine. She had no right to be so torn up over it. Dozens of other women have gotten up on those stands and died to that very gavel. And here she was. Curling her arms around herself over a marriage she had enough power to refuse, and a home she had already won. Still, she remembered how cold her tears were at the night she got her proper inheritance from Joel’s will. A quiet dinner and dessert next to his empty chair. One candle blown out alone, and one of the increasing birthdays she would spend without family by her side. 

The town seemed both equally mournful and suppressed, offering words of heavenly blessings to Ellie, yet she only felt more isolated from the lack of words spoken up in court. Much less the ones spoken in their heads and in gossiping prayer.

‘Heh, right, ‘Love thy neighbor’ when they’re able to skin the hunt without soaking it in blood.’

Ellie pushed the wine cup away in favor of harder spirits. Although she might have taken a glass, she did not remember. What she does remember now, is the familiar warmth of cider filling her. Whether a mumble left her lips or not, Jesse didn't seem to notice as he chatted up and pet the hunting dog by his feet.

“You ‘aight?” Jesse slurred to Ellie, nodding to Seth as he gave Ellie a politely disapproving look.

“Why did Tommy take so long…”

Jesse sighed, loosening his arm slung around her. “Ellie–” 

“He knew how long it was taking and how many hunts I had to sit out of, did he just want a bigger cut, I'm his niece… what the fuck?!”

Jesse’s brows arched in unrestrained pity as he sipped his cider before Ellie’s voice turned bitter as the first cider sip.

“And dont you say her gravesite, I know where he was.. It's just.. Stings a little.”

Ellie sighed as she massaged her nose, groaning at the beer stain on her sleeve.

She hated the drink, but it kept her mind numb. But not numb enough. Not yet. And with that, another drink was ordered and foaming in front of her. 

“You were in your head, but Seth said hello.”

“He meant anything but hello.” She snarled.

“Ellie, relax…”

She dreaded the pleasant greetings between the trial recesses. Ellie knew they wanted her presence out, as much as they physically accepted her in the absence of Joel. Seth muttered beneath his breath at the sight of Ellie slumped over the tavern table. Ellie's ears pricked between the buzzing in her head, catching onto exactly whatever Seth meant between his mutter. She wanted to get up and fight if not for Jesse's hand on her shoulder already pulling her down. The words of pure disdain already echoed enough in her head between the mutterings and grey breezes. 

‘The improper, immoral girl who put Joel's legacy to shame.’

Ellie heard Jesse rambling about how maybe she should cut back on beer and drink the wine. Wine was for sacred emotions and proper women. But she would never be a proper woman no matter how much she sobbed, prayed and desperately tried. 

"Maybe she should have some wine," the echoes mocked. 

And maybe part of her longed for sweet dry wine. Dry, burning delicacy of white flowers, black spice and maybe warm cinnamon filling her system. Her breath grew warmer.

The air in the tavern never seemed more sour. The flush on her cheeks craved the warmth of fire. She couldn't go home now, the house was so cold. The alcohol somehow still stung despite her loss of how much time and how many tankards had passed. She was screwed anyway; stay in the bar with Jesse and get more drunk, or go home and wallow, still drunk, but with the reminder of whatever skeletons were in those potion bottles.  

Jesse drunkenly muttered something to her, but Ellie’s head just lulled back as the ceiling woodgrain fused together. Blinks got slower. Each tilt of her head felt like her brain was sloshing around. Another sip filled her stomach, but she might as well have let a snake slither down her throat.

As much as Ellie’s hair stood on end, the herbs and candlesmoke did soak into her skin. And damned if she didn't slightly miss the residual smell in her hair the mornings after. She always stayed on the hunt for another witch. But \ the warning smell of herbs and burning was such a sweet warning. Far sweeter than whatever dullness finally stopped stinging her throat. The tavern felt so hollow in its warmth. And Ellie dreaded the thought that even if they added more candles, it still wouldn't feel nearly as warm.

The empty stares felt just as pressing as whatever demons lingered in that lion's den of a ‘home.’ But Magnolia's eyes. That stare she had gotten used to. She would like to get used to. Ellie’s hands secretly longed to sift between the gold in the witch’s dark eyes; whether through tearing her carcass or feeling her gaze stare back.

That silky blonde hair. Naturally dipped in black like the witch was birthed from burnt tar. Weaved braids of pale blonde and like the ropes that would hopefully soon be tied around the witch’s neck. Maybe then Ellie’s feelings would finally go away. She longed for when those ropes would char like the witch’s hair. 

Whether her mental groans slipped from her mouth, she couldn't care. Not when the bar seemed so cold yet so boiling. Her cheeks felt roasted as she dragged her hands up to smother the flames. But only onto her coat did they latch and claw. But this was a curse she couldn't chase and kill. This was a fever she couldn't freeze out. She had to live and long for warmth. And only one face could Ellie’s hazy mind conjure. 

Magnolia. 

What a wicked woman. She could damn the witch to hell all she wanted, but she knew it would only go so far before the flames would catch on Ellie's own body. Her fingers clawed into her auburn scalp, but she choked at the realization she would much rather feel the witch’s hair in her hands. Too pale. Far too pale, like snow. Yet far too much warmth did the snowfall bring to her face.

Drunken sobs croaked from Ellie at the thought that the witch wasn't the one to curse her. She was born hexed. Slipped from her mother in sin. So many nights before did Ellie pray she would feel anything like she should for one of the village boys, yet so many nights she prayed the witch would leave her mind since the day they met. 

Ellie was raised to crave the feeling of heretic ashes and purity in echoing water. Yet she pulled her coat over her like a confessional booth and groaned in anguish and acceptance. She never felt the fulfillment of holy water like she did the sweetness of a witch’s potion down her throat. Sobs of shame crooked from her in drunken hiccups. Her hands clawed at another tankard as she pulled it beneath her coat. Maybe this was what witches felt when the ropes coiled around their throats. 

Goosebumps crawled up her skin like a dismembered spider colony. Her breaths grew faster and her eyes blurred and trembled. She might as well try and drown in holy water. 

Her own coat felt like crawling into goat skin. She was soaked in sin she couldn't thrash out of. Yet as her lips caught onto her hands, she gnawed on her skin. She didn't know whether the deep sin of lust overtook her by her own accord or whether the pale, pretty heathen just happened to intensify her curse.

She leaned forward on the chair and table, the screech of wood on wood like squealing rats scratching beneath her skin. Ellie reached her hand to sip more from the somehow empty tankard. Just when did this start? Her sin she was naturally born with just acted up when the witch invaded her life. Corruption was her father she never knew and could never cleanse– no matter how long she devoted herself to the holy father and spirit. 

Ellie’s brain briefly fussed at why she even felt this light around the witch. Why she bantered and didn't slit her throat. She could use that luck potion to find and kill the coven— that would finally give her some real luck. But here she is. She should have stopped that interaction days ago. If she was in her right head she should have slaughtered those children. But it was no use. Not when another sip flowed down. The holster on her thigh was tighter than she remembered.

Maybe part of her longed for that sweet dry wine. Dry in its warmth like burning floral candles. Black spice, warm cinnamon, and pure, unforgivable sin. Her breath grew warmer in longing for heat. Her head pounded and her stomach threatened to release, but was drowned out with more beer. 

How she wished she could drown too. Not in the stupid ocean water beyond town, but in the water she conjured when she was extremely stupid. That potion lagoon. How she wished that the witch drowned her in that lagoon. She just had to let the witch show her the gorgeous, dreamy sight. Holding Ellie close with a hope only found in sweet isolation together. Her hair, so soft even when wet. Those eyes, following her in every dream and nightmare. A gaze still secretly rolling in her skull. 

It would have been more dreamy if Magnolia used those soft, charred hands and wrapped them around Ellie’s throat. Letting the toads softly sing to the sound of Ellie flailing from strangling and drowning in the water. Letting each lung struggle fill with that potion water. Lord, why couldn't she have drowned? Why couldn't Magnolia let her go? Why couldn't she let go of Magnolia?

Chamomile poison filling her lungs would be far better than whatever she was drinking in-hand. 

Ellie felt her lip around the tankard quiver. How she prayed more than anything in the whole world that all her problems be solved by speaking to whatever holy spirit always lingered in every rafter. But who heard those prayers would rather wish both the witch and the hunter death than offer salvation. 

The cup dropped from her hand, but her eyes could no longer stay open longer with a slow blink. She looked at her blurry, stained apron. Who was she kidding when she thought and prayed to be a proper woman. Proper women were at least pretty. And the prettiest woman she ever saw was one she first witnessed from a window, overgrown in roses. Maybe one of them pricked her with the curse. Magnolia’s heart seemed so warm, even when concocting a poison for her enemy. But maybe this feeling was as aimless as the roses that climbed that cottage window. Those deep wine-red flowers smelled like nothing, and this lust would lead to nothing. 

Ellie tried to regain any footing from floating in her mental heat, noticing the bottom of another dress who was seated at the table. Of course Jesse had never checked up on her in favor of a more proper woman. She couldn't care who the townswoman was. It was nonetheless a gaze far too familiar from eyes far too high. Any woman other than her would be such a better wife, yet here she was. Wasted. 

Ellie pulled the cape and a cup further over her with whatever hand eye coordination she had left. Yet thoughts invaded her about being underneath a much softer invisible blanket with the witch. Thoughts of feeling that pale hair though her fingertips no matter how much it would burn.

Ellie somehow swore she could feel water on her forehead. God, she was so wasted. Magnolia looked so pretty in that water.

‘Fuck…’

She wished magnolia drowned her in that dream lagoon. Those blackened fingertips should be from burning on the stake, but here Ellie was, secretly praying those fingertips could hold hers tight. 

Ellie could feel her head swaying and her feet already tripping in instability. Her body felt shockwaves of dull nausea as she began to blink out of consciousness. A faint smell of fog somehow hit her nose. Ellie wasn't sure what tonight would be a lingering memory, but she couldn't even process that thought before her consciousness fully sunk her body, blacking her out. 

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

The wind slowed its howl with a grackle as feathers were reluctantly tucked beneath plain white fabric. The witch pulled her bonnet over her marked forehead, eclipsing the inked moon phases on her humanoid hairline. Mere moments passed and she already missed the fog beneath her wings. The laziness in Rowena tempted her away, but loyalty tugged her between the alleys as she stepped into human feet.  

Rowena much preferred her days poking in what wasn't hers, toying with the Salem locals from rooftops, lingering in her sister’s homes, and gossiping with the flock, as much as they were repulsed by her knack for the ungodly arts. But with the sisterhood came the chores. A small price to pay for the bountiful life she has. Errand day. 

Pick more salmonberries and milkweed. Return Nkiru’s foraging book. Light the candles at the southside altar. Refresh the protection spell, get more wine. Maybe dig in the butcher’s garbage for a snack, maybe steal a few bones. Around here they all went to waste anyway. 

‘Stupid humans. So stupid, so selfish and so wasteful,” she grumbled under the wind as she shook her feathers into fingers.

Rowena groaned through her grackle as she straightened her dress apron. The last errand was to get wine. They already had enough, but a few more bottles certainly wouldn't hurt if it meant the ritual would work. The more the merrier, and they were about to be unspeakably merry. 

With the full transformation from bird to human came the heightened smell that allured Rowena to her favorite spot in town. The butcher’s garbage was still fresh enough that there may be more scraps for her to snack on. Temptation and distraction howled louder to the moon. With a thorough shake to her head she reminded herself she had to be focused. Besides, people were so judgy here. If they grimaced at a woman petting a cat, they'd shoot her on sight if they found someone digging through a carcass for a midnight snack. Back to errands. 

Wine. Wine. Wine….Itchy bonnet. Gods, this bonnet was so itchy. Nonetheless Rowena tucked a stray feather inside the fabric that was far too plain for her taste. She didn't know how Constance disguised herself to come into town so often and easily. Though, it definitely helps when you know the likely outcome of every eye twitch and finger raise.  Flexing her hands to sheath her talons beneath the morphing fingernails, Rowena blinked her eyes to a human-irised storm cloud grey, and opened the tavern door. This place always amused her– how people would yell and get far too drunk, yet they still always seemed so tense. Why even have alcohol if you couldn't even feel free?

She had to focus. Exit looked around for an exit strategy. But as she looked, her nose only upturned. Gods, this place was a mess. And not even a fun one. Especially with the oddly dressed fellow just barely holding onto their liquor and quietly babbling on the table. Something was vaguely familiar about them, but they weren't a threat.

Rowena had some time to kill, and oh how her eyes stayed transfixed on the dark-haired man beside the faintly blabbering drunk. After scanning him for weapons she pulled up a stool beside him. She could have a little fun toying while she waited for the bartender. Rowena smiled at the glassy sheen in the dark man’s eyes and happily ignored the collapsed mumblings of the other person cooped up in their coat. 

“Well good eve, stranger~” 

Jesse seemed a little sceptical of the new woman next to him, but was dampened by the alcohol.

“Forgive me for asking, miss, but…well, this is quite the hour to come into a bar, especially by yourself, and well…”

Rowena’s eye twitched ever so slightly at his judgement, unfortunately disappointed but nowhere near surprised. 

“Father passed on the way, insisted we move here for the community,” she lied without a blink.

Jesse’s throat tightened as he took a minute to process through his daze.

“My apology, miss. My friends’ paying, let me get you a drink,” waving the tavernkeep over. 

He took an odd look at the new girl, but nonetheless brought them more cider.

“Any imported wine?” Rowena perked, still taking the cider.

“There aren't many imports around here this time of year, but one of the local families made some wine.”

“Do you fancy any?” Rowena asked, leaning on her hand to Jesse as he questioned her unladylike stance. 

He shrugged and sipped through a hiccup.

“No wine for me, that's what the women drink, but if a pretty lady like Dina offered me some, I wouldn't say no… Ells do you think Dina would get me some wine? She's real nice, I like her… Well, you know that.”

Rowena was pleasantly baffled at his state. This man beside her helped slaughter the forest and would stop at nothing to kill her sisters. He likely wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her if a feather peeked from her bonnet. But here he was. Asking if a girl he liked fancied him back. 

“Miss.” The bartender cleared his throat, holding up a repurposed import bottle with an oddly light red.

It was better than nothing.

“I’ll take both.”

“Five shillings. I take it she's paying.” The bartender interrupted as he poured for them.

Rowena perked at such cheap wine. Surely she misunderstood their stupid human money system. There were no wild grapes left unburned or cut down in this area. Nonetheless Rowena didn’t oppose the price as two cups were poured before them.

“Name’s Jesse. You didn't say your name, it would be nice to see you again, I'm sure we can help find you a husband.”

Rowena couldn't help the faintest smirk on her face that dusted her cheeks, knowing full well she’d do anything to never see him again.

Her finger traced the wine cup as the wood rocked against the table. He really was handsome despite the dulled bloodlust he would inevitably feel for her. Rowena could tell his mind was growing foggier by the minute. She chuckled at the drunkard next to him tugging their cloak over their head and pulling the cup beneath to sip the wine.

“Surely I've seen you ‘round… something about you is familiar.” Jesse slurred.

‘And something about you makes my feathers stand on end.’

“Who knows, we may see each other again,” Rowena kept vague as she chuckled. 

She struggled to contain her cockiness at Jesse’s drunken grip.

Rowena stayed hesitant as she sniffed the wine again. Oak of the cup, alcohol, and nothing more. Odd. Even her human nose should have picked up mild sweetness amongst the alcohol stench. There were no wild grapes left near Salem. They burn anything unfamiliar. Her mind raked just where they could have gotten the wild grapes from, what was even alive and growing near town. Dogwood, crabapples, chokeberries, winter holly weren't in season and the humans were too dumb to notice the bergamot up north. She hummed and gnawed on the cup before quickly withdrawing her bite.    

Her eyes struggled not to roll— of course moonseed was their poison of choice. Similar to grapes until you squish them open and find your death. They hated anything that could secretly kill them, even if it looked like it came from their own kind. Yet moonseed still grows in the shadows to survive. They’d soon blame their own poisoning on the witches. 

No wonder the winemaker wasn't feeling well. They’d feel the cold earth soon. These humans had no sense of flavor, of course they'd chug the nearest bitter alcohol they saw because they're too stupid for water. 

‘Humans are so strange. So very blind, but not. Chugging poison over water… willingly.’ 

Rowena perked at the bartender, taking a few more repurposed wine bottles. The man held a tired look in his eye, yet she couldn't be secretly happier at his grievance. Everyone in this tavern would do anything to fill their graves, so she was happy to know they'd soon be filling their own. 

She sat back comfortably, happy to be corrected. Pleasantly disappointed. Rowena settled back in the tavern chair in realization, stifling a laugh the humans couldn't process through their drunken minds. Jesse chuckled along with the odd smiling woman. They probably assumed she couldn't handle her liquor. Yet she was just surprised with the cold fact of the matter in front of her eyes and in their cups. 

‘They really are poisoning themselves stupid!’

She could drink to that, clinking her cider cup with Jesse’s as he lazily raised it up.

Rowena silently grew oddly thankful for the dark-haired hunter’s drunken pride, pushing the cup of wine to his coated friend as a hand haphazardly withdrew the cup before dropping the cup on the floor. They mumbled beneath the coat as their hand clenched their now wine-stained dress.

“N-No…la-let me,” the voice mumbled through the thick coat, “r-roses are- dumb…”

Rowena stifled a knowing chuckle as she looked back over to Jesse. She grew a secretly thankful smile not only at his handsomeness, but for his stupid human masculinity making him discard the moonseed wine. Who knows when his friend would meet the bar floor and sink into the ground. She smiled to herself at the fallen cup, happy to see another hunter soon dead. 

Until her heart dropped at the realization of just who the groaning stranger beside him was. Rowena cursed herself for not recognizing, even more so for letting her out of her sight for that long. The crow witch’s heart rate thundered as she tried to breathe at a normal rate, trying to seem normal as her hands fidgeted and tightened around the poison cup.  

“Say, this wine is funky, heh. Did your friend enjoy it? She seemed pretty out of it.” 

Rowena corrected her throat to human pitch. 

“‘Dunno…maybe?”

Jesse blinked and thudded his beer to the table, none the wiser to Rowena’s heartbeat as he lazily tried to clear his throat. 

“She’s fine, just drunk... I can- can take her home,” He hiccuped.

“NO— No. I can take her home.”

Rowena quickly butted, tugging Ellie up so hard her hand might have ripped right off.

Jesse chuckled as he drank the rest of his tankard, looking at Ellie as she tried to lazily blink through her daze.

“Damn you're nice…” Jesse chuckled as a lazy smile grew further along his face. 

“M’ gonna stay for another round, you don't wanna come back?”

“R-Really, thank you for the cider, but– heh, I-I-I should really be heading home, father would want me back…”

Jesse blinked and tried to make sense of the creeping blur to his vision, feeling his body sink further into the chair as his head lulled back. He felt content and softly smiled to himself, hiccuping through a half-formed thought. His head rolled to the side where Ellie once slumped against him, only to find her weight walking out the door and lazily stepping alongside the mysterious woman. His words croaked faster than his throat could coherently babble.

“How do you know where she lives—“ 

The wind slammed the door in an instant as Rowena withdrew her claws. The tavern guests were too drunk to care, but Rowena’s heart pounded in pure panic. She had to run. Steadying her breathing could come later. This was bad. So very very bad. Rowena ran as fast as she could while tugging Ellie’s arm over her shoulder, whistling the wind to snuff out the street lanterns. She panicked and tossed Ellie’s clumsy body into an alleyway, pacing in the shadows about what to do. 

This was very very bad. She smelled Ellie's breath trying to decipher any moonseed bitterness but only gagged at the pure earthy alcohol stench. She could hurl from her own nerves as she tried and failed to pick up a heartbeat through her own pounding heart in her head. 

She should know this, it's a simple poison, and yet she just couldn't tell. Rowena cursed at herself as she paced, her large claws running along her feathered hair she couldn't care to conceal. Her heart screeched as soon as she looked at her hands. She accidentally un-morphed. 

The crow witch had to get out of here. They could shoot her and the drunken hunter at any time, she knew the town probably hated Ellie that much too. Either of their deaths would cause problems for everybody, but both their corpses would cause unspeakable chaos. Rowena panicked as she quickly grabbed Ellie, looking around the corner, praying briefly to the moon, and morphing as fast as the incantation could escape her lips.

She had no time to be relieved of the itchy human dress. Rowena struggled not to stutter through the spell as the night’s clouds darkened and her feathers grew. Flying through this weather wasn't easy, but it was better than bloodshed.

The crow witch struggled to steady her still panicking breath as she grabbed Ellie's shoulders. A gust of windchill and they were already dodging tree branches. Wings beat as fast as the thunder cracked. Rain and forest streaked and cut across their faces as Ellie drunkenly whined at the rain. The fog Rowena once reveled in now became a desperate path to safety. Ellie groaned at Rowena’s shrill caws before she was torn back by her cloak on a thick tree branch. 

The crow witch’s heart dropped as she tried to peck and pull the coat away, swatting her wings at Ellie’s lulling head.

“Hey hey hey, wake up, get those flesh limbs loose, idiot!”

“Wake up!” She screeched into the hunter’s ear, clawing away more branches before catching the hunter’s falling arm just in time.

Torn cloak pieces be damned, her hunter friends wouldn't find her dead. They just couldn't. 

Rowena struggled to keep her thoughts steady as the fog grew thicker. Home. Home. She could get them there. Home, home. The hunter won't die. Home. Home. Home. Ellie wasn't poisoned. She couldn't be. Home Home. Home is where she should be, instead of being stupid and getting drunk with sister killers. Home. Her sister had the cure. There was nothing like home. Sweet Rher she hoped the hunter was conscious.

The crow witch continued to shriek into the night, hoping her sister or her god would take mercy and save this stupid human. Her breaths were hollow and her lungs filled with rain that nearly blinded them. She looked down to the hunter in her hold, panicking at the rain-soaked head rolling forward. This was very bad. Rowena struggled to keep her wingbeats consistent with her trembling breath, crashing below at the sight of the clearing. 

She had made it wayward, but who knows if the hunter’s heart was even on track anymore. She morphed back to her wicked half-form, pulling ellie along the forest as she cawed to the closed windows. Her clawed hands slapped at Ellie’s face as she tried to pry Ellie’s eyes open.

“Wake up, stupid. You're not poisoned, you're not dying. No, no no no you're not. You're just pulling my feathers.”

She practically slashed Ellie's face with a haphazard slap.

“No, no no no, hey hey! We need that blood pumping! Get up, stupid…You can get up, you stupid humans always get up to pester us, right?”

The crow witch’s breath shook in fear and relief and Ellie’s eyes twitching to her.

“You hate me, right? Hey, it's your old enemy Rowena, come on, hit me, get your knife and stab me, come on…”

Rowena’s throat sank at Ellie’s arm fully limping. Her jaw trembled as she once again pounded on the door.

“Look look look, it's your real old enemy Nola coming, you hate her! Look! Look at her! You hate her! Get up and stab her, come on, shake off that poison.”

“Nola, Nola, NOLA! Open the hell up, we have a problem! Wake the hell up! Oh gods, oh Rher, please…”

Rowena cried shrill and raw as she shook Ellie, feet leaning and barely blinking.

“HEY HEY HEY! Wake up, stupid eyes. You're awake, you're definitely not poisoned, you still hate us, right?”

“Ro, what is going on—”

Magnolia chastised her sister, only to straighten in surprise at Ellie’s slumping body.

“Nola! Nola I was going to get wine but I found her like this, they didn't see me leave but I-I think she drank moonseed— we can't have her die on us, I tried my best but I think she might be dying and oh gods Nola– I forgot the wine–”

“Ro, ro. Forget the fucking wine. You’re safe here.”

Magnolia held her sister’s shoulder, trying to calm her scared grackles and letting Ellie stumble onto the porch.

“Nola, I'm so sorry, I should have been better, I'm scared I didn't bring her in time, I'm gonna ruin everything!”

Rowena’s lip trembled as she rambled, but Magnolia held a warm hand to her cheek.

“Hey. I'm here. Try to focus right now.”

When the crow witch’s eyes opened, she couldn't bother to keep them human as she struggled to not let tears weep from her black beads.

“Nola I screwed everything up, I forgot the wine–”

Her feathers rose like hair on an anxious cat, but her sister wouldn't let it spiral. 

“Are you safe?” Magnolia firmly spoke, not letting Rowena's claws scratch at her feathers, “Did anyone follow you?”

“No, I made sure no, but Nola, if she dies, then–”

Magnolia hugged her sister. 

“Im just happy you're safe. You're safe here.”

“But you know what happened to the last outsider here and her drinker–”

“With me, you are safe.” Magnolia’s voice firmed as she kept the firmest grip on Rowena’s hands. She couldn't slip into that memory when her sister in front was struggling to stably breathe.

Rowena’s eyes shot into her sisters’, but she struggled to slow her lungs.

“Ro, breathe. Breathe and extend each breath.”

Rowena’s lips sealed together to try not to cry, but she followed along with Magnolia’s own warmth.

“Slowly count up. Five seconds in, five seconds out. Five senses in, seven poisons out.”

Rowena’s breath quivered, shaking her throat with inhuman grumbles she couldn't hold back. Her bird-claw feathered hands twitched to each other, but Magnolia firmly held them in hers.

“Hey hey… no need to pluck. Just breathe, Ro. Breathe.”

Her eyes looked down to the hunter now pathetically blinking on her porch, and focused as she dragged her inside. 

“Oh gods, now you probably have to brew something, I messed it up… “

“If it's moonseed and alcohol, I don't have to brew anything. I can take care of it.”

Still, Rowena's breath quivered.

“N-Nola, if she dies then it wont-”

“She won't die,” Magnolia stopped, “You brought her in time. Now it's my issue. I'll solve it. Breathe, Ro.”

The crow witch struggled to keep her heart pace, but eventually her sister’s breaths overturned hers. 

“You did good by bringing her here. We're okay, it’ll still work. Breathe, Ro.”

“I won't let her die.” Magnolia firmly reassured, still sensing her crow sister’s feathers perking. 

“You know the moon phases by heart, what are they?,” Magnolia asked.

The crow muttered through her breathing, speeding through each memory until her words started to slow.

“Waxing, waxing, waxing, crescent, half, gibbous, full, waning waning waning, gibbous. half, crescent… new.”

Rowena took the deepest of breaths into her lungs, letting her head lull back into the moonlight as the last tear finally fell happily. 

“Waxing. Waxing. Waxing… crescent, half, gibbous, full… Waning. Waning. Waning. Gibbous, half, crescent…”

Magnolia softly smiled.

“And what are you?”

“Born anew once more.”

Magnolia softly smiled at Rowena’s soft breathing. They were okay, they were safe. 

“Hey. Hold my hands. You're okay. You're safe, We're safe. You did good covering your tracks. Count in. count out…waxing waxing waxing, waning waning waning.”

Rowena’s beady eyes looked at Ellie's extremely slow lungs.

“Dont look at her. I got her handled. Breathe. Steal some berries. Go moon watching. If it's moonseed, I have an antidote pre-made.”

Rowena hugged her sister, eventually pulling apart.

Magnolia softened her tone, “You have that look on your face…”

“I want to go to Nkiru’s cottage for some grounding spell herbs, but I don't want to leave you alone with…her.”

“I can protect myself, the house will protect me. I’ll see you there in the morning.”

Still sensing her sister’s unease, she pulled an antique golden spoon from behind a book. Rowena lit up at the new trinket, chuckling at Magnolia's knowledge of her simple guilty pleasure before hugging her sister tight. In a hesitant blink Rowena was back to her crow form, perching on the pale witch’s shoulder before soaring out of an open window. 

But with a breath Magnolia finally allowed to be shaky, she quickly pulled Ellie onto her couch, frantically listening for her breathing. The residual curdled stench of alcohol was sour and thick. 

The hunter could barely make out her surroundings, awakening at the smell of candle smoke and blood trickle. But even she couldn’t resist the perk in her heartbeat at the soft blonde hair on her chest and warm, charred hands pressed below her jaw. Her pupils nearly fused with her irises at the sight of Magnolia. 

The witch grew frightened at Ellie’s slowly quickening heartbeat. She was unsure whether she wanted to sigh in relief or run away at Ellie’s shallow breath. No one could think clearly near the maw of a wolf like her. Especially not with those soft, darkening eyes that couldn’t help dilating in the darkness. The witch cleared her throat.

“You remember throwing up at all?”

“‘S a miracle I haven’t…

“If it was moonseed you would have thrown up your intestines.”

Magnolia pondered with a lip bite, but Ellie’s smile never left since she woke.

“Pretty…”

The witch refused to let drunken, possibly poisoned comments bury too deep. 

“You’ve been here a while and seem limp as a corpse.”

Ellie couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled through her throat

“Thank gods you're drunk. Really drunk, but just drunk. Just in case I'll still drop some antidote in.”

Ellie’s stomach threatened to churn, but the smile only widened at the smell of incense and warm herbs.

“Would you like me when I'm sober?” She slurred.

“Im sure you’d like me if I was dead,” Magnolia retorted.

Ellie laughed and let a long breath escape her, lulling her head on the couch without a care despite the sickness that simmered. She hazily beamed at the sight of magnolia reaching into her potion cabinet. 

“You make ‘em so tasty…”

Magnolia couldn't help but chuckle as she sorted through her bottles.

“Well, you people love the taste of dust, so anything else must be delicious.”

“Is dust a flavor?”

“…For sad people.”

“I'm very sad then!” Ellie roared in laughter and hiccups.

“Ro is lucky to have found you… Who knows what—”

Magnolia held her tongue, eyes incredibly sharp despite Ellie's very dulled, drunk senses.

“What?” Ellie slurred.

With a rough sigh she quickly heated some leftover porridge, drizzling the oats in a premade potion and decorating it with a mocking flower spring.

“Eat.”

“‘Nother poison?”

“It's porridge. You're lucky I took pity and had some left over from the Equinox feast.”

The word seemed far too foreign on Ellie’s mimicking tongue as she silently tried to sound it out. Her eyes blinked separately in the candlelight. Magnolia couldn't let this idiot bumble and ruin everything, rolling her eyes as she gently grabbed her jaw and fed the hunter. 

“Eat or you’ll die.”

Ellie drunkenly scowled with mouth full, but Magnolia forced Ellie to eat the first few bites.

“Im going to hell anyway…Hey, you're going to hell too, heh…”

Magnolia gritted her teeth and took a breath, her grip a little firmer on the spoon.

“Don’t speak, you’re wasting your breath.” 

Ellie pointed to the goat headed statue that never shifted its bronze gaze.

“Tell this witch m’ not wasted!”

Magnolia’s brows twitched in offense at her crudeness, but she was out of options. She couldn't blame Ellie for her unchanging view, but it still stung.

Ellie quickly eased at the taste of the porridge. Warm in oats, wild sugared nuts and milk, yet it had a frosted feel to her stomach with whatever the witch drizzled in. Within a blink a brown powder was stirred in, and Ellie melted into the couch. The porridge seemed from another world where autumn mornings were meant to be enjoyed. 

A few moments later the sickness in Ellie’s stomach faded into the lining. Eventually she felt the ability to eat, albeit with limited hand eye coordination and a few spilled oats on her dress. And in a few blinks, half of the porridge was gone. Ellie couldn’t bother to converse when this meal was the best she’d had in a long time. And part of her was thankful she wouldn’t remember what this tasted like so her regular mornings weren’t so miserable. 

“You feel like throwing up?” Magnolia asked, somehow knitting next to Ellie within the blink of an eye.

“I’m not that kind of sick.” Ellie muttered, drinking the mug of water she somehow found in her hands.

“I think I’m sick though…but I was born with it.” 

Magnolia paused her hands. Ellie’s ramblings made little to no sense, but something about those words scraped her spine.

“I don’t know if you really cursed me or not….”

Ellie grabbed Magnolia’s hand drunkenly pressed it to her forehead, leaving the witch lost for words.

“M’not having lumber fever, but my cheeks are burning, I’ll buy a potion, or I’ll buy you a drink…”

No words passed between the two for a long time. Ellie kept slowly blinking, but Magnolia still kept her dark eyes on Ellie’s. Neither of their hands moved. Only their breaths deepened. 

An even longer minute passed. Lungs fell in soft synchronization. Soft chuckles seeped through Ellie’s lungs: the witch’s eyes were dilating and darkening too. Ellie’s upturned jaw only seemed to slack more as shadows flowed on Magnolia's face. Struggling for something else to talk about, she looked at the presence that had been staring them down as she separated their hands.

“That goatman…”

“They’re not a man—”

“He’s multiple people?”

Magnolia sighed at Ellie’s drunken intrusion, unable to blame her for the ignorant stings. 

“I was wondering why he had breasts.”

“...Again, not a man. They're neither and both— whatever.“ 

Magnolia sighed in disappointment, her head hung in anything but surprise.

Ellie's eyes only seemed to blink slower. Magnolia never had a reason to explain her worship to another, much less one who would murder her for owning a statue like this. But Ellie’s smile faded into a guilty frown.

“‘M sorry. Go ahead…heh, goat head…”

Magnolia continued knitting in silence.

“You don't want to know. Your people never do.”

“I’m not a people, I wanna know!”

“You’ll only use this knowledge to kill me. To understand your prey.”

“I was rude, I’ll make it up to you, I’ll listen and try not to judge.” 

“You won’t judge.

“…I won’t judge.” Ellie’s eyes looked up in apology.

Magnolia still hesitated to speak. Understandably so. Ellie looked back to the goat statue despite her hazy vision, trying to decipher anything in the odd bronze. A human body, a goat head and legs, wings that blended into the shadows, snakes coiled at its center beneath open breasts, and writing engraved on its arms she just couldn't read no matter how hard she focused. 

“Solve et Coagula—”

“More like… sounds like a spell, huh,” Ellie interrupted again with a belch.

Magnolia tried to not get angry at the drunken ramblings. Her teeth continued to grit harder as Ellie's chuckling breaths eventually slowed. The blackened, knitting hands grew shakier. Ellie’s eyes eventually fell onto the pale witch, and the inferno couldn't help but boil over in whispered disillusionment. 

“You really are the worst. If it wasn't for the possibility of blood on my hands, especially yours, I'd leave you to freeze or throw you to the wolves. The ones in the woods or the ones in your own village.”

Ellie hurt at the implication. Even in her state, she was still thankful for the generosity. This witch certainly already had blood on her hands. She could have easily killed Ellie herself or just left her to die. But she gave her the freshest water she had in weeks, fed her porridge, and let her lay on the couch instead of the tavern.

“Wait,” Ellie hiccuped, “I'm sorry…”

Magnolia’s eyes darted back to Ellie. She knew the hunter on her couch was wasted, but she was thrown very off guard at the simple words.

Ellie croaked honestly as she grabbed Magnolia's hand with the coordination of a newborn fawn. Holding the witch’s hand against her forehead, her body couldn't resist the extra flush as her eyes whimpered in apology.

“M’ hotheaded and stubborn… feel?”

The witch was still in shock from the hunter’s look. Yet, she still didn't move her grip that was anything but graceful. She kept her hand on Ellie’s forehead and leaned in like a winter bonfire. If a finger touched Ellie's cheeks it would have burned like caressing coal. 

“Or maybe that's a fever…” Ellie slurred, letting the witch’s hand go.

Magnolia held her hand, feeling the residual heat on her knuckles fading. Those freckles were freakishly soft. Those blurry sage eyes craved to be burned. 

“This s’rude, I'm rude. Weird as you are, you— you've only helped me.”

“And you’ve only wanted to kill me.” 

Magnolia couldn't look back at Ellie's guilty eyes. She just couldn't. The hunter wouldn’t quit her pathetic gaze to the witch. So with a reluctant sigh, Magnolia looked at the bronze statue.

“Solve et Coagula. Destruction and Creation. Equal cycles.”

“Thats what you believe in?”

“It’s complicated for you.”

“It—They?”

“Baphomet.”

Magnolia shook her head at the smallest of comprehension. Even if the one who finally had the will to understand would slaughter her if not for the alcohol. Ellie couldn't explain the feeling in her chest watching the witch look so peacefully at the bronze statue. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. This was all so heretical, the witch would never go to heaven worshiping what looked like a false idol, but something in Ellie longed to hold that kind of eye contact in her own Sunday services. 

“So this devil, Baphomet? It gives you power?

“They help.”

“You’re not a vessel?”

“They help. Their voice, guidance, their knowledge and sense of balance…”

‘They tell me I should try trusting you of all people no matter how hard it is to do.’

Ellie could barely process, but she was slightly shocked she processed anything the witch was saying. Magnolia could sense Ellie’s slow blinking. She didn't have to look. So full of ignorance, acting like she gave a damn. A scoff left the witch’s lips as she rambled, her knitting getting faster.

“I guess they are a version of ‘ancient higher power’ since you’re so insanely desperate for an answer, but I don’t expect you to listen or have a single care to understand. So be it. Call me a swine and leave in the morning. You’ll never remember the exact route here. But you will know that I am my own power. We all are.” 

Magnolia finished knitting, lighting her fingertip and singeing off the end of the yarn. With a steaming breath she reluctantly looked to the hunter, expecting nothing but judgement. But those sage eyes didn't burn. They looked with an odd, very drunken admiration. A longing of sorts. It was all so odd to Ellie. Just how similar she wished they could be. She craved the kind of connection Magnolia had. It seemingly gave her a sinful amount of self assurance and freedom. The witch was so proud to be heretical. 

Ellie’s eclipsing sage eyes looked back to Magnolia, muttering on her way to sleep.

“Maybe—” 

“No,” The witch insisted, “You hate me. You hate us. Remember that…”

“...Fire kills and burns, but… so warm,” Ellie softly slurred through a yawn. Ellie curled into one of the spider silk blankets, a drunken smile never leaving her face as she curled toward one of the herb-dressed candles. Magnolia softly smiled back at the lack of hatred. Ellie couldn't hide her emotions, and there was not a flicker of hate to hide at this moment. The witch went to one of her bookshelves and pulled out a bell-woven anklet. One that jingled in raw iron and twinkled with an odd whimsy. 

Magnolia finally couldn't help shift her eyes to Ellie. Call it the darkness in her heart, she called it a dangerous dip in betrayal. The witch came to reluctant acceptance; she couldn't leave her prey and her predator unattended. The bell anklet slipped onto Ellie’s ankle as Magnolia unconsciously traced her gaze along Ellie’s spotted skin constellations. 

The witch yawned as she pulled a woven blanket from the back of her couch. She couldn't let someone of such volatile blood rest alone, no matter how pacified she seemed. Yet her steps eased much more than she thought she would. A soft prayer was muttered to the moon, and with that, the witch slept beside the hunter on a large plush chair. Just maybe Ellie might retain some understanding through the hangover. It couldn't hurt. It's not like she would remember how she got to the cottage, she blacked out on the way to. But just maybe she would remember a glimpse of something. A fleeting heat.

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

Ellie's head rang surprisingly little considering the lack of memory in her hangover. Her mouth still tasted dry yet slightly floral for some reason. No doubt this was the work of the witch.

The witch who Ellie was mortified to be sleeping right across from. She was in the witch’s home. 

Ellie’s breath was ripped from her throat. She wasn't having a nightmare. She wasn't breathing in one, she was going to die in one. Ellie tore off the blanket and blinked at the rising sun, blinding eyes scanning to find the witch.

The alcohol faded half of the memories in her sleep, leaving Ellie sharp as the dagger she withdrew from the holster. Iron in her grip forced her hands to stop trembling in adrenaline. The witch’s blonde hair glowed in the dawn light like blood trailing on snow. This was too good of a kill to spare. Yet, something made Ellie stop as a strand of hair fell down Magnolia’s face. 

She was so peaceful. The witch could have murdered Ellie long ago or even poisoned her in her sleep, but she didn't. If anything, she might have healed her from last night’s intoxication. It didn't make any sense. Nothing made sense. She woke up kidnapped in the witch’s home. Maybe this was a cruel joke. She had already collected her blood and hair, who knows what else she might have stolen or cursed Ellie with. Just another twist in the knife that was the witch’s curse on the hunter. Ellie stepped forward. Her heart started to flick like a coiling serpent.

Only one thing in this situation made clear sense. Ellie’s duty. And she would be a fool to ignore a kill like this. Her hands firmed on the dagger, the metal nearly welding with her skin. Yet, something made Ellie’s jaw tremble. The faint taste of flowers. The warm burnt herb smell somehow still present on the witch’s skin. That same scent was absolutely spawned in the deepest sin with how tempting and everlasting it was.

But Ellie forced the breath out of her nose and raised the dagger from its holster. She just couldn't let her live, yet her body pounded so loudly in protest. Pure war in her ribcage. She kills Magnolia; she fulfills a duty to herself, her people, and the hunters. If leaves the witch alive, then Ellie would dread the thought that came right after. What would those kids think if they found their sister a bleeding corpse? Who cares what they think even if they screamed in sorrow. They're all born in sin too. Raised in corruption to be proud of their irrational selves and call a sinner like the one before her a sister. Breathing pure blasphemy. Witches. Witches. It was time to repent and kill. 

Ellie’s throat trembled. She loathed her self doubt, reluctantly opening her eyes to Magnolia's peaceful face. In sleep they both seemed so content. No one stabbed each other. They were both so tired. Just maybe in another world they could fall asleep again. Ellie’s arms started to ache at the lack of movement from her raised, yet unmoving knife. She hated the sight of her own blade trembling ever so slightly. Just what was wrong with her? 

But Ellie looked back to Magnolia’s body as she peacefully slept. Unaware of the knife. Eyes peacefully shut. Lungs and chest slowly filling and falling in contentment. Body levitating just an inch off of the chair.

“Witch.” 

Ellie snarled beneath her teeth as she plunged the knife down, only to be paralyzed by the witch’s dark eyes shooting open immediately at the sound of bells. The hunter was thrown back into a wall as the bells against her ankle rang like a war cry. Magnolia darted up, her emotions warring with indecipherable gasps before the venom returned to her stare. Ellie grew angered at the witch’s defense and her near foiling, trying to collect herself against the wall before the witch screamed.

“You—” She blinked in adrenaline-fueled betrayal, a thousand thoughts warring in her head before one screamed, “GET OUT!”

“You kidnapped me again!" Ellie yelled, almost immediately regretting her choice in words.

Magnolia’s face fell. Her eyes trembled in pure disappointment and what looked like heartbreak. With a smoky breath, her hair rose like a bursting volcano as the witch croaked a hellish cry. The front door was slammed on Ellie’s face before she could process the forest fog itself ripping her feet from the floor and dragging her into the forest.

taglist: @eilishfike @hitmehardmommy @cherrybomb61

One foot led after another into the lion’s den, but now, she was willingly invited in. Ellie’s eyes continued to rake over the pure mysticality of the witch’s cottage. She hesitantly stepped between the shifting thorn bushes, hesitancy pricking her between windswept bells and herbal garden leaves. 

Ellie looked back to the boar’s corpse, long drained. It’s wiry fur now blending in with the thorn vines that dragged it into the garden. It had only been a few minutes since Ellie had killed it, but unease still trickled in her system. Something was up, but she didn't want to go back on a deal, even if it was with this bewitching woman. Ellie watched the thorn bushes and their morphing shadows consume and hide the boar.

“Youre more than welcome to do what you want with it when we're finished. I just want to keep predators away from the kill… and to ensure you our deal is still valid,” the witch spoke. 

Ellie looked back to her mare loosely tied to a nearby tree, and her eyebrow furrowed before Magnolia spoke at her unease.

“Why would I hurt your horse? I just healed her.” 

The witch almost playfully quirked at her questioning brow before chuckling and walking inside, “We’ll keep her safe…besides I want you out as soon as I'm done brewing. I have a deal to uphold, too.” Within a blink the witch’s foot shifted into a black cloven hoof onto the doormat, before changing back to human on the cottage floorboard.

Scoff-filled memories resurfaced in Ellie at the last time she faced the witch’s cottage. Memories of standing on that very welcome mat and being knocked out only to wake up bound and drained. She re-read its almost taunting painted welcome words once again. ‘Please wipe your hooves’. Ellie contemplated why the witch would even let her into the cursed home, before she scoffed at herself and simply stepped over the woven mat.

Immediately she felt a large sense of pure energy. She felt a similar shift walking into the churches, but at least she knew of the son that stood pinned at the end of the altar. Of the texts in books and the fellow people that sat in the hall. But here, her nerves stood pinpricked on end at the presence she would rather burn than know. Like there here was someone else here besides the two of them…or something. 

Perhaps thousands of eyes smaller than dust. Or how every decoration and furniture piece seemed to overwhelm her senses for what a home should be. The smell of cooking herbs and candlewax guided her eyes all over the expansive cottage. It was far too decorated for her taste. Each book and skull could whisper a tale that could fill libraries, and that was just the items she could physically comprehend in the candlelight. That small goat-headed statue still loomed above the fireplace. Candles were everywhere, some melting far beyond their metal holders, others fused with each other or dripping onto the decor. An oddly full warmth filled energy Ellie didn't know she had. Patterns and symbols seemed to engrain themselves in the wood beams, painted with flowers and other odd imagery. Something vaguely salty floated between dust.

It was all so purely bewitching. 

The sound of something bursting with smoke was like a spook of lightning to the hunter. Her eyes were torn to the witch leaning over her potion table, blissfully cackling despite the ruby dust that covered her face. The two massive jars of boar’s blood still sat on the dining table, but one of them was opened. Ellie saw Magnolia’s face and hair dusted in a deep crimson powder that still sparkled in the candlelight. Something was so vaguely familiar about how the crimson dust deeply shimmered on her cheeks. A red so rich it was like the boar never died.

Ellie couldn't help but feel something at Magnolia’s grin, even as she wiped the grim crimson dust off her cheek. The pale witch couldn't hold back the gleam in her darkened gold eyes. So purely overjoyed.

“Such purity, gracious…oh gracious…quae pulchra ira…”

Magnolia’s breath came in short, sporadic bursts that blissfully fused in laughter, even as she spun with one of the large jars the size of her torso. Magnolia cleared her throat and cheeks of blush and powdered blood, realizing Ellie was in her home. But she still couldn't keep the smile fully off her face. She wanted to thank Ellie, but paused at any verbal acknowledgement before she cleared her throat again with a faintly smoky breath. The pale witch promptly locked the large crimson jars in a hidden floorboard before the latch once again fused with the rest of the woodgrain.

But before Ellie could even ponder why the witch was so overjoyed in bloodlust, Magnolia was already swaying to the kitchen with a skip in her step. The witch beamed back mid-skip, stopping to silently remind Ellie to remove her shoes before prancing into the kitchen. Ellie’s eyes flickered around the cottage, trying to process as much as she could in her consciousness. 

She felt naturally drawn to a chair, trying to process how she was so gleefully and graciously invited into her enemy’s home. The enemy Ellie herself was surprised at who risked her security for mere waste products. Her enemy who so casually hung animal skeletons and sacrificed her soul as easily as jotting down a shopping list. Her enemy who once kidnapped Ellie at the very doorstep she now let the hunter walk over. Her enemy who was currently so gleefully ditzing about, humming in a foreign language and…preparing vegetables? 

Ellie perked up at the thick crunching and snapping and confusedly walked to the kitchen. An old cast-iron pot was obscured by the witch’s body as Magnolia continued to cut up a few herbs and vegetables. Potatoes started to cook themselves as a spoon delicately clinked inside a handmade mug stirring itself. Magnolia was slightly spooked by Ellie’s presence so close, but chuckled as she grabbed a mug.

“How rude of me, do you want tea?”

Before Ellie could answer the pale witch opened a large cabinet brimming with dozens of odd labelled tea herbs. 

“I have so many begging to be drunk, I make my own blends as well, the imported spices really lack any flavor worth the effort it took to trade.” 

The hunter stuttered before raising her hand, “Water is fine.”

Ellie didn't even know why she was asking this wicked woman for anything. Much less willingly accepting a hidden poison. But the next thing Ellie knew the mug in her hands was refilling itself as soon as she drank it. It was the freshest she’d had in months. 

The smell of rich butter and salt once again warmly soaked the room as the witch removed a pot lid to throw a few vegetables in, humming. She seemed to contemplate before giving an odd look to Ellie up and down before throwing another potato in the pot. The hunter was offended at the odd look before Magnolia piped up after tasting.

“You look like a starved wolf with your ribs all exposed, when did you last eat anything?”

With another warm whiff of the pot, the witch chimed in again.

“Im already cooking, I might as well make you something.” 

The pots continued to slowly stir themselves as the pale witch ducked to stoke the fire. Ellie fully saw the kitchenware the witch was cooking with, at first baffled at the amount of utensils for such an isolated home, then quirking at the peculiarity of it all. Spoons of stolen antique and carved wood. Knives that shone with eternal melting swirls. The cookware all very well-loved, some even hand-welded. But something struck her about the saucepot that harbored the salty, buttery aroma. Something savory, rich, and faintly briney came from a very aged cast-iron pot, cast in an odd peculiar shape. Most pots had a flat or circular shape. This one was oddly plump around the bottom, with very odd designs in its heavy, gritty metal. Somehow the metal grain seemed to radiate with an ancient aura in its dark gritty shadows. Like no matter what was cooked, its energy still stayed and swirled eternally, looping around the pot and connecting with itself.

Magnolia continued to hum before almost lovingly dragging her nails against the bottom end of the pot. Ellie didn't realize how absentmindedly close she was in the kitchen until she felt her body spring back at the bottom of the pot shifting. That wasn't a gritty cast-iron. Coiled around the pot was a large black timber rattlesnake.

Sharp emerald eyes fixed their gaze at Ellie as rattle flicks echoed in the kitchen. 

“Good Eve, sweet boy,~” The witch lovingly cooed.

The large black snake seemed oddly incredibly receptive as Magnolia ran her darkened fingers along its scaly back, the snake tilting its head into her hand to be pet. Its rattle flicks mellowed before chiming back up like a deadly tambourine.

“Did you have a good nap, Seamus my dear? You did a very good job watching the kitchen, everything looks all warm and cooked!~”

Ellie was taken aback. This thing would have killed her ten times over if she stepped even one kitchen tile closer. It was absurdly big as it shifted to stretch and slither onto the pale witch’s arms, poking its head in between her large lion's mane of hair as she giggled. Of course she would giggle. Onyx black scales shifted in kitchen flames, dark as the midnight trees through the kitchen window. Cast-iron spots seemed to loop in infinite dark knots along its body. Of course a wicked witch like this would have something so dangerously cold as her familiar.

But Magnolia simply giggled as she felt the large snake weave through her choppy hair like an overzealous puppy. 

“Seamus, you big silly boy, you miss me?~” 

“Y-you named that thing?” 

The pointed reptile head turned to her, impossible emotions in its cold, slitted eyes. Its blackened tongue flicked in low warning like a growling hunting dog.

“...He can understand you.” The witch blankly warned back, “You can't stand it, then sit back down.”

Ellie shut her mouth and backed up out of instinct, fighting her instincts to grab her hunting knife in case this beast could slither into her thoughts. Magnolia playfully pouted at the snake and spoke an unfamiliar language as she cooed to the long, cold-blooded beast. Her expression morphed into a smile as the rattlesnake delightfully shook its tanned tail, the golden rings on the rattle chiming lively through the kitchen. An unfamiliar woodsy, savory richness Ellie could never describe floated in from the kitchen as the witch levitated another pan lid.

The witch looked down to the pan, letting a deep smoky breath fill her lungs before a fire sparked from her fingertips, searing the top of wherever was cooking. Ellie swallowed at the smell of toasted bread and savory seasonings. Melting garlic and browned sage made Ellie clench her throat in rage. She hasn't eaten since the early morning. Her day didn’t let her fully process hunger through paranoia and contracted hunting, from both her allies and enemies. So just why was she still in the witch’s cottage merely waiting? Who said the witch had to fulfill her end of the deal? Who said Ellie even had to make a deal with this unholy wench, much less hold it up?

But just as much as those spiteful thoughts simmered in Ellie’s mind, the smell of seared herbs and salted buttery sauces soothed her against her will. If it was poison, the witch at least had a track record of making her craft taste good. And there it was again in that very kitchen. The large ancestral cauldron was once again opened and stirring. Buttery sea air and snapped vegetables. An odd shell-like clanking clicked through the pot as the witch happily inhaled the aroma, but this was no normal fish smell to Ellie. 

The witch lowered her familiar by the pot as it seemed to curl up against the cauldron with an unnatural affection. She then turned to scavenge her kitchen, muttering to herself and getting more frustrated with each glance of the counter.

“I swear I had it just out, I set it by the moonblossoms, Seamus, have you seen it?”

The witch scanned every counter surface, muttering back to herself and talking back to the snake in that distantly familiar language. 

“Now where was it, I just had it set out, the spirits or girls must have moved it…Cá bhfuil sé, Cá bhfuil sé…Cá bhfuil sé?...”

Magnolia turned an eye to the hunter by her kitchen table, not wanting to believe whatever was on her mind. Ellie returned a confused expression, backing up cautiously in case there was a cobra in the corner. She stumbled back into the dining table, being quick to catch a large bottle that had just narrowly fallen off. An sea-green tinted glass was corked off with a few small shells, the base of the bottle encased in a thin fishing net. A translucent pearl-yellow sloshed in the bottle, its alcoholic streaky legs on the glass like swaying sea kelp.

The witch immediately brightened at Ellie’s hand on the bottle, beaming up at her as Magnolia’s hand grazed the hunter’s to take the bottle. So soft. Ellie froze at the delighted witch so close.

“Theres that siren’s wine! Just what I was looking for!”

Those hands. So surprisingly soft despite their blackened look.

“Seamus, I have a treat for you in a bit! You want a treat?~” 

The rattlesnake perked up with a serpentine smile, swaying and rising to gaze into the sauce cauldron. Ellie was taken aback at just how much thought a seemingly mindless animal could have, much less a lethal predator with a killing instinct. A large pile of wooden bowls levitated onto the counter as Seamus slithered into the witch’s arms. Magnolia poured a healthy dose of the nautical wine into the pot, running a thumb along Seamus’s scales as he turned surprisingly determined. 

“Such a pretty boy!~” She cooed, “Now I need you to give me a nice big one for me, okay?”

The wind outside the cottage seemed to swell and rattle the glass panes, leaking through the cracks and stitching chills into Ellie’s spine. The snake’s long body caved and swelled as it rose to strike, the witch’s nails gleefully sharpening in anticipation as she tapped along the gritty scales. 

In one swift moment with a small hiss, a jolt ran up Seamus’s spine as his fangs jolted and shot inflamed venom into the cauldron. Venom-yellow flames lit up Magnolia’s eyes in a venomous wicked pride. The inflamed venom stirred and cooked itself into the sauce as the witch let out a devilish cackle.

“Such a good boy! Who's my sweet boy?~” 

The witch cooed with a loving scratch to the snake’s chin. Seamus rattled in pride as Ellie watched the bands on his tail jingle with woven gold. A large stack of wooden bowls levitated themselves onto the counter as the kitchen once again sprang to life, utensils scooping heaping portions of potatoes and sauce as Seamus once again curled against the sauce cauldron.

Ellie blinked out of her daze at Magnolia once again ditzing around the cottage, levitating mid-skip to retrieve a large woven cloth. The smell of rich, warm sea salt and hearty snapped vegetables entranced Ellie into a lighter state, walking a half step forward before seeing the rattlesnake familiar nuzzling its head against the cauldron. The wood of the bowls grew over the top, perfectly sealing the meals as the pale witch joyfully wrapped them in the cloth. Ellie's heart still grew uneasy at the large rattlesnake’s presence so freely slithering in the house, but the smell of the kitchen entranced her.

With a few words in a language she could barely pick up, Ellie watched as the wrapped meals disappeared into the fabric just as fast as the witch tied the small bundle around her familiar’s neck. The witch packed a small cup of the siren’s wine and sweetly cooed to Seamus. 

“Stay safe, my dear. May you have extraordinarily safe travels. Go get some air, you've been beside that cauldron all day. Spend the night with Constance or Nkiru, I’ll be okay. Be back by sunrise and enjoy some wine when you see them, my dear. ” 

Ellie couldn't believe the pure trust and affection Magnolia held for the venomous creature, even as she somehow saw hesitation in his slit eyes.

“Seriously! I'll be okay, I know what I'm doing!~ I'll be fine, Seamus. Go say good evening to my sisters, I'm sure they'll love your company tonight.” 

The witch chuckled reassuringly with a scratch to his chin mere millimeters away from those tucked fangs.

And with a kiss to his reptilian forehead a window opening by itself, and the onyx-scaled snake slithered out into the night. Ellie looked unsure to the witch, who took a long moment to herself before making more plates. The hunter sat back down in the dining chair, watching as the witch set a plate with extreme care by the fireplace altar. One beside the goat statue, and one at a small alcove in the stairs. 

Magnolia’s pale eyes lingered on an ink drawing tucked into the alcove wood. A dozen unlit candles carefully set aflame one by one. The witch’s eyes stayed on the plate as she smelled the aroma for any kind of solace, whispering a song beneath her breath as she set the small plate on the shelf. Her breath quivered ever so slightly on the ethereal words, smiling at a wood creak and chuckling at the dark corners of the cottage. 

“Yes, of course, you all can have your share too~”

Ellie’s brow quirked at the witch speaking to seemingly nobody. No other witches, no familiars, just the hunter and the witch, now sat at the same dinner table.

“Who were you–”

“I think you know we're not the only ones here. Humans, yes. But others…” 

Magnolia held her breath with a smile. An amused chuckle slipped through her nose at Ellie's reaction, silently reminding the hunter where she was. But this time, plates of food levitated between them. 

Residual moonlight and candlelight illuminated the table between them as the witch sat on a chair that pushed itself into place. A bowl of mixed berries on one side. On another, a plate of mysterious blooming savory cups of breadcrumbs, somehow rich and almost meaty. And right before the both of them, on either side of the dining table, laid two plates before the witch and executioner. A pile of ivory potatoes coated in a thick layer of chunky amber sauce and vegetables. Seared, carmelized chunks of white sauced meat of some kind were dusted with toasted breadcrumb crystals and fresh greens she couldn't place a finger on. 

But what struck Ellie most was the thick black shells still in the sauce. Shells she had seen sailors complain about on the docks and boats for ages. It caught her appetite by surprise that these witches would do anything for mere scraps and even resorted to eating thick, black mussel shells. With her fork she poked and prodded at the shells, the only thing truly stopping her from gorging herself. And then she thought again as she contemplated just how much work this witch put into the meal. She cooked for her coven, why would she care for the one who was hunting them?

“Magnolia…?” 

The name sounded oddly rich on Ellie's tongue.

“Why are you…?”

Magnolia contemplated, but shrugged it off with a teasing smile.

“...I see you finally accept my hospitality instead of stabbing me.”

And with a caress to one of the small braids in her pale blonde hair, the witch eagerly dug into the meal and prodded open the shells, blissfully grinning at the flavor. Ellie still didn't know what to think. She’s never seen a meal like this before. It looked like a deconstructed shepherd's pie of sorts, with a buttery rich salt filled with sea meat of some odd kind.

She continued to poke at the meal, watching as the residual oil still shimmered a faint green from the venom, wine, and spiced herbs. 

“You look like a starved wolf. If you're so hungry, eat. Besides, I'm eating the same exact food.”

Ellie poked at the odd white sea meat, still unsure. This was unlike anything she’d ever consider edible. 

“Sea scallops,” the witch interrupted, smiling as she savored one of her own.

“You look like you haven't seen a scallop or mussel in your life.”

“I might have seen some on boats or docks. Incoming sailors complain about them… I didn't know they were edible." 

Magnolia held her tongue. She looked over to Ellie's plate and held a deep conviction. 

‘All these years and they've never even bothered branching…so blind…’

The pale witch pulled the plate of stuffed mushrooms closer to her, accepting that Ellie wasn't even going to poke at them. Mushrooms. Of course this witch would eat such a common poison as a side snack. Ellie looked across the table. She had never seen flavors like this. She would never eat food considered to be poisonous. But here she was. That smell, too oddly delectable. She swallowed a sea she didn't know was flooding her. 

Ellie continued to watch the sauce shift in the candlelight, her throat trembling at the mere sight of the toasted breadcrumbs on top. She never thought of anything close to this being normal, much less edible. The aroma still smoked through her system, and it finally hit Ellie that she had not eaten all day. One slice of bread for breakfast, a day of riding, an even longer day of hunting. A long day. She would no doubt crash from mental exhaustion once she escaped the witch’s cottage. 

And before Ellie knew it, she couldn't hold back anymore. The rich amber wine sauce danced with herbs she could never name, coating warm potatoes in a rich, creamy saltiness that blanketed the vegetables. The scallop meat somehow melted so perfectly with everything, bringing a buttery, briney taste. The odd seafood somehow fit so well together with the sauce and vegetables. Shrimp, lobster, and scallop meat filled her with a tidal wave of new flavor. She didn't even realize how good the black shell meat tasted until she cracked them open, unashamedly licking amber bread crumbs off of the pearlescent interior. An aftertaste of toasted nuts settled deep in Ellie's stomach as she paused for water, only to find the witch frozen with a wide-eyed stare across the table. 

Ellie cleared her throat as she paused for water, but the witch didn't seem to mind someone new enjoying her food as she chuckled. The witch’s brows arched warmly, knitting like candlelit tapestries as she continued to savor her food with Ellie in near silence. Ellie didn't know if she wanted to talk or how she would even approach a conversation with such a woman. Much less a wicked woman who she was now making bargains with. She should be breaking this woman’s neck. But here she was, breaking bread. 

Ellie averted her eyes and tried to decipher the cottage decorations, desperate to focus on anything else. Each crystal and macabre artifact looked like it told a lifetime of stories. The candles were melted and reforged again and again, still flickering along with the fireplace, and still carrying an odd energy as if they were somehow alive in their burning wicks. She averted her gaze away from the watchful bronze eyes of the goat-headed statue, looking around for something  that wasn't oozing with otherworldly overdecoration. The kitchen cauldron. It was covered, but still deeply aromatic. It seemed so normal, yet she was reminded of how dangerous anything and everything in this cottage could be. Including the woman who sat across the table. 

“Your…”

Magnolia raised her eyes, bracing herself for whatever absentmindedly cruel thing Ellie would say.

“Your familiar…” 

“What about Seamus?”

“Did you have to summon one so deadly? Couldn't do and normal animal? Well– it has to be evil, but– you know, like a cat? A rat?”

The witch pursed her lips together, taking another bite to calm herself before looking back to Ellie.

“First, I don't know why you care about my safety. Seamus is a loyal soul.”

“I don't deny that. But you sent your own deadly familiar out?”

“I want to feed my sisters. He’s capable and he needs the air…”

“But don't understand how you're so comfortable with owning such a venomous snake like that.”

Magnolia chuckled with a dismissive wave. 

“He knows im much more dangerous than him~” 

Ellie’s nerves spiked as the witch continued to eat, watching her pull apart the black shells with a blooming smile. 

“Besides. He's a good boy, keeping us protected for so long, this was his favorite dish to make with–”

Magnolia stopped herself as she looked back at Ellie. She watched as the witch cleared her throat and rolled her posture upright, not missing how Magnolia protectively brushed upon that small discolored braid again. And then it hit her. That witch’s braided hair wasn't hers. Copper and grey was tightly woven in at the nape of her neck and settled in between the witch’s hair like a sacred talisman. 

Ellie once again averted her eyes to anything but the witch’s solemn eyes. 

“How do you figure out you can eat poison? The mushrooms, the venom…”

“You just learn about plants and especially mushrooms. I know you're skeptical and I won't force you to eat them, but they're delicious and so abundant.”

“And… the venom?”

Magnolia’s breath went silent, but she couldn't help the softest bittersweet smile as her spoon shifted in the liquid amber with a smoky sigh. 

“Its one of his favorite things to cook, been cooking it since before I came in.” 

Ellie’s eyebrows furrowed. Just how old was this witch in front of her? They looked around the same age, but given this witch’s appetite for venom like wine, she would probably do unspeakable things for a youth potion.

“...Oh, Seamus isn’t mine,” Magnolia chuckled, catching onto Ellie’s expression. 

“He was Siorshe’s. We keep him in a warm and loving home, but he’s always been a quiet one. He doesn't want to scare my younger sisters, so he just enjoys his naps… especially by that old cauldron they spent so much time beside.”

Dark gold eyes eclipsed in fondness as she finished the meal, but there was still an stench of bittersweetness in the candlesmoke. 

“What happened to her?” 

Magnolia took a breath and tried to remain firm in front of Ellie, simply looking to the fireplace. Ellie’s lungs caved as she watched the fireplace quietly roar. The stench of burning hair and sobbing deafened by crackles. But what terrified her more was just who sat across the table. Something Ellie hated herself for never considering. The aftermath. 

The family members who would still love the accused even for their heinous crimes. These women were witches– at least in court they were, but they were still women. They didn't spawn from the pit of hell. They came from loving arms, warm milk and sweet hushings. From the hugs of mothers and the love of family. Ellie grew horrified to consider if any of the family members still cared about who were accused. Heretics. They were obligated to disown them. Everyone did and did it well. They would never be seen at the hanging site with flowers, much less give a prayer for their damned souls. A proper burial would only infect the living. 

Ashes were spread wherever they didn't have to think of the heretics. Some dreaded the thought of where or how they disposed of the hung bodies, and many simply turned their blinded eyes to sit down in church pews. Few, if any, knew where they truly were, if they even gave a pitiful thought to them. Only in the darkest of nights in the emptiest beds. Some thought the cold bones and singed ashes were dumped at sea. Others dreaded if their lost souls were the ones cursing the woods. Perhaps between rock crevices where they would be lost to landslides, rockfall, rain, and eventually to time itself. 

But these witches. Their coven. Magnolia across the table. Her eyes down to her finished meal with fond bittersweetness. Ellie knew the implications well,  And how even after the execution of a beloved sister, they had to carry on somehow. The witch still sat across from her. Survival wasn’t fair, and neither was the wilderness. All these women could do was find moments to think of ones they still loved, despite their life of sin. Not a graveyard to visit, not a church for prayer, not a crowd for community warmth. 

Not a body to mourn.

The silence carried heavy. Wood silently creaked with every breath. Eventually, the witch took in a firm breath and stood up, levitating her now empty bowl to the kitchen and walking over to her fireplace mantle with a sigh.

“Well, I promised you a potion, didn't I?” The witch chuckled herself into lighter air. 

Ellie hesitantly followed, looking down at the completely clean plate before her and following this interaction to its natural conclusion. She was here for a purpose after all, no matter how many prayers she would have to do after. 

Ellie looked up to see warmth return to the witch’s posture. Magnolia smiled and tenderly held a ritual knife in her hand, tracing her blackened nails along the grooves in the ancient metal. The metal sheened in the firelight. Crushed white shells gleamed in its ebony handle, now held tenderly in the witch’s hand as if she was looking upon a long-loved friend. 

“I promised you a potion, didn’t I? Well go ahead and pick your poison~” 

The witch cackled as she laid herself across both arms of the large plush loveseat, kicking her legs over and comfortably sipping her tea. Ellie looked back to the arcanely stitched cover. Her gut churned at the sangria-stained mahogany leather, even more so at the dusty seashell-white stitches stretched along the spine that made her spinal fluid freeze. Knitted bookmarks and uneven parchment laid cradled in a lifetime of dark knowledge. A blackened feather laid tucked in between a leather strap, and she knew in her gut what damned bird it came from. 

Edges of the soaked leather buckled in life, threatening to burst from their thick stitches with each pulsing breath. The embellished writing in a long-lost language seemed to slowly shift its ink-stained blots before her very eyes. It all seemed overwhelming to Ellie. Just what laid in these pages frightened her but drew her close like a barking dog to a stag. 

She hesitantly took a finger to the cover and her nerves repulsed at the texture of the leather. On the inside of the leather lay scratches that Ellie could just barely register as names, however long and foreign they were to her eyes. The brightest of the engraved names stood powerful yet deeply delicate. Each line stood bold as if the relaxed witch prepared her entire life to inherit the repulsive leather. 

‘Magnolia Wayward.’

The second and third brightest were right along the same stitchline, ‘Siorshe Wayward.’ 

The rest of the letters and runic symbols stood barely decipherable in their long-absorption in the ancient grimoire, but Ellie’s eyes caught onto one name in particular that trembled her very eye whites. 

“Medulla–”

The grimoire’s pages caught onto her reading and ruffled the parchment open before she could blink. Ellie tried to see anything on the fanned pages, reaching to touch, but her hands laid repulsed. She swallowed at just how much power could lay before her. Just what kind of potions could this witch brew?

“...I can ask for anything in here?...”

Magnolia nodded casually as she savored her tea, sprawling onto her armchair like a housecat.

Ellie thought to herself of the possibility of just what kind of concoctions this witch could brew. 

“...Can you make love potions–”

“Pick something else.” 

Ellie looked to Magnolia as she casually laid across the chair despite her objection.

“Can you make them, though?”

The witch continued to savor her tea, her eyes brushing closed. 

The air was still. Ellie somehow felt a fundamental shift in the cottage’s energy. Her ribcage anchored to the couch, and when Ellie scanned the room, all of the candles stopped flickering. 

Her hair rose on end the reaction to a simple question, watching as the flames stood unwavering. The candlesmoke stilled its natural wave. 

“How about we pick something else?” The witch responded as she sipped her tea, her expression the same as before.

“Its just the first thing that came to mind. What, can you not do it?”

The air froze solid. The wood seemed to slowly growl with an ominous sinking into her back. Ellie hadn't realized how forward she was leaning until the couch seemingly threatened to swallow her whole. The candelabra light stood deadly still. The cobwebs stopped gleaming. The shadows on Magnolia’s face seemed to twitch.

“I can do any potion in that book, just pick something else.”

“Then why–”

“Dont.”

Ellie registered the whisper in her ear. Disembodied words plunged into her spine and caved deeper through her nape. 

‘Pick something else…” The whispers grew colder than the night outside. “Something else.” The house spirits pleaded. Ellie’s eyes froze. “Anything else.” The whispers grew demanding. Malevolent. “Pick anything else. Anything else.”

Magnolia continued sipping her tea, eyes closed. The whispers didn't stop their begs. 

‘Please don't make her…’ Ellie could swear the soulless skulls’ sockets stared her down. The voices circled like shrieking birds. “Anything else.” The candle flames stayed paralyzed and grew merciless. “ANYTHING ELSE.” So many voices, so many still candles. The witch’s shadows convulsed despite her unchanged expression. “PICK SOMETHING ELSE.” Ellie’s fingers trembled as the spirits screamed in her head. The witch had her eyes locked shut. “PICK ANYTHING ELSE.” The house spirits screamed in pleading anguish, “TURN BACK OR PICK ANYTHING ELSE.”

Ellie turned the page with a terrified tremble and the voices stopped. The air grew warm once again within an instant. Air flooded and crashed Ellie’s lungs as she tried to regain her breath. She reminded herself of her position. She was in a witch’s home. Willingly invited in. Willingly breaking bread. Willingly on her couch, allowed to look at this witch’s unholiest text. She agreed to this. Willingly. 

The voices stopped but still echoed within her head. Ellie pushed down the nerves in her fingertips as she flipped through the pages. Flickers of diagrams and recipe cards passed in feather scratched ink. The parchment faintly smelled of herbs and untreated papyrus cotton. Just looking at this book alone was a heavy sin, but the power of just what could be achieved and what this witch could do ensnared her curiosity. Just a touch would demand a dozen prayers, and yet she continued to skim the inky sketchings and words.

A diagram of a splayed rabbit that smelled of kicked-up leaves. A dash of dead oak tree twig. Crypt cobwebs that gleamed like silk. An ink-blotted intestine with gruesome detail. Three of the eeriest elk eyes, mustard seed if allergen. Ancestral rosemary and deepest bone marrow. Ellie dared to glance at the recipe names. Herbal honey for home cleaning. Ancient wine for absolute protection. Guts o’ plenty for garden growth. Hoptoad salt for honest hallucinations.

She glanced at a piece of peeking parchment in the book. Sangria-soaked edges drew her in, but snapped as she felt the fireplace quiet. She continued to scan, avoiding that page until one line stopped her fingers dead still. 

‘One prick of hair for full body possession.’ 

Ellie's eyes stilled on the text as her mind started to spiral into vortex. She didn't want to read what was outside of her focused peripheral beside the innocently written side note of ‘Tear at the root for access to thoughts.’ She didn't dare ponder any possible benefits a potion like this could bring; this is what the witch was perfectly willing to do. Ellie felt her spine tapped one again at the memory. The thorns that dug and dragged the more she thrashed in fear. The tightening around her throat and into her temple. That damned bottle of her blood that the witch taunted her with. 

If this witch could melt metal with a look and possess her with a mere hair, just what could she do with her blood? 

The sound of loud wood creaking above stopped their breaths. Another creak of wood, a mass of muffled giggles, and it was clear. Something was here. Magnolia darted out of the armchair, frantically searching in a panic. Something was here. Somebody was here. 

The witch dug through her cabinet, cracking open a potion bottle and drenching a blanket as it disappeared in her hands. She frantically threw the blanket over Ellie, straightening her posture and expression as Ellie felt a soft weight fall over her body. A cloth of nothingness. Ellie took a moment to process the invisible woven feeling draping over her as Magnolia rushed to brew three cups of tea.

“Stay quiet.”

Ellie felt herself stiffen at the coldness of the witch’s voice somehow in her head, but felt a bit at ease as she heard the vaguely familiar giggles of three young girls. The witch cleared her throat and couldn't help the small smile toward the staircase.

“Now what are you little imps doing here?~” She playfully teased the staircase, earning more giggles upstairs.

“Oh come on, out with it or I'll send you back!”

Ellie stopped her breath as she watched one of the twin girls laughing and darting down the stairs, chasing Kassie’s black cat.

“We missed you, sister!”

“Please let us stay the night! Your beds are comfier!”

“Now I know that’s not quite true, you knock out on her Sphynx’s cotton as soon as you touch it!”

Magnolia playfully leaned down to the girls, pointing a darkened fingertip to levitate the teacups. 

“Iris, care to speak up?... Come on witchlets, we sisters must be honest with each other.”

The three girls stayed quiet as they looked at their pale sister.

“Agnes…? I smell sulfur on your fingertips—”

“We said we were sorry, sister!” Kassie burst, guilt in her eyelashes, “We may have accidentally set fire to Nkiru’s curtains! The ones sewn with the pretty shells…”

Magnolia’s eyes widened in surprise as the shyer twin confessed.

“We said we were super sorry! It was an accident, really! I tried to do the heating hands spell but it transferred to the last thing I touched!”

Magnolia kneeled down to her younger sister’s level and held her shaking warm hands, wiping the sulfur dust from Agnes’ fingernails. Iris spoke up in defense of her mirrored sister.

“Nkiru said it was okay and it was an accident, and that she just needed time to herself…Nola we feel terrible…we apologized the best we could!”

“Is she going to be okay?,” Kassie asked hesitantly as she pet Orion for comfort.

“Yes, Nkiru knows the mending spell by heart, she’ll be okay, the curtain will be fixed. I know she understands it was an accident, she just needed some time to recover. But that’s what we witches do best. We care and help each other.”

“...Really? You promise she won't be too mad?” Iris’ throat quivered before the pale witch tucked her hair.

“In fact, I bet Constance will teach you that mending spell when you go tomorrow. Now come along girls, you have beds to crash into, you little imps~” Magnolia chuckled as she led the young girls upstairs. 

“Constance came over for dinner! She told me to tell you something about your nose…”

“...My nose?” The pale witch chuckled with a raised brow.

“Yeah she said ‘dont let scents haunt you.’”

“Did she now?” Magnolia entertained the girls as she levitated their teacups. 

Their chatter continued upstairs, but Ellie didn't dare move. She contemplated moving to see what was happening, but stopped dead in her tracks at the unfortunately familiar midnight black kitten skeptically growling.

Ellie froze as she felt Kassie’s familiar look to her direction, not being able to precisely locate what was off in the air. She dared not move nor breathe as she looked at Orion walking over with raised fur, before his owner called him.

“Orion! Come on, we're going to bed!”

Kassie looked downstairs in hesitation at Orion’s growl, but Magnolia assured her with a pat to the back. 

“Probably one of the house spirits messing with him”

Orion skeptically sped up the stairs, eager to get back to his coven. Ellie didn't give herself a moment to exhale in relief, still paranoid of what could happen in a home like this. 

She stayed frozen downstairs and let the soft invisible draping stay around her form, watching the candles flicker around all of the macabrely mesmerizing decorations. Still, she couldn't help but be lured by the darkness upstairs. Except, it was no longer dark. Magnolia must have lit some candles, and part of the hallway was illuminated as the midnight fur kitten wandered into a side room. Paintings on the stair rails drew her subconsciously to the first step before she paused. This could easily be a trap. But something in Ellie persisted. She silently muttered a quick prayer before very slowly making her way up the stairs and hoping the witches wouldn't notice. 

Eventually she made her way just outside of the entrance, peering around the corner of the candlelit doorframe. Dozens of amateur carved marks lined the frame, it was a miracle there was any unexposed grain at all. To her surprise there were even some at the very bottom only up to a foot fall, and Ellie silently chuckled at the painted name ‘Rowena’ all beside the smallest lines. Growing crow height. 

Ellie peeked in and felt the invisible fabric along her forehead about to suffocate her, only to find the surprisingly sweet scene of Magnolia getting the young girls prepared for bed. Each of the young girls sat in warm nightgowns, sipping their teas as the pale infernal witch made her sisters’ beds. 

“Dinner was super tasty, Nola! Thank you for cooking!”

“It was my favorite when I was your age too.” Magnolia warmly regarded Kassie.

The room was surprisingly warm and humble, seemingly bigger than the size the cottage would physically allow. Old and new amateur paintings lined the woodgrain and bed frames. Sewn plush toys and woven witchcraft laid on window seals and beds. Unnaturally blooming lavender stalks grew from the ceiling beams. Two wooden rocking cradles were repurposed into bookshelves, each heavily carved with ancient protective runes. A mountain of heavily herb-dressed candles on a dresser. Above, a hanging crib mobile of bones, crow feathers and small plush animals dangled in the comforting cottage air. Below in one of the chairs sat Magnolia, braiding one of the twin’s hair as the other sister’s hair was magically levitated into the same braid.

“Alright, go clean your fangs and write down your dreams, you imps~” Magnolia chuckled at the two girls as they rushed to one of the shelves. 

She gestured Kassie to kneel before her in the chair, massaging an herbed oil in between her natural curls. The young girl held a contemplative expression between her relaxation, hesitantly speaking up as she handed the pale witch a luxurious cloth of spider silk.

“Sister..?”

“Yes, witchlet?”

“When you tuck us into bed, can you read us a story?” Kassie asked as Magnolia finished wrapped the witchlet’s curls.

“Well, you can pick one. Would you like a story or a lullaby?”

“We’re not three, sister Nola,” Iris chimed as she tucked an intricate rope knot under her pillow. 

“...But your singing is nice…” The shyer twin chirped as she sat on her bed.

Magnolia chuckled as she finished tying the silk in Kassie’s hair, walking over to one of the crib bookshelves.

“Okay, okay, so a story it is. Do you want one of the beetle and the bard, or the multi-eyed cave wolf–”

“We want a new one!”

Magnolia perked up as she turned back to the eager witchlets.

“Please sister Nola! One that’s new!”

“A more mature one! We can handle it!”

“Please! We promise we’ll fall right asleep after!”

The witch looked back to the seemingly empty doorframe as Ellie’s heart briefly dropped. She hid back behind the frame before once again being reminded of the invisible blanket on her head. When she peeked back, Ellie saw the witch looking at that small bronze pendant around her neck. The same aged bronze as the goat headed statue above the fireplace, the witch’s heart as the pendant’s own mantle. 

“I do have a little bit more grown-up of a story for you girls… from when I was your age.”

The witchlets eagerly climbed into bed and shifted excitedly, beaming at the pale witch as they waited for her to start the story. Agnes didn't miss how her older sister’s expression fell a little somber before she looked at her.

“I will say… the beginning is a bit sad.”

The girls' expressions grew a little somber, but their faith in their infernal sister stayed nonetheless.

“It’s important, though. Especially for witchlets…”

“I wasn't always a Wayward Sister. I had a name. One I don't like remembering as much as I try to push it out.”

“But you know memory spells! If it's so sad, wouldn't you get rid of the unhappy memories?”

The young girls held a long moment to themselves to process Magnolia’s response. 

“Well, we raised you girls in the craft, took you in very young…”

Ellie’s eyes drifted to the cradle bookshelves before looking back to Magnolia, still holding her pendant. 

“This story is important. Part of it is sad, yes, but it's important to know where you come from. So you savor the riches of the craft and the love of your coven.”

“It starts in a town. A now long lost one.”

Magnolia swallowed as she finally got the courage to tell the story.

“A little town named Little Faith, Massachusetts.” 

Ellie's soul sank and drowned in her gut. That long-cursed town. The town thought to be a ghost story if not for the rot, overgrown homes, court records, the massacre, and that cursed wildlife. A land overtaken by wild magic and skinned of any sense of humanity. A town infamous for having no survivors. That is, no surviving human life, that is. 

“It starts with a village girl. In a town with far too small streets and even smaller minds…couldnt even comprehend that she could have a crush on a fellow village girl…”

Ellie blinked in surprise, eyes shaking in confusion, and becoming even more baffled at the pale witch’s seemingly  nostalgic expression. This was a massive sin. A pure disorder. But the witchlets just looked at each other and giggled at their pale sister admitting to having a crush, leaning in for more.

“We had a wonderful friendship. Sharing meals, running in fields, and occasionally sneaking books from her father’s library!~ What a wonderful time it was…it was no wonder I started to grow feelings…”

The girls all looked to their older sister with wonder in their eyes.

“She looked at the preacher's boy…and I just looked at her. I felt awful during those church services, but I knew what I felt. It felt wrong to my heart to deny it… no matter how the others in the town yelled that those feelings toward another girl didn't exist.”

“But you sounded so sure! What happened?!”

Magnolia went quiet, holding her pendant in a darkened hand.

“I confessed to her. She– she didn't take it well.” 

The witchlets’ expressions dropped.

“She told me to that little preacher's boy of hers…and word of my sin made its way around.”

“What happened?”

“Did you cast a spell?!”

“Brew a potion?”

Magnolia fell silent and heavily contemplative. There was no easy way to tell this story, and Ellie knew it as she clutched tighter to the invisible blanket. Ellie read the accounts of the last trial held. Such a young girl, now contemplating how to tell the younger girls what happened without keeping them up for a month. How to tell them about the court sessions that would last days. Even more so for such heavy, spiraling sins.

“...Well, something brewed.”

The girls grew incredibly curious, Agnes held her hand on top of Magnolia’s as the pale witch thankfully kissed her hand. 

“The days and nights were so long. All the looks. Her look. I was exhausted beyond belief, up for days with no rest, even in the– the holding cells. My feet were fused with the podium floor. Those stone walls were so bitter. I tried screaming but my throat was dry. I remember breaking out of the courtroom. Running… falling down. They chased and grabbed me. I was in a lot of pain… A lot.”

Magnolia swallowed her breath, but raised herself stronger for the witchlets.

Even Ellie knew Magnolia was holding back on telling the girls the full extent of the torture without hating every man in sight. Without despising humanity and formal society itself. But she still silently lingered by the door. 

“Nola, were you okay?! What happened?” Agnes held onto Magnolia’s hand, pleadingly looking to her sister for a happy ending to the story.

“To be honest, she blacked out–- I-I blacked out. I screamed until my mouth bled. My hands were drenched. The dog  barks went silent. My throat was tighter than python skin. I remember walking into what I thought was the dense forest, but it could have been the blacksmiths’... I knew I did something… I could tell I overworked myself, my mind was tired of comprehending. My feet barely wandered onto ashy moss. My ears rang for days yet, twinkled. My mind and eyes were so hazy… like the very whites of your eyes were blinded by storm fog.”

The girls grew incredibly curious of the raw magic, however Ellie knew of the real, unclouded fate of that town. But to hear the words of the very girl who cursed it was something else entirely. She knew Magnolia had to tread carefully with the witchlets, she was already tossing and turning on a bed of needles. This tale was necessary to the witch’s youngest sisters. Magnolia rose to confidence in front of the girls.

“Nothing was going to change anyway. If what they called what I truly felt in my soul ‘witchcraft’, then I was proud of it. I was proud to embrace every part of myself. That's what drove me to Baphomet, and them to me.”

“And what happened to the townspeople? The judge? The other girl?”

“Well…I remember feeling a blinding rush of power. My feet moved but I wasn’t all there in the head. Like my own mind tried to push out what was seeing. But I knew what happened.” 

“And what happened?!” 

“…They all succumbed to the magic… and became chickens!”

The girls giggled at the sudden absurdity of the magic.

“Chickens?!”

The girls laughed at Magnolia rising from the bed and morphing her head into a large chicken, playfully pecking at the girl’s blankets as she clucked and scampered around the room.

“Chickens I say! A flock of feathered fools! Fools with their heads turned backward!” 

Agnes cackled at her sister’s feathery antics as she began to playfully act like a chicken, twisting her morphed head completely backward to peck at the twin sister. 

“That’s right! BAWK-WARDS!” Magnolia croaked, fully acting like her morphed head.

Despite the roaring laughter and the pale witch’s antics to entertain her sisters, Ellie felt her heart cave in. She knew the specifics were withheld. As if the backwards birds could see with their blood drenched eyes. Bodies bloomed with mushrooms from their burnt tendons. Homes and town halls scorched and overgrown from the ashes of agonized screams. Bodies and legacies long lost to the trial outcome. Screams that deafened the very howl of the wind. The once holy town overtaken by horrific freaks of nature. 

“Nola?”

The chicken head twitched around to Kassie, earning a giggle from the girl before she shook her head back to her pale inky curls.

“You said you had an old name?”

“...I did. Quite a plain one, too. I-… I don't like to remember it. But, mother always called me her little magnolia blossom.”

The young girl's eyes all widened in wonder.

‘You mean–”

“Yes. Mother.”

The witch’s face bloomed into a nostalgic smile, looking to the ceiling and taking a long breath in. 

“While on my dazed walk, Baphomet discovered me. Guided me to my sisterhood. They found me, took me in, and we raised our coven up to this day and further beyond that. We survive, thrive, and love each other.”

Magnolia hugged Agnes beside her, softly smiling at the girl and her twin.

Ellie couldn't believe the warmth in her chest. How someone so willingly sinful could still love and raise her sisters, how they embraced her back with open arms, and how honest and openly loving they all were despite the macabre nature of it all. 

“Now, you’ve all had your bedtime story, it's time to rest, my witchlets,” Magnolia cooed as she tucked one of the twins to bed. 

“But we’re not tired yet! How can we fall asleep to a story–”

Ellie locked in place as she felt her invisible foot nudge into a lute guitar, screeching of strings crashing on the floor. All the witches' uneasy eyes went to the clear doorway, before Magnolia stood and walked to grab the guitar.

“It's like the house spirits beg me to spoil you imps~” Magnolia chuckled to lighten the air.

While the girls couldn't see from their beds, Ellie could feel Magnolia’s eyes locked onto hers. But it didn't come with the usual muted spark of malice. 

Heaviness crashed between them. The same dread Ellie felt deep within her rib cage when bleeding a kill that was far too young. It had a life, cut far too short. It had a mother, grieving as if its growing child was newborn again. It had life in its eyes that rapidly dulled. It had bright blood that repulsed Ellie’s insides into the dreadfully regretful thoughts. 

And those heavy memories were staring her back in the face. An expression from the pale witch that silently begged: ‘please don’t kill my children.’

Ellie stilled in the doorway as the witch returned to her sisters, smiling as she plucked the lute strings. 

“Now you all better fall asleep now that you're getting a story and a lullaby, though I'm nowhere as good as Nkiru.”

She started plucking the strings with darkened nails, softly humming as the lute started to tune itself. 

Magnolia began to hum along with the lute’s melody, lovingly tucking her sisters into bed. A sweet lullaby Ellie only half comprehended, but still thawed her heart through lyrics of snowfall and faces in the sky. Magnolia's honey-tone soothed the room, leaking out through the door and even calmed Ellie.

Through a melody Ellie only half understood, the pale witch gave each of the witchlets a soft kiss on the forehead, each looking back up like a mother hen to their older sister. Lyrics of changing seasons and an unshaken love through shaky leaves. Even though Magnolia’s fingers occasionally fumbled with the strings to catch back up with the melody, the coven only looked back with love. Soft kisses and sung promises that lingered between lyrics and moonlit cradles. Each small screech of the strings played a profession of protection. A darkened finger tucking a hair out of Agnes’ face as the guitar continued to play by itself. A soft, sung promise she would keep them safe and so very loved. Loving landslides and snow-covered hills she would keep them warm throughout their lives. 

And as the melody swelled for a final time, the girls finally fell into deep sleep. The witch softly smiled as she continued playing, watching as the witchlets snuggled further into the blankets. The strings still strummed by themselves as they grew quieter. The melody played out, and the girls sunk deeper into their beds. Ellie watched on as Magnolia sang to herself in the rocking chair, watching the witchlets sink even further into the beds with sleeping smiles still on their faces. The blankets and pillows slowly swallowed them whole, yet they couldn’t have slept more peacefully in the serpent’s soft, warm belly. 

Ellie looked back to Magnolia in confusion at the witch’s content face. The witch lingered in the darkened doorway as she blew out the candles, taking in the dustless air as she fixed a stray blanket with a finger twitch.

Silence lingered between the witch and the seemingly empty doorway. Ellie didn’t know why she stayed invisible. And yet, she stood still. She was quiet. She didn’t know why she came up the stairs, yet here she stayed covered by the blanket. An uncertainty brewed in her ribs at the dichotomy of it all. Such a sweet lullaby for a tale of slaughter.

The witch took a minute under the waning moonlight before straightening again, closing the door and looking right to Ellie beneath the invisible blanket.

“They’re gone… take off the blanket before it soaks into your skin. You don't want to go back to town smelling like an alchemy shelf.”

Ellie tugged off the blanket and followed the witch downstairs. Even she could tell something between them shifted as the witch returned to bask in a moonlit window.

“So…you know.”

Ellie couldn't find a word of admission. The witch caught on a while ago she was listening in and neither could do anything. She knew what she was supposed to do long before the sun fell down in the sky. What she should have done without hesitation instead of rooting like a coward. But, those eyes. Ones usually so full of spite and that shined in foglight and fresh-spilt blood. Eyes that paralyzed her dreams and stopped her pulse. The burn of those eyes once frightened her, but it was now infecting Ellie's morals with a feeling that horrified her beyond any petrifying hallucination.

Sympathy.

All from a look. From two golden iris voids that shrieked in desperate prayer. 

‘Please don't kill my family.’

“Well, we have a deal to fulfill, and you should be back home soon… You still haven't finished looking at my grimoire, have you?”

Magnolia tilted her head to Ellie, taking a strong sip of tea in the moonlight to collect herself. Ellie, too, took a moment as she noticed the small cloaks by the doorway. Her gut curdled like rotten milk threatening to bubble in her throat. Too sour to keep buried in her gut, but too fearful of the consequences to act or spew. Spewing would cut off her airway. And how terrified she was to admit that she was giving thoughts to a family of stone-cut sinners.

Her breath was shakier than expected as she once again looked at the slowly pulsing book. Ellie didn't want to look back at the grimoire any longer. Maybe this was all a grave mistake. But then the inky script of  the open page spread caught her eye.

‘Luck.’

“Luck?” Ellie didn't realize she spoke out loud.

“You can’t change luck. It’s impossible to define. The father and holy spirit control all events. It’s…”

Magnolia was brought out of her stupor at Ellie's statement that seemingly baffled her. She struggled to not emote, only upturning a lip as she sipped her tea.

“What’s so funny?” Ellie questioned without a growl. 

“Well, you do seem mighty interested in someone not supposed to believe in luck.”

“It’s still…”

Ellie’s voice faded as she looked to the fire-lit pages.

“So… you’re interested in the potion?”

Ellie toothlessly bit back, “I don't believe in luck.” 

“Well, you believe in witchcraft.” 

Magnolia couldn't help a shadowed, crooked grin, leaving Ellie to herself as the grimoire floated to the lectern.

“...You aren't objecting to the luck potion,” The witch spoke up with a raised brow, “...You haven't shown interest in anything else, you're getting it for free, what's the harm in just a little taste?”

“How can you… control something like that…?” Scepticism peeked through Ellie’s morale. 

Magnolia chuckled and fetched a few glass bottles and bundles from the apothecary shelves. 

“Who truly knows the difference between internal manifestation and divine intervention? The moment we try to draw the line in the sand it's just as easily washed away…and then you realize the shoreline extends far past the eye can see.” 

Ellie loathed that she genuinely contemplated such a thought. What a wicked woman this witch was for sowing such thoughts into her head. Who knew how this devil of a woman could seemingly control something Ellie didn't believe in. And yet once again, here she was. Not refusing the offer. Not a peep of objection.

And with her silence, Magnolia grinned, flashing her teeth as candlelight shadowed her canines and sharpened them to fangs. A rush of water drowned the silence as the cauldron lit. The witch continued to tap her feet to a beat coming from nowhere, nodding along as her grimoire pulsed with lungless breath.

Ellie’s hairs rose on end as the witch grazed darkened nails along the recipe, nodding to that inaudible beat. Bottles and bundles flew off the shelves onto the table as Magnolia trotted around the potion, taking Ellie off guard at the witch’s coal-black cloven legs. The witch knelt down to a large chest, digging before beaming at two golden horseshoes. Ellie curled a brow as the witch started hammering them into her hooves.

“For luck. Believe me, we need it.”

The candlelit gold shimmered as the witch admired her horseshoes, looking down with admiration at her inhumanly decorated, morphed feet like a socialite wearing new boots.

Gold on the floorboards rung harmoniously with the bubbling cauldron. The witch leapt in her step as she grabbed an herb bundle and carefully plucked a few dried leaves that burned as soon as they sank. Magnolia took a long moment to dip her head to smell the cauldron that thickened its burnt bubbles. Ellie’s stomach churned, baffled at how she was supposed to drink pure viscous. She looked skeptically back to the lectern, starting to read a diagram on beetle wings before being startled at Magnolia’s presence right beside her. The witch gently gestured for Ellie to move aside as she unlocked a hidden cabinet, pulling out a tiny metal vial.

The witch held a macabrely sharp bird beak and tweezed out a single clover, meticulously placing it aside and exhaling like a rockslide off her shoulder. 

“You keep a snake around the house but keep grass in locked cabinets?” Ellie chuckled skeptically.

Ellie felt her hair crawl at the sight of Magnolia taking an absurdly large beetle out of a jar, still dusted in herbs it rolled around in. Yet the witch felt nothing but sweet admiration as she cooed at the beetle’s shimmering armor. 

“Good eve… eat up, lucky one.”

The witch felt an admiring finger to the beetle’s mighty horns, such respect a wolf has for the stag’s antlers. Cooed in a half indecipherable language were a bedtime story to the beetle as Ellie watched the fourth perfect clover petal sink between the bug’s jaws.

She hadn't even noticed how easily the beetle nestled into the witch’s mortar, and before she could think, the witch brutally crushed the flaked gold armor. Ellie flared in disgust at the sickening crunch of the exoskeleton, but it only lit Magnolia’s eyes with pride as she ground the fallen armor into the potion with precision. Not one fleck of jaded gold would go to waste.

There was a half sickening feeling in Ellie’s ribs at just how much precision and care went into the witch’s craft. She could have just thrown the ingredients in the cauldron, taken Ellie’s money and killed her anyway. Magnolia still meticulously moved with every step in her process. It reminded Ellie of her own craft at how carefully she angled her knife to not get blood on the fur. How precisely she would aim for weak points in every hunted animal to ensure a swift kill. 

But she shook those thoughts away as soon as she processed them, running her hands through her hair and nearly jumping out of her skin at the sight of a large alligator skull threatening to close around her ankle.

“Father have mercy–”

“There you were! I knew you’d pop up!” Magnolia giggled and grabbed the skull, plucking a few teeth and grinding them to a powder.

“You… no…”

The witch perked up at Ellie’s dumbfounded expression.

“That skull came out of nowhere…”

“We haven't seen him in months, thought he was hiding with the rest of the bones or one of my sisters borrowed him.”

Ellie’s brows tightened at the thought of other witches before Magnolia cleared her throat with a playful smile.

“Well, you can't say my potions aren't made from Scratch!” 

The witch cackled, proudly tightening the leather collar around the skull’s jaws as its collar tag jingled. 

‘Scratch’, engraved in raw gunmetal.

Ellie sighed and shook her head, sitting down after thoroughly inspecting the chair to catch her breath. She watched the witch continue to keep sharp eyes on the cauldron contents, stirring one tooth at a time into the bubbling pot. Ellie couldn't hold back her denial any longer, letting out a shaky sigh of acceptance. She raised her head to the moon, silently praying for forgiveness despite how useless it would be in a house like this. Her heart yearned for an answer of why she went through with this deal and didn't leave ages ago, but she could shift the blame no longer. The rockslide finally crushed her lungs, leaving her mouth with a breath far shakier than when the snakes of this house stared her down. 

She didn't know how long she looked to the moon and stars for answers she didn't want to find in her soul. But when she looked back to the witch by her cauldron, curiosity grew in her eyes at the doubtful look in the witch’s eyes. Magnolia seemed to be focusing on something, not wanting to turn her expression down. The witch could have just lied and killed Ellie long ago, but here she was, almost scared to have let herself down.

When Magnolia caught Ellie’s eyes she straightened, dipping a feather back into ink.

“I’ll still get your potion to you, I just…have to check the quality. The base can be fickle.”

Ellie was still baffled at how someone would want the best for their own enemy to drink, much less for them to be drinking literal bugs and bones. She wanted to ask Magnolia more, but dare not speak up in protest for how many of these ingredient bottles could turn her inside out or sludge her bones in her own skin. A few minutes later and the witch finally raised a parchment slip with a complex sigil. 

“Your patience will be rewarded.” The witch cautioned as she dipped the sigil, uncertainty in her breath.

Her cloven legs anxiously bobbed at Ellie’s watchful eye, as if she were somehow scared to mess up a potion in front of the hunter. Magnolia’s throat tightened like python skin, still waiting and cautiously hunching as if the tester was the only thing between the witch, the hunter, and certain death. Ellie didn't know why she was so anxious, but didn't move as the witch’s spine hunched like a horned snake.

Minutes passed between shaken breaths as both witch and hunter’s hair stood on end. Until finally the cauldron grew lighter. The thick blackened sludge clouded and calmed to streamwater as the parchment drained of its color. The last of Magnolia’s nerves shook away as she exhaled a raw relieved breath. Ellie watched as the witch finally eased, watching nerves flee her lips. Thunder wrapped in silk that finally smiled at the inked runes shimmering in pure radiant iridescence. 

The witch lit up at her concoction’s color, unable to stop the smile on her face as her heartbeat picked up in pride. She pinned the discarded  paper to the wall in utmost pride despite Ellie having nearly no idea what the results truly meant. 

“Oh isn't she beautiful, Ellie! Just look at that color! And not a smudge out of place! Oh, this batch will be perfect!”

The witch couldn't help her joyful cackles as she pranced around her apothecary, beaming her silky fanged canines at Ellie as her pale curls bounced with every horseshoed step. 

Ellie hadn't even noticed the nearby lute’s strings plucking a deep rhythm as the witch swayed along to pride, simply infected at the witch’s smile. Entranced by her inked pale curls bouncing with each subtle movement of her shoulder. How her hooves bounced along to her heartbeat tempo, and how the gold horseshoes shimmered like sweet chimes. How the witch tapped her fingers on the stirring branch even as she wrapped it in bundled twine. How her lips upturned at the bow tied at the top, to how soft the fur of seven rabbits’ feet looked dangling from the twine between her fingers. 

Ellie flashed back to her senses at the sight of the witch carefully dunking the twine-wrapped stir-stick, watching the cauldron flame and potion liquid reflect on the speckled beiges and browns of the rabbit paws.  

“What, you never hunt this many rabbits at once?” The witch teased playfully.

“More than you probably have, you probably kept those drying for months, I could easily get four in a day’s work.”

“Only one day? I thought you’d take a whole week~” The witch sassily barked with a smile. 

“Just two more ingredients and then you can get the hell out of my cottage~.” 

The witch grinned at Ellie, pulling out a box with a frankly absurd amount of locks. Ellie’s brows knit at just how secure this long box was in the witch’s hands, watching how Magnolia repeatedly melted the key in her iron-hot hands for each individual lock. Anticipation crawled like a dozen spiders, and finally the witch opened a silk-lined box that nestled a simple tree branch.

Ellie’s expression knit at the pure absurdity of the witch’s logic. 

“So you keep spirits and a rattlesnake around the house but lock up grass and tree branches?”

“Isn't she so beautiful? I should have put thirteen more locks on it.” 

Magnolia’s eyes only seemed to shimmer with pure reverence.

“Just look at it! Even you can't deny its beauty.”

“Uhm… yes! Why of course, it's so…pretty?” Ellie lost the fight between her words and the fakest veiled smile on her face. 

“You have no idea what this is, don't you?” 

Ellie couldn't help the baffled look between her eyes that let a chuckle escape her mouth.

“Figured. I don't think you'll ever see anything like it ever again.”

The hunter pushed past her offense at the pure confusion the witch gave her. 

“Im a hunter. I live right by the woods. I'm sure I'll see trees and branches again–”

Ellie felt breath leave her words at the pure radiance between the wood splinters as Magnolia shed a few slivers off of the branch.

“It's a unicorn horn.”

“...Unicorns aren't real.” Ellie spoke up in her weakest defense.

“They won't ever be real to you or your kind of mind.” Magnolia spoke, a surprising amount of pity between her breaths.

“What’s that supposed to mean? They only appear to those ‘true of heart’ or some bullshit?”

“...It's a pity you’ll never see one, they only appear in times of true peace.”

Ellie’s expression fell, sighing at the raw truth. Magnolia’s gaze fell back to the floor before turning to the task at hand. She carefully plucked a sliver before dropping it in the potion, before the cottage lit with shimmering beauty that transformed the potion into an enchanting colorful pale. The hunter’s chest once again fell at the witch’s awestruck eyes, watching her face light up like the moon shining through a sunrise.

Magnolia continued stirring as both witch and hunter became mesmerized by the radiant jade sparkles in the cauldron. Shimmers of iridescent clover and gold sparkled with infinite depth and swirled with every stir. Bubbles of white gold peeked through the twine bundling, illuminating the beiges of the rabbits feet that led Ellie’s eyes to the witch’s soft darkened hands. The shimmers grew brighter and brighter with every stir and breathless chant, leading the witch to burst out of the apothecary with a skip in her step. 

A minute later and the witch’s smile was infectiously radiant, spinning with a large bundle of quaint, pure yellow wildflowers. Flowers even Ellie caught onto.

“One final ingredient!~” The witch sang-song.

“Buttercups?”

“Freshest you can get!” 

“But they’re poisonous.”

“So you do know what plants you burn and chop down~” Magnolia chuckled as she fluffed the flowers.

“So you’re trying to kill me.”

“What’s luck without a little risk?~” she challenged with a tease, “You did say yes to the potion so you must have a little faith.~” 

Ellie's stomach flipped at the mention of faith. She looked back to the terrifyingly scentless flowers. The witch was very  meticulous with them as each flower was carefully pruned. She would never admit faith for how easily it could be ripped away. But here she was. Almost out of this deal, almost out of the witch’s home where she could pray for forgiveness for the rest of her days. 

Magnolia giggled as she plucked a single petal for inspection, beaming as she sharpened a macabre ritual knife and beheaded the flowers before Ellie could object. As soon as the petals touched the cauldron, all color drained from their petals like pure alcohol dripping down glass. A forest of golden trees in a fog that warped with the stirring and chanting. Shimmers melted with the gold structure like liquid beetle wings. The witch’s voice continued to husk like smoked honey as her chants grew raspier in a language Ellie could never decipher. Just the witch and her wordless breath, the spellbound hunter, and enough liquid luck to last her a lifetime. All of this, or even a jar’s worth only for some mere boar’s blood. 

“Why do this for me? This potion looks complicated, far worth what it’s worth.”

Magnolia held her tongue, looking to the deep iridescence of the potion bottle before replying. 

“…Quality for quality.”  

“The boar’s blood is scrap—“

“A deal is a deal, unless you want to go back on it. I could add a few lizard brains~” The witch teased, tilting her head back teasingly to Ellie as she leaned and circled around the cauldron.

The air between them grew lighter and finally Magnolia withdrew the stir-stick. Air was pulled from Ellie’s lungs at the sight of a small glass vial somehow tied onto the stir stick, looped in the twine and rabbits feet. One that certainly wasn't there before and she never could conceive how it could be there. One of blown glass and sealed with wax of shattered bone and jade. Curved and swirling glass with twists that caged the liquid white gold in insect wings. Ellie couldn't believe a bottle like this could be made so far out in the woods, much less cost so little to the witch.

“How…”

“Im a witch, dearie. I’m damn good at my craft.” The witch cackled with a playfully raised brow as she sat and unraveled the bottle from the twine.

“Arent you concerned with the rest of the potion? It's getting on the floor.”

Magnolia chuckled under her breath, pursing her lips together to withhold a grin as she corrected her expression, beaming at the bottle in her hand as the soaked twine and rabbit's feet lay discarded on the floor.

“And there is your potion! Pure luck extract that could change your life for the day you drink it! Sunrise to sunrise, sunset to sunset.”

Ellie’s breath was taken away at the blown glass cradling the settling shimmers as the witch set the warm glass bottle in her hand. 

“Rowena may have to thank you for the pickled rabbits feet, the rest goes to gardening~” The witch laughed.

And for once, Ellie didn't mind her playfully cryptic response, though a lie right to her face.

“It’s getting late, and I'm taking care of the witchlets in the morning…”

“Right– right… I'll head out.”

Ellie cleared her throat and pocketed the potion, wanting to get out of the cottage as soon as possible, yet she couldn't help looking back at Magnolia huffing the remaining potion excess liquid. At her returning to the lectern. As much as Ellie tried to get rid of all the thoughts of this house that would haunt her until her next day-long prayer, she couldn't help the thorns dragging along her gut.

“You will help so much come this harvest…” 

The witch admiringly whispered to the cauldron with a fanged, guttural cackle that raised Ellie’s nerves and ushered her feet out the door. Her feet stopped right before the cursed doormat, sighing before stepping over the snare.

That grimoire. All of the cursed diagrams, words and anecdotes. Who knows what other potions and concoctions could be made. What the ones Ellie still had hidden beneath her nightstand could do. The recipe on those cursed, breathing pages inked in sin. How much the luck extract would affect the drinker. And just what would happen to someone who drank what she thought would be luck potion scrap. 

‘The more the brewer drinks of the excess, the better luck they'll have for the next full moon they brew.’

Two thoughts haunted Ellie as she walked past the front garden; The autumn fog and clouds had been so thick she didn't know when the next full moon could strike. And that there was enough space to drown in that cauldron.

“Wait—” Magnolia piped up, quickly walking into the garden and carefully approaching Ellie.

Their breaths both tore as the night highlighted their huffed breaths. Moonlight above streaked down Magnolia’s curls and sank into the black tips of her hair. Shadows on her face couldn't eclipse those eyes. Pure ink voids that sparkled with starry white sparkling gold. Soft lemongrass and flowers from the garden ran along Ellie’s hands, which she could have mistaken the softness for Magnolia’s hands. But her dark tipped hands couldn't possibly compare to the garden’s softness as the witch gradually reached up to the hunter’s shoulder. Ellie’s eyes couldn't escape Magnolia’s. She was absolutely in a trap, but she felt no unnatural pull. Stepping forward felt as easy as weightlessly breathing. The smell of warm spices lingered on Magnolia’s skin. So close, that smell of dried flowers and candle flame still swirled in her hair. Spices so warm she didn't realize she had moved closer until Magnolia withdrew her hand and backed up. 

Magnolia’s moonlit expression wandered at the sight of an absurdly large spider now crawling between her fingers, softly clearing her throat and looking back to Ellie.

“You had this little guy on your shoulder, I didn't want to spook it, or you.”

Ellie's whole body shuddered at how such a large spider could have been on her and she didn't notice. Hairs trailing down its long legs like multiple sets of raw vertebrae. A large body dusted in faded red and hairs that sprouted like fingerbones. A repulsive amount of eyes glimmering with the reflective pale of Magnolia’s blackened fingertips. Fangs tipped in red that Magnolia only seemed to admire the more Ellie's spine shuttered. 

“My my, aren't you a pretty one? Why I bet you’re an Eros’ Bane, and I have quite the spot for you to settle down,” The witch softly cooed as the spider spun a web between her fingers. Ellie couldn't help the tingling sensation up her back, as if the spider was still there instead of being adored upon by the witch. Magnolia walked over to a familiar rose bush, smiling as the spider quickly got used to the softness of the large deep wine roses, settling down for the night beside the swan-white tipped flowers. 

“There you go, weaving one…”

Magnolia leaned down to watch the spider settle for the night between the rosebuds, taking a moment to cup and smell the flowers before looking back at Ellie with an unreadable expression. 

Ellie snapped out when she realized she had been staring at Magnolia’s fingers holding the roses, shuddering her shoulders and quickly exiting the witch’s garden before she tied the boar’s corpse to Shimmer’s saddle.

Shimmer perked up at Ellie’s presence and snorted in relief, eager for the pair of them to get home as Ellie quickly saddled and darted into the fog she only hoped would take her home. But not without a look back. A look that both filled her ribs and rotted them. One she could barely register as she tried to get out of there as soon as she could. One of genuine gratitude she couldn't hide. She somehow earned the witch’s favor. That, or the witch was merely smiling at the fact she had Ellie ensnared like the spider between her fingertips. She didn't want to linger to find out. 

Ellie rushed shimmer out of the woods and into the blinding fog, the sound of the dragged boar corpse hushing into the ambient forest wind. Magnolia bid the spider goodnight, sighing as she realized her workload. There was so much she had to clean. The dishes, the cauldron, the apothecary, the mugs, the chairs. Her mind. How she couldn't resist lingering beside Ellie’s infuriating, ensnaring presence. Those moonlit freckles put the constellations above to shame, that slit in her eyebrow streaked like a fallen star. Magnolia snatched an herbal bundle from the ceiling and scorched her fingertips, slowly lighting the sage aflame as she let the smoke clear her nostrils. 

She had to cleanse the energy of the house. And yet, those eyes. Those sage green eyes. As the embers crept further onto the sprig of leaves, she too wanted desperately to burn those sage eyes and the hunter who owned them. The familiar smell smoked into her nostrils and safe space, flowing through each small crevice of wood and trinket cracks. But with it, came the unconscious desire to still have those same sage eyes smoke into her space. And perhaps, for that smell to become incredibly familiar too.

NEXT CHAPTER

The September breeze bit harder than Salem expected. Chills ran up Ellie’s skin at the mere breeze, her hair once again pinned and tied beneath her bonnet. More nerves had continued to bury themselves at the slowly chilling cold season. Leaves began to vibrantly glow, tumbling slowly down in hoards, lifting with the foggy wind. Despite the physical beauty of the autumn colors that brought a brightness to the dull grey fog, the colors stuck out to many townsfolk like a poisonous animal in warning. 

Ellie collected a few stray flowers from outside her fence, a few petals already blown in the wind as she placed them next to Joel’s grave beside the hydrangeas. However a moment of hesitation stilled her as a stray hair fell into her freckles. She knelt and repeated prayers at his graveside, lingering for a minute as she placed the given flowers, but her mind shifted elsewhere. 

She took her hunting knife out from the sharply-marked holster, feeling the subtlest indent of the velvet antler handle where Joel’s finger marks were now filled by Ellie’s. She held up a bundle of hydrangea before swiftly cutting the white bushel, feeling some of the soft petals fall onto her hands before they became lost in the wind. Ellie felt a strong, mournful breath escape her lungs, not missing the glances from neighbors as she closed the front gate. 

She simply pulled her fur shawl further up her shoulders and tightened her bonnet, trying to shield herself from the chill. Maybe it was the colder air or the hushed, paranoid voices, but the morning seemed quiet. The air continued to drone on in silence, picking up dull shifts as it swirled in her ears. An odd feeling grew in her chest as she walked with the hydrangeas in her hand. The biting wind blew her dress against her legs and was just barely blocked out by the fur fibers. She should have felt unnerved. The fall was growing closer, and there were no obvious signs of witchcraft ever since the sunday service incident. 

But something else bloomed in the biting breeze: an odd warmth. Ellie was unsure if it was from the physical fall colors or the feeling of walking with furs around her neck, but an odd crispness crackled in her chest. As much as she tried to hide the softest smile, as much as she should be paranoid about the season of witches growing colder, she couldn't help but admire the beauty of the cascading golds and russets as they tumbled in their windy parade. 

Eventually the cobblestone echoes on her boots stilled and hushed onto dirt, the grass long disturbed by footsteps. Old Burying Point. The Cemetery of Salem Massachusetts. Hundreds of leant and scattered slabs laid in old grass and old sprouted dirt as Ellie felt her feet carry her forth. Some of the slabs stood polished, others leant improperly on each other with barely recognizable carvings, long claimed by frosted moss and lingering lichen between the letters. Some laid old in well-legible devotion, some stood hauntingly small. A few people stood or kneeled down besides the markers, well loved flowers laying beside carved stone.

Ellie let her feet absentmindedly guide her until she saw a very familiar coat and hat knelt down besides a pristinely polished grave. Not a speck of moss. She walked close and stopped by the path of well-disturbed surrounding dirt, laying a few hydrangeas onto the pristine grass. The picked flowers Tommy laid were just as abundant as the day she was buried. His eyes still unfocused in thought as his head hung low toward the dewdropped grass. He tilted his head down in appreciation at Ellie’s gesture. She took a minute to reread the stone carving, her eyes catching the well-familiar angel carved in the granite that might as well have been a godmother. 

‘Here lies the remains of Maria Cain-Miller. Daughter, Beloved Fiancé. Born February 4th of 1642, Passing the morning of October 26, 1684. May the lord forgive her greatest confession.’

No matter how many times Ellie read the carving, she always felt a brew in her in her gut at the engraved quote, no matter how much Tommy insisted it be there.

Tommy’s aged fingers still clutched the twig cross Maria gave him all those years ago. The meek wood still somehow pristine and bound together after all those years, especially compared to the hand-carved cross that laid in his home. It stayed a memento of his love. A memento given long before he had any interest in marriage. A memento of his devotion to the lord’s word. A last memento from the night he proposed without a second of hesitation or interest in dowry. A memento of promises and a brighter future for them both. A memento of his bride to be.

A memento unfortunately tainted by the memory of the burning stench, muffled screams, and a crowd of townsfolk finding a holy confessional booth in flames. 

Ellie stayed beside her uncle a bit, knowing he was going to be by Maria’s graveside for a while. The silence passed on for minutes as they let the the leaves tumble by, before Ellie eventually stood. Despite the grim setting, it always fascinated her how the love between them lingered even after death. Maybe she was smiling down upon her fiance as he laid by her graveside every few days for the past eight years. Still unwaveringly devoted to his bride to be, no interest in remarrying– the silver band still protected beneath his gloves. Maybe that kind of love would finally bless Ellie one of these days despite how much she prayed her feelings would sort themselves out. 

Ellie collected her thoughts with a crisp breath, letting her feet guide her as she gripped the bundle of hydrangeas again. She walked past the graves with care, once again feeling the weight of all of those that have been lost. The never-ending coughing from the doctors’. Stomachs slowly rumbling like scorched earth. The amount of memorials and services held, and the filled plots from friends and family. The muffled chastizing in households, and the even larger amount of improperly buried bodies due to the frozen ground. 

Ellie swallowed as she passed by a broken gate, finding her footsteps on longer blades of grass past the far edge of the Old Burial Ground. Her footsteps were covered by fallen leaves and light fog. After passing a few trees, she finally looked down with a shaky breath as her gut rumbled in a definite sense of both unease and belonging. The memory of who laid in this dirt and how it faded into nothing but flora and fauna caused Ellie to freeze in her tracks. Memories of near-distant branch snapping and wind whispers told her that the graveyard lied far beyond the bounds of the iron-bar fence. 

The sight below laid long untouched, yet so deeply haunted. An expansive mass of old disturbed dirt now completely filled the natural pit. Long unmarked and uncared, the site was only marked by the large patch of colors peeking though the long, dewdropped grass. The mass pauper’s grave of sorts sprouted with wildflowers and bright autumn milkweed bushels. A natural fissure in the land now long-filled, it was a miracle that dirt and grass overtook it at all. The haunting of unknown names caused Ellie’s breath to tremble, before she kneeled and laid the hydrangeas beside a milkweed patch. She whispered a prayer into the wind, wishing the countless people a more peaceful rest than what they had in life. Hoping they would finally lie in peace despite the distant branch snapping that would prick her ears. Hoping they would be somehow remembered despite the unmarked grave and lack of legacies. Hoping somebody would care to know the agonized hollow screams that died in that ground, much less their names or content of origin.

Ellie lent out another prayer, lingering on her knees. The wind quietly whispered as more leaves fell into the edge of the forest floor, before Ellie reluctantly came to her feet at the odd depth in her chest. Her feet trembled as she felt her fingers on her stays where her sternum rose and caved beneath. Still marked despite no pain. Ellie’s eyes darted in a million haunted directions as she felt herself walking back into the fenced part of the graveyard. Perhaps this is why she felt drawn to this spot this morning. 

Ellie’s mind zeroed in on the strongest memory. The feeling of being watched from lungs in perfect sync, eyes dark and pale as an eclipse. ‘Forgotten in stomachs and a soul beyond redemption.’ Those haunted, honeyed words looped in her mind as she walked out of the foggy graveyard, not daring to look back at the large hidden patch of wildflowers. Her boots and windswept long dress only echoed her thoughts as she walked the quiet town streets, until she looked back at her home. Sage green eyes upturned to her bedroom window, a reluctant determination rising as her eyes caught onto her dresser. That unburning heaviness still lingered. Ellie knew what she had to do after exhausting her options, unfortunately. And she could only hope that the lord would finally give into her prayers for forgiveness. 

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

The night couldn't have been more cruel. Normally the days were bitingly cold and nights were spent bundled against the dark fog-filled freeze. But as Ellie walked into the forest with her bow and quiver, she scowled up at the illuminated stars that once brought wondered smiles to her nights. Ellie had spent the day mentally toiling over the thought of the scar on her sternum. ‘What if it never went away, what if that witch was lying? What if it was eating her up from the inside as physically as it was mentally? What if the townsfolk had somehow caught on?’

So in a twisted change of fate, after a day of feeling the mental weight of the mark above her heart, Ellie grimaced at the feeling that the cold had spared her tonight. Too many nights she had spent tossing and turning. Too many mornings had her eyes drifted beneath that dresser. Too many nights the evening candlelight highlighted the pointed mark. Too many days had she flicked her eyes to attention rather than drifting down to the unburning ties of her dress. Too many nights she had contemplated finally giving into the demands of the debt, and too many excuses had she already claimed; from the weather, to the wind, noises outside, and the fog. That damned fog.

And so here she was now. Leaving her horse at home to not raise suspicion, as if she didn't hold a box of enough mystery potions to get the whole town tried and executed. Ellie pulled her dark cape more over the box of rattling glass, tugging her quiver tight and scowling before heading into the lightened fog. However, she had one on her mind. Clearing her debt.

Ellie let out a shaky breath as she briskly walked into the forest, setting her sights on a familiar grotto that hopefully some wildlife would stumble into. But the lowered fog did little to soothe the itch of unknown. Despite knowing the path so well, her breath retained shakier than she would have liked. The familiarity of the eerie trees and bug chatters did little to soothe the bitter pit in her stomach.

‘Just what could these potions do?’ Her mind continued to fester with the thought that even the witch was unsure of the exact effects, much less the brutality. 

No lantern was needed to conquest the stygian forest, the bright moonlight a reluctantly welcoming sight as Ellie navigated the forest path. Shadows were cast on her furrowed brows. The night smelled of crisp moonlight and ferns as she eventually led herself to the clearing. The grass still smelt like minerals and residual rainfall. Ellie let out a deep sigh as she sat herself against a large rock, looking to the cursed box in her cloak only to have her eyes widen in surprise at the lack of a lock. 

Impossible. The rune on the lock had been haunting her for days, haunting her nights with the dimmest glow the burned her mind. But with how unfortunately perfect these circumstances were, it only made sense that the lock would magically disappear. Ellie rolled her eyes and held her breath as she opened the box, finding six perfectly preserved potion vials. The contents vastly ranged from one shimmering with odd colors despite its voided look, to another faintly glowing gold with what looked like butterfly wing fragments. With each one she inspected she was thankful she didn't have to drink these herself, but a sinking feel into her stomach at the thought that not even the witch knew what would happen when these ungodly potions invaded a bloodstream. 

With each potion she lifted, another dreadful thorn sunk into her stomach at what she was going to have to do. And yet, she agreed to this. She felt herself unworthy to be cured by the church, and so she committed the great, near  unforgivable sin of witchcraft by proxy, holding bottles of god-knows-what that that would potentially do anything. 

She lifted the sixth bottle in her hand, only to find herself puzzled at its appearance in the moonlight. A ripped parchment merely read ‘Test 3A,’, wrapped in twine around what looked to be a vial of normal seawater. Small blooms of algae settled at the bottom of the glass as she swirled it in the starlight. The water merely rippled just the same in the white light.

The stars above sure were pretty tonight. Ellie heard tales and snuck day after day looking for books on constellations, enamored by the lights up above that still shone despite the haunting forest and unfurling fog. Nights as a child being frightened by her own dreams only to be secretly soothed by the glowing pinpricks in the void of a sky now. She felt her lungs fill with the night as she leaned back against the large rock, only to be oddly soothed with a cold feeling in her chest. Night air. Nostalgia flooded her senses at the nights she would be in this clearing. Before the fog thickened, before that hunt, before the days and nights in hospital chairs. When Joel knew game was at its most active. When Ellie would sink her arrows into such large beasts at such a small age. 

Ellie pulled her cloak over herself once again, closing the box, yet still holding the simple water-like vial in her hand. Faint green murkiness and algae poured over her arrow point as Ellie watched the iron point glisten with seawater. A small sand-like cloud floated in the liquid, watching it pour out of the glass and onto her weapon. She lined up her arrow in the bow slot, praying that this would all be over soon and her debt would be cleared. 

A strange feeling filled her lungs and pricked at her throat. The thought of something so routine and normal potentially being twisted beyond terror. But her arrowtip still glistened of seemingly normal seawater. Maybe the witch made a mistake in her labelling. Doubt still remained a mercy to her mind. Perhaps it wouldn't work. Maybe the animal would just die like normal. Perhaps she would even get fur or meat out of this. The deal with the witch never said anything about the potions working, just that she had to poison her arrowtips and report back. 

Report. How would she report back? What she even need to reporting back?

Ellie's thoughts ceased at the feeling of eyes burning the side of her neck. Her body stiffened as she turned her head, she met the glowing eyes of a large coyote staring her down, unsure of what to make of her. Her hunter instincts didn't hesitate, kicking in and automatically making the arrow fly straight in the beast’s direction, feeling shocked at the strange amount of power and force the arrow had as it sunk into the coyote’s fur. 

With a yelp the coyote immediately darted to the side, overcome with an odd rage as it quickly darted straight to the hunter, its snarling teeth pouncing through the grass before it suddenly collapsed in an instant. The coyote’s body slid with momentum right by her foot as Ellie caught her breath at the fright. She watched with adrenaline-fueled breath as blood quickly soaked the impact spot and dripped down its limp leg. 

Odd. She had rarely taken down a coyote down instantly with a single shot, much less one so surprisingly deep that pierced entirely through its front shoulder. Ellie felt a twist in her gut as she saw the coyote’s once glowing eyes glass over in a murky haze, looking for her hunting knife on instinct. 

But the animal didn't let up so easily. With a strong switch and a strained yelp its muscles started gradually spazzing, its facial muscles twitching around its own teeth like something was writhing on the inside. A muffled, guttural squelch caused its fur to swell and cave in, twisting Ellie's gut like a horrific seasickness. 

The coyote continued to gurgle despite the murky look in its dead eyes, gnarling its teeth against its will as it’s throat continued to bob beneath the trail of blood in its fur. Its dilated eyes in the moonlight seemed to swim with corrupting green speckles. Suddenly the coyote let out one last gurgling snarl before heaving up what looked like a mass of murky seawater and ocean plants, salty tears staining its fur. It tried in vain to stand on its convulsing legs, only to hobble in seasickness and collapse again onto the forest floor. The arrow wound bubbled with a mixture of potion and blood, still slowly seeping. Ellie felt her stomach swell with seasickness at the stench of salt and rot. Her body lay paralyzed to the rock, watching as the coyote eventually fell limp again, its fur no longer swelling and caving.

She didn't know how long she sat against the rock to catch her breath. Maybe minutes or hours. The moon still shone brightly on as if everything was normal. The bugs still chirped, the leaves and branched still swayed. Still, Ellie sat staring at the coyote corpse. She had seen a hundred just before, even more that she slayed herself and would have already skinned and harvested hours ago. She stayed enough to fully realize what she had done. What in the unholy hells did that witch brew? Her stomach sunk at the thought that if a potion as unassuming as mere seawater could do that, what would the other potions do to humans? 

The other potions.

Her lungs collapsed at the thought of what would happen if the other potion vials broke, quickly opening the box and chastizing herself for being so careless, but her breathing stopped in its tracks. There was something else new in the potion box, tied in leather to the lid. A rolled up parchment, and a somehow pre-inked quill.

She sighed, knowing what she had to do. Her fingers trembled as she unraveled the parchment, only to be surprised at the surprisingly neat handwriting in an odd template. The dark pre-written ink seemed to shimmer with an odd hue in the moonlight, leaving her shocked at how thorough it was. Everything from the trail date, potion number, area of injury, eye dilation and effects, to current moon phase. And then her gut sank as she read more of the template. Blood concentration, effects on muscles, bodily changes, and of course, a little cursive note that read ‘please be thorough in your observations.’

Her eyebrows furrowed at the implication of how thorough she would have to be. She had skinned and butchered dozens of animals before, this coyote wouldn't be too difficult. Difficult for her hands anyway. How difficult this would be on her stomach and psyche was a different story. 

She shakily wrote every single detail as much as it haunted her memory to recount on paper, until she finally got to the final area of testing. The autopsy. After a long while of paralyzation at the fact she did this unnatural act to this animal, the hunter swallowed her gut. If this was the only way to clear her debt, the sooner she does it the better. Ellie gripped the arrow and tugged it out, shocked at how easily it came out of such a deep spot in the coyote’s muscle. And then it hit her. Despite how deep the arrow sunk into the animal, there was no blood on the arrow. It smelled of salted driftwood and root rot, and before Ellie could even form a thought of doubt, she quickly cut it open. 

And then another realization hit her. Where there should be stiff muscle and organs, her hand on the fur squished in far beyond any muscle structure. With a lip quiver she pulled the knife down the coyote’s sternum, only to jump back in horror at the sight of seaweed spilling out like a massive caged snake. She yelped in shock, covering her nose at the smell of marrow and saltwater. Her horrified heart thumped in her ears at such an unnatural sight, wanting to get this process out of the way and jotting down her observations. With another curious poke more seaweed spilled out of the cut, causing an eruption of sickness and goosebumps through Ellie’s system that the coyote’s once muscle and blood-filled body was stuffed full of seaweed, bones just barely holding up structure in its cavernous body. 

Her heart continued to race as she quickly dug and buried the animal, not stopping until the goosebumps froze off her body. 

With a shuttering breath she quickly wrote down the last of the observations, being as through and scientific as she could through her panic as dread soaked the pages. With one last observation of how the coyote body seemed to naturally sink in the moist dirt, Ellie set the paper. She once again backed herself against the large rock, looking up to the cloudless sky and cradled herself.

She endlessly muttered prayers toward the stars for forgiveness, her own voice quivering in her head.

“What have I done…”

When Ellie finally steadied herself, she turned back to the box to close it, only to find the large parchment had vanished. She cussed to herself in panic as she looked around to see if it had blown away, only to find a smaller parchment tucked in the box where the cursed vial once was.

With heavy scepticism she held up parchment and read the neat, ink blotted cursive,

‘I do thank you for your thoroughness in writing, I await your next test results. If you do good enough when your debt is cleared I may just invite you over for some nightshade wine! Signed, Magnolia’

Ellie didnt know what to feel, but she had just enough energy in her legs to walk back into town and sneak back home. Her mind lingered on just how surprisingly thorough the witch was with her macabre methods. She was left shaken, trying to sort through her own storm of emotions. Ellie started listing them out one by one with each turn back home.

Dread for certain; still lingering in the lining of her stomach. Gratitude, thankfulness that the witch was appreciative instead of murdering her, but with a  certain sinking that this was just the tip of clearing her debt. Shock and awe; that a woman like this witch could concoct something that made the hunter question her morality and fate, but still hold up her promise that Ellie’s dream potion still worked. Cold; one that passed through her coat as Ellie snuck back home in the dead of night, and one that would only grow worse as the season would go on.

And finally, one last emotion Ellie couldn't quite describe. One that filled her with an odd sense of… longing. Not a longing for the witch, though she would be more than open to spilling her blood if given the chance. Instead, a longing for understanding. Understanding of just what was happening to her and why she felt like this. Understanding of why she hasn't brought herself to burn the forest or kill the witches she now knows of. To know what Magnolia meant in her written note of gratitude that disappeared long ago from Ellie’s pocket. To know what the witch or her coven had planned. What that odd noise was as she perked up from her bed.

What she would do if she felt the witch’s presence again.

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

The ambient grey of wind and wood creaking only stirred horses forward through dampened forest floor. Low growling of wind through the pines and bugs only stirred the hunters forward. The group’s eyes remained focused on anything besides the mile-high columns of trees that would silhouette through the opaque air. Damp minerals from last night's rainfall peeked through the dulled scent of forest fog. Horse tacks kept lowly clinking against the metal bits and grunts. The sound of hunting dog paws and light panting kept them just enough at ease. Collective breaths turned blizzard white as the hunter’s horses trekked forward despite the distant sound of crunching leaves. 

The way the fog rolled over the woods barely deterred the hunters anymore. Routine slaughter as always. Horse hooves kept walking along, rifle muskets already cocked and ready as the group continued on their patrol. Ellie kept her posture high and triple checked her gun, raising her shoulders to the gruff men on their stallions. She looked at Tommy, her brows furrowing in concern at his quieted voice as the other men continued their hunting talk close behind.

The ride had stayed relatively quiet as she looked at Tommy again, clearing her throat, and hesitant to say anything out loud. But the aged man looked at his niece.

“Im fine, Ellie.”

His tone hadn't fully convinced her despite the sharp response. She returned his still and gruff look, keeping her eyes keen as she looked in between the dense forest.

A hearty snort from Jesse’s stallion made Ellie look back, finding his expression surprisingly soft for being around the older men. She returned with a half-hearted smile before returning her eyes to the treeline, glancing down to one of the dogs as it keenly sniffed the air.

Jesse straightened up and cleared his throat before looking to the leading man.

“Everything normal, Tommy?...I can take up the front if you’re unfocused.”

Seth piped up at the younger man, clearing his throat in slight disapproval and checking his rifle, yet following Jesse’s horse.

“We’re fine. Just stay focused.”

Jesse kept his mouth shut but his chest high, looking down at the dogs and playfully lowly whistling to the foxhounds below.

“Im focused, kid. But…I do appreciate the initiative.”

Tommy let out a gruff breath through his nose.

“I’m fit to lead today. Just… The people, they’re are getting antsy. And I didn't want to tell them that were down a man in the hunting party.”

Ellie could tell there was more beneath the coat and posture as he continued to lead his horse forward, but she dared not speak up. She simply hoisted her gun over her shoulder and kept her bow close, fiddling with a few arrow feathers before Tommy spoke up again.

“Just keep your eyes open. For game, for women, … for anything. You see something, you stop your horse.”

The group followed along to his word, Seth making sure to cock his rifle as he clicked his horse forward. Ellie simply held her breath and let him ride forward as they kept their voices low and eyes keened. She could sense her name was muttered in Seth’s mouth to himself, but she didn't bother anymore. His silence to her had been stale. They slaughtered probably hundreds of animals at this point, so why enjoy small talk?  Especially if getting closer means more pain when something bad happens. The risk was well-known, but they were doing something good. Keeping the town fed and warm, but also keeping an open eye for what could lurk just past the murky air. 

Ellie’s ears perked to the sound of leaves softly crunching in the near distance. Her spine snapped up at the sound of the forest floor softly brushing. One foot, then two… relief flooding her system at another set of feet within the creaking. Four legs. Just wildlife. Soft enough to be safe to kill, and just within range. 

Without a beat she stopped Shimmer, firing her arrow at a grey-orange spot in between bushes and spooking the other horses when the animal let out a barking yelp. The hunting hounds barked in the direction of her shot as Ellie already led Shimmer shortly off-trail. Relief and pleasant surprise filled her at the speckled fox pinned by the arrow, continuing to yowl and yelp in high-pitched fear. Like routine she killed the animal with her hunting knife, stashing her blade hidden to hide the absent blessed dagger. 

When Ellie came back to the group she was met with pleasantly surprised faces and the dogs eagerly sniffing her fresh kill, and yet the older men’s expressions remained veiled beneath small smiles.

“Another clean shot, Williams,” Jesse congratulated her.

She bagged the fox and withdrew her arrow, flicking off the blood on the ground as the dogs eagerly sniffed with their heavy noses. And with that, the older men clicked their horses forward to continue their gruff conversation.

Jesse stayed quiet, following the older men and comforting his horse from the spook before he backed his stallion up beside Ellie. 

“Someone’s gotta keep you wrangled,” He playfully joked.

Ellie quietly scoffed in return as they rode with the party further into the forest.

“Im just more used to arrows, and id prefer to not scare away all my targets within a mile.”

Jesse smirked back in acknowledgement, skill flicking his eyes to her rifle as his expression got slightly more serious. She let out a hollow breath in return, full of chilled smoke.  

The dogs continued to sniff until the sound of canine growling stopped the horses. Seth’s stallion stood cold as he pulled out his rifle, scanning for something between the near-distant trees. The foggy wind continued to slowly rasp as the group waited for his fire. Seth’s breathing battled between dead-still and sharply firm as they watched him eventually lower his rifle. He didn't have to say anything to the group. That is, if he wanted to keep his job. Ellie could tell he couldn't admit failure by losing sight of something between the trees when Tommy demanded so much. 

The group continued, keeping their chatter quiet and ears open to anything peeking through the surroundings. Bug and bird chirping, wood creaking, the distant wind howl and the omnipresent deepness of the woods. Painfully, nothing out of the ordinary. Ellie’s eyes couldn't help but linger above as pine branches loosely cocconed the hunters. 

Jesse continued his quiet chatter to Ellie about things she could only passively tune into. She was still thankful for his company despite his hushed talk of his disturbed dreams of birds with human eyes. The sound of a distant bird caw took Ellie off guard before Jesse stopped his horse and hushed the growling hounds. He silently signaled to the group about something on a northeast hill, as they all pulled their guns at the sight of a small flock of wild turkeys. Jesse didn't have time to process a compliment Seth had said before he swiftly shot just past one of the birds, quickly firing two more bullets until the third finally hit the fleeing bird. 

The gunshot ricocheted like a wildfire spark. Seth and Tommy whistled for the dogs as they wildly darted for the fleeing flock. The sounds of frantic barking and gobbling echoed through foggy kicked-up leaves.

Tommy whistled for the dogs and after a minute as two happy foxhounds rushed back to their hunters with fresh kills and wagging tails. One of them very proudly held a second slain turkey dragged in its jaw as it padded along to the hunters horses, all while Jesse playfully fought with the dog over the bird. 

“Fowler, no! I said drop it, you crazy mutt!,” He laughed at the persistent dog, “Bless it, Fowler! Your brother is a good dog, let go! Drop it!”  

Ellie chuckled at the dog wagging its tail while tugging at the limp, plumed bird. She tied the retrieved turkey to Jesse’s horse, tossing some spare jerky to the hound as it assumed position back at the front of the party. 

“Hope you're happy with just the two, we probably scared off everything within ten miles,” Ellie playfully jabbed to Jesse as they caught up with the hunting group’s stallions.

“Think Dina will finally let me off the hook?”

“I think her father will be more than pleased, quite the breadwinner.”

Jesse chuckled quietly and averted his gaze, riding up to talk to Seth and Tommy.

Ellie could sense the unreadable expressions from Tommy and Seth in front, but she dare not speak up despite already cringing at their thoughts about the friendship. She knew they would disapprove of their casual banter if not for their hunting skills. Ellie and Jesse both secretly grimaced to each other at the thought of how the older men wished there were more official things between them.

The memories couldn't help but resurface in the cold. Hours and days dreading along like the hoofbeats. That night where Ellie came back tired from the courtroom as Jesse begrudgingly offered a legal deal despite his true hearts desire. A sparrow flying overhead and the second bird freely leaving the nest felt like a dagger dragging up her side. The memory of her refusal and the even longer courtroom sessions still left singe marks on her ribcage.

Hours, weeks and days of bible recitings through will and testament interpretations left an odd sense of conclusion, but silenced sentiments. An eighteenth birthday candle blown out in an empty home she could finally call her own, but looks beyond the moonlit fence left only graveside flowers as congratulations. 

Jesse continued, “We should probably start branching into the fog to map it, given that they seem to be avoiding the routes freshly taken—”

“Eyes up.” 

Tommy’s firmness seemed to shake the trees in its echo. Hunters and horses froze. Everyone immediately turned their attention, firming their guns and keeping their ears open to the wind as it lowly brushed. Ellie’s eyes immediately darted everywhere, scanning the grey void of fog for anything shrouded within the looming branches. 

Ears were immediately perked to any and all sound. The fog quietly rustling leaves and bushes. Distant bird echoes that broke through the wind as fast as it blended in with it. The hunter’s own heartbeats in their ears. Horse breaths that seemed only to mend to the clouding air. Low buzzing of bugs only adding to the feeling of something crawling beneath their skin. Tommy’s voice that finally spoke up with gruff hatred as he led his stallion off the trail. 

“Three-O’clock, behind that freakish pine.”

The hunters followed along as Ellie finally saw it, just barely peeking behind the looming column of the tree. An oddly curved branch handing oddly low. Nothing in nature was that perfectly circular. Jesse let out a breath in slight disbelief at the sight as his horse finally came around.

“There’s no way…”

“Yes there is.” Tommy simmered.

And there Ellie saw it. The bundled branches and twigs still reeked of honey and odd musk. Those branches still bent and bound as if the very tree that grew them was deeply cursed. Nestled within the wreath stuck thin, ivory-white bones with a spinal fluid of herbal honey. The bent triangles and lines into the circular-bundled wreath wrapped in odd lengths of worn twine and bells. The hunters had no idea how the heathens even obtained the bells, but the sight of how quickly the wreath was back up rattled the hunters like a serpent’s stare.

“...We just removed it yesterday, we blessed it, they cant touch it…” Jesse masked his unease.

“It shouldn't be up.” Seth grumbled in annoyance to mask his shock.

“That means they can’t be far.” 

Tommy dismounted and didn't give the stallion a second thought as he zeroed in on the odd shrine, leaving Ellie to quickly hold the reins for him. Seth once again cocked his rifle as he and Jesse followed suit and got off their horses and left them to Ellie. They stood entranced and horrified at the macabre shrine still hanging proud.

The bells rawly clinked in the breeze as the hunting dogs stayed locked, tails between their legs as they sniffed the odd odor. They continued to stay close in alert stance the more Tommy’s eyes singed the boned branches. The longer Tommy clenched the wreath the more he couldn't help his fingers from curling tighter, muttering a prayer. 

“Danmed wenches think they can hold any power.” Seth barked a humorless laugh.

“They wont curse these woods any longer. They have a right to be conquered.”

And with that statement, Tommy snapped the wreath against his knee. Small shards of bone flew onto the forest floor. A cacophony of crackles snapped like a dozen gunshots. The wind stood still. Woven bells weakly clinked before falling onto the ground. Fogged breaths slowly calmed.

Until the wind howled like a ghoulish scream. 

The hounds couldn't hold back their barking as they wildly looked around and arched their backs. Horses immediately panicked as Ellie just barely managed to keep a hold of three of the horses. The men withdrew their guns as the trees continued to shriek. Tommy dropped the broken wreath as the honey stench grew dull, long lost to the scent of fog and gunpowder ready to fire. The whinnies of the stallions grew near out of control as the dogs refused to leave the hunters sides. Jesse quickly grabbed some reins from Ellie as they tried to calm the horses. Tommy and Seth continued to keep their eyes down the rifle ends. The dogs barked wildly but focused between two trees and before anyone knew it, the shrieking wind stilled at the deafening boom of two bloody gunshots. 

A hare left scrambling away from the hunters fright was now blown apart and barely recognizable beyond its long, torn ears and stretched hind tendons just barely clinging from the blast. Damage far beyond salvaging meat or fur, but Seth couldn't have looked more proud of himself. Tommy brushed his hands off of the cursed wind and splattered some holy water on his gloves, before giving a gruff look to Ellie. 

“You could have had that shot. And made it a cleaner one.”

Ellie saddled herself back on Shimmer and averted her eyes, but her stubbornness couldn't help but bark back.

“I was focused on the horses, you had the guns—”

“I don't give a damn if you're more used to arrows Ellie!” 

Tommy’s gruffness was like rough wool barbs to his niece as he corrected himself to not spook the horses. 

“One of these days something serious is gonna peek behind those trees and you’ll need something that will actually pack a punch,” He continued and reloaded his gun.

“And you wont have time to hesitate. So learn to take the shot.”

Tommy clicked his stallion back on trail as the others followed, leaving Ellie no time to linger behind. 

The chill on the back of her neck dulled like a low migraine. Yet treeline began to grow greyer the longer the horse hooves and hounds walked along. Ellie tried to continue her conversation with Jesse, but they both kept their talk quiet the longer they rode into the forest. It was never fully safe to talk, no matter if the opaque wind or the men in front of them decided to listen in. Kills continued to quietly drip in the game bags. Hounds continued to sniff. Foggy breaths continued to grow whiter as Ellie pulled her coat.

Hollow breaths filled their lungs as Ellie continued to scan the trail treelines as far as the fog would let her. Knotted pines and looming branches continued to only harbor bug calls. Though she tried to keep her ears open, barely any worthy game wandered by. She dare not bring up the thought of if the animals could have somehow gotten smarter and avoided their trail. 

They would come up with something more. Hopefully what they were really looking for. Her mind still lingered on what Seth could have possibly seen back there, but she dared not ask him. He continued his hushed conversation with Tommy until the dogs lowly growled.

Jesse contemplated hushing Fowler until his eyes fell upon what finally emerged between the treeline. What animal finally looked below as it stopped and locked eyes on the hounds. What animal stood firmer in protecting its two snorting, spotted young. Large as a mastiff and thick as a wine barrel. Tusks like rough ivory butcher knives as it gruffly snorted an opaque huff through its absurdly thick nose. Fur like ink-soaked leather and as rough as hay and barbed wire. 

Memories crashed into Ellie and Tommy like a lightning-struck wildfire at the mere size of the boar. Tommy’s gloved hands trembled as he gripped the reins tighter. Ellie knew she was going to be in for a night of his drinking after this. Just as she could aim her rifle Tommy already shot one of the piglets in aim of the large boar’s leg. Agonized squealing shattered the silence. The mother boar immediately charged toward the wildly barking hunting dogs as Ellie’s bullets just barely missed the wild hog.

The boar ragefully squealed in its charge, knocking the dog back in a pained yip before more gunshots tried to breach through the wiry fur. The boar shrieked to its young as the hunting dog darted for it, and before anyone knew it, Tommy yelled to chase the animal as it darted through the trees. 

The hunters became winded at the speed of the chase. Breaths huffed through noses as fierce and fast as avalanches. Hooves and rifleshots on the crashed on forest floor like a rockslide. Ellie steered Shimmer the best she could while holding the rife, only to slot it back into place as she cracked Shimmer’s reins faster. Trees grew thicker and more misplaced as the boar continued to sprint into the trees. Squeals blended into screams that only taunted the hunters, and Tommy’s expression grew grimmer. 

The horses just barely kept up speed as the ground grew uneven, the wild barking of the uninjured hound as focused as it was ferocious. Quickened heartbeats thundered in their necks as their eyes just barely stayed focused on the running boar. 

Tommy wouldn't give this game up. It was too big. It would feed so many people. It would give a high price. But more than anything, hearing those squeals drown in its own blood would maybe put his mind to rest.  Ellie’s senses already grew cold from the speed and the focus it took to keep up the chase. Yet the stallions sped faster. They were too far in. They had to kill it. Ellie had to stop its squeals the more she heard pained human screams through the whiplash. It sounded too much like him. Sounded too much like that night.

Shimmer kept up speed but Ellie's mind couldn't help the flashing memories. Ellie kept cracking Shimmer’s reins the more the group chased the hog into the forest. The sight of the treeline growing more hidden dragged an iron ball in her stomach, but the sight of scattered boar blood gave her motivation to keep going. 

Finally this thing would bleed. The darkness of her mind couldn't help but ponder if this was the same boar from that terrible hunting night. Lord have mercy if that boar had babies. But it had been so many years. So very many times had Tommy drunkenly rambled about how that boar wasn't normal. And many times had she failed to not give into his belief. 

It was strong enough to break Joel’s stallion’s legs, and just as pained groans broke the forest, gunshot booms, gruesome squeals, and a ripping stab bled into the night. Joel’s screams bled into the boar’s agonized squeals. They could barely tell if the blood on his gut was from the tusk stab or the blasting gunshot to the boar before it ran off into the night. 

They had gone into the forest to retrieve a lost farm pig. Instead they found a monster that gutted and infected their family.

“That damned boar wasn't normal.”

Ellie hadn’t fully registered the depth of their chase until a low tree branch hit her leg. How such a stocky animal could still charge that fast and for that long she didn't bother to ask. How the dogs and horses were so lazer-focused on the boar ahead she didn't know, she could barely see ten feet in front of her at this deep in the woods. 

The chase kept getting faster. The wind kept lashing Ellie's eardrums. The space between the trees grew thinner. Ellie could just barley keep up with the stallions. She had no idea how long this chase could go before they finally killed the damned swine. All she could do was try to keep up as the boar wildly darted in different directions. 

Until she heard it. Hooves blindly sprinting over a mass of thick weaving of tree roots. A dull snap threw Ellie off of Shimmer, the mare whinnying in pain as they slid down the forest hill. Ellie struggled to catch her breath at the pain from being thrown, only to be immediately fearful of Shimmer’s pained grunts on the ground, withdrawing her front hoof as soon as it touched ground.

“Shimmer. H-Hey, hey girl its gonna be okay, we’ll get you back, we’ll get us back…” 

Ellie couldn't help but wince at the lower leg already starting to swell. Her brows furrowed to see her mare in such pain, settling from the adrenaline-fueled chase as she tried to calm her down. Shaking hands brushed along chesnut fur as Shimmer looked back, Ellie’s heartbeat slowing a little from the initial shock but slowly picking up in realization. 

She was far from the beaten path.

So very far. 

As much as she tried to soothe Shimmer through her pain as the mare attempted to get up from her injury, Ellie could barely hold back the dread in her trembling throat.

“Settle Shimmer, settle girl… Its okay, We’ll get you back on your feet, we’ll find the group, we’ll get help, we will.”

The visible light grey autumn fog barely did anything to calm her senses, collecting what she could from the fall. Her kill bag lost, but her rifle still in sight. Smell of pine and low ominous echoes from the vast land stilled her senses. For once she wished her hearing was still as her grip, before that, too started shaking. Ellie leaned against her mare and bit her lip, hoping the physical thorn would distract from her heartbeat. 

The branches, despite their stillness, seemed to somehow cage her in and make her feel too free. Her ears desperately tried to keen in on other horse hooves,  branch snapping, anything. Anything to prove she wasn't out here alone. Anything for support beside the stocky fur of her fallen mare pressed against her back. 

The fog was so very thick and so very unforgiving to her hollow eyesight.

Ellie debated a dozen things as her breathing struggled to stabilize. Does she get up from her feet? Her trembling knees would betray her. How she hated her own nerves. Does she call for help? When you're this far in the woods who knows what or who else could hear her cries. 

Does she go for the gun? Tommy’s voice resonated in her skull as she locked the bullet chamber into place and locked her instincts along the aimed rifle, listing her senses as she reclaimed them.

The opaque breathing of Shimmer as she just barely managed to lay up. Tommy’s advice continued to echo like it did so many years ago. ‘You have to protect your own.’ A whistle of wind. Her own heart pounding in her skull and down into her fingers. Tommy’s voice echoing in her mind like a call of mercy. 

A slight frozen breeze pricking at her nape. And yet, what felt like minutes or hours to her rising heartbeat, did his advice finally resonate. ‘Take the shot.’ The feeling of Shimmer’s lame body pressing against her back. Gunmetal locking into place. ‘Take the shot.’ Her own fingers pressing hard to stop her trembling. Her sage green eyes darting between any visible patch between the trees. The scent of her own frozen sweat and animal fur. ‘If anything serious comes, don't hesitate to take the shot.’ The sandy trickle of gunpowder hastily poured down the barrel. Branches above somehow elongating her loneliness and caging her in. ‘Take the shot.’ Joel’s words in her memory echoing not in boar screams, but in advice. The quiet gratitude that she could at least see through her light grey haze from the daylight. ‘Steady your breath.’ The former heaviness of the rifle now iron still.

Shimmer trying desperately to get up only to whinny loudly in pain on the swollen ankle. The words demanding in her head. Ellie's heart stilled in her ears as her grip firmed. ‘Take the shot.’ The faintest echo of chatter and giggles. The unfamiliarity of the words in the wind. ‘Take the shot.’ Mental preparation of the recoil and her grip somehow tightening more. The whiplash even her vision received from darting her eyes. ‘Lean into the stock because its gonna kick back.’ The recognition of multiple feminine voices in the wind. ‘As soon as you fire, get another round in there quick.’  Her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Her sage eyes glass-sharp.

‘Its either it or you, so–’ Her aim stabilizing just enough between rapid heartbeats, ‘Make every shot count.’

The realization of just how lost she was.

“One of these days something serious is gonna peek behind those trees…’ Her eyes locked between the pines. 

‘You’ll need something that will actually pack a punch.” Her fear possessed the pulse of her bloodstream.

The echoes in her eardrums droned in her ears. Paranoia of Shimmer’s eyes shaking desperately. The purposeful trembling breath behind the barrel of the gun. 

“And you wont have time to hesitate.’

Ellie's neck snapped to the side at forest leaves crunching and voices close by a thicket of trees. ‘So learn to–’ 

Her rifle locked on a trio of young girls ambly walking through the trees.

‘Take the shot.’

Their eyes turned fearful as they noticed Ellie’s gunmetal aimed between their eyes. Her own eyes blew wide at the innocent sight. Of course they would set a trap like this. Her finger shifted onto the trigger.

Something darted in front of the three girls as everybody’s breathing stilled. A mass of pale blonde hair draped over a cloak as dark eyes met the hunters’. Ellie's trigger finger stayed firm between Magnolia’s eyes. Corseted breathing stayed protectively fierce as she shielded the witchlets with her cloak. At the mere metal click of Ellie's finger stabilizing on the trigger, Magnolia stared down the barrel with a ferociously trembling gaze and melted the length of the rifle with a piercing ring.

Ellie threw the gun at the residual heat and grabbed her hunting knife, fingers shaking as Magnolia’s stance and gaze quivered. As the hunter firmed up, the young girls gripped tighter onto the witch’s side as she snarled herself back to focus.

“What are you doing here?” 

Ellie leaned protectively against Shimmer as she masked her fear with a mirrored snarl.

“Ametuer trap, witch.”

“I assure you this is a much bigger trap for us than it is for you.”

Either of them were bound to strike from their protective stances like to risen cobras. Yet the forest stood still for minutes. Breathing slowly stabilized from the lack of action as both witch and hunter threatened, but neither drew their power. One of the young twins tugged at the witch’s dress, causing Magnolia to rise up in protectiveness but glance toward the witchlet. 

“Don’t you say we should communicate our issues, sister Nola?” 

Magnolia hesitated as her choppy hair fluffed a grumbling bear. The other twin with mirrored birthmarks spoke up at Shimmer’s injured leg, fear in her voice eclipsed by hesitant curiosity.

“Is your unicorn okay? It’s got so much mud on it…”

The absurdity of the statement took Ellie thoroughly off guard as she looked back to Shimmer laying beside her, chesnut fur twitching from the forest chill. The separate identical girl tugged on the witch’s skirt again.

“Can unicorns come in brown? I thought they were white as peacelit moons with scales like infinite treasure”

“I didn't know they could lose their horns? Unless it’s really hurt.” The witchlet Ellie recognized as Kassie furrowed her brows in concern even as Magnolia’s voice protectively but gently firmed. 

“Girls, its not a unicorn… It’s just a regular horse.” 

Magnolia still kept stance, but couldn't help but loosen a little at the innocent question as well. The girls seemed to look at Shimmer with a wary curiosity, as if they had never seen such a common animal. But their gazes grew concerned at the lameness of the mare’s ankle, and how it hasn't gotten up. 

“What are you doing out this far? The hunters don't go this far out here.”

“Please, as if you didn’t send that boar out after us.” 

The hunter rolled her growl but kept her eyes firmly locked. Magnolia’s brows quirked, but Ellie’s hand stabilized on her blade. 

“You think I’m stupid? I know what you did.”

The young girls behind the witch grew frightened, the twin who asked about communication staring back like a kicked puppy. Those innocent eyes. The trap had finally broken her. Ellie slightly lowered her knife, still keeping an iron-tight grip. She couldn’t believe she was explaining herself to such a heretic as if they weren't the ones to ambush her. Damn the daughters of that witching whore.

“We were hunting, you obviously got upset that we snapped your freakish shrine and you sent the boar after us. We chased it, you snapped my horse’s leg, and now we’re here. Don’t know why you haven’t killed me yet, maybe that’s part of your heathen mind games, but I won’t—“

Ellie stopped her rambling at the mere confusion on the witches’ faces. The twin girls looked at each other like she sprouted a second mouth, looking up to their pale blonde sister for any kind of sense as she silently processed the hunter’s words. Magnolia's eyes fell upon Shimmer’s odd angled hoof as the mare let out a whinny in pain, sinking heavy into contemplation. Ellie reluctantly lowered her knife at just how oddly caught off-guard these women were.

The pale witch was snapped out of her thoughts by a small tug on her sleeve, as Kassie spoke up.

“Sister Nola, We have the white—”

“I won’t let you kill her,” Ellie snarled at the witches, firming her knife.

The young girls looked heartbroken at Ellie’s tone as they held their small baskets and looked at the injured mare still heavily breathing and still huffing in pain. Magnolia sharpened, looking back to the girls with a deadly seriousness. 

“Sisters. You remember that emergency spell I taught you and where to go.”

The young girls immediately nodded, flexing their hands as Magnolia held a comforting, protective arm over them.

“But sister Nola, The horse looks really hurt… we can’t leave it in pain.” The girl’s eyes looked to Shimmer in sadness at seeing such a mighty creature in so much unnecessary pain, pleading to the pale witch. Magnolia let out a reluctant huff.

“We have something that can help your horse. But two things… first is that you trust us. We have no use in hurting your horse, we just wish you out of this forest and to leave whatever way you came in.”

Ellie could barely believe the witch was even speaking propositions, but she wasn’t in a position to refuse with how lost she was, and how her heart raced in dread of the fog beyond. 

“Second…is that the girls get to watch.” 

Ellie’s eyebrows knit in confusion and Kassie couldn’t help but speak up as she held onto her smaller wicker basket.

“Sister Nola took us foraging for helpful herbs and we heard an animal in distress. We have something that can help you unic–...your horse.”

The word sounded foreign to the young girl.

“Can we help?” 

Shimmer pitifully whinnied as she nudged her head into Ellie’s arm, her leg still retreating every time the odd-angled ankle brushed against the ground. With a huff that never fully let go, Ellie slotted her hunting knife back into place. 

“Fine. Just…please… don’t hurt her.”

The young girls seemed hopeful but wary, looking up to their sister who let them walk forward with a darkened, aware look to Ellie's knife. One of the twins held onto the other as the braver one kneeled before Shimmer’s head, with an oddly regal bow and a breath to keep up her brave facade.

“Mighty animal of peace, you lay in pain, but were here to help. I’m Iris Wayward, and these are my sisters Agnes, Kassandra, and Magnolia Wayward. If you’d let us, we would be more than willing to find your lost horn–”

Magnolia softly chuckled and smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder as she searched through the wicker basket.

“Iris, It’s just a horse, it can’t read your soul.”

Iris blushed in embarrassment as she leaned into the pale witch’s comforting hand, her sisters giggling as Agnes piped up to Ellie. 

“Well no wonder it seemed dirty! Is your horse naturally brown? What about the white mark on its forehead?”

Ellie couldn't help her absurd expression, but it gradually loosened at the witchlet’s curiosity.

“Shimmer had that natural pattern, she got that white mark from her dad, but he had more dark spots.”

“Did it grow black mold?” The other twin questioned.

Ellie couldn't help a chuckle. “No, he was naturally dark brown-spotted. Seen horses of all colors, but i’ve ever seen a pure white horse though, besides in fairytales.

The girls immediately lit up at the thought that horses could come in all different colors, looking at Shimmer with anxiety now eclipsed by wonder, eager to help but still keeping themselves at a small distance as if Shimmer would somehow be dangerous. Ellie couldn't help but grow a soft smile at such pure young wonder, almost baffled at the thought that these children may have never seen a horse, but secretly thankful they seemed so eager to help. 

“Okay girls, you wanted to help, now I have some review questions about what we learned today. How about we put your knowledge to a little test?”

The witchlets immediately nodded, Ellie surprised to see two of the girls with crudely-made parchments and learning, yet legible handwriting.

Magnolia’s voice seemed to calm Shimmer, gently shushing her. The youngest girls seemed to follow along, still a bit wary, but also calming their voices and encouraging the mare.

“Please don't worry, we only want to help.”

“I know you cant understand my words, but please calm…”

“We can only help if you're calm…”

Her twin with the mirrored cheek birthmark breathed deeply, Shimmer hesitant but subconsciously following along as she felt Ellie’s hand on her side. 

“Okay girls, first question. Stressed animals wont eat, so how else can we help calm them?”

“Improve the environment?”

“Make them focus on something else? Something other than the pain?” Kassie chimed up, still making sure to keep her voice soft.

“We can definitely do that. Especially with some of the things we collected,” Magnolia encouraged, holding open the basket for the girls. “Now, what do we remember off the top of our heads?”

The girls contemplated as they looked into the basket, before answering with a surprising amount of retention.

“First, be considerate and thankful about what you take.” 

“Salmon don't eat salmonberries.”

“Lichen will make help body as strong as the rock it grows on.”

“Mudpearls help with grounding the mind? No…thats only if you ask the otters.”

Her twin spoke up with an exited giggle, “But you can bribe them with riverfish!”

The pale witch couldn't help but smile along at her sisters’ giggles. 

“Think more…fundemental. Basics.”

“Lavender helps calm!” Agnes piped up before quieting in consideration. 

“It does. Now how about we try coating it in the elixir we made to reduce the upcoming discomfort?”

The witchlets eagerly nodded, wanting to help the mare in any way possible as Magnolia crushed the lavender in her hand, letting Shimmer smell the elixir-drizzled petals as her breathing immediately calmed and deepened. 

Ellie watched with awe and caution as Shimmer leaned her head toward Magnolia’s hand. The witch gave the soaked petals to Agnes, gently encouraging her, Ellies eyes widening at shimmer fully calming down. She grew anxious at Magnolia moving closer to examine the crooked hoof, only to be shocked at how freely Shimmer let her touch the injury. 

Ellie still kept a hand on Shimmer as Magnolia spoke up to the girls.

“She’s fully calmed down now, but now let’s see what were working with. Its important to tell what kind of injury so we know exactly how to treat it.”

The girls paid attention with absolute devotion, Ellie surprised to see their odd education become practical like this. 

“Now what were the things we noticed and the things we didn't see?”

“No blood, a-and no bones.”

“The weird way its pointing, and its bigger than the other leg!”

“She’s not standing or trying to get up, and kept on twitching when it touched something.”

They seemed to glow with pride at the last observation, extremely happy they were able to help. 

“Now if it was broken, we would see blood and probably a bone. And we can see it’s in proper place.”

After a moment of contemplation, Iris spoke up, almost unsure. “Sprained?”

“Close, but she would still be able to get up a little with a sprain.” Magnolia gently corrected.

“Di– disloct– dislocated?” 

“We should use the willow bark!” Kassie excitedly spoke up, earning a proud smile from the pale witch. 

“Yes we should. You're right, it is likely a dislocation, which means we want to use something strong. Now white willow is mostly for broken bones, and it works very fast in setting things strongly in place and we don't want to overstay our welcome.”

Ellie couldn't help but grow curious at the sight of the witch unraveling a long rolled strip of wood, watching the witch spread another elixir on the injury before wrapping the ankle.

“Okay girls, I’m going to do this part because it is a bit painful, and I don't want you to get hurt, so stand back just incase… Build my bones, mend my medulla, may the white willow make the bones wonder.” 

They immediately followed and before Ellie could protest, a muffled crack shook the fog and a distorted neigh erupted from Shimmer’s throat. Ellie quickly grew horrified as her hand stiffened on the knife, but she was pushed aside by Shimmer immediately shifting to test her now healed leg. 

The girls gasped at the sudden burst before the witch quickly grabbed some twine and secured the willow bark onto the healed injury before tearing some off. 

“Okay, now. She feels the rush of strength, but we’re gonna make sure she stays strong. We’re gonna grind the rest of the willow bark into powder and feed it to her,…” The witch looked back to the hunter, eyes still cautious as she looked to the dagger by Ellie’s hand “If thats okay…to make sure she keeps the leg healed.”

Ellie stayed petrified at the sight of the healed hoof, once thought to be the mare’s death sentence, now like a mere thorn being plucked. Silence passed. Moments so long the witchlets contemplated if Ellie herself needed to smell the lavender to calm down. Weighing her options and the unholy miracle in front of her, she reluctantly nodded, as much as she loathed being helped by a witch. Ellie contemplated just where the rest of her hunting party was and if they were still hunting the boar or even knew she was left behind. A breath shuttered in her throat at the horrifying alternate outcome. The small bodies that would stain the forest floor.

A swish of Shimmer’s tail at her side caused Ellie to be drawn to the present at looks of the witchlets still eager to help. 

“Y-Yeah…go ahead.”

“Does she like blackberries?” One of the twins asked, Ellie still in too much shock to decipher which one. 

Shimmer seemed much happier despite the witchcraft committed on her own body, perking her head at the kneeled girls before her as they held up handfuls of wood-powdered berries. The hunter nodded, still in shock as they hesitantly raised their hands to the large mare. Agnes’ lip quivered before she giggled as Shimmer ate right out of her hand.

“Her nose feels funny!” 

The other girls giggled as they felt the softness of Shimmer’s snout, their looks morphing into awe and wonder at the gentle giant eating out of their hands. They became delighted as they saw the way the mare flopped its lips around the berries, one of the twins squealing and giggling at Shimmer licking her berry-stained hand. Kassie looked back in hope to her older sister, then to Ellie.

“Can we pet her?”

And that finally put Ellie at ease. These witches were still young girls at the end of the day. Girls who had no doubt given their soul to the devil, but were still in awe to pet and feed a horse. Girls who still wanted to help an innocent injured animal despite who was the rider. The care this odd woman held for the witchlets like they were her own daughters. Maybe a spark of humanity lit up in those smiles as they ran their fingers across Shimmer’s neck, cooing in wonder at how soft her fur was.

The pale witch’s lips curled up into a smile as she pet the mare with her sisters, feeling the chesnut fur beneath her blackened fingertips. She turned to Ellie as the girls stayed distracted in awe by the mare. 

“Youre gonna want to keep the wood on that leg for thirteen hours”

“Okay.” Ellie didnt want to thank the heathen, but Magnolia more than understood.

“…Now,…” Magnolia inquired, “You sounded sure when you said you found a boar.”

“They don't usually come out this far. We were tracking it for a while before we fell down that hill, it was heading that direction… size of a wine barrel.”

Ellie pointed, faltering at the witch’s genuine interest.

“You didn’t send it?”

The witch shuffled closer to Ellie and lowered her voice in front of the witchlets.

“I’m willing to make another deal… separate from your debt. I’ll help you find the boar, you kill it, and i'll take the parts you don't use.”

Ellie’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Just what do you mean by that? And what will I get in return?” “You’re a game hunter, you probably just want the fur and meat. All I want is the parts you don't use. Like the eyes.”

Before Ellie could protest, Magnolia continued.

“Ill help you heighten your senses. And to sweeten the deal, you don't damage any parts I want and give you a potion of any kind for it.”

That last statement took Ellie off guard. She should refuse. She should murder this witch in front of her, especially at this close a distance. Especially if she was offering another one of her ungodly potions. Who knew what kind of scar Ellie would get in return, or if she would even make it out without losing her hands. Ellie could practically smell the witch’s insistence, bloodlusting deep beneath that warm spice and floral smoke smell in her wild pale hair. 

“...You here with me, doe?” The witch teased at Ellie’s frozen stance and widened eyes. 

“You could run along home, or you can come back with quite the hunt. Just how many dinners would game like that give your town?...Or, you can ride on back with your hunters and curse yourself at how you never shot us.”

Magnolia’s eyes flicked to Ellie’s tossed rifle, the barrel still melted far beyond use.

Ellie thought for a minute, cursing herself at how she never got her hunting knife blessed. Who knows how easily they could tamper it at this distance. Who knows how long Ellie would damn herself if she made another deal with these living devil-spawn? She muttered a prayer to herself, before giving into the thought of the hunt. Winter was approaching. The respect from killing an animal like that and what it could do, it struck a chord with her. And all this witch wanted was mere scraps, and she could get another potion like that? There was no doubt this witch could help her on a hunt. The last potion she drank had worked and lasted weeks despite as much as she secretly wished it was poison. Her nightmares couldn't keep her down, and now her eyes awake for the prize. 

“Its a deal, under one condition.” Magnolia perked a brow.

“No catches. You come along with me on the hunt. No tricks, no moving out of my sight. I shouldn't, but im trusting you.”

The pale witch smiled and tilted her head to the fog. 

“The hunt is on.”

She kneeled to the girls and cleared her throat.

“Sisters… Im sorry, but something came up, and to be honest its too dangerous for you girls. I want you to be safe, so im placing you with Sister Constance for the night.” 

“But Nola–”

“Just tell Constance it was an important matter of…” The pale witch hesitated, “...neccicary ingredients.”

The witchlets still held hesitance before Magnolia lovingly pecked their foreheads.

“Trust me, I’ll be safe and she’ll understand. She’ll take care of you for the night, and I’ll still send dinner. I trust you girls to find your way home, you're more than capable…Now thank Ellie for the live lesson.”

The young girls thanked Ellie and gave their last pets to Shimmer before holding their hands tightly. Magnolia whispered close to the witchlets.

“Fly together with no one behind. The woods will guide you, keep your hearts set on home. ”

And with a mighty snap and clap of darkened fingertips and smoke, where the girls once were was now three dusty-taupe mourning doves getting used to their wings. Their beady eyes looked back to their sister, now full of trust before they quickly flew into the fog together, disappearing between high dusted branches. In a wordless exchange, Ellie hesitantly let Shimmer walk through the fog, not wanting her to get any more injured. 

All that was left in the forest was the witch, the hunter, and their deal. An exchange set between twitching fingers and chilling fog. Eerily quiet branches and pinetops ushered them forward on their hunt. Ellie reached for her gun, only to wince at the memory of the melting heat in her hands and reach for her arrows instead. The witch and hunter walked for some time. Only the stray sound of stray cold breezes and distant echoing bird calls so far.

Their feet brushed against the forest floor as they kept their ears open. The witch muttered beneath her breath and Ellie instinctively tightened her grip on her bow and arrow, just to come down at the sight of Magnolia braiding her hair and quietly singing an unrecognizable song. Cricket chirps and wind almost flowed into their breaths, becoming opaquer by the minute. Ellie’s eyes strayed back to the witch as they walked in pure silence, noticing a thin smaller braid woven into one of the thick braids on her shoulders. Hair of a different color. Ellie could just barely decipher the color of greyish orange until the witch caught her eyes, leaving their gazes to themselves. 

The air grew crisper with the slowly darkening sky, Ellie too focused on the hunt to let any other thoughts of their situation cloud her vision for a second. And yet, the more she focused, she swore the fog was thinning somehow. Odd. The fog used to do nothing but cloud her vision and flood her with dread. The witch still held her tongue as she kept her eyes and ears open on the treeline. 

“I trust you know where we are.” Ellie finally broke the silence.

“I know how to get us back.” She blankly answered.

“How do I know that?”

“You’re here with me, aren't you?”

Ellie sighed through her nose, still keeping her eyes and ears open. 

“Speaking of deals…since we’ve already set one up.”

Magnolia perked her ears up.

“Ive done some thinking of my own.”

“Have you now?~” The witch teased, keeping her eyes on the treeline. 

“Sick sense of humor, you all have.” Ellie retorted.

“Thinking about the fact you want the boar eyes. And you're willing to side with your enemy for it. Something is up… But I want something in return.”

“You know that you're hunting, too, correct?,” The witch’s brow quirked.“You’re out here with me. I could kill you.”

Ellie coldly retorted, “But you haven't. You're on the hunt too and were far enough out that you could have killed me at any time already. We have the same goal, and something tells me you’re not going to turn back on this deal.”

A faint heat glowed in the witch’s opaque nostril exhale, as she let out a darkly amused chuckle.

“Depends on how well you can actually deliver. But what would you even want from a woman like me?”

“I want information. About just who you are.” 

The witch’s smile dropped within a blink.

“And how do you think you'll get that information back to your hunters? You’ll expose yourself by not killing me first.”

Ellie hated the possible insinuation. Even more so that the witch may be more correct than Ellie would have liked. 

“...I’ll turn up a witch.” Hatred seething through her teeth at the mere word despite keeping her eyes on the distance. 

“Oh I know what I am, and im proud of it. But they can turn their opinions on you in a heartbeat… Not that they're great anyway after what I've heard.” 

Ellie could feel the witch staring straight through her skull. Her words hung still like a bleeding stag in Ellie's mind. Rotting. It would fester in her mind, but for now, she would cut off the spoil as they looked to the darkening treeline. 

The sky turned nearly as dark as the branches that caged them into the forest. And yet here they were. The silence once again overcame them, sage and dark gold eyes once again looking out to the forest for any sign of the wild boar.  Ellie’s mind once again fell into the branch trap. She hadn't seen her hunting party or even heard their horses. Who even knows where they are? Who knows where she herself is in this neverending forest? But if she did see or hear them, just how would she explain herself? Horseless, without her rifle, and her spine pricked at the thought of tommy finding out her blessed knife was long melted. Just what would he have done if the group found the witches by her injured horse, or even after they had healed it? Her lungs trembled at the thought of just how likely the outcome would be if they found out the witch had children, much less ones who were committing witchcraft too. 

“Your daughters–”

“Sisters.” Magnolia corrected without hesitation. 

“You don't look related.” Ellie held her tongue as the pale witch kept her eyes to the woods. 

“Still my sisters. Language, skin, blood… no matter the form, power is power… To some, blood is thicker than water. But stew brings healing in its warmth.”

“...You seemed to trust them to find their way home.”

“They did.”

“How do you know?”

Magnolia kept an unamused scoff under her breath. 

“You come in with blazing saddles and burning knives, and you assume I wouldn't keep my dearest sisters in the safest spots?...Don't try, you will never find them.” 

Ellie still couldn’t help herself from scoffing after thinking over the situation. She was hunting for her town, and now she was contracted under a witch. One she should more than anything be firing the arrow between her dark eyes. Yet, she kept walking forward. Ellie didn’t realize her scowled expression until Magnolia pushed an apathetic sigh through her nose. 

“You Salem folk really can’t help yourselves, can you? 

Ellie was taken aback by the witch’s jaded bold barks.

“I don’t know how you survive in that town, hating everyone you're close to. But I guess you're just a hatchling of that nest…spitting up until you turn stupid.”

Ellie dared to rebuttal as they walked forward, refusing to look to one another.

“So you hate what we stand for–”

“Yes,” The witch simply spoke without hesitation.

“Of course you hate Jesus and the true divine,” The hunter scoffed.

“I didn’t say that. I’m in no position to judge faith.”

Ellie chuckled maliciously under her breath. Of course a heathen like the woman beside her would be a product of a vile, sinful faith.

“I know my words are useless to you. But as much as you force it, we’re not evil.”

An honesty couldn't help but peek through the witch’s words, as much as she knew the hunter wouldn't listen.

“We just want to be guided by hands of our own, and only with another if they’re there to truly guide… And if that makes us evil by your kind’s standards…”

The witch gave the hunter a grimly accepting gaze. One of secrecy and silence, yet so full of an almost omnipotent judgement. Pure defiant acceptance. Despite the silence in the forest, Ellie felt her soul being cautiously warned. Ellie was forced into the thought that the words and unrestrained scowls held real weight to the woman beside her.

The witch dared to break the silence with a confronting acceptance.  

“...We more than understand. You think I’m truly evil.” 

“…I didn’t say that.”

Ellie debated if she wanted to pry or reply further, before deciding to keep her eyes on the treeline. Her brows furrowed as she tried to keep her eyes clear on the darkening forest, before looking back to have shock flash-flood through her body. The woman beside her had extremely unhuman elongated pupils. Magnolia looked back to ellie, briefly weirded out in return before unhooking a vial from her skirt. 

“What are you doing?” Ellie’s grip shifted to her knife.

“I need you to to see.”

“Im not drinking that,” Ellie repulsed.

“You wont. Now close your eyes.”

Just as Ellie's mind raked in confusion, she watched as Magnolia dipped a fingertip into the vial and stopped, reaching her finger up to Ellie's eyelids. The hunter held in a breath as her throat quivered, before the witch spoke up.

“I made a deal where you would hunt for me. Why would I blind you?”

With that, the hunter closed her eyes with a reluctant breath. The witch whispered an indecipherable chant as Ellie felt the witch’s soft fingertips drawing on her eyelids, sweeping her fingers down Ellie’s inner corners and across the shallow sunken circles beneath her long lashes. She struggled to suppress a shiver at the soft gentleness, and when the witch pulled back, Ellie was taken aback at her vision.

Sharper than a thousand needles. The once darkened, fog-soaked forest was now clear and dense with flora as as far as her eyes could see, and further beyond that. Her vision was sharpened to the finest point in its lurid color, her already high sensitivity to sound now far eclipsed by her sensitivity to every creak for miles. She stumbled back at just how much she could process, the foggy midnight now soaked in sunlight. Ellie could sense eyes big and small from the bugs beneath the brush to the birds hidden in the layered branches. But what startled her most of all was how she could finally see the forest clearly. Without an ounce of fog. The glanced around, still trying to get used to her vision and just how much movement she picked up, the one sting stable and looking back being the witch looking back and waiting for her to adjust. 

Ellie quickly stabilized and tightened her grip on her bow, clearing her throat and blinking to get used to the sight as quick as she could. The witch tilted her head, silently asking Ellie if she was ready to continue the hunt. She responded by walking forth, the foggy midnight now an obstacle only in her memory. Her breathing sharpened as Magnolia followed along, the aid in her sight welcomed but overwhelming. She was scanning everywhere, the trees no longer obscured by blindness, but now obscured by each other. She was so hyper aware of everything. Aware of the witch and any twitch she could make, but also between the trees. There was so much to see and that boar could hide between any of the trees. 

Ellie was drawn to the movement of a stream, quickly kneeling down to try and see her own eyes in the water. She could see a glow beneath her eyebrows in the rushing stream, before a sharp tug on the back of her neck pulled her back. 

“Focus.”

Magnolia kept her eyes on the forest, but she couldn't help the amusement in the curve of her lips. She glanced to Ellie’s wary expression as if to say ‘you don't want to know anyway,’ lightly dragging the hunter away from her reflection. 

And then, she finally caught it. Between her own footsteps she could pick up stocky movement between a dense patch of trees, and drew her bow fast enough to even startle the witch. Ellie could recognize that stocky, low build, those hoofsteps, and especially that coarse, grizzled fur anywhere. But what struck her most were those rough-aged ivory daggers of tusks. 

Within an instant the boar’s eyes locked onto her, staying firmly still and almost blindingly glowing from her enhanced vision. Ellie now had one main goal as soon as the boar stopped its hooftracks. To stop its squeals. She held her arrow as firm as steel as the tip pointed between its eyes, but she felt a nerve prick her fingertips at the boar not backing down, but rather pawing at the ground as it let an opaque, smoky grunt out its snout. 

The once foggy air grew thick with tension as the hunter and boar sharpened their glares, Ellie tightening her stance as the boar snorted through its tusks. Ellie’s eyes widened at the display of the creature not backing down, briefly glancing at the witch flexing her fingertips, and feeling shock through her system as the boar charged the second she glanced away.

Ellie’s arrow flew deep into the boar’s hind leg as it squealed in rage, the witch and hunter quickly darting aside as the boar butted between them. Blood dropped down its coarse fur and onto the dried leaves and dewdrops. It just barely seemed to limp as it rose and angrily huffed at the hunters. Ellie quickly drew another arrow at the boar as it got up to charge, but a breath was torn from her throat at the sight of it just managing to dodge and charge right by her. Ellie was just swift enough to sense its movement with her upped reflexes, but was unable to draw another arrow in time to shoot it. 

Another guttural screech caught Ellie’s breath as the boar charged and was knocked on its side by the scything horns of a massive black goat. Magnolia’s beastly form snorted back at the boar before Ellie heard the witch’s voice in her head. The luminated scorching elongated pupils glanced to hers. 

“I wont let you die, but you have to kill it. Remember I need the eyes” Magnolia’s voice called, stepping aside as far away from Ellie's arrowtip as possible.

Ellie didn't have time to argue or fight back as a shrill squeal roared through its tusks. And with that call of enraged anguish, something in Ellie’s mind snapped. She was reminded of just what animal she was facing. Just what kind of animal she was contracted to kill. Just what kind of animal already spilled blood beside its own. The boar grunted at the witch’s goat form, leaving just enough of a distraction for Ellie to slickly align an arrow and shoot the boar in the neck. 

Another shrieking squeal pierced the night that widened Ellie’s eyes in enraged memory. She can do now what she couldn't do ages ago. She could stop those squeals. She could deafen his screams. Pure stubborn instinct took a front hold as Ellie lined up the arrow and nearly pierced through the other side of the boar’s neck, the boar’s own beastly eyes widening and darting directly to Ellie as it erratically stumbled in pained rage. 

But Ellie didn't give the boar a second to recover. She shoved her breath out of her nose and let another arrow fly into the boar’s back, moving in front of the blackened goat and not shifting a glimpse away from the wild swine. The boar stumbled from its footing at the sharp intrusion to its body, crimson slowly dripping through its wirey, grizzled fur and splattering slightly on the arrow feathers. Another two arrows were buried into drenched, wiry fur without hesitation. Gargling gasps escaped the boar’s tusks as it finally fell with a loud thud. And finally, with one more arrow, a last opaque breath was weakly huffed out of its snout. 

A gasp came from the goat as the witch transformed her body back to human, summoning a few candles as they sparked to life, warming the now cold boar fur.

Magnolia held the boar’s face in her blackened hands, pressing her goat forehead to its crimson-speckled fur.

“Such a mighty creature you were… and such beautiful eyes…”

Ellie grimaced and glanced away as a small wet pop caused her to squeal beneath her breath. And yet, the witch looked absolutely wondered as she closed the eye sockets, turning to ellie with her still animalistic head. 

“Turns out you are a hell of a shot~” The witch joyfully giggled.

At Ellie’s unnerved expression the witch chuckled in realization and shook her head back to normal, pale blonde braids falling into her shoulder. She beamed at the boar’s eyeless corpse as the witch haphazardly stuffed the eyes into her pocket, her gaze still marveled as she closed its eye sockets and spoke almost gratefully.

“Your fight is far from vain…you will go to something great, I assure you.” 

The witch kissed its wiry forehead and smelled the stench of its musked blood, her hands holding its head with almost a reverence. Without a second more of hesitation she summoned an impossibly large glass jar from between a skirt layer, petting the corpse and trying to pull the arrows out and looking deeply to the wounds still slowly seeping crimson. The blood seemed to darken a little since the boar passed, but the witch’s joy only grew at the depth of the blood.

Ellie didn't know what to think. Part of her swelled with pride at the kill and how it was so greatly appreciated by the woman. The way her eyes lit up in awe and how she beamed back in joy at the hunter she hated stormed feelings in her. But as Ellie saw the witch trying to take the arrows out of the boar’s stocky body, the hunter kneeled down to her kill. She really killed a boar that big. Ellie raised in pride at the kill as she pulled out her arrows, before glancing back at Magnolia. 

She was dumbfounded and paralyzed by the look in Magnolias eyes as the witch continued to whisper in awe to the corpse. Her blackened fingertips continued to push along the boar’s rough fur, the wounds gushing out more blood into the jar. Her smile grew wider and wider the more the musky liquid seeped out of the wounds, almost hyperaware of every drop despite being on the hunt for the eyes. 

“Pure Ichor like this will be savored, mighty one…so full of rage…”

Ellie's smile dropped the more she saw Magnolia’s grinning eyes widen. Her dark eyes seemed to shimmer with vermillion the more blood seeped out of the boar’s arrow wounds, unable to suppress her wonder. She corked the filled jar and immediately summoned another from beneath her skirt layer.

“So wrathful, so very…very wrathful~” she whispered as she pushed as much blood as she could out of the arrow gouges. 

A shiver sewed into Ellie's spine at just how enamored with the boar’s blood this woman was. Her dark eyes were still radiant and unable to hide her glee, as Magnolia held the boar’s large head in her hands once more. She stared with an eternal gratitude at the empty, sunken sockets even as it started to smell of fresh, musked gore. She whispered an indecipherable song into the boar’s ear, pushing out one last gush of blood into the jar and smiling as some splattered on her cheek.

“We thank you for your fight and your source you will not go to waste.”

Dreadful questions half-formed in Ellie's head as the witch whispered some more indecipherable gratitudes. Her  breathing trembled like a blizzard at the gruesome sight and the wicked woman’s deep appreciation for it. 

But before a proper worded question could escape her tongue, the witch glanced up and cleared her throat, hooking  the large glass jars to her waist as she parked the candles brighter. She giggled as she wiped the spare musked blood off her cheek, getting back to her feet and nodding to Ellie. With a wave of the witch’s fingers the candlelit shadows on the boar started to shift unnaturally, as the witch seemed to pull it along by an invisible rope that darkened streaks the floor, but stayed invisible to the eye. 

Magnolia effortlessly dragged Ellie’s kill through the thickening darkness, gesturing for her to follow

Ellie gestured in protest, “And how do you suppose we drag it? Where are we—”

But just as she gestured forward, Ellie’s jaw shuttered in complete disbelief at the sight of Magnolia’s cottage just before them both. Candlelit windows and herbal smells drew her eyes forth through the thorn brush gate, her eyes widening further in surprise at her mare tied to a nearby tree, resting off her injury.

Magnolia whispered a spell as the boar’s body was dragged in by the growing thorn brushes, making them separate so they could walk through. A genuine smile bloomed on her face as the oozing boar’s blood glisten in the candlelight.

“Well, a deal’s a deal, isn’t it?”

Next Chapter

⛧apologies for the long time in between updates, regardless i still hope you enjoy, stay spooky 🫀🫀

Ellie gazed intently into her reflection, tucking an auburn hair back into place. As much as she cut it short with her hunter’s knife, she always made sure to have just enough to tuck into a neat auburn bun. She wrapped the top with her bonnet, letting fingers slip through the bow, but not letting a single opinion slip through her mind. 

Footsteps on the streets below were accented by church bells that continued to ring despite the greying morning sky. Resonant tolls continued to echo far across town and into the treetops. Warming leaves started to live up to their seasonal namesake, falling and sprinkling themselves on cobblestones and rooftops. The grey morning light led Ellie back to her dresser. But the presence of pale purple lavender stalks in their vase caused her breathing to still. 

Ellie once again felt the mental sting that stretched down to her sternum. Oddly enough, the mark hadn't physically hurt despite the faint red look of raised scarring. The inch-long opposite-facing arrows almost pointed to the spot where conflicting feelings lingered in her ribs. 

Ellie untied the ribbon in her stays to once again observe the small mark left in the center of her chest, her fingers lacing through the strings as her eyes drifted beneath her dresser. To beneath the fur rug. Where the locked box of cursed potions still resided. Ellie could still barely believe what she had done. The immeasurable sins she felt fortunate to pray forgiveness for. Yet, her nightmares had completely vanished. Just as the wench had promised. Ellie’s nights consisted of only a few seconds of pure darkness, only to find herself awake. On the occasion she had incredibly vivid dreams, only to just barely remember them when she woke up. Maybe another day she would find herself in that lagoon again. 

Another church bell echoed through the town, giving Ellie a sickening reminder. She gave her gold to a witch in the woods, who she should have killed ages ago. It’s all she had worked for. She joined a group to murder these wenches. And yet, here she was. Dressed for Sunday church like she hadn't committed a great sin in not only sparing the witches, but cooperating with them. A physical reminder was left in her reflection as she grazed the tiny raised arrows in her skin. 

Painless. And yet, the correlating symbol on the locked box had made it clear why she was marked by the witch. She had a debt to pay, but not today. Sunday was Salem’s day of rest for the lord. Like clockwork, it was the time they would give themselves up to the scripture pages and incense-soaked wood. Despite the daily visits each townsfolk would make per week, it was the time the town all came together. Like clockwork, It was time they hoped and prayed for a better life. It was time they paid honor to the passed. It was the time they would listen to the good word. It was the time they had confessed their sins. 

It was time the town repented in perfect, practiced unison.

A hearty knock at her door caused Ellie to quickly relace her bodice, swallowing her doubt while clearing her throat. She opened the door to greet Tommy, who eagerly let himself in with a gruff smile and sat at her dining table. Ellie quickly apologized for being late for their walk to church, fumbling a little while tying her dress bodice before her uncle reassured her.

“Sorry I took a while getting ready, just give me a minute to fix myself—”

Tommy interrupted, “No, it's quite fine. Besides, I'm glad we can have a moment to ourselves.”

Ellie paused before quickly correcting herself, tucking a hair back beneath her bonnet. 

“You… Are you doing alright?” Ellie questioned his want for a bit to linger before Sunday mass.

Tommy let out a gruff breath.

“I'm fine, it isn't anything I'm not used to.”

Ellie looked down at his bag, not surprised at the lack of flowers he must have already dropped off, but a little interested in a thick blocky object in his satchel. 

“Anything out of the ordinary?”

Ellie paused in contemplation at his silence.

“Dina told me about the lumberjack fever.”

Tommy straightened up, his eyes burning in disappointment before raising his voice.

“Ellie. I haven't been sick. And keep your damn mouth shut about that, we don't need more paranoia than we already have–”

Tommy paused and sighed at his own tone, sitting back down and feeling the small twig cross brooch before running a hand through his smoothed, peppered brown hair. He looked back to the mantle at the charcoal drawing of Joel, his eyes lingering on the small signature of Ellie's name. He sighed, knowing that Ellie was never one to gossip, but heightened nerves still pricked at his neck.

His voice quieted even in his own former home.

“I did visit the doctor for precaution after we broke those weird branch things those witches put up. You should, too. Air out the bad blood.”

Tommy sneered openly at the memory, Ellie not disagreeing with the openly heretical shrines they found on their last forest hunt.

“No nightmares?” Ellie asked.

Tommy gave her an unreadable expression before shaking his head no.

“Nothing out of the ordinary for me either.” She lied, surprised at how easy the words came out of her mouth.

When Ellie turned around to offer him water, she found him entranced by the charcoal drawing and the large wooden stag on the mantle, almost as if he hadn't seen it in a good while. 

“We should probably head out, we don't want to be late for the service–”

Tommy cut her off by reaching into his satchel, firmly placing a small but very thick book across the dining table.

“I really do thank you for all the work you do, Ellie. You…” Tommy cleared his throat, quickly correcting a choked-up crack in his voice. “You’d make Joel proud.”

Ellie let out a heavy breath, listening to her uncle as she sat down as well, her dress sweeping across the clean floors. The creak of the second chair echoed throughout the empty home. 

“I don't say it out loud and I don't ever want to get emotional again, especially with my place and role here, but…” 

He paused, looking at the racks of pristine furs and the spotless state of the house.

“You're insane, kiddo. It's kind of crazy how you do it. You keep up his business and somehow keep up the property despite—well, you know. You go out there hunting so often, too, shit— I have no idea how you do it all and upkeep the house so well. All of that without a husband…”

Tommy looked around in pleasant surprise at the spotless state of every wooden plank and dusted-off furniture piece. He let out a pleased, gruff breath through his nose, surprised at the lack of dust in the air. Ellie was more than willing to take the compliment but keep quiet on just how she did it. Tommy placed the small, thick book onto the table as a sign of gratitude.

“I want you to have it.”

Ellie looked down at the book, eyes widening ever so slightly at the gift in front of her. The ink on the title was slightly lifted, the spine was less than pristine from usage, and the pages worn from the transferred printing process. It wasn’t as well-bound as Tommy’s original leather embossed European copy, but still very well-read. 

The title lay bold in blood-red ink, ‘Malleus Maleficarum.’ ‘The Witches Hammer.’

Ellie was already well familiar with the book, but was surprised at its presence on her dining table. She was quick to correct herself, knowing well she should already have this book in her possession. The small but hefty book seemed like it made up more than half its weight in dried ink alone. Ellie picked up the pages and skimmed through, her eyes naturally falling onto a passage from the small but heavy print. Her hand easily took up the size of the small book now given to her, as if it was supposed to be in her hand all along. 

‘All wickedness is but little wickedness to a woman.’ Her eyes quickly skimmed to another page. ‘Rather dwell with a lion and a dragon than to keep house with a wicked woman.’ This time, she found herself unable to tear herself away from the heavy ink. ‘What else is woman but a foe to friendship, an inescapable punishment, a necessary evil, a natural temptation, a desirable calamity, a domestic danger, a delectable detriment, an evil of nature, painted with fair colours!’

Ellie turned to the front to read over the title again, her eyes catching on a very familiar inked name on the first blank page.

Tommy took a long minute to clear his throat. 

“It was Maria’s.”

Ellie felt a moment of heaviness before flipping again through the worn pages with extreme care, watching as Tommy fidgeted with his engagement band. The silver still sat firmly on his finger, as if carved in stone for centuries, despite the amount of time he really knew the woman. Ellie quietly curtseyed in gratitude, reaching to place the book on a shelf.

“Thank you, I’ll–”

“Take it.”

Ellie was shaken by Tommy’s firmness as she looked back to see his fist clenched.

“Take it. Carry it with you. Read it until the binding falls apart. I know I've already warned you about what those whores are capable of. But if you want to be serious about helping us, you won't let it go unread.”

Ellie quickly nodded in understanding, placing the book in her bag to read for later, double-checking if she had her bible in there as well. Without hesitation, she reached for her hunter’s blade and placed it in her bag, looking back to Tommy with firmness of her own.

Tommy looked back at his niece’s expression and her sure grip on the knife, raising an unorthodox expression at the girl dressed so formally with such a heavy knife in hand. He let out a breath in slight approval, lightly tapping at her shoulder to fix her collar.

She adjusted her restrained hair in the mirror, checking to make sure everything was perfectly in place as she patted down her long, frock Sunday dress. A spotless collar and apron laid plainly on the long navy dress. Not a string out of place, one of a thousand soon to greet in that hall. 

“Well, we should get going. We never want to be late.” 

Tommy remarked as he took his satchel off the dining chair, rubbing the woodgrain with a little extra care as he silently said farewell to his brother’s home.

Ellie cleared her throat as she opened the door for Tommy, following him as he politely greeted a few families passing by on their way to church. Ellie kept her head low onto the cobblestones, watching as an autumn leaves occasionally fell into her line of sight to crunch beneath her feet. The looming bell ushered people into the town center, its residual deep toll acting as a solace in drowning out the forest wind howl. Ellie didn't even bother to raise her head when she heard her name whispered in the crowd, cringing at the usage of her full name and walking closer to Tommy in subordination. 

She kindly curtseyed to the person holding the church door open, looking up to find an open seat next to her uncle in the pews. Ellie tripped slightly in her long dress before quickly moving down the aisle, not missing the unreadable look David gave her an aisle over. She just barely veiled a scowl back, still not forgetting the hungry look he gave Sarah weeks ago. Ellie restrained herself, however, trying to push out the memories of witchcraft in the house of god she now sat in. She graciously offered an open seat beside her to a pregnant mother, helping her sit with a soft congratulatory smile.

 The crowd hushed their morning greetings at the presence of the pastor slowly walking to the front, giving a silent blessing to the large wood-carved crucifixion scene ahead.

Father John cleared his throat as he looked to the full mass of townsfolk praying ahead. An aged smile spread across his wrinkles, delighted to see not a face out of place in his house of god.

“My children. We are again gathered at the head of the lord. Our savior. Our father, his son, and the holy spirit that beats in our hearts. All on such a holy day.”

A hush fell over the crowd as they looked up to the front of the church, their breaths hollow with anticipation for enlightenment. As the pastor preached on Ellie listened and followed along with the passage readings, lingering in her kneeling no matter how much it ached her knees. 

She continued to stay silent in her breaths, but the prayers in her mind echoed beyond the rafters and walls. Prayers for safety. Prayers for health. Prayers for stability. Prayers for peace of mind. Prayers to survive the bitter winter ahead. Prayers the eyes to her home would stop. Prayers for Dina’s farm. Prayers for a successful hunt. Prayers to finally find something other than game and misfortune in those woods. Prayers that the deep ache in her sternum would go away. Prayers that the grumble of guilt in her stomach would go away. Prayers for her great sins.

Prayers for forgiveness. For what she had drank and done.

The aged but strong voice of Father John broke her out of her mental stupor. 

“And so may you follow every word in your day-to-day. Deuteronomy 5:33. ‘Walk in all the way that the lord your God has commanded you.’ So that they may ‘live, and that it may go well with you, and that you may live long in the land that you shall possess’.”

The townsfolk looked forward to their wooded crucifixion. 

“So follow our lord, our savior. Follow him and his prophet's word with not a doubt of deviation. Obedience to the good word builds a good man, and thus a good wife to bear children to the community.” 

The crowd looked gazed foreward without a blink.

“And so, I lead us to silent prayer. May you return to your knees for a moment with the lord, and wish your neighbor peace be with you.”

Ellie once again leaned forward out of the pew and to her knees, brushing off her dress as she closed her eyes and clasped her hands. 

The townsfolk’s hushed whispers all fell into near unison upon practice, “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,…” Before they all fell into their individualized prayers.

Ellie whispered just loud enough so Tommy beside her could catch it.

“I pray of the hunters and I aid in catching these devils to preserve our community...or else everlasting hellfire and sulfur for those wenches.”

As she opened her eyes to wish her surroundings peace, she looked on in slight concern at the heavily pregnant woman beside her. Her husband's hands clasped in hers as she continued to whisper over and over in near hysteria.

“I beg of thee, let it not be twins. I beg of thee, let it not be twins. I beg of thee, not twins. I beg of thee, not twins. I beg of thee, not twins…”

Eventually, the woman slowed down her prayers when she felt Ellie looking. At first, offering the quickest glimpse of a rude stare, before remembering the building she was in. Ellie offered a hand to let the woman back onto her feet before reassuringly clasping the wife’s hands with her own. 

“May peace be with you, and your kin.”

The woman looked on in an unreadable expression, but gratitude nonetheless at Ellie’s words before she repeated them back, turning to the family in front to wish them peace as well.

However, Ellie’s ears pricked up at the faintest muffled sound through the rain tapping on the window. Feathers rustling. Sure, they were relatively near the woods and birds lingered everywhere, but she couldn't shake the spike in her gut. Her eyes glanced up in dreadful silence, only to find the haunting sight of a crow beside the window seal. Ellie looked down to her thigh where her knife was concealed, but she dared not cause more of an uproar than her presence already did. So she simply glanced back at the bird, only to find it peacefully quirking its head absentmindedly. 

Father John cleared his throat after the long moment of silence for prayer.

“Before we wrap up this morning’s service, I’d like to acknowledge something on this day of our lord… I know what tears this town apart. What puts its holy namesake to shame.” 

The townsfolk looked to their beloved pastor with uncertainty, but blind trust in his word. Those lingering in their standing easily fell back into their place on the pew.

“I would be a fool not to talk about what we’re all thinking. We all know this town has been torn apart from the outside in, even in their persistent efforts to infect us from the inside.”

His eyes lingered on the crowd.

“...Even if they have been successful in corrupting our innocent, our children, our unfaithful and unrighteous, our homemakers, our girls and women, and those who don't follow the good word.”

The townsfolk held their breath as Ellie felt a sinking in her stomach. Her eyes looked up to the window, only to find the black bird now perched on a much closer upper window seal.

“But despite this corruption of people we love, you must ask yourself, ‘what do we do if we catch another heretic in our grasp?’”

Tommy’s eyes firmed at the question, his hatred of corruption boiling over into Ellie beside him. 

“It’s all throughout. In the book of Proverbs, the book of Isiah, even in the book of Matthew, on his affirmation of Christ the Son.”

The church crowd immediately took out their Bibles and searched for the page, before the pastor verbalized just before they could turn. He spoke up with an unbridled fury despite his age.

“‘Do not DARE to give what is holy to DOGS, and do not throw your pearls before swine. Lest they trample them under their feet and turn to tear you to pieces.’ Verse 7:6.”

He continued in his fury that quickly spread through the townsfolk.

“For those who have already left the ways of society and the ways of Puritan Christ are unworthy. They only seek to do harm to those beloved beside you by their false gods and prophets of evil.”

The pastor continued after clearing his aged throat.

“I guide you to the book of Revelation. The Apocalypse of John. Of lakes of fire and true divine comfort. Comfort I and the true lord with his word hope to give to you people, who will hopefully make this town live up to its namesake.”

“So do not give these homewreckers and sorcerers a second sympathy or even an ear. They’ve given up their souls, signed the devil's book, and denounced the one true word. And if they refuse to repent, so be it.”

Despite his long-aged voice, he boomed with vice and absolute certainty.

“Revelation 20:2. ‘He seized the dragon, that ancient serpent who is the devil and Satan, he who deceives the whole world, and bound him for a thousand years.’

Father John gave the townsfolk a few moments to process before speaking up.

“This sentiment is everywhere, do not doubt it. You know it everywhere in your hearts, and you know to take your own spears in the name of the holy purification as did the spear of Longinus be pierced and purified. With this, you do what is right in the name of the lord, in your everyday. Lest you want to give yourself into eternal fire of nonbelief.”

He continued on, his voice getting fiercer as his finger pushed forward into a flipped page.

“Jeremiah himself warned the wenches in reciting 25:6, ‘Don't make me, the LORD, angry by worshiping idols that are the work of your own hands, or I will punish you’.”

“So if you ever feel fear, I once again guide you to the book of Revelation. God’s final victory. The Apocalypse of John. Of lakes of fire and true divine comfort. Comfort I hope to give to you fine people who make this town true in hopes it lives up to its namesake.” 

The words weighed heavily as the pastor continued with a gruff cough.

“And this great morning I shall leave you good people with these last comforting words in Revelation 21:8. I don't have to explain, but it shall be read aloud.”

With that, the crowd started to say the words out loud in affirmed unison.

“As for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death.”

Ellie read along, catching Tommy’s gruff certainty laced with hatred as his breath caught on the word ‘sorcerers’.

“And so I leave you to your days. Do read more along the book of Revelation if ever unsure about the presence of that which does not belong in this holy community.”

The altar boy lit the potted incense and passed along the pews as the smoke settled people back to their knees in prayer.

“I bless this great mass by the reverence of the lord. Of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Go forth, may peace be with you. May this church stand forth in all we believe in, and may you be guided back if you ever feel shaken.”

“Amen,” Ellie repeated with the crowd, nearly breathless at the unison once again.

A few long, quiet moments lingered as the townsfolk gradually collected themselves to their feet, last whispered prayers hung in the rafters and begged to be noticed by the holy spirit. And with that, the priest was escorted out with the altar boy. The townsfolk slowly stood and let the sermon linger in their souls.

Offering her hand to Tommy, Ellie couldn't help but look up at the high window again; her eyes widening at two blackened birds quirking their heads at the crowd below. Tommy didn't hesitate, already gaining a sceptical look to at the birds perched just outside. 

Suddenly, the sound of a large wooden pew scraping on the floor and a loud cough caught their attention. One of the women fussed in concern at an older man just barely holding up from keeling over. Commotive townsfolk gasps widened their eyes in concern, some gasping in fear at the sound of a deep guttural gurgle.

Ellie looked over to see David’s once aged and hungry eyes now blown with panic and concern, desperately clinging to a pew as his skin started to whiten in terror. His aged hand firmly pressed over his mouth as a grumble bellowed through the holy halls. David’s eyes desperately pleaded to the crucifixion as he rose himself a bit, before suddenly keeling over in a violent cough. The following shrieks nearly shattered the windows. 

The mass could barely believe what they were witnessing as the smell of rotted mutton flooded the pews, catching every last person’s horrified gaze. With another muffled grumble of a crow outside the window, David fully keeled over as a large mass of spoiled vomit and rotted intestines erupted from his mouth. People in the direct vicinity screamed in horror as the man’s thrown-up bile was anything but normal. 

Whole sheep intestines soaked in stomach acid spewed out and were near-bursting through their lining with black spots that soon became visible dead ants. Drenched, shattered walnut-like objects rank from his mouth with the stench of spoiled fruit. The crows outside continued to caw and bark as David struggled to breathe from the sour, rancid outpour from his throat. For moments, he was given a chance to breathe and cough up more dead ants as rotted intestines snaked on the floor, only for the rupture to once again continue as more crow barks and screams filled the holy halls of the church. The caws were almost cackling, their mocking taps on the glass like coffin nails hammered into Ellie’s spine as the screams grew near hysterical. Cries of witchcraft in holy halls and the man’s stomach ruptures lit the crowds like a powder keg.

The stench of rancid mutton and raw bile overthrew any incense that could have calmed the shrieking. Shrieking of townsfolk driven madder by the maddened caw of crows. Crow caws like uncontrollable, cruel laughter, mocking the aged man as he keeled over from more spoiled bile eruptions. The man who once forced a young hand into marriage now desperately clung to the stray pew for stability as he struggled to breathe through the ruptures of his own throat.

The townsfolk were in near hysteria. Some frantically prayed to the lord, others pushed people aside in running out. Some came forward to help David as he released his bowels, only to scream in horror at the raw vicinity of the cursed spew. Tommy and Ellie  looked up to the barking crows as they seemed to revel in their wickedly gleeful caws, before Tommy drew his pistol and fired at the window. 

The crash of the gunshot and the shattering of broken glass caused both more panic and interruption, as the crowd looked to the raised pistol. Ellie and Tommy peered at the shattered window, only to find the mass of blackened feathers fluttering off, still cawing in their uproared laughter. Another gunshot at the pair of crows and a strangled gasp from David caused Tommy's voice to boom like a second gunshot.

“Do you see what these unholy wenches do to good upstanding men of our town? Merrily signing the book of the devil and reveling in their freakish power! They have long infiltrated our animals as pests or even your own livestock. Infesting our town, infecting your pets! And how many do you think are lying amongst us?! We ought to make the right decision and stand up for our good word! We will cleanse this town of corruption!”

An acidic cough of David further put everybody on edge as he continued to helplessly vomit in front of the whole town, before some started to cry in uproar. The townsfolk's fear soon turned into rage as some of them ran out of the church, others yelling about killing their livestock. Soon, the sounds of animal bleats and cries ushered everybody outside in furious, hysterical agreement.

Before Ellie could even step outside and realize what was going on, the town was in hysterics. Some ran after stray chickens, others grabbed their own livestock by the horns as they bleated. The smell of smoke ushered Ellie’s gaze to the pyre that some were already building. But a quick, strong nudge to her shoulder caught her attention. 

Tommy looked back at her in fierce instruction as the sound of panicked hoofbeats rocked the cobblestones, Tommy pulling out his gun and shooting a flying bird without missing a beat. Ellie nodded in return, not needing any more instruction before furrowing her brows and grabbing a stray dark-feathered chicken to shove to another townsperson yelling in fury. 

But something pricked at her ears through the screaming and infernal crackles. Something a few buildings down amid the chaos; the faintest sound of a cat hissing. Ellie didn't hesitate and immediately darted into an alley, expecting a whore in feral form beneath her that would scratch and bite before getting shot and burned. 

But just as she turned the corner to find the witch in hiding, something caught her off guard. The smallest darting of something behind a haybale. Too small. Small enough to strike a chord in Ellie that shouldn't have been plucked. She hesitantly looked back behind her before lifting the planks of wood, and two balls of fur darted as fast as they could before being trapped by a large fallen fence post. 

That's when Ellie leaned down to properly see two young kittens, saving them from being completely crushed. But their panicked cries struck something in her that she should have pushed deep down; they couldn't have been more than two months old. Such young kittens full of fluff and spunk as the pure black kitten fiercely spat back a hiss, trying to intimidate her off despite its small-sized raising fur and spiking whiskers. Ellie was taken off guard by how fierce these young kittens were at her presence and the lack of their mother. The black kitten backed up to protect its calico-colored sibling, both ears tucked and tails between their legs. 

She should capture these cats and turn them in. Especially the inky-dark kitten, it would have obviously been a young witch in disguise. Cats are the first animal witches would turn into. Ferocious creatures only heathens and heretics would call companions. But these kittens. No mother in sight. Perhaps it was screaming, too. The sharp guilty feeling in Ellie’s throat halted her in the alleyway despite what she was told.

The quickly rising stench of burning fur finally spurred Ellie into action. Despite direct orders, she quickly grabbed the kittens and tucked them into her frock as much as they yowled through her quiet shushing, still crying and scratching. Seeing there was no way of quietly sneaking them out amid the chaos, Ellie darted down the alley and through the town gate, looking forward to the forest.

But as soon as she heard horses and hunters starting to run into the forest to start a preemptive hunt, an unbridled irrational fear flooded through her system as she ran into the forest. And so she ran until the sound and stench of screaming livestock could be just distant enough. 

Ellie took a minute to catch her breath, looking down at her pocket to find tiny scratched holes and two kittens cowering in uncertain fear. The darker one weakly spat another hiss at her to protect the other kitten, swiping at her hand when she tried to take them out. Ellie calmly shushed them as she sat down on the forest floor, the kittens hesitantly climbing out of her coat as they tried to run into the forest fog. She swiftly got up to follow the cats from fear of an animal finding at eating them, before she felt shock run through her system. 

The smaller calico kitten was quickly morphing and growing in size, craning its head and picking up the black kitten while whispering comforting words to it despite her own scared voice. Ellie didn't know what to think, but hesitancy flooded her system as she saw just who was looking back at her. A young girl she had never seen before. No older than eight, the once calico-spotted fur now turning into oddly dark curled hair despite her tanned complexion. She held the kitten in her arms and trembled at Ellie’s persistent presence as she held the black kitten close to her chest.

Before Ellie could even form a thought, the girl pleadingly spoke up, breaking Ellie's heart at the pure anxiety in her tone.

“P-please, you can’t take me back, I-I only wanted to– to, and then everybody– e-everyone went all crazy, I-I just want to–” 

She was tripping over her words as Ellie leaned down to her level. 

Ellie shouldn't be leaning down; she didn't know why she was comforting a potential witch and what could come from it. But the quick beating of the tiny sets of lungs caused Ellie to gently reaffirm the girl and her kitten.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I know you're scared. But I need you to breathe with me for a bit, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The girl looked back at Ellie with extreme hesitancy as she held onto her cat even as it spat and hissed, but she didn't know what else to do as tears threatened to prick from her ears.

“Big girl breaths, okay?”

Ellie started by breathing deeply, looking at the young girl as she hesitated more, eventually giving in and following along. The young girl still didn't take Ellie's hand, but walked a little closer to the only other human within these foggy woods. Ellie gave a comforting smile as she tried to make the girl follow along in her breathing.

“There we go. Deep breath in, deep breath out. I can only help you if you're calmed down.”

The young girl seemed a lot calmer with Ellie's guidance, and somehow, so did Ellie. This witch still held a devilish familiar in her arms, but now, in these woods, they were both human, and their collective breathing turned normal.

“There we go. All calm. You're out of Salem…”

Ellie didn't know what to think, but her humanity took a front hold.

“I know you're scared. But I want to help you out. I don't think I've met you before. What’s your name? Perhaps we can go back when things have calmed down, and we can find your parents.”

The young girl was still hesitant. She held her kitten close before Ellie looked at the black kitten and held her prejudice aside. 

“Your cat is cute. Does he have a name?”

“...Orion.” The young girl spoke up, petting her kitten to try and calm him.

“Like the constellation.” Ellie smiled in recognition.

“Yeah.” The girl responded, tucking a dark curl while holding the inky kitten close to her.

“A very fitting name. He seems strong. A mighty hunter of mice.”

The young girl finally let out a small chuckle, petting Orion as much as he yowled at Ellie.

“...He’s just scared.” 

“I want to help you out. Do you know where you live back in Salem?” Ellie asked.

“No…It’s dangerous. I-I want to go home, but I can’t remember the password…”

Ellie’s mind drew a million questions as the young girl muttered under her breath, but returned to her senses at the young girl’s growing anxiety. 

“Hey. I promise I’ll help you get back home safe. I know these woods like the back of my hand, fog and all. But first, can you tell me your name?”

After a long and hesitant moment, the young girl scenically held out her pinky finger. Ellie took it with a reassuring but soft chuckle to ease the tension as she extended her own raised pinky to the girl, hooking them.

“Pinky promise.”

A long moment of silence passed.

“I’ll go first, I'm Ellie. Ellie Williams…or, Miller.”

The name seemed foreignly familiar to the child, Ellie almost surprised that there wasn't an immediate recognition of who she was.

“My name’s Kassie.”

“Kassie?” 

The name was unfamiliar to Ellie. In fact, so was this girl’s whole appearance, her voice, everything about her.

And then a thought immediately flashed through her of just who this young girl belonged to. 

A firm thunderous howl seemed to snap the woods themselves.

“KASSANDRA! Get away from her!” 

Magnolia’s voice boomed with urgency like an erupting volcano.

Fierce protective eyes and furious footsteps flashed through the blinding fog. Before Ellie could think she felt herself being thrown into a thick nearby pine tree. She let out a pained gasp at the pain of the tree bark growing rapidly over her whole body like it were burying her alive. The footsteps quickly caught up to her, raising Ellie’s fear as she realized she heard three sets of footsteps making their way through the thick fog. Just as she looked down for her witch’s knife, her eyes were forced back up in fear. 

Two witches quickly emerged from the murky air: a painfully familiar pale blonde and an unfamiliar dark-skinned woman in a fabric head wrap, threateningly poising her fingers. With an instant wave of her hand and a resonant rattle, Ellie felt her body being further cemented up against the tree bark. The skin of her throat suddenly pricked at the feeling of immense heat as she finally opened her eyes to meet the pale witch’s angry infernal voided ones.

“I told you to never come back here.” 

Magnolia grimly snarled, the roots and tips of her blackened hair glowing like hot iron, threatening the now white-hot incandescent blade to Ellie’s own throat. The bound hunter struggled to swallow in fear from the tree bark rumbling along her body and of the threat of heat looming by her throat. 

“What are you doing here?” The second unfamiliar witch spoke up.

Magnolia’s anger continued to seethe through her teeth. 

“Why does it matter what she’s doing here? She found the cottage; she needs to be dead.”

“We don't need the energy off-balance.” The dark skinned witch spoke back, her fingers still firm and fixed in their magical position as she looked to Ellie.

Magnolia’s rage morphed into an angered protest, “Nkiru, we need–”

“You know what we need.” She coldly spoke back, before they both stared back at Ellie.

Their eyes both stood firm, Magnolia’s still enraged.

“Speak.” The darker witch coldly demanded.

“You’ll be a fool to lie.” Magnolia’s blackened hair tips still furiously glowed, her hand still strongly gripped on Ellie’s white-hot witches' blade.

“I just came to rescue the cats, I-I didn't know they were witches! I barely walked into the forest– I didn't know I was at your damned doorstep!”

The witches looked unsatisfied with her answer, looking to each other with protective fury. Ellie winced as she felt the tree bark rumble further along her form and rip into her once proper skirt.  The tree growled like a bellowing alligator. Her heart drummed with fear at a thousand miles an hour before Magnolia interrupted.

“Real likely.” 

The scorching blade came closer to Ellie's throat, the heat of hot metal giving off haunting vibrations. The hunter heard unforgiving echoes in the fog and felt the residual heat of her own knife threatening to singe her skin. The other witch looked back at her enraged sister’s upfront method, but didn't protest as she coldly looked to Ellie with another twitching rattle of her whitened fingernails.

Ellie looked around to see where the young girl she rescued was, silently begging for an ounce of mercy. Kassandra clung to her enraged sister’s dress, watching the exchange from behind the safety of the witches. It was then that the surrounding fog started to clarify. Thorn bushes surrounded the edges of the unfortunately familiar witch’s cottage. Has it always been this close? Ellie’s eyebrows furrowed at the lion’s den of sin, before she felt her head being tugged back by tree bark around the crown of her head. 

That was when she finally noticed Sarah. The girl she once attempted to rescue, now willingly embracing the darkness of witchcraft, protectively holding onto the young witch like she was actually family. Her dirty blonde hair was now kept in loose, adorned braids with odd jewelry, a knit half-cloak on her shoulders, and a little odd paint on her eyelids. Sarah’s once gleeful expression now looked back with a deep conflict. Her eyebrows knit with uncertainty and what oddly looked like pity as she protectively held onto Kassandra, checking her for physical injury.

“Speak.” Nkiru deeply commanded the hunter.

“W-wait just a minute! Let’s hear what she has to say!” Sarah protested to her older sisters.

“Sarah, get back inside with the others.” Magnolia snapped with more anger than intended.

“No! She saved Kassie; there must be a reason she hasn't hurt her!”

Ellie was caught off guard at just how outspoken and defiant a young girl could be almost two weeks away from society.

“Sarah, her hunters won't hesitate to murder children.” 

“Hey! She saved me, you know! Ellie’s not all bad!” Sarah protested, holding tight to her younger sister. 

She looked hesitantly back at Ellie’s bound form. Her eyes almost didn’t believe what she had been told, but her gut knew the true nature of hunters. It nearly broke Ellie’s heart that Sarah looked back at her with such distrust, knowing deep down as well that she should have followed Tommy’s orders.

“You carry the book and the blade.” The other witch spoke up, hazel eyes immediately darting to Ellie’s satchel. 

Magnolia stayed silent in restrained rage. As much as she wanted to murder the hunter in cold blood and bury her in the tree she stood bound in, she knew it would cause more problems than necessary. 

“Sarah, go get the Verity Elixir?” 

Nkiru firmly asked her sister, her tone leaving no room for protest. 

Ellie became baffled that Sarah was now doing the witch’s bidding as she quickly retrieved a vial of clear liquid, willingly treating the witch as an equal. Ellie’s heart sank that Sarah was so easily giving into this lifestyle, but she swallowed as she saw the dark-skinned witch take the vial in her hands.

“You know what would happen if we kill her.” The witch firmly spoke back to Magnolia, still unable to soothe her sister’s anger.

“At least, if we killed her without full reason to.” Magnolia snarled back.

Ellie tried to put up an intimidating threat of her own, but struggled to hide her fear as she felt the heat of her own witch’s blade somehow grow hotter, singeing a few hairs that happened to fall too close to the white-hot metal. 

“Earthly bound soul, so very cursed with lies; shimmer high with virtue, or remove thy tongue and eyes.”

The witches rhythmically repeated, Nkiru drawing odd shapes on Ellie’s forehead as she struggled and failed to thrash. Despite the silence in the forest, Ellie felt her thoughts repeat desperately. She became very aware of the threat spoken in rhythm as she felt the serum drip onto her eyelids. It felt thick and cold like tar, almost stinging with pressure into her skin as the witches awaited an answer. Ellie’s breathing grew faster as she felt pressure on her forehead like python skin; whether it be from the slowly sinking tree bark or the serum, she didn't have time to contemplate. All she knew to spill was the truth. 

“Look, I did have commands to execute animals in the town after what happened in the church. I-I don't know what exactly was wrong with me, but I couldn't bring myself to do it when I found the kittens. Even if they would have killed me. I thought m-maybe if I returned them to the fog it would relieve my debt or the mark. I didn't know they were your familiars, your sisters– whatever they are… I had the knife on me. I had the book. I had orders. But I wouldn't hurt children.”

Ellie deeply reaffirmed the last statement, staring Magnolia straight in her eyes.

“I take orders, but that's a line I feel privileged not to cross.”

Magnolia felt taken aback by Ellie’s firm tone, but sneered at the notation of privilege as she rolled her darkened eyes. Her slightly older sister nudged her arm as they all waited in bated breath. 

“I-I get that I should bring you back to trial in town or…worse. But I understand that I'm on your property somehow, and I just want to leave. R-really, I do. I won’t bring the hunters back here. I genuinely don't know how I got here. I-I just want to go.”

Ellie hiccuped, unable to hold back from the pressure on her forehead. 

A long moment passed as the witches processed her words and looked up to Ellie’s forehead, the tree bark slowly grumbling along her captive skin. 

Finally, she felt a relief on her forehead and the faintest glow in her upper peripheral. Ellie pleaded, watching the witches as they all stiffened up in surprise. Magnolia flared her nostrils as she reluctantly lowered the blade, the iron glowing hotter and hotter as she kept her head low. Her hands trembled as if her very bones could barely hold back from her own fury. 

Magnolia let out an infuriated breath, dark smoke flowing out of her nostrils before growling in reluctance. She tossed the witch’s blade onto the ground, the glowing metal melting into a puddle of boiling light as she flicked the liquid off her hands. The younger witches looked in awe at their infuriated sister’s power, as Ellie looked on in morbid fear at the witch’s capability. A long moment passed before Ellie felt the bark that dug into her back gradually shift, before Nkiru spoke up in cold warning.

“We’re going to give you the chance to leave peacefully. We don't want to upset the woods’ energy more than you already have.”

Magnolia spoke under her breath, smoke filling through her teeth. “Fools.”

Ellie felt herself being dropped from the height of the tree, stumbling from the shock to her system and wiping off the odd serum. She furrowed her eyebrows in anger at the harsh captivity, before feeling her lungs cave in with fear. 

All of the witches’ pupils started to glow a pale white with raw power, as their breathing fell into perfect sync. Their voices rumbled with a deep, arcane growl as they spoke in unison. 

“But come after us again, and you'll be rotted before you can gasp. Your body will be long forgotten in the stomachs of vultures, and your soul will be beyond any purification.” 

The witches stared down and deeply threatened in their deep trance, Ellie hearing more synchronized breathing from the cottage that resonated further in the forest fog. She felt her very soul being judged at the mercy of the witches' pearlescent pupils and their synchronized breathing. 

Ellie tried to grab her knife, only to be repulsed by the heat and pure dread at the unbroken cold stares of the witches above her. She scrambled to her feet and felt fear flash through her soul as she tripped on her ripped dress. With a mad dash Ellie quickly darted back blinding fog, breathing heavily in fear as she looked back and found herself back at the town gates within only a hundred feet, the sound of screaming animals and burning fur welcoming her home.  

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

After it was clear Ellie was gone, the witches all felt themselves come back from their trance with a deep exhale. Their pupils returned to normal as they all looked to each other to be sure they were safe. Sarah looked back to her older sisters in baffled awe of the raw energy that surged through her body. She looked back to Nkiru, the witch’s hazel eyes filled with a refined, but clear awe at the power as well.

“Was that…”

Nkiru looked around to her sisters, quietly nodding back to Sarah as she saw Magnolia’s stilled expression. 

The pale witch quickly adjusted with a soothing brush of fingers through her hair. She kneeled down to Kassandra, her eyes now filled with care and worry as she quickly and thoroughly checked over the girl for physical injury, taking extra care to a beaded braided strand of her hair. 

“Are you okay? She didn't hurt you, did she? That must have been scary.”

“Yeah, but I made it out okay. Orion was here to help me get back to the cottage. I did what you said, to trust my instincts and focus wholeheartedly on where I wanted to go!” 

Kassie looked up at her older sister, who marveled at her protective magic and looked for approval. Once Magnolia checked over her younger sister, she let out a breath and firmly looked at the young girl, holding her hand protectively over Kassandra’s. 

“You did remember. I'm proud of you for that. And we’ll get you inside in a minute. But I still don't want you to sneak out, Kassie. We have to be careful, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you or our sisters.”

Magnolia held the witchlet’s with a hand firmly.

“I’m sorry sis, I just wanted to see where Ro and Sarah were going. I just wanted to see their magic…” 

Magnolia was quick to tinker her tone and soothe her sister as she saw her expression falter.

“Look. I know you just wanted to see your sisters in action. And we both know you're a powerful and strong girl. Believe me, you are. But you could have accidentally hurt someone or hurt yourself,” Magnolia gently told her sister, looking warmly but cautiously as she pulled her into a hug. 

“Hey, listen. We’re just happy you're safe, Kassie. Your sisters will be here to protect each other. Your coven has such incredible strength, and we’re always here to love you and help your talent.” 

Magnolia sweetly looked down at her younger sister, gently hugging away any last ounce of insecurity as Kassie hugged back tightly.

The pale witch turned her gaze to Sarah, still looking down at the hot molten pile of iron. With a curious chuckle, she gently guided Kassie to stand by her other older sister before kneeling next to Sarah. Calming herself with a breath, she looked over at the witch-in-training.

“How responsible are you feeling?”

Sarah curiously looked up as Magnolia smiled back and extended her darkened, manicured hand toward the cottage door. 

A very familiar red-stitched book flew through the front garden and into Magnolia’s hands as the grimoire seemed to pulse with life. Sarah watched as Magnolia sifted through its aged papers before playfully smiling. 

“How would you feel about a familiar of your own?”

Sarah looked cautiously, her mind remembering the dreadful words of witch legend. She was baffled at the thought of owning something that could easily get her tried and killed back in Salem. But her older sister’s expression simply held the cautious weight of how ‘owning a pet is a huge responsibility’ rather than ‘owning a creature born of hellfire and given by unholy devils would damn your soul for eternity’. Sarah looked back at her sister’s expression and delightfully shook her head, softly smiling.

“I'm already here and I’d say I'm enjoying myself… I might as well!”

Magnolia chuckled with pride as she urged Sarah to read off the page, cupping her hands together. 

Sarah struggled with a Latin word before being reassured. 

“It's just us, you can use English.”

She breathed in deeply before focusing all of her willpower onto the molten metal still scorching and bubbling on the forest floor. 

“I pronounce my intentions to thee, born of flame, earth, water, or air. Present a companion, one my soul just barely compare. Bound by the stars, two heartbeats in line, I summon one of my own, created by mine.”

As Sarah repeated the words, the iron puddle glowed hotter and hotter, almost threatening to spark flame to the fallen foliage. It started to bubble like a thick molten sugar, slowly hissing with heated magic as the bubbles slowly formed and thickly burst. When their eyes opened, they found one of the bubbles pulsing thicker and larger, before the legs of a large toad started to climb out of the melted iron puddle. The large animal gradually climbed out of the incandescent puddle, its back still bubbling from the raw heat of its incandescent iron body. 

Magnolia looked proudly at her sister and urged her to cup her hands into a water spell motion, her sister following suit. Sarah happily whispered the incantation and gently poured the spontaneously flowing water onto the toad to cool it down. As its glowing body hissed, the large pot-bellied toad seemed to smile. It croaked thankfully at the water, its smoothly warted pure metal skin cooling fully at its owner’s magical aid. Sarah giggled happily at her newfound round familiar while it hopped into her arms, feeling lighter than a lilypad as it croaked its throat to the size of a cannonball. 

A familiar raspy caw soared in from the high branches as Rowena returned to her humanesque form on the cottage roof. Nkiru scoffed and rolled her eyes as she walked back into the cottage, swatting at Rowena’s feet and earning a caw of surprise. Sarah followed suit as she walked back into the garden with Kassie. They watched as the metal toad hopped into the moonwater fountain and began to make resonant musical bellows, the flowing water chiming onto its warted metal skin like a rain drum. It began to inflate its metal skin as the young girls watched, earning marveled giggles at the magical animal’s fascinating metallic skin and musical bellows.

Rowena perked up at Magnolia's stilled expression staring into the fog, her shoulders hunched and fingers clenched.

She waited until all her sisters were inside, and when she looked back, she found a vulture in her pale sister’s place flying up onto a branch.

“I secured the perimeter. They're going crazier than Kookaburras back there, but we’re super safe. I restored and refreshed the broken shrines too, though you think we can move them near the bushes so I can at least get a snack–”

“How could you—?” Magnolia quivered.

Rowena looked back at her newly feathered witch sister, flying up onto the same branch.

“I told you to keep a watch on them.” 

“I did. And none of us were hurt. I got Sarah in and out, she knew how to fly. How was I supposed to know Kassie would sneak out?”

“It–” Magnolia exasperatedly sighed, “I know you want your freedom, but you're still a part of this coven.”

“I know that!” Rowena cawed with offense.

“And you have to protect your coven! Your family!” Magnolia cawed back with more anger than intended, her voice cracking.

Rowena’s feathers huffed up at Magnolia’s tone, still full of emotion and leftover simmering anger. 

“You know what happens when we aren't careful! Especially around the witchlets–”

“Hey, I know that! I do my nightly duty, I watched the girls when asked, but we had to get out of there! I had to secure the barrier, in record time, mind you!”

“And I thank you for that, but would it kill you to be a little more careful?! Who knows what that hunter could have done–”

“I know, but you were the one who said you didn't want that fool killed.”

“And I don't! We need her alive for now. This—  it just—”

Magnolia frustratedly shrieked, a strong plume of fire erupting from her vulture beak as she furiously let her emotions rage. Rowena hopped back a bit in surprise at her sister’s outburst as she watched her huffing the foggy air. 

“...It won't get in the way– I won't let it, I-I just–”

Rowena hesitantly hopped forward toward her feathered sister, noticing Magnolia’s vulture talons gripping the branch so hard it threatened to snap. 

She hesitantly reached a blackened wing out to calm Magnolia down.

“All out of fuel?” Rowena asked with a slight chuckle in her quiet caw.

“... I'm sorry.” Magnolia looked back at her with genuine remorse.

“I'm sorry I blew up at you like that. I-... I hate that I feel like this, and with her presence too–”

“I know,” The crow witch reassured her sister, cutting off her rambling.

“Don't get in your head. What happened wasn't your fault, they were going insane anyway. I thank you for being so diligent with the fog spell, Ro. You really do help protect us well.” 

Magnolia looked fondly back, eliciting a few happy resonant clicks from Rowena.

Nkiru’s tired voice broke through the opened window.

“If you bird-brains are done bickering, pie is ready.”

The crow witch didn't hesitate as she darted toward the closing cracked window and scrambled through her incantation. Magnolia chuckled as she watched Rowena just barely make it inside, her bird form and tumbling onto the floor from the crashing speed as she stood up and brushed off her humanesque form. A mass of feminine laughter rose from the wayward cottage, warming the pale witch’s heart. Magnolia looked up to the tallest pines once more before flying down, swooping into the doorframe as it closed behind her. 

The aroma of freshly baked desserts and melted wax warmed her heart as she transformed back into her human form. Everything was back in place. Safe and secure as the wooden walls once again filled with the everyday magic of a Sunday brunch. Bowls of berries, handmade mugs of cider, and macabre delicacies lined the dining table, every witch happily scattered all throughout the humble cottage. 

Magnolia curiously peeked over at the setup of two sisters at the end of the table. On one end, Sarah staring down at a checkered wood board with absolute focus and mental contemplation. Her opponent: a small burlap poppet doll resting on Sarah’s metal toad as it waited for her to play. Magnolia leaned over and tapped Sarah’s shoulder, the girl hearing her pale sister’s voice in her head on what chess pieces to move. Sarah looked up to the witch’s subtle smirk, catching her own reflection in Magnolia’s dark eyes playfully shushing her. 

She stole a mulberry from Sarah’s plate before a mass of cascading walnut hair shifted from the ceiling like a crashing waterfall. Magnolia looked up to her other sister as hair shifted closer to the dining table.

“Constance! When you’re painting the ceiling, tie your hair up, how many times–”

“Ah! Nola! You’re back for pie! It just came out of the oven, fresh as a newborn! But— but but! Can you slide the quail quiche slightly to the right?” 

The witch quirked down in her dazed voice as she continued to paint intricate designs on the ceiling. Woven-tied baggy pants draped from her legs as she let her walnut hair fall freely down, playfully mocking gravity. Constance beamed her dazed, soft smile at her infernal sister, the whites of her eyes still blissfully clouded like coastline mist. Magnolia couldn't help but smile at her sister however dazed she was, moving the quiche dish to the right and levitating a few berries up to her.

Constance hummed as she grabbed the berry delightfully.

“The earlier worm can strangle the bird, but the earliest bird stays cocooned in its own eggshell. It merely sits… rolls around, click-clacking into its neighbors, bumping its own head… Bump bump bump, clink clink clack… if we’re lucky, we get a splat!”

The pale witch rolled her eyes with a soft chuckle, unable to be truly mad at Constance for saying the oddest things at times. There's a reason she thrived in the wayward sisterhood.

“Well, oddballs clack together~” Magnolia joked back as she filled her plate.

“Wrong! We float on the water like a warm blubber stew!” 

Constance cackled blissfully before going back to painting, earning a curious giggle from the youngest girls on the couch, and a small groan from the level-headed witch adjusting her head wrapping. 

Rowena fluttered onto Magnolia’s shoulder, the tips of her crow wings morphing into darkened fingers as she whispered to Magnolia.

“Can I eat the worms in her brain now? I bet they’re nice and marinated.~” 

Rowena clicked playfully, fluttering down and greedily shoving a treat down her beak as a mass of crumbs fell all over the table.

“You will savor my tea cakes or face my wrath,” Constance warned.

“Oh yeah? What say you—”

Before Rowena could fully taunt, the metal toad suddenly sprang its tongue to eat a crumb at the crow’s feet, causing a shrieking caw. A cacophony of feminine laughter came from the couch at the bird’s baffled caw before she hopped over to the toad, tauntingly flashing her wings at its unbothered stature. 

“Oh yeah?! Well, guess who’s just a familiar!” 

Rowena cawed, threatening to peck the toad’s warted metal body as she continued taunting its blank expression. 

A resonant ring caused everyone to look back to their crow witch sister, woozy after a strong peck at the solid metal familiar. Rowena fell back onto the now cleared space in the food array, her beaked face somehow scowling up at her sister on the ceiling, who predicted she would fall over in that very spot. Magnolia couldn't help but chuckle along, especially at the entertained young giggles from the couch. She watched as the identical twin girls continued their crafts with Kassie before she sat inside her library alcove.

 Magnolia’s eyes couldn't help but drift into the fog as her sisters laughed, her mind replaying memories she hated that her heart hung onto. She watched as Nkiru looked over her hidden floor cabinet, huffing as she curled into herself. And yet, a somberness filled the back of her eyes. The pale witch hated the doubt she carried within herself. She had bigger things to do. A coven to take care of. She knew why she was here. She was fine without normal society. Who even needed to be by normal people? Normal people were boring, ignorant fools anyway. 

“Please do eat some pie, Nola, you spent too much time on it…” Constance climbed down from the ceiling and slid a slice of pie onto the alcove seat. 

“Scorpion-pecan pie soothes the troubled soul. I topped it with more of mother’s bushel rosemary, your favorite.”

Magnolia crossed her arms and held her head firmly up to her sister, her blackened hair tips glowing a little in upset.

“What did I say about you reading me?”

“I wasn't reading you,…” Constance’s usually dazed eyes now brewed with a mist of concern, “...Your thoughts are so loud, Nola.” 

Constance warmly spoke before floating back up to her spot on the ceiling again, painting another leaf on the rafter beams. The pale witch let out a bottled sigh before starting to eat the sweet-savory pie. 

Rowena cawed up as she perched onto a high-dangling bone wind-chime, and cawed up to her sister, holding a cookie of offering in her beak.

“Anything outstanding in my future? I have bribery~”

Constance chuckled as she loosely tied her walnut hair, taking a moment to flutter her misty eye whites before taking the cookie from Rowena’s beak.

“In your line of duty, you'll meet a handsome dark one…Not a complete stranger. He’ll guide you to what you're meant to do in a moment of deepest hazy unrest…”

Rowena let an amused grumble through her throat and ruffled her tail feathers before flying down and perching on Kassie’s shoulder. 

Nkiru dared to ask, cold and straightforward.

“And what about the coven overall? Will we stay safe enough, or do we need to do something additional?” 

Constance paused, lying on the ceiling and pouring a small pot of tea between three cups as she watched the liquid defy gravity before her. 

“It's so opaquely foggy… but oh so glass-clear…”

“Oh great, here we go again.” Nkiru rolled her eyes at the enigmatic phrase as her sister contemplated with a guttural breath. The coven watched on with a growing chuckle as the witch on the ceiling dipped one of her tarot cards into the brimming teacup, before ripping a bite out of the soaked, well-loved mystery cardstock. 

“Yes!… The serpent lays coiled. Writhing. Mighty and powerful. 'Tis a pity that its namesake doesn't give birth to live young. But the eggshell of the mother still coils their power. They may frighten the unassuming, but it only seeks to protect, no matter the cracks that may form and how many scales poke through amniotic emotion… But do think of the deadliest serpents, and just imagine how powerful they are… at their greatest ability to love their live young…to smell…” 

Constance beamed down with her cloudy eyes to meet her less-than-amused sister.

“Can you predict the day you'll read something straightforward again? Normally? You know… Stop saying odd shit?” Grumbled Nkiru, massaging the bridge of her nose.

The witchlets giggled at their prophesying sister lying comfortably upside-down on the ceiling beam, before the twins curiously turned toward Magnolia in the cottage alcove. Before the witchlet could even ask, her pale sister politely declined with a simple hand up. The young girl perked with curiosity, leaning on a pillow.

“Why don't you want to be read?” 

“Iris…” Magnolia sighed, trying not to disappoint the girls.

“Yeah? Don't you want to know your future?” 

“Iris, Agnes,” Constance spoke up, “Some people just don't want to know. It's up to them to decide. Sometimes details can scare people.” She gently reassured.

Magnolia quieted her breathing, her expression still bitter from a memory with her divination sister.

Rowena silently hopped onto the table closer to Sarah, as if eager to see her reaction for some reason. Sarah looked curiously as her teenage sister seemed to grumble in her corvid throat, almost waiting for a punchline to a joke she knew well. Constance spoke up again as she looked back down at Sarah.

“Well, given one of the reasons Magnolia is here with us, she was…” 

The dazed sister contemplated a memory as she shuffled her cards again.

“Let's just say I don't do exact detail and time future readings anymore, I do energy and vaguest visions. I keep the vivids to myself. It's easy to know the way the river will turn and flow, but it’s hard to know the exact pathway directions for paranoia of floods. It adds pressure, and it troubles those who would know instead of freely living the lives we work for.” 

Sarah looked curiously up at her sister on the ceiling, the dazed look in Constance’s eyes almost predicting Magnolia would erupt at the memory. Rowena couldn't help herself as she hopped onto Sarah’s arm.

“What happened?--- 

Magnolia huffed an annoyed, steamed groan through her nose, interrupting her fortune-telling sister and ripping off the bandage.

“She said I’ll find a taste of romance only in my deepest dreams, and–”

“WHEN HER BODY IS IN THE GROUND!”

Rowena couldn't help herself anymore as she openly interrupted, cackling at the sickly sad prophecy with a shrill rabid corvid bark, rolling on the table

Sarah was left baffled at the horribly dark fortune of her sister’s love life, but her other witch sisters were unable to help their pursed giggles and revel in their sick sense of humor. Even Nkiru could barely hold back a chuckle in her throat as she moved a chess piece further along the board. 

Magnolia opened the alcove window and grabbed a bushel of lavender, promptly stress eating the plant with a mocking bleat while her head transformed in an instant. The young girls continued to giggle as they watched their pale infernal sister flopping goat-face-first onto the couch, her protests muffled through woven pillows. 

Magnolia propped her goat head up from the couch at the continued laughs of her sisters.

“You know what? I'm fine. I don’t need romance. Never did. We know what it's like when you try to outrun Constance’s prophecies–it's a trick question! I’ve more than accepted my fate, so why try? A-And you know what– how about we talk about whenever you get the chances with your own lovers?!” She pouted, some of the laughter bursting into cackles at her animal head, angrily pouting between the dark fur and large horns.

“You’re all lucky, at least you’ve had the experience! Men are easy. They like you anyway, you toy with them, and then cut their hearts out when they piss you off.” 

Magnolia grumbled into the couch, some of the older women giving acknowledging shrugs but continuing to chuckle. The pale witch huffed once more, pointing at her crow sister scarfing down a quail egg between her cackles.

“You're sick, you know! Especially you, bird brain!”

“Ease up, hothead~” The crow barked back playfully.

After a moment of letting off steam into a pillow, Magnolia tilted her goat head to look at her youngest sisters fondly on the couch.

“But you know what? I really don't think I need anything else. I have my sisters, I have my freedom, I have my patron. And that's all I want and need.” Magnolia bleated warmly.

Despite the huffing bleats, the youngest witchlets all stared at her fluffy, morphed head in fascination, Agnes carefully petting one of her curved horns as she slipped a woven charm onto it with a giggle. Magnolia peeked her slit dark pupils up to her youngest sisters, playfully snorting and making little goat noises to further entertain their giggles as they pe her dark morphed fur. Magnolia grew a goat smile at the girls taking advantage of the free makeshift petting zoo. Agnes looked to her twin sister with an idea before carefully lifting up one of the goat ears and curiously whispering into it.

“Can you transform into anything else?”

Her twin lifted up the other ear as the goat’s slit irises met the other sister.

“Pretty please, Nola?”

“You’ll spoil them down to the pit.” Nkiru interrupted with a soft smile, much to the young twins’ slight disappointment. 

However, when the young girls looked back at their sister’s goat head they were once petting, their expressions turned curious at a now mischievous look in Magnolia’s eyes. They marvelously watched their transformed sister’s eyes softly shut and sink into the sockets, as the long goat mouth slowly opened at movement from something inside. 

A large scaled snake head slyly poked out from the goat’s mouth and perked up at Agnes, meeting her eyes with a playful, reassuring wink. Magnolia’s serpent neck extended and slithered out of the goat head’s mouth as more freshly formed scales flowed like river pebbles. She let the witchlets pet her scales and marvel at the patterns before perking up with her human body, shifting to grab the couch. Magnolia’s neck was already extending and slithering through the cottage as she hid among the eclectic objects, almost ready to strike. 

Nkiru caught on that something was going on by the way the girls were suppressing their giggles, only to be spooked at Magnolia’s large snake head somehow right beside her neck.

“Ssspeaking of ssssnakes~”

The witchlets could no longer hold back their laughter as they watched their once coldly composed sister now recollecting her breath from the scare. 

“Sssssecond pawn to ssC four?”

Nkiru rolled her eyes at Magnolia drawing out her words, watching as her sister slithered and eyed her plate of food, experimentally licking a treat with her tongue to playfully taunt her.

“Don’t be sso ssserrious sssister, tiss’ almossst Sssamhain!” 

Nkiru pushed the snake's neck away and chortled at her sister’s once graceful serpentine neck flopping loudly. The cottage once again livened with chuckles, Nkiru magically opening the kitchen oven with a finger wave.

“I went searching in the rat's den. No luck this time, but I did make some turnovers.”

Magnolia perked up at her serpent senses, picking up the floating tray contents, quickly focusing herself and clearing her snake throat.

“Girls, how do we ask for something another brings to us?” The pale snake witch asked the young witchlets, giving a serpentine grin at the chorus of ‘please’ and ‘thank yous’. 

She nicely asked her sister in response, but much to both of their surprise, Rowena swiftly snatched the pastry and flung it up. Magnolia gave a challenged chuckle, striking only to bounce the turnover on her serpent head. She continued to bounce it higher and higher, the witches watching in anticipation as Magnolia’s head and neck morphed back to normal in an instant, leaning to catch the pastry in her mouth with a playful bow.

Sarah clapped at the trick with amusement as Magnolia’s blackened blonde curls continued to dramatically bow with playfulness. But Sarah’s mind drifted as she laid back in the chair. She could never slouch comfortably at her old home. She thought about how she could never have this level of casualness with anyone back in Salem. With anyone at all. Or that this level of casual playfulness and freedom even existed. She thought about the kindness and the life these women showed her. How she had somehow never felt this free before, despite only knowing them for a few weeks. Sarah wished she and her sisters could all stay like this all the time, aside from brunch and rituals. All under one roof. 

But before she could verbally say something, she heard Constance’s voice in her head. 

“We do too. But it’s for safety, witchlet. We still love each other and come over as many times as we like, but… trust us… It's for the best.” 

Sarah looked to the ceiling to spot Constance still painting, but she didn't miss how her brush stroke was ever so slightly unstabilized. 

“She is right, you know.”

Sarah looked curiously to Nkiru as she placed a small crimson bottle back beneath the floorboards, the woodgrain fitting together as if the secret cabinet was never there. 

“We learn to manifest, we take in lessons from nature, but more than anything, we protect ourselves.”

Her hazel-eyed, analytical sister traced the small white shells along her neck, critically analyzing the chessboard in front of her seat before continuing their game.

“Witches are like powder kegs. Our powers, as strong as they may be, can lead to our downfalls if we’re not careful. And one rule lives above all besides the manifestation lessons. Survival of the fittest.” 

Nkiru strongly affirmed her younger sister as she watched the sewn doll rise on the table within the blink of an eye.

“We have to be smarter. Faster. Cunning. Powerful.”

Each word was emphasized with another hit from the possessed poppet as it picked up the chess queen piece and knocked Sarah’s pieces aside. Three game moves Sarah didn't even see coming. A game well won, and a lesson well learned. 

“We stick together to survive, but also to love. It's only when we do both of those that we thrive.” 

Magnolia reaffirmed Sarah, going into a cabinet and handing her some sewing supplies as Nkiru started to teach her to make a poppet of her own. The pale witch slid Sarah a slice of pie, the girl feeling safe and comforted at the smell of sweet molasses pecans, nutty crackles of scorpion and roasted rosemary. 

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

The witches continued their brunch; crafting, concocting, and casually conjuring well into the afternoon. Laughter carried up from the dust in the cottage cobwebs and residually rang through potion bottles and windchimes. Camaraderie and love were nestled in every levitated dish and engraved in every calendar note. Every page turn and residual herb aroma bloomed with pure magic. 

Magnolia carried on her day tending to the garden, crafting with the witchlets and continuing her sewing projects, but something still itched at her. Words still pulsed through her brain and echoed in the jingles of jewelry. When evening came, she wished her sisters safe travels and friendly farewells as they all went to their own hidden homes, hugging her sisters tight and sending the witchlets off with Nkiru for the night.

As the moon rose in the dusky sky, she tried and failed to get the lingering words out of her own head. Magnolia continued to organize ingredients and keep herself distracted. But as her eyes drifted down to the small crack in her window at the faintest aroma of the roses leaking in, she immediately shut the curtain and straightened her spine. Magnolia grumbled as she dragged her hands along her face, a deep grumble bellowing through her throat.

A strong, reluctant sigh fell through the pale witch, knowing who she had to consult. These thoughts continued to plague her mind even as she busied herself in vain with cottage upkeep and book sorting. But she couldn't ignore the festering any longer. 

Magnolia let out a deep breath as she cut a remaining pie slice onto an ancient bronze plate, watching as the sweet molasses crust crumbled onto engraved sigils. She swallowed her breath as she set another pie plate by an ink drawing on the stairs alcove, before retrieving the ancient dish again. 

Magnolia drew the curtains closed as she adorned the ritual plate with a few herbs, watching the dried aromatics glow in the firelight. She knew she could always rely on the one who lingered in her soul, but she couldn't help but grimace at the expected reaction to the crisis in her cognizance.

With a wave of her finger, she set the coffee table aside and comfortably sat in front of the fireplace. A deep, guttural breath filled her lungs as she set the offering plate in front of her, looking to the fire as it crackled. Her dark irises illuminated like ancient molten gold, as her pupils began to naturally dilate and elongate the more she stared into the crackling fire. 

And finally, after a long minute, the thoughts in her head started to settle at the call in front of her. The cottage was quiet, say for the flame flickers mere feet in front of her and her heartbeat echoing in her ears. Magnolia's breathing became more guttural. And without a moment of hesitation, she sliced the ritual blade deep into her hand. Not a flinch came to her eye as she watched her cut start to bead. Crimson welled into her palm as she let it drip onto the plate in front of her, painting the herbs and pie crust a blackened, fire-lit red. 

She let the fireplace and the wooden herbal smell smoke into her lungs, and hugged herself with the hand that already healed. Warm, smoky goosebumps washed onto her skin like a bath of incense, as Magnolia finally closed her eyes and spoke aloud. 

“My patron lord… I fear I am quite mentally troubled tonight and request your guidance…”  

Her elongated pupils looked to the ancient bronze statue on her mantle, watching shadows and firelight flicker across the details. From the goat head in its omnipotent still gaze to the folded wings, all the way down the human torso and coiled snakes in its core. Ancient embossed words embossed on their poised arms, ‘Solve, Coagula’ stood as permanent as its comfortable sitting position, their goat legs imperfectly crossed but powerful.

The witch’s honey-smoked stayed bated as she waited, seemingly perking at every small crackle in the smouldering fire. But the silence and candle crackles didn't deter her as she pleaded again. 

“When you have time, my great devil.”

The dim, amber light casted shadows on her already blackened pale curls. Another moment passed, and suddenly she couldn't hold back her vulnerability any longer as her pleas echoed in the empty cottage.

“Please…offer a sign to let me know you hear my call. I am quite mentally troubled and need your help…”

Another deep, silent moment passed as she waited, letting her words linger in the air as she kept her hands pointed in the mimicking position to the ancient bronze statue above. As she finally cracked her eyes, she felt the candle flames all around flicker and dance in thought with requiem recognition. The room filled with a heavy, yet fulfilling musky sensation. Magnolia felt her eyes coaxed open, smiling up at the bronze goat-headed statue now tilted and staring straight into her kneeling form, too. 

A wide smile bloomed on her face as she felt a warm wind swirl and cradle her arms and up onto her neck and crown. A soft, quiet yet deep androgyne echo whispered.

“I hear you… My dear child."

“Baphomet.” Magnolia smiled with wholehearted warmth. A warm caress to the witch’s soul.

“I always have time for my priestess…”

The deep voice, however grumbling and anciently arcane, still carried an air of reverence to the witch who sat so comfortably warm before them. The pale witch smiled gratefully to the bronze ritual statue that now craned its goat head down within the blink of an eye, as she felt her pupils to match theirs. The statue stared down, fixed, silent, and imposing as Magnolia smiled at the deep ambient ring in her soul. Shadows danced and ushered inhuman, slow notes that swirled in her ears and throughout the cottage; hollow, yet oh so fulfilling. 

“No matter how many times I’ve done it, it’s always a treat to hear from you, my patron lord…tis’ quite a comfort…”

The firelight flickered on the ancient bronze fur and skin, an aura of mystique and musk omnipresent around the witch and her statue. The voice echoed once again, strong and yet gentle and comforting. Caressing her soul like a troubled child in a loving embrace. 

“Speak to me, young priestess. Tell me what troubles thou weary mind.”

Magnolia looked earnestly up to the statue.

“I fear part of me has become weak. Whether it's against my will or of my own, I do not know…I fear…” 

The pale witch swallowed her breath for only a second before her gaze became apologetic.

“...I fear becoming lovestruck…by someone I should never be falling for.”

The deep arcane whisper seemed to hum in response, almost pondering in amusement and thoughtfulness.

“Ah… the perplexing nature of affection…how beautifully enigmatic a soul can be. Pray tell, my child. Who hast your radiant spirit captured? And how hath it be so untimely?...”

“I know you have no issue with me falling for women; we know why you took me in. And I'm eternally grateful to you, but— the woman I fear…”

Her words fell onto guiding, gilded ears and caressing crackles. A warm resonant chuckle rumbled through the room and raising comforting goosebumps along the witch’s skin, almost playful and understanding.

“And how love between humans blooms and falls, and rises again in the great cycle… And love between women, how especially beautiful and tumultuous… I hath no qualms with thy heart gravitating toward another mortal soul. But…do pray tell hath my priestesses’ heart in such a thorned vice to stir such divisiveness?... Nay, a worry and do not fret, my child. We know I listen with thou’s most honest and open heart…”

Magnolia hesitated for a minute at their words until she felt a strong, warm invisible hand caress her cheek, cradling her head further into nothingness. After a deep breath, she confessed to the statue above, feeling their invisible hand comfort her as she furrowed her eyebrows. 

“The woman I fear falling for… she's tried to kill me…”

Baphomet’s presence seemed to grow more intense as a contemplative silence stretched on. Despite their lack of physical presence besides on the mantle, Magnolia knew their mind stirred with resounding disbelief and curiosity. 

Their voice whispered in echo once again, “I see why thou’s soul is so complicated. Humans..so complex, so full of endless contradictions…”

Despite their upset and curiosity, Baphomet still cared for the troubled witch beneath the mantle.

Baphomet continued their deep, resonant whispers, “Thou’s situation is complex, I appreciate you coming to me, young one… So… the woman your heart betrays has tried to end your mortal life. Do tell more, my child. To what is the nature of your complicated relationship?”

“Ellie Williams. At least that's what I'm told her name is. I don't know why I feel like this; my moral heart betrays me so. She’s tried to kill me, but… It's like I can feel the conflict in her own soul. She knows she should slaughter me and my sisters; we go against everything she’s been taught, and she’s not going to listen to anything else. My great devil…Why does she have to look at me like that and trouble me so?… Why did she do that… Why does my heart dare double its beat…?” 

Magnolia’s voice faltered as she pleaded to the statue for an answer.

“I so wish to be like you, my great wise devil… ethereally ambitious, infinitely knowledgeable and wise, no mortal qualms to hold me back...”

A soft hum reverberated through the cottage, almost pondering and curious as the whispers picked up again.

“How unfortunate her heart is guided so. Thou says there is something that draws you to her. Pray tell and elaborate, my priestess. Why hath she captured your heart so deeply in such a way?”

Magnolia let out a genuine, frustrated breath as her hands quivered.

“My soul betrays me, o patron lord. Believe me, I ask myself too. I feel like I can barely explain why it happened… Maybe it's just the loneliness of romance for being a woman like me. My wise one, I don't know why this is getting to me… it's writhing beneath my skin…weighing between my ribs.” 

Magnolia rambled as her voice openly crackled. 

“I’ve been fine without romance, so why am I so caught up over this?! It would be so much easier to just ignore it or kill her… but….but I haven't been able to…I cant…”

Baphomet let the witch continue to speak after the scents and shadows grew heavier.

“My patron lord, please don’t be upset…” 

Magnolia hated the sensation of being choked up. So pleading and desperate. Wanting to avert her eyes in shame. Until she felt the same invisible warm hands cradling her cheeks again, softly guiding her to look up to the ancient bronze statue. Tears started to blink from her eyes and roll down her cheeks, before they spontaneously sizzled off her face at the warm, invisible touch.

Magnolia spoke up again after composing her breathing a bit. 

“Indeed. These feelings exist. I’m taking accountability by giving myself fully to you for guidance, my great one. How you’ve guided me so well before, and how I hunger and keen for your knowledge and wisdom to help me…”

Baphomet finally whispered up again, their voice full of fondness and reverence.

“Do not fret, my child, I am not upset. You hath sought my guidance in a difficult situation, and I thank thee. It is wise to ask for help when so troubled on your own. A heart so conflicted is a natural response. I shall guide you. But first, look into thyself and tell me. What exactly about her has thy heart in a rush?”

Magnolia took a deep breath, not wanting to give these feelings a second thought, but trusting Baphomet’s intention despite the difficulty.

“I’m still not definitively sure… perhaps despite her hardened strength and soul soaked in stubbornness, I can tell there's a warm heart that hasn't had the chance to fully unfurl… A humor, an incredible loyalty, and a sense of protection driven by the urge to do what's right. Her eyes… the way she looked at me before… beneath the fear and hatred, there is an energy I can't quite place… suppressed…but how it conflicts me so. I feel in my head she still wants to slaughter me rather than speak.”

Her thoughts lingered for a moment before she continued.

“As much as I would like to give in, it's too dangerous. I don't wish to be a fool, I have too many things I care about that rationalize these iron barricades…and I think the culture she’s brought up in and her own stubbornness breed an unwavering need to stay to her own kind…to refuse others…”

Magnolia let her face fall, no longer seeing the need in hiding her emotions and baring her soul to the great devil. Baphomet’s statue seemed to resonate with mythical life as it listened intently to their priestess baring her soulful feelings so openly. They grew so proud of her emotional vulnerability beneath the reverence, still seeking to aid their priestess. Resonant, androgene whispers grew deep and endlessly intrigued.

“Oh, how layered a human soul can be. Depths and doubts, a capacity for strength in slaughtering and yet hold wholehearted mercy… a moral compass that sticks firm and yet deviates… how intriguing indeed.

“She’s told to slaughter my sisters, the hunters and her, they break our wards, invade our space time-and-time again, and even kill their own disadvantaged in hope of killing us… And yet, in her darkest moment, she came to me for help… saved one of my sisters from Salem’s hysterics… The first time she witnessed me, she aimed to kill, and yet after memory powder she seemed to genuinely care about my wellbeing…”

The pale witch continued, a deep honesty fully resonating in the ambient hums.

“I think that's what scares me the most. I don't know her true intentions. Do I dare think she truly feels enraptured by me as well, or is she just aiming to get closer to kill our coven?...”

Baphomet’s hum carried a weight of understanding, seemingly deep in thought.

“...You come forth in valid concern, my child. In matters of the heart, it can be truly unknown how feelings can blind or bind souls. In the event you encounter her again, I suggest thou remain vigilant, but not suspicious.  So as you trust in me, thou should trust thyself. In a dark hour, I trust you'll find a way to protect yourself. Be polite, yet observant. Give time to let her unfurl.”

The whispers seemed to pause as Magnolia pleadingly looked up to the statue above. She gave Baphomet a long while to compose their thoughts, ever-trusting in her great patron’s wisdom. Her eyes continued to flicker with great wonder and respect, a soft smile coming to her face as she rested her head onto warm shadows of  nothingness. The whispers continued with an almost smile in Baphonet’s reverent voice. 

“There may be another thing to consider, my priestess. Another course of action that may be beneficial.”

“What do you suggest, o patron of knowledge and wisdom?”

“I understand you have larger things to do…but, perhaps keep an ear open to your indulgences instead of pushing them so far away so quickly. As you indulge in my words and wisdom, so too must you occasionally trust yourself and give into thou’s own desires. Unless I am mistaken, my priestess?”

Magnolia paused, briefly baffled at their suggestion.

“...No, my great devil…I’ll keep that in mind.” Magnolia sighed, still looking up and trusting despite her doubts. 

 Even with her doubts, she couldn't help a smile from blooming like a thousand spring fields. Her heart filled with relief as another happy tear sizzled. 

“I still thank thee for your guidance, o great one.”

“My priestess, so full of raw emotion and power. Fitting for an immortal soul. Hot-headed, but oh so warm-hearted,” The whisper comforted.

“Solve et coagula.” They both repeated. 

Magnolia felt her breathing lighten as she laid more comfortably before the statue and fireplace, a natural familiarity coming through now that official consultations were over.

“My great one, I thank thee for your wisdom and guidance. How you fill my heart so. Is there any ritual you’d wish me to perform?”

Baphomet whispered back, deep and warm.

“There is no specific request tonight, my priestess. But if you do wish to honor me, a small ritual offer is always appreciated.”

Magnolia smiled at the whispers as she looked up to the statue with a warm, knowing smile. 

“Already saved you some scorpion pecan pie with mother’s rosemary, moonflowers, sacred herb, pure butter, and black garlic. And I shall always offer my blood whenever you wish.”

Baphomet’s warm whispers seemed to boom with a deep appreciative chuckle, the witch hearing a smile through their voice despite the stationary statue above. 

“Oh my priestess, how your favorite dishes are also my own. Above and beyond as always. How warm-hearted thou art~”

As Magnolia looked down at the plate, the sight of her own dripped blood self-igniting brought a warm, joyful laugh out of the witch. To know the great devil she loved and adored loved her at her truest brought out the purest joy. 

As the herbs and baked goods continued to smoulder, Magnolia continued to joyfully laugh as she heard the ambient call of the ancient flames draw drums in her own heartbeat. Her head bobbed along, wonderfully infecting her shoulders down into finger taps. She couldn't hold herself back anymore, tapping her now cloven feet along, radiance filling her dark golden eyes as she couldn't help but dance along to the ambiance. The firelight continued to expand as candlelight through the cottage began to dance and flicker in symphony. The immobile statue still stared in its fixed goat-faced expression as the firelight flickered, the ritual plate below now fully cradling smouldering desserts and herbs as the shadows danced along with their caster. 

Baphomet’s humming voice rumbled in reverent joy for his priestess as she continued to dance. The aroma of the ritual plate flooded the cottage and sent Magnolia into a full, blissful rhythm. She freely cackled in warm aromas as pure magic swirled through her energetically flowing body. Her own heartbeat swelled along like an arcane drum, ushering her cloven feet into joyful tapping and spreading through her shoulders. Cackles turned free and blissfully wicked as her pale blonde curls blackened further in dipped swaying shadow.

Her jewelry jangled like sweet tambourines as the magical cottage as the offering plate continued to smoulder, and the sugar in the blood-soaked pie continued to bubble and blissfully burn. The witch carried on her euphoric dancing late into the night, letting her energy overflow her as she danced along with the shadows that flowed throughout her home and body. Her honey-smoked cackles echoed in euphoria late into the night.

Ellie jolted awake from intensely wicked, blissful cackles as fast as the visions faded from her mind. She just barely managed to catch her breath as she clutched the cross by her bed, looking to the cloudy night sky. Her expression fell at the lack of stars to ground her, yet she quickly grew aware that the odd dream she had was just a fading illusion. 

Reality fell upon her as the faintest odd memories of warm fires and amber-melted sugar were overthrown by the residual smell of burning fur still leaking through the walls. Her ears still rang from the screaming. 

Next Chapter

The sound of wood cracking and through the foggy morning only caused Ellie to groan more into her pillow. Her mornings barely gave solace, but the fact they had resumed the tree cutting and expansion had only caused another thorn in her side, and another dull ache to her morning migraine. Ellie awoke with another groan at the sound of the tall pines splintering and creaking before crashing with a thundering thud: just more dull needles into her skull as cursed under her breath. 

“Just what I needed.” She pitifully groaned into her mattress, cursing under her breath.

Ellie further mentally cursed at the unwelcome return of the lumberjacks in the morning. Right as she had gotten a few mornings relief from the disturbance. She lazily clawed at her pillow to try muffling the sounds of the lumber outside her window, feebly filtered by the fog-dusted windows. Her head ached as she weakly struggled to get any sense of sleep back, not that she had any meaningful sleep the past few days. A thin layer of dust from her bed frame lightly fogged her breathing as she clutched her pillow around her head tighter. 

She thought of her different opponents on all fronts: the rumbling wacking and thudding of trees outside, the fact it was just barely dawn, and the places her mind would go back to if she was able to steal back another hour of sleep. Ellie tossed her blanket at the wall like a surrender flag and looked at the calendar parchment. Her tired eyes filled with annoyance as she twitched at another hearty axe ‘whack’. 

Her mind had still not fully shaken off the migraine she had since yesterday as her temple continued to drone. But, she was grateful that the nightmare she woke from earlier had finally started to dull from its fresh sting. Disappointment once again morphed into irritability as she looked at her calendar. The eighth damned day of this. As Ellie took off her night sweats and let the familiar dusty chill of the morning run up her back, her aching mind wondered how anyone else in this town functioned in the morning. Especially after the incident. Let alone how she functioned after walking into the lion's den itself; swearing that no matter how much her mind ached, she could still faintly feel the tug of thorns from that night. 

She cussed at herself at the thought of just how long her own mind was going to continue its torture. Or if it was even Ellie's own mind torturing herself. Her mind once again drifted on if something or someone had taken hold of her in a sick game. The nights left her just as annoyed as she was anxious.

 It became a begrudging routine. She would let the day’s functions remain just as monotonous, and the nights would keep her awake and afraid. Anxious and afraid of not only what lurked outside her window, but what lied just beyond the fog. By the time she had fully thought through it again, she let out an accepting breath into the next step in her routine. 

Complete the monotonous tasks by day, by night, get sleep only in hour-long shifts and have frequent nightmares of terror filled, twisted, morphed memories. Perhaps once again being shredded alive by supernatural animals and dully screaming in her head until she woke up with another migraine, perhaps another slice of butter on her bread. The moments in between would consist of praying, staring up into the static, dusty void of her ceiling, and pleading that peaceful sleep would take her body. Her mind filled with anxious thoughts of how anyone functioned like this after the witch-beast incident, which was only further fed and gorged by the isolation of her own thoughts. Thoughts occasionally caged in by bedframe backed up against the wall, the old comfort of her room like a dungeon. And its prisoner: the body and mind of who owned the house. If her body stayed awake it would sink thoughts of isolation, confusion and anxiety that morphed into self hatred. If her body fell asleep it would replay the terror of the supernatural forests and witchcraft, and slammed her awake into the repeat of the cycle. Eventually her drained mind would twist the memories into absurdist nightmares. 

All until the darkness of the night sky would gradually brighten into another foggy morning, and another monotonous day that only seemed to speed to the laborious nights. 

Ellie cleaned off the dishes of her breakfast she almost didn't remember making in her own haze. She gripped the kitchen table and let out a shaky breath. At the end of the irritation, migraines, fear, and anxiety, more than anything, she felt tired. Fueled by the essence of fumes. A lack of sleep that left her physically tired, of course, but she spent the entire time driven and consumed by the reigns of a dull mental pain she just wanted to sleep off. Eight days of this. Monotonous days of loneliness and societal structure caked in the dust of bible pages that laid unread. Of lonely nights where a newfound mental anguish only made her bones ache more. 

When she looked up, her eyes fell past the window to a sight that made her cringe. The shattered ceiling tile in one of the distant neighbor’s rooftops. She was just thankful the broken arrow was in a blindspot of the top of their roof. Ellie scowled at the memory of that night. Of the pure rage that flooded through her system when the arrow flew. As much as she hated that Jesse was right, he was correct; she was too stubborn for her own good. 

‘So what if Tommy’s words burned just a few layers too deep? He’s right after all. Witches are evil. Pure sin, in fact. God knows and lord save me from what that mocking blonde one did while knocked out and kidnapped.’

She thought a prayer in mental protection at just what that witch was capable of with her blood. Ellie’s skin crawled with anxious fury that seethed through a gritted breath through her teeth.

“Magnolia.”

A knock at her door stopped Ellie in her thoughts, before another resonant knock caused her to wince from the dull migraine pain. Ellie draped a coat over herself for more modesty before being blinded by the dawn fog at opening the door. As she blinked in recovery, her eyes widened in surprise at the soot-black haired girl softly smiling back, a protected cast iron in her hands. 

“Dina, it’s… God what time is it? It's early. Shouldn't you be at the bakery?”

Dina softly chuckled as she let herself inside Ellie's home, not that Ellie put up any real resistance anyway. Dina undid the top of her covering bonnet, letting her long black ponytail go somewhat slack.

“Can friends not look out for each other? Besides, I brought bribery~”

As Dina set down her covered cast iron to stoke the fireplace, Ellie looked outside again at the rising dawn. 

“Be honest with me Dina, what time is it?” Ellie sat back in her chair, rubbing the dark marks from her freckles to mask her tiredness.

“I have about forty-five before the bakery opens. Tahlia wanted to give me a bit of a break before the opening rush so I came over. I hope I didn't wake you, Ellie.”

“No, you're fine. Sorry if I kept you waiting out there. Ive just… ive been a bit tired this week.” 

“I wasn't out for too long. You had some crows out by your garbage but I shooed them away. Nasty birds,” Dina chuckled.

She got up from the fireplace and sat next to Ellie, letting the warmth take over the home. Dina’s voice resounded with hesitance, but she pushed it aside as she looked at Ellie with concern.

“You holding up okay, Ellie? I know the… wolf incident…is still fresh in our minds,” Dina spoke softly, “...But Tommy has probably got you hunting like crazy out there with Jesse and the group.”

Ellie brushed her hands over her eyes as they landed on the deer mount on her wall. Her mind briefly flashed back to when the animal cackled and drooled before bursting through the wall as she awoke from the nightmare to another migraine filled morning. 

“…I really haven’t been getting the best sleep. But hey, has anyone?” 

Dina softly chuckled. 

“I feel you there. Picked up the assistant nurse position for the evenings. I’ve been a little exhausted, but anything to help the community.”

“Aren’t you already worked to death at that bakery? Wouldn’t your father give you a real break?”

 Dina glanced back with worry before checking the near-finished bread, the smell of acorns wafting through the house.

“The harvest…it hasn’t been the best this year. I figured I'd try something out and have you as taste tester.”

“Id be glad to, Dina.” Ellie reassured.

“But let me tell you, those nursing positions are draining, especially with that new sickness going around.”

Ellie’s brow raised with concern, “A new sickness?” 

Dina looked like a startled deer and became extremely hesitant, but scooted her chair forward and spoke quietly. Her gaze flashed to the near distant woods in the window with another thunderous crack of a lumberjack axe, and she couldn't hold back any longer.

“Tommy’s been trying to keep it quiet…but there’s this odd sickness going around and he doesn’t want more panic than there already is.”

Ellie perked up, urging Dina to go on. 

“It’s odd…it’s only affecting the lumberjacks. And it’s not spread at all through air or touch, in fact, it hasn’t spread at all. W-which is good of course, it’s just…odd.”

“It’s not deadly, is it?” Ellie asked with concern.

Dina tucked a hair back, scratching residual flour from under her nails.

“No, it’s just…I don’t know how to put it…it’s just a little… frightening…”

The baker girl dug beneath her collar and pulled up her crucifix necklace, clutching the metal charm and fidgeting with it. Curiosity pricked at Ellie’s mind, but she was unsure if she wanted to possibly upset Dina further. She kindly put her hand on top of Dina's comfortingly, urging her to continue.

“It may be good to get it off your chest.”

Dina let out a shaky sigh, clutching her necklace harder and lightly kissing it before turning to Ellie. 

“Well, you know the lumberjacks have been asked to cut more wood and expand into the forest…but late at night they have really shallow breathing, nightmares that they can’t fully remember, and then they sweat blood for three days…”

Ellie’s eyebrows raised up in surprise before she extended a sympathetic hand to Dina. She rubbed her thumb reassuringly over the back of her hand, lingering there to give her comfort as Dina looked down at their hands with a veiled, unreadable expression.

Ellie reassured, “It’s really kind of you to help out, I’m sure they’re happy to see you.”

“Yeah…though they keep asking where Jesse is.” A smile finally returned to Dina’s face, as Ellie chuckled.

“Haven’t you two been broken up for a little while now?”

“Not like anyone has noticed we’ve been on and off the whole time~” 

Their spirits continued to rise at the friendly morning chatter, Ellie grateful for Dina’s presence. She smiled at the thought as Dina offered her another slice of acorn bread. Earthy and full. 

‘Dina Bakerson. She’d make a great wife. Sweet, caring, has a great talent for cooking and baking. Sure, she would occasionally gossip and would occasionally jest, but she’s far better than any other side-glancing, old, snarling woman in town.’ And the same sentiment was always repeated with a smile about Dina; ‘She’d make a great and loving wife to a husband. Even more so with her natural kindness to be friends with a girl like Ellie.’ 

But, Ellie still held faith. Faith in the continued quiet talks behind closed doors. In the sneaking of fresh bread and butter every other morning. And in the secrets they’d confide in. At least the secrets they were both willing to share.

Ellie let out a breath as Dina ran back to the bakery with a laughing smile, before the cloudy grey of the outside once again dulled Ellie’s mood. She picked up the nearby watering can and titled it toward the hydrangeas by Joel’s grave, dusting off a few fallen leaves. A strong moment of silence passed until she heard a familiar click of the front gate, moving aside so Tommy could kneel down beside her. His cloak flowed and settled its edges on the ground, as they wordlessly looked at the grave beneath them. Ellie arranged the hydrangeas properly with a new flower Tommy had placed in her hand. The air stood still in familiarity as they sat in silence, words far from needing to be exchanged. The smell of wood and aged leather still lingered after all this time. A hint of hydrangea was not as welcome, but more than familiar as it blended with the morning breeze. A long exhale left Ellie’s nose as her and Tommy finally looked to each other in silent acknowledgement. 

Ellie’s eyes were drawn to a large, dried bloody parchment sack, the smell of boar musk hitting her nose as she looked at Tommy. He never needed a reason to come to his brother’s grave, but it made sense why he came this morning. No matter how many years passed, she could still occasionally hear the screams and squeals that rang and resonated in the shaken forest. The pure brutality of how the boar’s forehead was blown apart in a bloody mass from the close proximity gunshot. The smell of fresh blood, and the creak of floorboards in those nights spent with doctors. Ellie could look up into Tommy’s brim-covered expression and already sense the hidden scowl as his eyes drifted into familiar contemplation. He didn’t have to say the words again out loud, she had heard them time and time again in his drunkest nights.

“That god-damned pig wasn’t normal.”

Tommy wordlessly left the garden gate, bushels of flowers still in hand as the rusted lock clicked into place. Ellie took a minute to compose herself before she too walked out, her boots once again landing with purpose down the street to the church. Her eyes were aimless as she felt the small crucifix necklace in her pocket, her ears caving in from the sound of wind and grimacing at the ambient town chatter. With nothing else to do but walk the long street to the chapel, her ears momentarily focused up to hushed housewifes as they checked in other’s front gates. 

“Dear, can you please get more bread from the Bakersons—”

“Elijah, did you let the chickens out again?”

“You have any spare carrots, Leanne? I'd be willing to buy—” 

“You know, I think I saw that goat hop one of our own fences before running—” 

Ellie followed their eyes to a neighbor’s goat pen, seeing a broken board at the top.

“Revelation 22:15, For without are dogs—” Ellie had every letter of that verse memorized.

“Well at least she helps with the hunts.” 

“I pray they come up with something from those woods…”

Ellie swallowed a lump in her throat.

“You know, after I did my counting I found some spare money that made up for the yarn, but I know better than to accept money from a witch.” Mrs. Taylor huffed to a few other housewives.

“Can you believe what Sarah did? Little Sarah…”

“She could barely roast a hen, and what about her husband?”

“Eleanor—” 

She momentarily cringed at the hushed use of her full name but continued walking. Ellie had long gotten used to being part of town chatter.

“Mary, she summoned the devil himself.” A hushed husband reminded his wife.

“Well of course that goat wasn't normal—” 

“Says ‘Not repent of their murders, nor of their sorceries, nor of their sexual immorality, nor of their theft–” 

“We love him of course, but I still cannot believe she got those land rights–”

“It shredded his arm, it's a miracle he can still hunt.”

“We need more fur, the children are growing—” Ellie heard a wife say with a scoff.

“Tommy said to me they destroyed a devilish rune wreath.” Ellie remembered the feeling they had when they broke the twine-coated wood.

“The audacity of her.”

“Has your husband gotten any better?” Ellie already knew the answer to the woodcutter’s wife’s question.

“The damned audacity of that wench.”

“...You are in my thoughts and prayers.”

That last line shouldn't have struck as deep of a chord as it did. But nonetheless, she moved forward. Past the houses and gardens, past the animal pens, briefly moving aside for a stray chicken that had gotten loose. The back of her mind shuttered at the last time a flock of chickens ran so amok. Or at least the legends of them doing so. And how badly she wished they were just legends.

The uneven stones in the plaza were like dull nails in the arch of her foot. Coffin nails binding her to a guilty conscience. Her mind once again flashed back at the large cracks where the beast’s heavy weight snarled, her eyes trailing down to the ever so faintly blood-stained dirt that still hadn’t fully washed away in the rainstorms. It lingered in the whispers of the woods. Rumbled within the town gossip. Reverberated in the flash of eye contact that was singed into her skull. Echoed in Ellie’s head through the nightmares. She forced herself to shake back to sanity before knocking on the church door, softly smiling and lowering herself before the aged priest.

“You return once again, my child.”

“Good morning, Father John.”

Ellie lowered herself to the priest, her eyes pleading and struggling not to beg as she composed herself at the sight of people praying in the pews. Subtle whispered melodies carried themselves like ghosts in the rafters.

“You come back again so soon, child. What troubles you?”

“Forgive me father…my mind still hasn’t cleared up these past few days. Especially at night.”

The priest gestured for her to sit at the back pew so others would not be disturbed. She sat down, her eyes lingering on the familiar set of flowers now placed at the covered and padlocked confessional booth. Ellie held her hand up to help the priest to sit down, which he gratefully took with an exhausted groan as he settled beside her on the wood bench. He had a look of awe between his wrinkles as his eyes fell upon the large crucifixion carving up front. How the oak of carved aching muscles stood so tall even after the years since the woodcarver passed. How the crown of thorns lay barely illuminated from the foggy grey light and the quiet patter of rainfall.

She quieted herself, looking down to the crucifix necklace but unable to bring herself to look to the chapel front. The crucifixion’s presence already brought enough eyes she didn’t need today from walking here. 

“Father…I’m afraid my faith has been slightly tested…I’m still unable to sleep peacefully.”

She hesitated again as he continued to listen, his eyes up front on the massive crucifixion carving.

“I pray, I repent, I give everything to our lord. I’ve even slept outside the church for a few hours…I’ve exhausted myself with hunting hoping the adrenaline crash will knock me out peacefully. I’ve tried multiple medicines but with next to no success…I-…I don’t know what to do, I want the nightmares to stop, I give my life, my love, my time and energy–”

Ellie stopped herself, the guilt smoking even further into her system and filling her ribcage like the dense incense. It flowed, curled in, and settled at the bottom of her stomach; smoking out any space normal oxygen once held. With a heavily aged hand on her shoulder, Father John continued to listen closely.

“Do forgive my hysterics, Father John, I'm just… I'm exhausted.” Ellie said breathlessly, almost disappointed in herself for the tone that unwillingly came out of her.

When Ellie looked up from the wooden floor, she noticed the look of fondness Father John still held to the wood carving up front, even as a cough escaped his lungs. 

“Joel did such good work on that. It's incredible he did that in his own spare time from hunting to help this community… It's so marvelous we can behold something so beautiful… even after– well, he rests well.”

Ellie spoke up again, correcting the slightest choke-up she felt in her throat.

“He does rest well. On the land he loved.”

Father John gave the smallest smile back, with a small nod as he pursed his aged lips together.

“My child… Eleanor.”

Ellie mentally winced at the usage of her full name, and yet felt guilty for how momentarily she got worked up over it.

“I know you have spent quite some time here, and I can only imagine what it's like in your own home, even without a husband. Having to be the lone breadwinner and taking care of the home…so many things take up your time.”

The priest looked back with a veiled expression beneath his pity. 

“If you want to spend another afternoon here, you can. I implore you to help purify yourself if you unfortunately still see your soul as unclean. The community tends to come even more around this time as the autumn and winters come. The lord always has open eyes and ears for his children, and will listen. And if you pray hard enough, he may just help purify your soul of sins.”

Ellie felt heavy and light at his aged words. Her hand reached for the small bible as she flipped through a few pages.

“But I must implore you, my child…” Ellie looked back and quietly swallowed.

“And of course, all due respects to you and… and Joel, but…Perhaps you have something to confess?”

Ellie felt the back of her neck stand up again at the notion of confession, and immediately her mind flooded to a thousand things that sizzled in her core like acid and burned into the back of her mind like a wildfire. 

“No, Father…nothing at this time.” 

A long moment of contemplation passed between the two of them. Ellie felt the burn of eyes on her. The pair that stood wooden and distant, the invisible ones above the rafters, and the ones sitting right next to her.

“...I see.”

Those simple words were enough of a response. She felt guilt consume her again like a starving fawn to a wolf. And yet, the guilt ripped away at her like vultures. She truly shouldn't feel this way here in such a holy and forgiving place. At least that's what she was told to believe. She was in a house of god, her god. And he should love her and wish her well. As long as she obeyed the rules and followed along. Followed along like the others in town he had been blessed with good lives, clear minds, happy friends, and full bellies.

Father John finally noticed her lost in a sea of thought and cleared his throat as sat as tall as his aged spine would allow. 

“James 4:8, my child.” Father John encouraged her.

Ellie took a minute to grab her pocket bible, trying to quickly skim the pages to find the section and requested verse.

“James 4:8…” Ellie cleared her throat as the priest gazed ahead to the wood carving.

“Ahem…’C-come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded.’...”

Ellie and Father John each took a strong moment at the words, the priest smiling softly. 

“Give yourself up to the Lord. The son, his father, and the holy spirit. We do not ask for direct advice, we can only implore in his written teachings of the apostles and what we can interpret of thy name and word.”

Ellie continued to listen as she leaned forward in the pews. 

“But I still do implore you… do tell the lord, or me for that matter, if you have anything you wish to confess at any time. A guilty conscience is a distracted conscience.”

Ellie nodded and thanked the aging man as he used the wood of the pew to stand up properly, before guiding the altar boy over. 

“If you’ll allow me further, Eleanor.” He gestured for her knife.

Ellie undid her holster and nearly winced at the sharpness, her eyes going over the embossed crucifix design that stayed blackened even through the polished silver metal. The priest acknowledged the sharpness and the lack of wear, but simply cleared his throat as he took the handle. Dipping a finger in a bowl of holy water, he cleared his throat and dragged a finger down the center of the blade, drawing a large cross. 

The altar boy held the bowl higher for Father John and started to sing in psalm as the priest affirmed along.

“Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

A strong air of silence passed as the raindrops continued to lightly patter on the imported glass windows. The tips of the trees continued to gently sway just outside of the distant view of the gates. Just barely visible, but everpresent. Ellie slowly chimed in after, bowing her head and clasping her hands.

“Amen.”

“You do so much good for this community.”

The priest acknowledged the tips of those howling woods but didn't bother to stare back as he nodded down to Ellie. 

“Spend all the time you'd like here today, my child… if the nightmares still plague you and you still seek answers, perhaps look to the book of Luke again.” The priest and altar boy kindly blessed her before they walked to check on the other churchgoers. 

‘Luke 22:44. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.’ 

Ellie didn't even need to read the page, but her eyes continued to skim over the heavily aged ink. She had repeated that verse to herself countless times. Truly countless. Elllie let out the quietest chuckle to herself as if not to disturb any of the church goers, or even absentmindedly offend the lord if he had listened in.

If she had half a shilling for each time she recited that verse, she could bypass the law outright and buy that plot of land for herself. One of the only requests of that will and testament. His testament. 

Ellie tended to avoid that passage as time slowly droned on. As comforting as it was, it still resurfaced unpleasant memories. Memories of the creaking doctor’s stairs. Memories of sleepless nights and blood being drawn from his temples. Memories of holding her hand in larger, aged hands. Memories of reciting prayer by his bedside. Memories of people saying they’ll be in their prayers. Memories of people packed by her front gate. Memories of collecting flowers day after day. Memories of those same voices protesting in court. 

And yet, maybe it was about time she had read the ink on paper again. Confronted the things that made her uncomfortable. To truly give up her misdeeds to the lord and the carving up front. To confess to the father walking by, to give into the eyes of the wooden son, and to be hopefully heard by the holy spirit.

Ellie reaffirmed to herself with a breath as strong as the wind storming outside the windows.

“A guilty conscience is a distracted conscience.”

A whole afternoon had passed. The rain continued to patter. People came and went, some silently stealing glances and others hushing their children as they quietly prayed, humming their hopes in verses of psalm. Ellie's throat became raw through mere whispers. Hours had passed, and Ellie had done nothing but pray that her nightmares and troubles would soon pass too. 

Ellie had stood up from the pews nearly winded from breathless prayer. And yet after days of coming back for more blessings and prayers that the nightmares and her exhaustion would end, her pleas only worked up so much breath. Her feet wobbled a little as she finally stood on her boots. Hours upon end and hearing only the sound of her own thoughts with the soft patter of rain on the imported windows. As soon as she felt the heavy door close, she felt her sins and anxiety faintly hold her back by the nape, nestled in the church rafters that hooked into her even as she stepped out the door.

She didn’t want to admit she felt let down before, and anxiety took hold that she didn’t fully believe her nightmares would be cured tonight. Ellie cursed herself for throwing herself into the chapel, desperate for a cure, and knowing that there was only one way to test if her prayers for the night would be answered. She took a few miscellaneous plucked flowers from outside her house gate and put them in a small vase by Joel’s gave, watching the old petals scatter on the dirt. 

Ellie dreaded just the mere thought of lying down. Her mind constantly jolted itself awake even as she sat down staring at the fireplace, slowly cooking her dinner. She held her lip between her teeth as her heel bounced on the floorboards. Maybe tonight the nightmares would stop. Ellie didn't bother to entertain the other thought that still lingered in the back of her mind. The nightmares would stop. Ellie had prayed all day, and she continued to pray as she looked up to the stars and changed into her nightgown. A thin layer of dust on her window had blurred the stars more as a few peeked through some clouds as she continued to pray to the night sky.

An odd feeling crept up her back before she quickly swatted at her nape, running her nails through her hair. She was both anxious and tired of feeling this way. Unsafe in her own home. A prisoner of her own mind. She blew out the candle and laid in bed, forcing her eyes shut into a hopefully uneventful sleep. The sound of wind and rainfall once again rumbled through the house, Ellie at least somewhat thankful that at least her windows would be somewhat washed. The sound of her own breathing cooled her body down as she held onto her blanket tighter. Her mind continued to absorb the sounds as Ellie continued to silently pray in hopes that a peaceful sleep would overtake her. The patter of rain continued to fall on the imported glass, falling harder and harder. A deep rumble of wind creaked through her home and burrowed into her ears. The rain continued to tap. Ellie shifted herself slightly in hopes another position would muffle her mind. 

And then her ears picked up another sound through the rain on the window. The sound of creaking. The softest creaking. The house was old. She could accept that the storm tonight was just a little harsh. Until she heard the sound of the wind again. Much clearer. Crisper. Something had knocked her window open. 

Ellie shifted out of bed and sparked a candle, illuminating the vast darkness of her home. She quickly moved downstairs, trying to avoid the shifting thoughts of what the candle shadows would form in the darkness. Ellie set the candle down and quickly closed a blown-open window, letting out a sigh as she muffled the wind. Her hand lingered on the rain-splattered floor as she quickly wiped up the water, only to feel fear flood through her system at the candle being knocked over by itself, wax threatening to stain and burn the table. She felt her heartbeat in her own ears as she picked up the candle and blew it out. Except, the flame didn't go out. 

The wick simply reignited through the wisp of smoke, before Ellie attempted to blow out the candle again. It once again sparked by itself, and on instinct Ellie threw the candle into a bucket of dirty water by the fireplace. The sizzle helped calm her nerves as she sat down in her dining chair, before she got up again to go to bed. But the smell of burning caught her off guard. 

Ellie looked back in instinct, only to find the bucket now tipped over and leaking flames. Adrenaline filled her system as she quickly put the bucket outside to have the rainfall extinguish it, only to have the wind of the night storm almost cackle in her ears. She looked back to her house, the door she shut on now creaking open. Small claw marks were scorched into the floorboards, as Ellie reached for her thigh, only to find the blessed knife holster no longer there. Ellie felt the fear and rain pound in her eardrums as the wind ominously whistled through her shattered windows. She cautiously stepped inside, only to have her lungs shredded at the inside of her beloved family home engulfed in flames. 

The crackle of wood burning was like a mocking laugh as the shadows from the inferno started to take shape into goblins. The darkness on Ellie's face felt like claws in her skin as her own shadows anchored her to the ground, her body pinned by singed wood as the wind howled only seemed to anger the pyre more. Ellie tried to scream for help, only to have her shredded breath torn as she felt the shadow goblins’ gnashing teeth singing into every shaded crevice. Her nostrils burned like saltwater to a wound, her nailbeds like rusted spikes forcing themselves between her skin. She felt herself being further bound by her own body before she felt the back of her throat sink into the burning floor, cackling shadows continuing to take joy in her torment. A massive creak alerted Ellie to the flames already reaching her rafters, as she felt pure fear consume her at the creaking of the large wooden beam. Ellie helplessly screamed as she watched the scorching mass of beams quickly collapse onto her lungs.

A strong deep gasp forced Ellie awake as she briefly struggled to breathe. She quickly grounded herself, finding solace in the knife holster still strongly strapped to her thigh. With a firm breath, Ellie scowled as she quickly dressed herself with a thick coat over her nightgown. A deep guttural scoff howled through her lungs as she tied her shoes, fumbling with the laces before throwing her cloak on. Ellie tossed on her quiver and kept her arrows close on hand as she looked out her window, noticing the crows once again on a neighbors roof. Blind frustration continued to tunnel her vision as she almost didn’t hesitate to immediately walk into the woods, hunter's knife in hand. Ellie once again stood right before the foggy entrance to the forest, the thick air like a blindfold to whatever the woods had in store for her. But one thing was clear. She was ending this dreadful curse of eternal nightmares tonight. 

Night air shifting be damned, she was finding a witch by eliminating the source of the curse upon her. She once again cursed at herself for being so stupid as to be back in this situation again. Aimlessly wandering a blinding forest, looking for witches, without help or even a horse. But just a moment after she had walked straight forward into the opaque white fog, she stepped back. She needed to be smarter than this. 

Ellie cursed at herself as she cautiously walked back home, her horse snorting awake at Ellie’s hand brushing her fur in the dead of night. Shimmer padded her hooves at the dirt as her rider untied her from the tree post. Ellie looked back around to see if her neighbors had noticed. And after a minute, she let out a quiet breath of relief, but decided to ditch the saddle to not potentially wake anyone in the town up. An eye could have glanced though any number of curtain cracked windows, and she didn’t want to take any chances. 

The hunter carefully leapt up onto Shimmer and waited to cock her gun until she had rode just outside of the wooden gate. Shimmer carefully walked along the grass as Ellie adjusted her coat, already feeling the skin of her back pricking at the cold. She ever so quietly clicked her tongue to usher her horse into the blinding fog, as they both seemed to hold their breath. Ellie triple checked to make sure she had her hunters knife, looking down at her freckled reflection in the faintly water-stained metal. The sound of wind howling through the trees as their only guide, Ellie and Shimmer both knew it would grow unfamiliar soon if they were on the right track. 

She waited another minute as she adjusted the gunpowder in her rifle musket, and cocked it at the sight of slightly brighter light in the fog. Ellie took a firm breath as she ushered her horse forward, making herself ride taller as the wind swirled in her ears. But just as she walked faster, she found her heart sink deep into her chest. The fog had dispersed not because of light, but because she was back at the starting place. Right by the same patch of grass she started walking into. But Ellie didn’t have time to think properly. As much as it stung to have misnavigated these woods she had been and hunted in for so long, she didn’t have time for pity. She had just enough time to complete unfinished business. 

So again she turned her horse around in the fog, clicking her tongue to have Shimmer move more confidently. Again she double checked her gun, feeling much more firm and heavy along her forearm than her bow. The sound of quietly crunching dirt from horse hooves and their breathing was the only thing keeping them grounded in the quietly howling wind. Ellie moved to check how many bullets she had left, but felt her eyes widen in disbelief at the sight she found when she had looked up. The same patch of dirty grass. The same guard wall. The same subtle glow of oil lamp through the cracks in the boards. 

She let out a huff in disbelief before looking around back into the woods, trying desperately to peek through the fog and trees, only to see the long familiar woods still soaked in heavy fog. Barely anything could be seen through the opaqueness no matter how hard her eyes would focus, but there was no time for paranoia.  Ellie released a strong huff and guided Shimmer to another spot in front of the woods, stubbornness whistling  through her teeth as she once again clicked her tongue. Her gun was once again ready to fire as she stepped with Shimmer into the woods, only to be passively greeted by the forest fog sucking them in. Whistles of night insects and birds peeked through the tree needles shifting. Ellie was always taught to keep an extra sharp eye out at night, but this time, the fuel of stubbornness kept her trotting along and slowly weaving through the trees. Shimmer momentarily stopped at a cold breeze through the tree trunks, but kept on walking along at a faster speed.

 Ellie let in a deep breath of the fog to keep herself grounded, only to let her eyebrows furrow at the sight of the Salem wood gate in front of her. She knew she was right. She had navigated this part of the woods about a thousand times already while hunting in the day, the night air couldn’t have so drastically messed up her sense of direction. And she was on an animal. Her loyal horse. She wouldn’t have let Shimmer steer that far off course. She looked down to her mare who seemed almost as terrified to look back into those woods. Her hooves hesitated ever so slightly as Shimmer gazed up with unease to the higher tree branches coated in a thick layer of fog that soaked the pine needles, ears twitching and tensely alert. 

Ellie let out a resigned sigh as she hopped off her horse, seeing the pure unease in such a powerful and loyal animal. And for a minute, Ellie thought how she hated how her own stubbornness could drag others in, too. She picked a carrot from just inside her kitchen window and fed it to her horse as an apology, tying her up to the tree post again. Shimmer looked back in loyal love as she craned her head toward Ellie, chuckling at her mare nudging the horse blanket just below her hooves. 

 “Prissy as always are we?” Ellie dusted off the quilted blanket and quietly fit it around her mare.

Shimmer affectionately nudged Ellie before craning her head toward the top of the woods, Ellie once again drawn in by cold stubbornness. She once again let out a sigh of acceptance, not liking what she has to do. But it was worth a try again, no matter how much her gut screamed at her to go back to her room. Ellie once again fitted the large oak rifle in her forearm again, making a steady walk into the forest. She let the fog consume her as she briskly walked into the forest, stubbornness fueling her like oil to flames. She darted between the trees as she kept a strong hold on the metal trigger guard. Her eyes kept flicked up toward the taller parts of the fog-soaked tree branches, her mind immediately flashing back to the nightmares and the sound of cawing crows. 

But just as she opened her eyes after an affirming breath, she once again felt anger seep through her breath as she found her feet right where she started. Ellie didn’t have time or reserved energy to ask if she herself was going crazy. Maybe she was experiencing another nightmare, but she didn’t know if it was cruel or not to have it go on this long without waking again. Her eyes fell upon the broken roof tile of one of the homes, and briefly debated if she wanted to shoot into the forest to scare off some of the birds and wild animals. 

And then it hit her. The animals. Those hares, those crows, that devil goat, the damned wolf, the beast. Anything else that could linger into the woods. Her eyes fell upon the moon-dimmed darkness again as her eyes sharpened to a razor's edge. Fueled by a twisting furious anger within her stomach, like hot stones being simmered inside a glowing crimson skillet. She had been more than fed up with these witches and their torment on the town, and now it had been personal. That witch that stole her blood and hair in front of her own face. 

And now, she was cursed. 

She dropped her gun by the gate and decided she would collect it later. She could be more accurate and deadly with her arrows anyway. Just imagining the blood splatter of the cursing witch against one of these trees, it sent a hot shiver up her spine. Or even pinning that stupid crow against the tree and having its bones snap on impact. Ellie had somehow missed the bird on the neighbor’s roof. She wouldn’t miss again. 

Her hot breath drove up a splash of sick, revenge fueled oil as it splattered and spit through her burning-iron gut. She firmly gripped her bow and briskly stormed into the forest, her angered expression not even flinching as she was turned immediately back around after walking straight into the fog. Anger and bloodlust had fully consumed and driven her steps as her gritted teeth turned into a full scowl. Her sage green eyes had lit furiously ablaze. 

The forest wind was fully deafened to her even as it whisked her eardrums. Only the sound of her pounding footsteps in the forest dirt, her sizzling stomach, and the wind rush of her turning repeatedly back around and around the fog fueled her forward. Ellie didn’t care anymore if it took her all night. She didn’t care how many angry grunts she let out or if she woke up the entire town— hell, the entire colony. The same sounds kept swirling in her head. Over and over. The dirt, her footsteps, the wind in her ears, her own raging voice screaming in her head to just keep going. She was angry and desperate for anything to show up in these woods in front of her. The quietness of insects who almost seemed to stop their calls at the sight of Ellie’s rage. The subtle wood creaking at her own tightening grip. 

And then it finally hit her eardrums. A near-distant crow caw. She didn’t hesitate. An arrow was immediately slung and with a harsh snap, sunken into a tree trunk right by a high branch. The arrow sunk over halfway deep into the wood, but not a drop of blood was seen. Once she let out a few fast breaths, she registered that she heard a snap. The hunter looked down at her hands only to be disheartened by a deep sinking feeling anchoring into her gut. A snapped bow string. Her snapped bow string. 

The sight in her hands was like an icewater splash to her system. Anger still sizzled fiercely, but the sight reminded her that she was still at the mercy of the trees. Ellie once again let the fullness of the night overtake her. The smell of blinding fog. The low howl of wind that swirled through her mind. Birds and insects hiding amongst the trees and ground, occasionally whispering to the woods. The sound of her own heartbeat echoing into her eardrums. The silence of the shadows, as branches and darkness already snared her in like a sinister spiderweb. The crunch of her own feet on the forest floor. The near numbness in her hand as she gripped her witch's blade in her hands. The groove in her thumb as she nervously traced over the crucifix embossed in the blade. The steadying breath in her lungs that straightened her to face the woods head-on. 

Her mind swirled to any information she could have possibly gathered in her blind rage. Anything to help ground her to something rational. Anything to help her find out the source of the sorcery, or even where she was in these woods. She remembers blindly walking through the trees. Ellie couldn't have been far from Salem. Or maybe she was. But Ellie refused to lose hope as she pressed her thumb deeper into the small metal crucifix, rage once again fueling her system. She looked up, desperate to find anything grounding, only to be startled at the peeks of light in the pure darkness; a flock of darkened birds staring her down, their eyes beady and barely reflecting in the fog. But Ellie swore she could see something darker among the highest branches, hiding in the layers of fog-lit tree shadows as the crows curiously peeked their heads. 

Ellie fiercely drew an arrow and pointed it up to the source of the rustling above the birds, only to have her mind in pure disarray at the sight of a human-like silhouette for a split second. She frantically looked back around again, trying to see if her mind had found a new trick of cruelty to play.

Her gut had only sunk further at the sound of muffled giggling. Feminine giggling. She forced the sinking feeling up and out as she mimicked her bow and arrow still intact, forcing her stature to be much more threatening. That sinking feeling settled back in as soon as she felt a subtle shift in the air. It breezed by differently. It swirled in her skull and sent an avalanche of shivers down her back. 

Part of the figure was still obscured by the darkness above, and yet it stared curiously down, quirking its head at Ellie. The longer she stared up at the figure, the more Ellie had to correct her nervous trembling at the sight. As it slinked down the tree shadows and shifted its beady eyes, it became oddly feminine in its shadowy form. But it still remained an observer, obscuring itself behind a thick tree. Ellie knew it was still there. 

“Come out or I shoot. I know you understand me.” 

Ellie called up in a forced darkened voice, her hand fierce on an arrow as she tried to hide her blade.

Ellie’s hand immediately tightened on her bow and arrow in warning before a rather raspy voice fully emerged from of the shadows, as she held them up in defense.

“Hey- hey! I assure you, you don't want to eat me, I’m not that tasty!”

“Wha—“ Ellie was baffled in pure confusion,  “E-eat you!?”

The young woman stepped out of the shadows with a quirk in her head. She was unlike anything Ellie had ever seen, and it threw off Ellie's sense of confusion far before her fight or flight reflexes.

Her impulses and reflexes struggled which front to take, but anger once again overtook her at the sight of the witchy woman in front of her. Witch or not, she was odd enough to kill. And Ellie had had enough as she took hold on the knife and ran toward the woman in fury.

Surprise and shock hit the witch’s eyes as she felt Ellie push her into a nearby tree, letting out a strangled gasp as the hunter plunged her witches blade into the woman’s stomach. The witch’s dark beady eyes blew widely back into Ellie’s with furrowed brows as she let out more strangulated gasps. In Ellie's satisfied rage she felt herself smile as she twisted the knife upward. The witch spit up a little bit of darkened blood across her dusty reddened skin, Ellie watching a deep wine liquid dribble down her chin and into the dark feathers of her coat, splattering onto her face. The witch tossed her head back with a deep gasp, tossing her head side to side. As the dark blood substance trickled down Ellie’s face, she felt taken aback at a surprisingly sweet and tangy taste of blackberries. Ellie stepped back in surprise, only to find that the metal of her knife had melted down into a puddle of silver liquid on the forest floor. The witch licked up the flowing substance of her mouth, smiling at the taste.

“Mmm, Blackberries~” She teased with delight, “You ruined my stash, but I can't get too mad.”

The woman grabbed the end of Ellie's coat and used it to wipe off some of the residual melted silver liquid, pulling the knife handle out of her stomach and pocketing the now bladeless handle after admiring the intricacy. She dabbed up a large amount on her finger and raised an eyebrow to Ellie, offering her some of the fake blood. Ellie stepped back, still in shock and disgust as the witch seemed to lick up her own blood.

“Sweet father Rher, that really was close! I gotta admit, you do have some killer instincts.”

The woman chuckled with a raspy breath, a mischievous giggle still simmering in her throat as she finished cleaning up the blackberry-blood.

With a resigned sigh, Ellie let go of the anger and finally got a good look at this woman as she cooled down, only to have bafflement once again take a front seat. Ellie had seen a lot of strange sights and yet this woman was far up there in that list. A teenager of the night wrapped in a thick, yet slimming dark coat. A coat that laid on her torso and arms, and yet it was draped in a way that showed off her full collarbones and stopped by her thighs. A chain belt full of eclectic oddities and trinkets cinched in her waist from the thick, oddly tailored coat jacket. Large dark fur trim was accented with protruding feathers that looked like the spiked ends of her slick-back short hair. A thin crown of small moon phase tattoos crept below her hairline and sunk into her void-like slicked feathery hair that was chopped at her nape. Her skin slightly tanned with a faint crimson, accented with dark lips and eyes that opened to show a beady blackness back at Ellie. Long swirling ink lines drew down from her chest and up along her neck to her lip, reminding her of the natives that once roamed this land. She came closer with a swaying hop in her step, despite the sharpened arrow in front of her at Ellie’s firming grip. 

“Relax, hotshot.” She looked Ellie up and down, staring her beady eyes into Ellie’s.

“Like you could find your way anywhere in this fog.” 

The witch stamped her high platformed boots as she circled Ellie, hands placed behind her back, draped in her coat sleeves. The odd woman circled closer and closer, curiously stepping in odd patterns, quivering her head as her steps twitched. Ellie still couldn’t speak, baffled by everything about this ‘teenager of darkness’. Her young age, the odd scandalous-cut clothes, how she apparently wasn’t freezing despite having exposed collarbones and thighs, and how she kept making oddly curious movements as if she’s never seen someone like Ellie up close before. 

“I have to admit, for a weirdo, you do pull off those nightpants well.” The girl casually admitted, briefly leaning down and tugging Ellie’s pocket edges as Ellie pulled away and flexed her hand on her bow again.

“You witches have a weird sense of fashion and an even sicker sense of humor.”

The woman looked back with raised sharp eyebrows, taken aback slightly at how Ellie had insulted her.

“Interesting choice to insult the one who’s navigating you through the fog.”

“N-navigating?…Thought you came here to kill me.”

“Well…” 

The witch had a contemplative look in her eye, almost fully eclipsed with its beady black iris. 

“Look. I could kill you. Way easier than you think.” She admitted to Ellie with a crane in her neck, looking her up and down, “But sister magnolia was right about one thing.”

“And that is?”

The witch wickedly smiled in amusement.

“I like to play with my food. And boy are you entertaining to toy with~” 

Ellie felt the witch smile further morph into an amused, sick grin and didn’t know what to think of this witch. She was so openly playful with how she toyed with Ellie, each twitch like an unhinged animal as she held a skip in her step. 

“Why even bother besides that?”

Ellie looked back in bafflement at the odd words and close proximity, her hand on her arrow so tight the wood might just snap. She rolled her beady eyes back at Ellie.

“Oh come on, don’t be stupid! You have something I fancy~” 

The witch rasped back, her dark cloak sleeves nudging the coin purse Ellie held on her side as Ellie flinched back in recoil.

“So for the evening I guess you can call me Rowena the ferry-bird~”

“Ferry…?“

Ellie was left in pure bafflement at the terms and just what this witch’s motivation was for guiding her. She shook her head and ever so slightly held her hand tighter on her stringless bow.

“That’s useless here. You know that, I know that. But, I’ve seen you’re quite the hunter. And apparently quite the loaded one~”

Rowena carried on skipping, inviting Ellie to walk forward in the pure fog. She occasionally dipped her head back at odd angles to make sure Ellie was following along, freaking Ellie out briefly at the inhuman, beady eyes grinning back at her.

“You’re quite odd…” Ellie couldn’t help but remark, unable to hold herself back as she kept a sharp eye on the witch’s wardrobe and twitchy behavior.

“And your eyeballs are stupid.” 

Ellie craned her head back at the rather odd and crude insult. However, she still reluctantly followed along so she wouldn’t be lost in the blinding grey abyss. Even if she was led to her death, at least she was led somewhere besides the neverending trees.

 “No wonder you hunters can’t even tell a hidden witch, even with perfect aim.” Rowena effortlessly commented back, snark filling her raspy voice. 

“What did you do, leave your humanity at the door when you signed with the devil—“

“Humanity?!” The witch interrupted, cackling with her raspy voice and barking out a laugh before slugging herself onto Ellie as they walked.

“Human?!” Rowena laughed and collapsed onto the baffled hunter beside her. 

Ellie felt an odd pricking before being startled at the large, malformed crow claws this girl had for hands, peeking just beneath the long sleeves and drawing up her scaled bird-claw arms.

“You sure do crack me up, hunter!” 

Ellie looked on at the large bird claw hands and was utterly taken aback at the extra claw on the hand as the witch flexed the appendages over and over.

“I do have to give you the slightest credit possible. These ‘thumbs’ you are sure are incredible.”

Ellie couldn’t help but look in slight disgust, but just barely managed to keep her gut reaction veiled. Even as it bubbled in her throat and sloshed around her stomach as they walked in the forest.

“Say, speaking of making me laugh, why do your hunter friends hate you so much? You all love killing the environment, figure you’d all love each other. All happy-go-lucky, slaughtering the food web.”

Ellie had no idea how to respond back to the witch’s odd demeanor and the even more personal comment, reluctantly following along and keeping her mouth shut if she wanted any hope of navigating these death trap woods. And then it hit her. Why was she even following this witch? She was probably trying to catch her so off guard to find the perfect spot to kill her and maul her alive with her freakish bird claws. But just as Ellie was about to break off the arrowtip, Rowena tilted her head all the way back in a wickedly amused smile.

“Again, dunno if it’s wise if you wanna do that. You could end up seven colonies over.”

Ellie let out a heavy breath of frustration at being toyed with for so long.

“Just take me to the witch.”

“Now, ya gotta be specific when you tell me the exact area—“

“Your sister. Magnolia.” Ellie forced through her gritted teeth.

Rowena’s beady eyes lit up in pure mischief, each small twitch of her feathers like a cog gear clicking into the world’s most unhinged cuckoo clock. 

“Oh, this is so rich!” Rowena let out a barking cackle, eyes full of amusement at Ellie. 

The witch quickly started to break into a brisk skip, her cackling crow caws ripping through the fog like a scythe to a dying crop field. Ellie sped up her pace to follow along, her feet running through the forest faster and faster. Ellie’s breathing quickened as she focused in on the speeding witch, clutching the arrow in hand before she suddenly felt a sharp tug on her throat. A breath was choked out of her before the back of her neck tinged in adrenaline at Rowena’s crow claws now gripping onto her collar. Ellie was then swiftly let go, stumbling and dropping to a much clearer forest floor. She coughed and struggled to regain her breaths before she heard a sound of rustling feathers behind her. 

When Ellie looked up, she once again saw the witch’s cottage, now with a thick hedge of thorned bushes around the property. A familiar crow flew in from behind her and swiftly picked up height before landing on the edge of an upper window, tapping her beak onto the glass. After another moment, the bird tapped again twice, cocking her head to the side. Ellie stood still as Rowena seemed to contemplate for a moment, before repeatedly tapping her beak into the glass over and over at a repetitive rate like a rabid woodpecker. 

The window was swiftly unlatched as the crow swooped down to fly to the ground, just barely avoiding the wrath of a pale feminine hand blindly grabbing at the edge of the window, grumbling something in an unknown language. Rowena muttered something inbetween a raspy caw and quickly morphed back into humanoid form just as she landed on the ground, before grabbing Ellie and pulling her to her feet. Ellie felt surprise through her systemshock through and barely process before being pulled through the now opening thorn bushes as their vines and needles shifted aside. 

“Nolaaa!~ You have a visitor!” 

Rowena sang-song to the house, Ellie trying to brush Rowena’s malformed crow claws off her coat collar. A small glow of candlelight began to brighten from the opened window, now slowly shifting into different wood crooks and windows. The crow witch looked back to Ellie with a barely restrained wicked smile, her mouth curved upwards with a sick amusement as she saw candle flames in the house grow closer and closer. Ellie couldn't help the feeling of slight fear that twinged through her hairs and pricked at goosebumps at just what awaited behind that door. A grumbling was again heard from inside, causing Ellie to try and flex her grip on whatever she could possibly use as a weapon, before she felt the crow witch slap her hand and threateningly whisper through her teeth.

“Mind your manners, hunter. You wanted this.”

Ellie felt her eyebrows furrow at whatever evil she could have woken up, before her breath was ripped as the front door to the witch’s cottage slowly creaked open. But the terror was half-eclipsed by confusion and slight shock as she once again saw the pale witch. Her face was covered in some sort of mud mixture, her body wrapped in an embroidered robe, and her hair wrapped in odd objects. Ellie was taken aback at the witch’s tired eyes, as Magnolia wiped off a little bit of the mud through her groggy grumbles to properly look at who was standing in her garden.

“You could have just stayed in crow form, instead of making me come down, Ro. Now—”

Magnolia spoke through a yawn, before straightening up and being taken aback like a deer at gunpoint at Ellie’s presence. 

Rowena piped up, mischief through her rasp.

“Now sister, our little guest has something to say to you.”

Magnolia looked back in confusion at her sister stepping up the cottage steps, leaving Ellie standing before the witches. Anxiety flooded through Ellie's system as they stared at her, Rowena with an amused smile and Magnolia with a still unpleased at being woken up. 

“I…” 

Ellie felt her body rise with anger as she straightened her posture and raised herself to the witches.

“I want you to remove the curse you put on me.”

Both witches were taken aback, Rowena stepping down and circling Ellie. The crow witch sniffed her a bit before looking up at Ellie with a skeptical eye, lifting Ellie’s her arm up with a highly skeptical eyebrow. 

“You don't have any fleas, do you?”

Ellie pulled her arm away and stiffened again and huffed at the witches.

“Fleas– N-No! You know what curse! Nightmares! They’re too vivid to not be from a curse! I haven't had a proper night's sleep in over a week, I can barely eat, I practically live at the church with how much I've prayed, just– remove the damned curse.”

They both stared at Ellie confused, before turning to each other. Magnolia’s unamused eyes met with Rowena’s, before both looking back at Ellie like she had sprouted seven heads. 

The pale witch grabbed one of her blackened nails and rubbed at the drowsiness in eye.

“Why would we concern ourselves with you?” Magnolia asked, leaving Ellie taken aback at the question.

“Y–you have my blood, my hair! I stepped onto your land, I hunted you, and now you curse me with eternal nightmares!” Ellie angrily huffed through confusion and desperation.

The witches continued to give her a silent, confused look.

“Why are you making me feel crazy? I'm not crazy! It’s your witchcraft!” 

The witches spoke together in hushed Latin, their faces twinged with confusion. It was at this moment Ellie could truly take in Magnolia’s look. Her hair was curled around several small lengths of bone, and her posture laid tired on the wall, a far cry from a bloodthirsty witch. As they continued to speak in confused Latin, Magnolia picked a bug from her doorway, eating the body and offering some of the legs to her crow witch sister. As the crow witch politely declined and continued, Magnolia crunched on the insect, licking the traces of blood off her lips as Ellie recoiled in repulsion. Magnolia rolled her darkened eyes and scoffed at Ellie as she turned to her.

“We get it, you're repulsed by me.”

Ellie spoke up in honest defense.

“It’s not repulsion, it's just- well, you're witches. Its heretical, its sinful, its–”

“You think we care about your kind of sins?” Magnolia’s voice drenched in spite, glaring at Rowena with offense that she brought Ellie onto the property.

“You hunters are stupider than I thought, not even giving a damn about how your prey thinks.”

Magnolia let out another annoyed sigh as she started to turn back into her cottage, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t have the energy for this.”

Rowena looked back to Ellie, her arms crossed as she eyed Ellie’s coat pocket. 

“I– I have money! A lot of it!” Ellie called out in last resort.

Magnolia stopped in her tracks, and gave Ellie an unreadable look, her eyes contemplating while still trying to stay strong in front of the hunter at her doorstep. A long silence fell between the witches as they both looked back at Ellie. With a long renowned sigh, Magnolia turned around and gestured to Ellie with a raised eyebrow, as if calling her bluff. Ellie cautiously moved forward and showed the witches her large coin purse she left in her coat. 

“You don't have any curses on you, what do you want us to do with this?” Magnolia lowly snarled back.

Ellie vulnerably sighed. 

“...Anything. If you have any sleeping drafts or something for dream altering– I have more money at home, I can come back with more-”

Magnolia stopped Ellie's rambling with a hand, “We don't need you coming back here…” 

She spoke under her breath, the pure loathing in her tone more than making up for her quieted volume. The witch rolled her eyes.

“Like someone of your faith would willingly want anything from us other than our corpses.” 

Ellie had one last moment of contemplation before the memory of the nightmares flashed again, the question lingering about at how much longer she could stay sane if they grew more merciless.

“Im serious. I'll take whatever you brew for me if it would stop the nightmares. Please. Right now I can only offer you money… please…Im begging you.”

The desperation in her voice seeped through like a leaking dam. 

Magnolia contemplated with furrowed brows and an unreadable, veiled expression, still not fully liking the idea of accepting a witch hunter's money.

“Parce auro opus est…” Rowena replied with an honest rasp to her sister.

Those words seemed to hit hard to the pale witch as she froze, her nose scrunching with begrudging acceptance. With a final sigh the witch took the money pouch, looking to a porch lantern.

“Ive never worked for so little.”

Ellie looked back in bafflement. There was enough gold in there to at least buy a whole wolf pelt.

After a long moment of contemplation, Magnolia gestured to a large log porch swing for Ellie to sit down. 

“You want something? Then sit.” 

Ellie didn't linger.

“We’ll take your money. But for the kind of potion you're looking for, I have to run some tests. Mainly to see if your body can physically handle it. Stay outside, and I’ll brew your potion.”

And with that, the witch walked back inside her cottage as Ellie watched the residual candlelight shine through the  cottage windows. Rowena morphed wordlessly back into her crow form and flew into the garden, and now, Ellie was left sitting on this macabre front porch.

The rocking porch swing was made out of a large, petrified tree trunk, aged moss still slowly growing. That skull wind chime continued to stare her down with its empty sockets, occasionally shifting from the lightly drizzling rainfall. A sprawling moonlit garden full of plants was surprisingly blossoming well, Ellie both surprised and not with the amount of pure mystery in the significance of these crops held. Cobwebs and charms dangled from the roof over the porch. Small pots of smaller plants and flowers continued to grow on the banisters, each carefully marked. The night air continued to smell like rainfall and fog, with the odd undernotes of mysterious flowers. Water continued to delicately splatter on the roof tile, occasionally rolling down onto metal bells, ivory skulls, and homemade garden decorations. 

But as Ellie absorbed her surroundings and realized just who’s porch she was sitting on, she felt herself just as petrified as the wood she sat on. Ellie wondered just what the hell she had gotten herself into, out of her own desperation. She had nightmares for a week and a half and they were getting worse. She had got baited into a blind rage by now a second witch, who has been disguised as a crow. All that, and they destroyed her weapons. 

What's worse, Ellie pondered, throughout all this time just how long had that witch has been around in crow form? Taunting her. Rowena at least knew her name and what she could observe from a birds-eye view, but just how far had her nosiness gotten her? Was she in charge of the sickness the lumberjacks had gotten? For the famine soon facing Dina’s farm? Were the witches lying that Ellie never had a curse placed on her? Just what was the extent of their powers? And were there more, unrelated witches in these woods?

Ellie’s thoughts were interrupted by the opening of the cottage door as Magnolia stepped out with an empty basket. A black cloven hoof stepped onto her doormat before immediately transforming back to human foot  as she walked past. 

“Ro, don't eat all of those, I need them for breakfast tomorrow.” 

The witch casually talked to her crow sister as she picked a few small white flowers and placed them in an empty jar. The bird merely cawed back before flying up into a nook in the porch roof, still grumbling through a caw as she swallowed a few more blackberries.

Ellie would never get used to the casual magic displayed here. Or even causal magic. Or magic, period. This was a sin. Sitting here, in a witch’s porch swing, waiting as the witch does god-knows what. But her thoughts were interrupted once again by Magnolia stepping up to a small stone fountain, several swirls in the rock peeking with a moonstone sparkle. The witch traced her finger along the edge before dipping a jar into the fountain, and Ellie became dazzled at how the water continued to shimmer with moonlight on its surface despite being brought out of the moonlight and into the house. But the sound of shifting caught Ellie’s eyes downward, as she noticed Magnolia’s feet shifting into black cloven hooves to step on her doormat. 

That doormat. The same one she stepped on a week ago and immediately passed out. Magnolia’s hooves. Morphing. Stepping on the doormat. The inky black letters that read ‘Please wipe your hooves.’ 

Ellie groaned as she finally connected the dots. She settled further into the log porch swing, noticing a spiderweb being sewn along the thick iron chain. She backed up a little and tried to avert her eyes, eventually getting up. Ellie continued to look into the garden as she got up from the bench and leaned on the porch railing, and simply took in the sight while she waited. From each pumpkin and bug within its flowers, to the quiet somberness on the stone fountain’s face. 

Ellie looked back over at the fountain. The stone-carved woman pouring a vase into a pool of moon-lit water, glowing as it continued to flow with the rainfall. Blooms of meticulously pruned flowers and plants lined the cottage all the way over to the thorn hedge gate. Ellie found herself eventually drawn to a large sprawling rose bush right in front of a candlelit window. She walked toward the mysterious rose bush, sprawling with dozens of blooming red roses despite the autumn growing colder and colder. Her eyes drew up to the feminine figure in the window, and to Magnolia hunched over a small workspace right in front of the window. Ellie watched as with a wave of her finger, Magnolia pulled all of the bone-pins out of her hair. The pale blonde locks fell down in soft curls that delicately framed her face, the blackened tips and thin streaks further accentuated by candlelit shadows. The witch pulled the rest of her choppy curls into a low ponytail as she continued to test out ingredient reactions with immense focus, her inky black eyes occasionally becoming accentuated by the gold flecks in a cracked magnifying glass. 

It seemed odd to Ellie why this witch was awfully thorough in her process. It seemed simple enough, just steal the coins and kill the hunter on her porch. But why she was taking so long and being so through was still a mystery to Ellie. Possibly finding the optimal ingredients to kill her as quickly as possible. And yet, the focus in her eyes drew her in. The way her choppy pale locks framed her face and her hands delicately wrote with an odd feather on a scrap parchment. 

Ellie's eyes were drawn back to the wine-red roses that framed the bottom of the window. How they climbed up the wood near the banister and sprawled all the way to the rich, rain-soaked soil. The flowers inky wine-red blossoms were sprinkled with moonlit raindrops, each petal lined with a white edge like winter swan feathers. They probably smelled incredible. She had already been out here a good amount of time, doing nothing but just sitting with her paranoia on the witch’s porch. Ellie slowly leaned in, watching as raindrops slowly settled and fell down a few rich petals. With a hand, she leaned down to cup a blossom in her hand to smell it. 

But she smelled nothing. No clear floral rose scent at all. Ellie perked up in astonishment. Surely a rose this rich and vibrant would have a smell. But no. Ellie thought to herself maybe the smell of the rain-soaked soil had overpowered the smells, before logic once again took over her system. It came to her attention that there was a slight break in the window right near the alcove window the roses bloomed next to, as the smell of the cottage flooded over any smell the roses could have had. The small smell of herbs and spices through burning candles with a hint of florals. Ellie thought to herself how every now and then, flowers have duds in their scents. Maybe it was just pretty for the sake of being pretty. Ellie looked to the flowers in deep contemplation before she felt eyes on her. She looked up to where the crow witch was perched, only to find her sleeping in a crooked next of trinkets. She looked back to the window, only to find the wind knocked out of her system.

Ellie stumbled back as she felt Magnolia’s dark eyes staring down at her through the glass, locked on her in a weirded out expression that shifted to annoyance. The witch swiftly walked back before Ellie heard the creak of a door opening and the sound of a cloven hoof hitting the doormat. 

“If you’re gonna watch me I’d rather not have you do it behind my back,” She coldly spoke like a freezing wind through the rainfall. 

Ellie moved to the door, only to be halted as Magnolia gestured to her shoes.

“Its the literal least you can do.”

Ellie felt a weird feeling entering the witch’s cottage willingly without a proper weapon other than the lone arrows on her back. She felt a grimace through her system at the inked words on the doormat. Ellie cautiously stepped over the doormat and into the cottage, only to feel a pain hit her head. 

Magnolia scoffed as she picked up a long, pillar-like crystal before hanging it once again on the doorframe.

“Well that's an omen if I've ever seen it, wouldn't you agree?” 

The witch cackled to herself, as Ellie felt the chuckles of a thousand whispers in the cottage walls. Her mind quickly flashed back to some of the nightmares of her own room becoming possessed and cackling wildly at her, the candlelight flickering like an otherworldly taunt. Her eyes quickly scanned for one normal object in the cottage, landing on a simple dining chair.

Ellie sat down, trying to ignore a skeletal newt on a flower vase while she watched the witch hunched over a small table, looking into the cracked magnifying glass stand. A small string of smoke and the faint scent of burning hair caught her attention as she listened in on the witch crossing off something on a slip of parchment. She continued to quietly talk to herself as she wrote, sending a few small jars levitating back to their shelf spots.

“…Allergic to dogwood extract, alright. But toad salt… that will work. However, there's a high chance…”

“Why are you being so thorough?” Ellie quietly asked.

“You paid me, I'm giving you a product that will work.” The witch nonchalantly responded. 

She continued to face her testing table with focus, writing down something on the parchment slip. Ellie was surprised by the answer, especially after seeing her work up close. She smelled something faintly salty coming from the witch’s table, and curiosity pricked at her senses.

 Ellie looked up to the lectern in front of her, her eyes were drawn up to a large book. A knitted bookmark laid to an open page, the crease of the mark leaving the faintest imprint on the parchment paper. From what she read at the top, in a rather embellished hand-written font, the words ‘Somnium Elixir’ were next to a drawn sketch of an elaborate spider diagram. Ellie was taken aback as she noticed that the book papers quietly pulsing, as if gently breathing. Ellie averted her eyes anywhere else in the cottage, realizing this large sense of pure… energy. As if the cottage itself was alive. From the very floorboards and kitchen tile to each decorative skull and plant. From the gentle ring of the wind chimes to the flicker of candle flames. From the quietest creak of the witch’s leg bouncing to the large bronze goat-headed statue that nestled on the fireplace mantle.

“Can I ask… just where am I?” Ellie couldn't help but ask.

“Youre in our home.”

“Our?“ Ellie asked back, confused.

“Our ancestral home as witches. Our little Wayward Cottage.” 

“...Wayward?” The word seemed odd on Ellie's tongue.

“You heard me,” Magnolia blankly replied. “Its what you've called us girls and women for ages… and so what if we reclaim it? It's what we are. At least according to you.”

Ellie stayed quiet as she looked around at the witch’s potion brewing station. She had no idea why there was a separate kitchen and potion station, but she didn't have the willpower to truly care as she scoffed in memory at the last thing she drank that was made by a witch.

“With all due respect, about that last drink you gave me… You didn't have to charm it to lower my guard—”

Magnolia looked back at her in the window glass with a dark expression.

“You don't respect me.” She snarled.

The words forced a still energy into the home as the witch continued testing.

“I think you're just upset you finally tasted flavor for once.”

Ellie quietly scoffed under her breath.

“How can you lie so much?” 

“Oh please, lying is just as easy as breathing. In fact, that’s half the work done.” The witch responded, opening the cork of another jar filled with a cream-colored dust.

“But wouldn’t it be easier to tell the truth? It seems like it would cost nothing for a guilty conscience.”

Magnolia stopped as she turned her head to look Ellie dead in the eyes.

“...I think we both know that telling the truth can cost you everything.”

A strong silence of unacceptance passed between them before Magnolia turned back and gently scooped a teaspoon of the powder.

”Tell me what’s in there.” Ellie commanded the witch.

“What, so you can steal the recipe and make it yourself?” Magnolia snarked back as she mixed the powder. 

“You’d probably explode your house if you tried to brew anything… Like you'd know what to do with owl skull powder.”

“You know, you're doing a lot for a witches brew that's just going to kill me.”

“Kill you?!” Magnolia’s voice turned into furious offense. “Excuse you, I take great pride in my craft.”

“Craft? You take pride in killing.” Ellie barked back.

The witch firmly stood up from her table as the floorboards seemed to crackle. Magnolia stayed silent and fiercely clenched her jaw, her pointed nails twitching at the air, threatening to close her fist. The cabin air seemed to grumble as candles stilled their flickering. Magnolia let out a few breaths to try to calm herself to an extent. She simply put one of the jars back, the glass faintly glowing orange from the heat of her fingertips. Ellie could feel the magma pooling in the witch’s system, ready to erupt if she breathed one more wrong exhale. 

“You know, you can leave. No one has forced you to come, much less have the audacity to make a bargain with a witch.” Magnolia spoke, trying to suppress the anger still simmering through her teeth. 

“You keep trying to kill us– hell, technically you did kill Rowena. And you enjoyed it.” 

Ellie couldn't deny what the witch was saying, but still kept her ground as she looked at the coin bag on the table, her stubbornness amping up.

“I made the deal, I gave you all the money in my pocket. And that's a lot where I come from.”

“Oh really?! Is it now?” Magnolia sarcastically barked back. “With this amount of coin, it feels like you're trying to skimp out on me.”

“It's what I had on hand! If you're so insistent your little poison will work I could come back with more, if it'll even remove the curse, much less keep me alive.”

“Youre not cursed, and I told you to NEVER come back here!” A deep, discordant anger brewed in Magnolia’s tone.

“So I'm just supposed to believe that a witch with a grudge against a whole town will just give me a happy dream potion instead of just killing me right here and now?” Ellie asked back in an angered disbelief.

“Yes! You gave me money as a sign of trust, would it kill you to have some faith?!” Magnolia asked with disbelief.

Ellie continued her rage. “With how many other witches you're potentially hiding here in your whore-house, yes! You already have the bird– human– whatever it was!”

The hunter looked back to the staircase.

“You know, speaking of, where is Sarah? Haven't seen her once. I think she’d be really happy to have me come save her from this mess.”

Magnolia continued to steam, her eyes burning like red-hot coals.

“Shes upstairs, sleeping. You really think I'd kill her after taking her in? You think that lowly of me?”

“To be completely honest, yes.” Ellie blankly replied.

The witch stared iron-hot daggers back at the hunter, who in return raised her guard and barked back. 

“You’re probably feeding me her organs just to spite me. I bet this potion is just gonna kill me no matter what, and all those tests were for seeing what way to best torment me.”

Magnolia looked outright wounded as the magma within her system threatened to breach out of her eyes and mouth with a livid, scorching screech and a slam of her hand on the table that truly shook the floorboards. And with that, Magnolia erupted with a crash of red-hot glass on the floor. 

“YOU KNOW WHAT?! For what I'm making you, you should owe me five times its weight in gold! You should be grateful I'm willing to help someone who wants me and my family DEAD! But no! You’re an ungrateful, utterly worthless, stubborn, STUPID–”

A familiar tapping broke through the argument, as Magnolia snapped and opened the window.

“Ro, what is it?! I don't need any sheepshit right now.”

Ellie was taken aback by the familiar crow not perching on the bottom of the window, but rather sitting on the top. As soon as the window was opened, she looked on in further surprise at the crow muttering something between a caw and turning back to her human-esque form, now sitting in comfortably upside-down on the top side of the window frame. 

“Ladies, please…I think I may have the solution to help solve our problems~” Rowena sang-song.

Magnolia looked back to her sister with a still livid expression, but listened in as she tried to cool down from her outburst. Rowena stepped on the ceiling, walking right over to Ellie on the ceiling and reaching down to snatch an arrow from Ellie’s quiver with her large crow claw hands, gripping onto the thin wood with her makeshift thumb claw. Ellie stepped back at the intrusion, but continued listening in as the gears started to turn in Rowena’s head. 

“Nola, our little guest here is also quite the game hunter, aside from her bloodlust for our kind.”

Ellie remained confused at being called out from the witch she just tried to murder, but still stood tall in front of the witches in their lion's den as they plotted.

“You see, Ellie, Nola here needs some tests of her own completed.”

Rowena used Ellie's arrow to vaguely point to the top of a cabinet. Magnolia looked back sternly, but dragged her eyes to the floor with a vulnerable expression that she, too, tried to hide in front of Ellie. 

“Im thinking we engage in a ‘favor-for-a-favor’ type of situation here.”

“What is she talking about?” Ellie talked back with a tinge of frustration in her voice.

She already didn't like the implications of having to do more than a one time payment. Ellie looked back to the pale witch before calming her demeanor. Magnolia herself was trying to gauge her thoughts as well, a vulnerable and unsure expression as she seemed to cradle herself in her arms. The crow witch continued to wander on the ceiling, kneeling down to walk around and occasionally dusting the tops of a few shelves. Magnolia sighed with an unsure breath.

“...If you complete some test trials for me, it would clear up your debt for how well the potion would work. I don't want you to return to this cottage and I meant that. Never.” 

Magnolia threateningly snarled, but reluctantly explained.

“You would merely dip your arrows into some potions before shooting some animals, and give me honest writings back on the test results.”

Ellie mirrored her expression with something equally unsure. But she became desperate as she looked to the fireplace, and the memory of the scorching wood banister crushing her lungs resurfaced in the flame tips.

“How many? And do I have a time limit?”

“Six potions. And no, no time limit… but you'll still feel the weight.”

Ellie felt unsure about the muddy implications of the witch’s words, but gave in with a sigh.

“...And it would clear up my debt?”

“For what the potion will be worth, yes. You'll be grateful…And….” Magnolia paused with hesitance.

“And I'd be grateful too.”

Rowena butted in as she used Ellie’s arrow tip to clean a blackberry out of her human teeth. 

“Well, ladies, it sounds like we have a deal.”

Rowena happily smiled before she turned back into her bird form and flew out, gently closing the window with a stray black feather. Magnolia pulled out a bottle of a black substance, taking Ellie's hands and quickly drawing a rune on them. Ellie flinched slightly at the tar-like liquid, her hair standing on end as she looked to Magnolia’s focused eyes.

“So you don't get any funny ideas.”

Ellie looked down to the shape before she felt Magnolia’s eyes on her. 

“Like killing me in my own cottage.”

Ellie was taken aback, almost surprised at her own thoughts. All these minutes had passed and Ellie was surprised she didn't feel the urge to kill like she had before.

“You have no idea how many ancestral and house spirits lie in these walls. Or how upset they'd be…” 

The witch lifted herself and pulled down a wooden jewelry box, setting it down on the table. When Ellie looked back up she saw Magnolia standing over her, her dark eyes silently staring Ellie down. Almost asking her if she really wanted to go through with this. Ellie swallowed at her expression but nodded. Magnolia’s eyes slightly widened in surprise before she shook herself back to normal, the tip of her nail now glowing. The witch leaned down a little to trace a rune into the lock, before leaning back up to trace the same motion onto Ellie's coat, right in the area of her sternum. Ellie didn't feel anything physically, but felt the unspoken emotional weight of their deal, now locked into place. She sat down onto one of the dining chairs, listening as Magnolia's footsteps moved over to her cauldron. 

The witch took a deep breath in, running her hands through her pale blonde hair as she gently scratched her roots to calm herself. Another strong moment passed as she sipped her tea, closing her grimoire gently as it breathed. She felt her hand across the stitched, red leather cover. Magnolia’s expression morphed up into one of a strong fondness for the breathing book as her soft blonde choppy curls continued to glow in the candlelight. Ellie couldn't help but stare and wonder, before being pulled out of her daze by the rushing of shimmering, moonlit water into the cauldron. With a snap of the witch’s fingers the coals beneath the cauldron sparked to life and heated the large iron cauldron. 

Magnolia pulled out an empty jar and moved to the front door to pick out a stick-like object. With a flick of her finger, her thumb emitted flame, Ellie’s hair stood on end as she watched the incense stick smoke to life.  As the cauldron continued to slowly rise in temperature, Magnolia prepared an empty jar, first washing it carefully and then letting the incense smoke shift through the glass. She would never get used to how casual the witch used her sorcery.

Ellie watched with an odd allurement as the cauldron bubbled to life, while the witch continued to stir the moonlit water and sprinkled in some dried flowers. The scent of lavender wafted in the room, instantly calming them both as Magnolia let a steamed, white breath out through her nose. She began to pour in a mysterious salt, shifting a teal-white the moment it hit the cauldron. Ellie couldn't help but stand up and look in, and with each step the liquid began to grow lighter and lighter. 

The witch and hunter stopped their movements before they looked to each other. Ellie’s moonlit sage eyes looking into the witch’s with curiosity, as if seeking something in the golden darkness. The hunter quickly cleared her throat and shifted her eyes to anywhere but the witch’s, falling upon her black-tipped nails holding a handful of white flowers.

“Daisies?” 

“...Chammomile.” The witch quietly corrected. “To help you sleep longer.” 

Ellie leaned back sheepishly into the dining chair, letting the witch continue her work. The longer she let Magnolia brew, the more she noticed a casual soft smile seep onto the witch’s face despite her tired eyes. The teal moonlit water reflected onto her cheeks, and shimmered through the gold flecks in her eyes like sunken treasure. Light flowed through her tied back hair like a wild twisting water rapid, sparkling down onto her neck and peeking clavicles. 

Ellie stood back as she watched the witch pull out a very large clouded jar, before properly registering what was in the glass. Thousands and thousands of white threads that seemed to subtly shift colors in the darkness. The jar seemed looser than the others as the witches grabbed some tweezers, pulling out clumps of thread as they seemed to stretch further and further out of the jar. Under the potion’s light the threads glowed more colorful, before the witch stopped and gently clicked her tongue. As she gently extended a finger to the threads, Ellie felt a blizzard of chills down her spine as she saw a palm-sized white spider crawl onto magnolia’s hand. 

“Good morning, little one~” The witch affectionately cooed to the needle-like legs between her fingers. 

She gently let the spider crawl back into the large jar, before looking back at Ellie’s mortified expression.

“What? I have to refill my Dreamweaver extract somehow.”

“I...I would have almost eaten that…”

“Well, do you want me to throw it in the pot for you?”

Ellie looked mortified at the implication of willingly eating the mass of needles and eyes before Magnolia’s cackle brought her out of her daze.

“Dreamweavers are clever, aren't they? They weave their webs in their sleep and hunt in the day. And the chemicals from dreams are put into the webs. So a happy Dreamweaver is good for everyone.”

Magnolia absentmindedly rambled, before clearing her throat as she realized just who she was leaking the information to.

“But may your spirit help you if you find a wild dreamwaver… a stressed one. One who doesn't know who is going to hunt it or where its next meal is going to come from. If a happy Dreamweaver gives you joyous dreams… you can figure out the rest.” Magnolia warned, taking extra care in putting the large silken jar back. 

Ellie stayed quiet as she watched the spider slowly disappear back into the mass of webs, enjoying the rest of a fly it had left.

“They’re much easier to tame when they're hatchlings. You should see the size of an adult,” Magnolia cackled, the laugh restoring energy and joy to her eyes.

Ellie shivered, but stopped asking questions as she saw the spider’s cobweb float into the potion like a silken spool unraveling in a riptide. As the heat increased to the metal cauldron, the potion seemed to grow darker and darker, the only light seeping through being the chamomile petals that peeked through like pinpricks of light. Ellie became mesmerized at the sight. It smelled like cold night air, the petals flowing through the deep dark mixture like candles to a void. The smell carried the essence of lavender and something deeper, like burning salt and rainfell soil. She hadn't even noticed the witch was to the side of her until she heard a small cracking noise and the sound of something grinding. 

The cracked beaked skull being ground made Ellie’s bones shiver. The large vacant sockets stared back with an emptiness as the rest of the skull settled itself back on a shelf. As magnolia poured a canvas-colored powder into the potion, Ellie heard a resonant hooting call through the bubbles, drawing her back to the liquid. It now shimmered like a thousand star systems, the light of the white golden glitters drawing out deep blue tones through the darkness, as the residual chamomile petals brought out a bright pale gold. Magnolia looked back, smiling as she saw the liquified supernova in her cauldron. She leaned over and breathed in through her nose, before letting out a deep guttural exhale. 

After a long moment of contemplation she quickly snatched another lavender stalk from a blooming pot, whispering in latin as she let the smell overtake her. Her odd words were like a macabre melody, finding herself subtly waving back and forth in her chair like a charmed cobra. The soft sung notes were like honey to her system, before quickly shaking herself back awake as Ellie realized the trace she was falling in. Magnolia seemed unbothered, continuing her soft latin melody as the potion seemed to swirl and stir by itself. After a long moment she sprinkled in some last-minute lavender, lifting a spoon and carefully pouring some into the prepped jar. 

“...It's done.”

Ellie cautiously took the jar into her hands like it held a dangerous animal. Her guard lowered at the entrancing shimmers, as Magnolia spoke and packed the jewelry box with test potion labels and a few pieces of parchment.

“Drink it before you go to bed. Now, as delightful as it would be to accuse me, I can’t control the contents of the dreams, and to my knowledge you can’t control yours. I can guarantee that they will be pleasant, and they’ll linger for a while, but the specifics are on your subconscious."

The witch’s rambling became white noise to Ellie as she barely processed what she was saying.

“I will say, I did have to make a substitute, so there may be a side effect. A somnambulism of sorts… Nothing bad, you may just do some odd things on the first night. You may just cook an elaborate breakfast, salt all your waters, clean your entire house or you may just put flowers into every pocket you own—”

As Ellie felt the glass jar in her hands and watched the magical liquid shimmer, it truly hit Ellie what she had done. What she asked for, what she received. She went through with it. But there was no use throwing it away. She made the journey and already paid for a possible solution she had been looking for. 

“But, it will rid me of my nightmares and won't kill me?”

“...Yes.” The witch responded coldly to the simple question.

“Now, if you please.” 

Ellie excused herself as she watched the door open, her shoes now right outside the exit as she carefully stepped over the hexed welcome mat with a slight grimace. The smell of burning sage behind her caused her head to turn. 

“I have to clean up. You have what you need, instructions are in the box if you forgot… like you’ll forget.” 

The witch wove her bundle of sage, letting the smoke waft over the chair Ellie sat on. 

Ellie stepped down with a newfound weight in her gut at the sight of the box in her arms. As she stepped down the porch, the sound of rustling feathers flew into the side as Rowena peered to the box. 

“Well good luck to you, hunter.”

Ellie didn’t respond as she felt the weight sink deeper and deeper in her gut. She took one last look at the witch’s cottage, seeing Magnolia open a window as the quiet smell of burning sage ushered her out of the shifting thorn bushes.

Rowena cawed back with amusement as she slipped in between the shadows of the trees.

“You know, it's funny, really. You could have just asked me. But you just had to ask for a meeting with the literal fire witch~.”

“Just— just take me back. I'm not in the mood, bird.”

Ellie coldly responded as she felt anchors shifting in her feet.

“Would it kill you to use my name or address me properly? At least now you know my name,” Rowena remarked as she fiddled with a thin branch between her teeth.

Ellie couldn't respond. She had come into these woods to hunt. Not to bargain. And here she was. Desperately following a witch who danced through the foggy shadows to hopefully guide her home. Ellie knew these woods well, why was she resorting to following this teenage bird? But as Ellie looked to the box beneath her coat, she let out a sigh as she walked up a small hill. She really thought and believed she knew the woods well. 

Ellie still barely believed anything in this situation. How she had been walking repeatedly into the fog for a week and this is the farthest she’s gotten, all because a witch toyed with her for amusement and probably cursed her with the nightmares, how enraged she became at a teenage witch— a god damned bird, and now she’s holding a box of god knows what kinds of liquids were in her hands.

Rowena giggled again in mischief, stringing Ellie through near blinding fog before suddenly disappearing as she skipped a little too far. Ellie straightened again, pausing her stops to decide if she really wanted to dart into the fog unguided. She felt fear once again flood her system, grabbing one of the potion bottles from the box blindly and threatening to throw it, her hand tightening before she walked though and scanned the trees, desperately searching for a familiar one. Rowena’s crow cackles just barely echoed through the fog as Ellie cautiously moved. She tried pinpointing the direction of the laughs that resonated through the fog, moving forward before suddenly being taken aback by how familiar the trees became. She was once again just outside Salem. Ellie quickly adjusted herself and hid the box of potions beneath her cloak before carefully navigating the woods. 

“Well, apparently it would kill you to say my name… it implies we know each other~” 

Rowena cackled back as Ellie looked up and found herself just outside of Salem. The clouds still foggy as a light drizzle had started to pour, efficiently masking her voyage. She found herself both surprised and not, before a brief panic flash flooded through her system as she felt something sharp being swiftly thrown into the grass in front of her. Ellie felt a small gasp torn from her throat as she saw her witches blade thrown down into the ground, Rowena scoffing down at her. 

“And when’s the last time you cleaned that thing?”

“Well, I honestly don't know where to go from here, so I’ll leave you with these words…” 

Ellie stepped back as she saw the crow witch, once laying on a tall tree branch, now transforming herself in an instant as her feathery coat collar became a strong small set of soot-black wings. Her malshapen crow claw hands clutched onto the branch below and became bird claws. With a firm shake to her head, feathers and a crow beak emerged from her face in an instant as her body shrunk. Rowena let a hearty, shrill caw into the night as she stared down at Ellie with her beady eyes. She swiftly flew away and into the large shadowed mass of tree leaves and dark crow eyes, leaving Ellie alone with her broken weapons, secret promises, and gradually dampening coat.  

Ellie felt a raindrop roll down her eyebrow slit and let out a breath of acceptance. This is what she did. She went into the woods expecting a witch’s head. And she left with far more than an empty feeling in her gut; her weapons broken, her pockets empty, her feet and throat aching, and seven bottles of god knows what– only one she actually paid for. She paid for a potion. She really made a deal out of desperation with a witch and now she held the jar of swirling blues and yellow petals in her pocket. And yet, she couldn't even pass it off as snake oil, she willingly paid for it. Only the lord knew how many prayers she would have to recite in order to ask for his forgiveness for this act. 

Ellie looked desperately through the haze of her window, a little happier to see a few stars peeking through the clouds. Things looked so peaceful up there. But as Ellie felt a few more raindrops on her coat and face, she couldn't bother to stay out any longer. The later it got in the year, the more intense the cold and storms got. She quickly dashed and grabbed the gun she left by the gate and into her house, finally letting out a breath. But as she finally closed her door and walked up to her bedroom, her gut once again filled with dread and bred together with an ominousness like a hurricane. 

She truly didn’t know what to believe anymore. But at bare minimum, she could believe in a few real things. Ellie believed in the weight of blood in forest snow. The feel of meat and fur over her shoulder, and the breathlessness of a clean shot held steady in her lungs. And with just enough hope, she could believe in this last resort of a potion; in the thin thin yellow chamomile petals still slowly swirling in the jar.

The potion box. She had to hide it. Ellie quickly looked to a loose floorboard underneath her dresser, and tugged off the rug covering it. As she opened the jewelry box she was surprised to find several slips of paper and a blue-tipped quill feather, all subtly shifting with an unknowing energy. Ellie closed the box and watched as the lock latched itself, the faintly burning rune of two opposite-facing points glowing like a candle wick. She carefully stowed the box away before leaning back on a chair. Ellie desperately whispered a prayer into the dusty air, tears and raindrops threatening to fall further on her face, begging for forgiveness for resorting to these kinds of solutions. Ellie let her fingers tap against the jar in her pocket before lifting it up to the moonlight. She lightly shifted the liquid back and forth as it mystically sparkled. Ellie became mesmerized by the deepness of the liquid and how it sparkled in its deep color, almost in a trance as she watched tiny internal waves and sparkles swirl within the glass. 

And just for a moment, she thought about the insanity of it all. The week of insomnia breeding with paranoia and monotony. The unanswered prayers, the begging to the stars, her bow string snapping in rage. Just what brought her to this kind of solution.

But as Ellie carefully unscrewed the lid and peeked it open, the smell of rich and soft florals hit her like soft snow to a sunburn. Her mind lingered on her friends, her family, and just what they would think of her if they found even rumors about what she was about to do. But then her mind went back to the potion. To the delicate pale gold chamomile petals. She didn’t know if she could take another week or whole season of misery. If she was dead, at least her poison would smell sweet. At least she could see Joel. 

And with that last thought. She fully unscrewed the jar and let the potion run down her throat. It was oddly comforting in its ever so slight warmth, the liquid flowing down her throat with much more ease than Ellie ever imagined. She’d never had a flavor like this. Soft, airy, and delicate with a sweet finish, but rich in its floral fullness. She tipped the jar further up, letting the floral aroma smoke into her nostrils. 

Ellie finished the jar with ease, her dazed mind even picking out the spare petals in the jar and eating them too. Her mind felt hazy and bubbly like seafoam settling on the ocean shore. She couldn’t help a peaceful, dopey smile from forming on her face even as darkness washed in slowly at the corners of her vision. Despite her boots still being on, Ellie didn’t care as she felt her body automatically drift into bed, softly smiling up at the stars through her window.

If this was poison, at least the witch had some sort of kindness to make it sweet and peaceful, with a floral finish. If it was poison, at least she would see Joel again soon. 

‘But if it actually worked somehow…’ Ellie barely had time to ponder that thought, as for the first time in a very long while, she felt truly at ease when she fell asleep.

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

Warmth. Ellie’s vision softly came to the feeling of warmth and water serenely lapping at her toes. A dusk of yellows, deep greens and rich dark blues was the backdrop for a golden starry sky. Softness. As she tilted her head back for a proper breath, she felt an extreme softness flow through her body. Serenity. Ellie didn’t mind as she laid down in the water as it gently flowed along her temples, while she took in a deep breath through her nose. Chamomile. The air smelled floral, wet, warm, and ever so slightly salty. 

As Ellie let the breath escape her lungs, she finally found the will to look up from wherever she was. She found herself near a gently flooding lagoon. Rocks as tall as the dusk stars would reach, dark liquid flowing from the crevices of stone and as far as her eyes could see. The tops of gently swooping willow trees just barely came to focus. Moths and fireflies gently glowed and circled the air. The shimmering water peeked through the grass and gently rippled at her form. Warm chills ran up her body and sent her back into an ease\, a smile creeping onto her face as she happily sniffed the chamomile-scented air. 

She laid down in the flooded grass patch for a while, until more sounds started to peek through her muffled,  water-covered ears. Gently streaming lagoon waterfalls. Frogs singing their blissful melodies of togetherness. Soft metal water chimes. Buzzing of dimly glowing fireflies. The rippling of water at her feet, legs, and hands. Ellie briefly thought about the nearly bare state of her body in a thin, white nightgown, as it gradually became soaked, but the serenity of the scene won her over.She softly smiled at the scents and sounds of the dreamy lagoon, and then a new sound invited her forward. Soft gentle laughter. Feminine laughter. 

Ellie quickly grew curious with a soft smile and a dazed look in her eyes as she finally saw the full lagoon. Or more importantly, the lack of normal water. The lagoon had been flooding with the shimmering petals of the Somnium elixir. Once trapped in a jar, now gently flooding all around. As Ellie stepped closer, petals began to gently ripple at her feet as she eagerly walked waist-deep into the lagoon, shifting its dark liquid colors from being strongly lit below. Warmth and softness. Like she’d never felt or dreamed before. Faint saltiness still twinkling in her nose as the sound of potion water waterfalls drew her in, chamomile petals swimming at her fingertips as she waded deeper.

And then she heard it again. That feminine laughter. Ellie turned around, the glowing rocks on the lagoon floor like walking on soaked imported cotton. A few water nymphs were staring at her curiously, their bodies shimmering in the dusk light, their hair sprinkled in delicate flower petals. The nymphs giggled at her again and ushered her closer, leaving Ellie speechless at their free state of undress. The feminine creatures stayed close to each other, some of them leaning their heads and kissing each other's shoulders as they softly smiled at Ellie. They calmly stared at each other for a little while until another deep resounding hum calmed their senses again. They swam closer, looking Ellie up and down before curiously poking at her now soaked nightgown. Ellie felt a little self conscious at the soaked fabric, before the soft touches of the docile creatures caused them all to chuckle. The serenity of the lagoon caused them to curiously look to each other with dazed, mythical eyes. 

And then another serene sound pricked at Ellie’s ears. The sound of something soft and firm gently splashing in the soaked fields nearby. Ellie’s mind was hooked, and the scent in her lungs was gently pulling her attention in. A familiar mass of choppy blonde-black hair cascaded down the figures back as she walked along the bank, using her blackened goat legs to curiously climb one of the swooping willow trees. She came down after a minute and gently plopped something into a small woven basket, Ellie blushing at the witch’s near naked form adorned in dainty gold chains. Magnolia kept calmly walking along the soaked field, leaving Ellie and the nymphs to their business. Occasionally, a small smile would creep onto the witch’s face at another item she collected around the bank. Ellie chuckled in pleasantly dazed amusement as she saw the woman using her goat legs to scale the rocky wall, curious at a small black tail swishing back and forth at the excitement of unearthing a crystal. 

But before she knew it, the water nymphs had already started to get adventurous in their gentle probing of Ellie’s soaked nightgown, as they undid one of the laces and looked down at her clavicle. Ellie looked back and furiously blushed, before chuckling at the water nymph’s surprised expression as she let the potion water soak her nightgown. 

Warm, soft, honey-toned chuckles caught Ellie’s ears beneath a willow tree that hung over the water. Ellie waded again in the lagoon with a peaceful curiosity and a warm feeling in her ribcage that rippled through her body. Soft metal water chimes drew her in as she carefully lifted the long dreads of willow leaves. When she brushed the flora away from her face, Ellie became warmly curious at the witch relaxing on a low-hanging willow tree branch. Watching as her cloven hoof dipped and waded into the potion lagoon, the glowing from under the water caught onto blackened fur legs. In Magnolia’s lap laid a rather large toad, singing a deep and peaceful song as she pet it before it stopped a note to catch a firefly. 

Magnolia laid comfortably, near topless besides the array of dainty gold chains covering her chest and dangling down her hips. Her massive blonde, choppy curls of hair were doing the heavy lifting in keeping her covered, though the low lighting left little to imagine for Ellie. Her runic-scarred arms gently glowed at the reflections of the indigo potion water. She looked back to Ellie with those same deep dark eyes, the flecks of gold highlighted once again like sunken treasure. They shared unspoken eye contact with each other, Ellie stunned with a lack of words and Magnolia looking on in quiet, serene amusement. 

The witch petted the toad affectionately one last time before letting it leap to a safe spot along the flooding bank, the water flowing supernaturally upward onto the rocks and through the field. Ellie looked to the toad’s glowing throat in curiosity before being drawn away with a soft splash. Hooking back onto the noise, she watched as Magnolia rose from the potion lagoon with a hearty splash of water, shaking the spare liquid out of her misted curls. Ellie watched with an odd fascination at her lion's mane, now dusted with chamomile petals as Magnolia ran her hands along her face in serenity. Her eyes once again fell upon Ellie as they looked back at each other wordlessly.  

They continued to stare with soft, wide-eyed expressions, leaving them in nothing but the gently lit canopy of the willow tree, the lagoon rippling against their waists, and the sounds of their own soft breathing. Their soft inhales and exhales far eclipsing any water.

After a long moment, the witch leaned down into the lagoon again, letting the potion water and chamomile petals run down against her runic-carved skin. Magnolia felt her blackened hands along her skin and gave the hunter a look Ellie never thought she’d see from such a supposedly wicked woman. One of gentleness. The softest downturn in her full lips, her sharp eyebrows subtly furrowed in soft pleading. A look almost expecting rejection as soon as she locked her eyes into Ellie’s. A glance that was prematurely torn away before anything was even asked. 

But Ellie leant the curiosity in her ribcage a chance. This had been a very pleasant dream. One of the best, if not the best, and certainly most vividly peaceful she’d ever had. If this was somehow going to turn into a nightmare, she would at least be thankful for the happiest parts of the dream. Even if it was poisoning her alive in the mortal realm, at least she would go out with an absurdly relaxing drowning. As she waded in her own thoughts, she found Magnolia already prematurely walking out of the willow tree leaves, a truly unreadable expression hidden within her blackened lion's mane. Ellie waded in the lagoon and caught up with Magnolia, wanting to see what she was considering, before looking self consciously at her own soaked nightgown. They both let the silence of their breathing and the gaze in their eyes be accented by the potion waterfalls, before Magnolia softly turned up with a dazed look in her eye. She took in a deep breath and dunked herself in the water, Ellie watching as her arched back became slowly flat while air bubbles floated out from her lungs.

Despite being left in a daze by the lagoon's environment, she couldn’t help but be cautious at the sight. Magnolia stayed hunched over like that for a few long seconds before returning back up, briefly shaking off the liquid out of her hair. Ellie looked on in awe as she saw a dreamy clouded look in Magnolia’s eyes, chamomile petals now freckled along her pale face as she chuckled breathlessly. Ellie didn’t know what to think but was once again enchanted by the expression in those dark golden eyes. 

After a moment of contemplation at each other, Magnolia offered a hand as she moved forward, quietly offering to dunk Ellie in the water. Ellie chuckled as she thought to herself.

‘so you did want to kill me~’ She joked in her head, earning a pleasant, amused surprise in Magnolia’s expression. 

It was like she understood her thoughts and understood her hesitation. The witch gently nudged her hand to Ellie’s, liquid petals swaying and dancing at her fingertips. She wordlessly moved herself to hold Ellie across her dress-soaked collarbones, Ellie feeling oddly compelled to lean into this woman and trust her. As she was lowered in, Ellie compulsively felt the need to cross her arms across her chest, impulsively taking in a large breath at the sight of the water coming closer to her widened eyes before shutting them as she felt her body lean further into the witch’s warm arm. The next thing Ellie knew, she was being leaned forward into the lagoon, the potion water spreading serene tingles across her face. Followed by her whole head, and then her entire body. 

A strong moment passed as she felt the Somnium lagoon water swirl in her eardrums as warm, inviting tingles spread across her face. The subtle rumble of waterfall streams and soft ethereal humming ushered her to slowly open her eyes. With extreme hesitance and a glassy look in her eyes, Ellie hesitantly blinked open, only to feel a few soft bubbles be coaxed from her throat at the sight. Just when she thought the serenity of the lagoon couldn't be enough to calm her nerves, she finally let the underwater sights take over her mind. She still felt Magnolia’s arm loosely on her collarbones to keep her grounded, though her body still felt like it was floating.

Chamomile petals glowed like the fireflies above. Shimmering warmly like stars, now within her fingertips reach. Potion water sparkles flowed in upon themselves like galaxies, slowly shifting from the waterfalls above and being lit by the glowing soft rocks below. The deep blues and greens of the darkening dusk sky rippled from above on the surface of the water. Rocks beneath her like glowed like rich frosted seaglass. Floral lavender stalks flowed like never-ending sea kelp. Small frogs and toads slowly settled onto petals and rocks like soft beds, their throats quietly pulsing light from fresh meals of fireflies. With each small detail she noticed and took in, Ellie felt small air bubbles from her lungs slowly escape her mouth. And yet, she felt finally, truly at peace. The paranoia from the world felt like a funny word that loosely slipped on her tongue, escaping her like the small bubbles that continued to slowly flow from her throat. Drowning wasn't a thought that occurred to her. The water was too warm, the arm on her chest too stabilizing, the muffled water chime ringing too relaxing to her soul. She felt her feet slowly slip beneath her as Ellie started to float. The sound of water flowing and muffled chimes coaxing a smile onto her face even as bubbles continued to float out of her lungs. The residual glowing chamomile petals flowed through the underwater lagoon scape like stars, and Ellie became eternally grateful that this would possibly be the last sight she saw as she slowly closed her eyes. 

Ellie awoke with a soft gasp, as she opened her eyes to the dull morning light and faced her ceiling. Yet as she breathed in, she was taken aback at just how clean the air in her lungs was. Not even an ounce of dust. Ellie's eyes went wide before she had leaned up from her bed. The floorboards were swept and washed. The fur rug had not a speck of dust. Her laundry was now laid neatly folded or dried hanging in the dawn. By her dresser, a flower vase with a few stray lavender stalks. Ellie stood up and walked down into her kitchen, peeking downstairs before clinging to the wall in shock. The entire downstairs was completely spotless. Every single furniture and object was washed and cleaned to perfection. Every trinket in its place, every tool in its holder, every top dusted and washed. All of the windows seemed to sparkle like the imported church’s, every rafter board somehow dusted spotless. 

Her mind raked for a rational explanation on just why her whole house was cleaned. Witchcraft was evil. At least it was supposed to be. This wasn't real. This had to be the dream continuing. But, try as hard as she did, she couldn't deny the cleanliness of the air she breathed in. The lack of ashes by her fireplace. Her coat hung on the rack and now spotless as if she never had that night in the pouring rain. Ellie thought to herself about how she never had the skills or energy to clean this well. She raked her thoughts again and again as she saw the potion jar’s glass neatly in her garbage bin. Again she thought about what the witch had said, Magnolia’s words and eyes lingered in her head.

“Take it right before you go to bed… I can’t control the dreams, and to my knowledge you can't control yours… All I know is that they will be pleasant, and they will linger for quite a long while.. I had to make a substitution so you may have a rather odd side effect just for the first night… There's no time limit on your debt, but…”

Ellie’s breath shuttered.

“You’ll feel it.”

Now that her mind brought attention to that fact, she ran upstairs to her mirror and unbuttoned her nightgown. Ellie swallowed nervously as she pulled apart the center, and felt her lungs shrivel up and her eyes widen in terror. She looked down from the mirror and looked at her body in pure dread. A raised mark on her lower sternum, of two opposite-facing arrows, singed deep into her skin.

Next chapter

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A strong bittersweetness settled itself with the cold that dusted Ellie's freckles. Like antique clockwork every Thursday. Morning market day. Ellie laid out her furs on racks and brushed the hides clean of kicked-up dust, perking up at the townsfolk wandering the square and setting up other stalls. The call of beckoners started the usual draw of potential buyers, as the morning chatter stood out among the bird calls and livestock ambiance. The chill of the wind blended pleasantly with the salty air of harbor fish and candle wax, accented with the ring of small brass bells and imported silver. The chatter of townsfolk about exchanges and sales, small-talk of catching up outside of the church, and the satisfactory chipper nature of the community with one another always seemed to warm the cold mornings. Furs of ochre and umber lined the racks by Ellie’s chair as she ran her hand along the softness of the pelts. The thick, patterned softness soon drew the attention of customers looking to help bundle themselves against the cold. 

And yet, most of Ellie's conversations with her customers were very straightforward and transactional. They kept their pleasantries, but no longer than they wanted to. Ellie couldn't help but mentally grimace at the obligatory “love thy neighbor’ nature that underlined all of her sales. Her morning was filled with as much gold as there was shallow conversation. A pelt of an animal, color, size, and price. A chill of the wind that was soothed by the thickness and softness of the pelts on the racks. A very brief back-and-forth of price negotiation, made even briefer if Tommy was within earshot. By the time she had sold three of her furs that were quickly draped around her customers' shoulders to soothe the biting cold, Ellie could still look over and hear much more embracing chatter and laughter from other booths nearby. Her mind couldn't help but disassociate as the transactional talks became white noise among the whispering wind and clatter of gold coins.  

Despite how fast and easily Ellie was able to sell her goods due to practicality and high demand, she did miss the sincere warmth of when she used to sell in the market with her old mentor. She missed the memories of his aging hands whittling away at wood as they adjusted the goods on the table, Joel’s gruff voice warm to the townsfolk among the morning cold. The voice that constantly told Ellie to go back to the house to fetch more whittling wood, sharpening stones, and ledger papers. How his expression faintly upturned as he saw the younger girl whittling away at her bow, delicately carving ferns into the limb of the wood.

“Ease up on the grip, kiddo, you're gonna slice your finger off.” ”I know what I'm doing, Joel…” A younger Ellie would stubbornly retort, reluctantly easing her grip as the blade whittled more easily into the wood at his advice.

She would catch the subtly amused glances that the townsfolk customers would give at the mere sight of a young girl being so firm and calm with the large bow and hunting knife. Words would go unsaid as they fixed their expressions to Joel, turning back to sell them the wood sculptures, charms, and tools. Ellie would chuckle a little when he would, in turn, roll his eyes a little at having to cut the larger logs into smaller chunks of wood, as he would easily sell out of the wooden crucifix charms that took him barely any time to make. 

Especially compared to the art pieces of cedar and pine in the shape of decorative wood animals that Ellie would always steal looks of awe at, before promptly getting back to the manual labor of her apprenticeship. She always admired the shape of her favorite carving of his, which always stood on the selling table as a testament to his skill. A driftwood stag that Joel spent countless hours whittling and tool sharpening on, with inky pits and rings that adorned its wooden fur-carved texture. The way its expression stayed mighty and delicate as it stood on top of the natural firm base of driftwood. How the intricate dark antler structures that, by some miracle, held onto the beast’s form without accidentally being cut or broken off. The subtle smell of the wood’s salt and faint musk still managed to bring admiration and comfort. Ellie constantly brought herself to hold the large stag figure close, even as it poked into her hands and chest. Minutes would tick by before she would once again place it back by the mantle, adjusting it to stand proudly next to her drawing of the husky, dark-bearded man playing a lute guitar. 

Ellie's thoughts were interrupted during one of the downtime hours, as her ears perked up from the business-fueled trance to the clatter of metal falling over in the strong wind. An older wife stood up and fussed while she ran down the street to pick up the rolling knocked-over silver plate. Ellie quickly stood up from her spot and picked up a rather intricate silver plate and dusted it off. As she handed it back, she noticed that the wife kept on looking back at her own booth with paranoia behind her eyes as she continued to fuss under her breath.

“Selling well, Mrs. Taylor?” The woman cleared her throat and dusted herself off, giving Ellie a small smile in gratitude. “Ah, people always tend to buy the most necessary items in winter. It's no wonder you do so well.” Ellie put on a polite smile back, noting how they had two very different definitions of ‘doing well’. “Well, I'm always open to trading some items if you want some fur. It is getting colder this autumn than the last.” Mrs Taylor’s polite smile back held a well-intact mask. “Ah, well, we're all just trying our best. Do consider buying some goods if you'd like. John’s still sick and we could use the spare money.” 

The woman gestured back to her table, Ellie noting how the written prices were higher than the ones she overheard. Mrs. Taylor placed the plate along with the other goods and textiles that ran along the table. “I think I should get back to my booth. Although I'll be sure to stop by later to see what you have left.” Ellie softly smiled before walking back to her own booth, not caring to catch any more veneered expressions as she immediately went back to her business headspace. “Oh! Now I better not see one of you children with one of those rings! I swear if another piece goes missing–”

Ellie couldn't help but chuckle under her breath at Mrs. Taylor’s bumbling nature as she arranged her booth again and lightly chastised the children by her goods, the stubborn look on her face soon soothed by kindly townsfolk.

Logging down her latest sale, Ellie perked up as a girl lingered at her stall, fondly smiling at the tween girl as she tucked a hair back into her bonnet. “Morning, little Sarah.” “Hi, Ellie! Gosh, the furs this time are really pretty…” “Thanks. Sorry I don't have much to offer this time that isn't small.”

The blonde girl softly smiled as she ran her hands through the pile of scrap fur, admiring the natural umber and gray speckling. It always brought warmth to Ellie’s heart to see the familiar young girl enjoying the simple things of childhood and growing up. Something always lingered in the back of Ellie's mind that caused her to live somewhat vicariously at times as she saw Sarah in the community. As grateful as she was for the freedom of the apprenticeship she had, Ellie’s own sense of normalcy always seemed fickle as the wind as long as she lived in Salem.

Ellie noticed the girl’s fondness for the fur’s patterns and softness, letting out an amused exhale through her nose with a soft smile.  “Tell you what. I'll knock the price down to quarter just for you today.” Sarah’s face immediately went into uncertain pleasant surprise. “Are you sure? I'd be willing to pay full price, I-I know you work hard out there with the hunting–” Ellie set down her pen as she looked at the young girl with warm certainty in her expression. “I'm sure. You only turn fourteen once after all.” “How–” “I overheard from your parents earlier.” A knowing smile spread on her face,  lighting Sarah’s expression up like a cloth caught to a flame. Sarah’s eyes filled with joy as she picked out a bundle of small fur and handed Ellie a gold coin from her purse.

“Just a moment.” Ellie held out her hand as Sarah looked back with slight confusion.  Ellie gently gestured for Sarah not to give her any more coins, but rather for the small fur charm. The girl looked back in curiosity before a brighter smile lit up her face at the sight of Ellie tying a twine bow around the fur.

“Happy birthday.”

Sarah’s expression beamed at Ellie before composing herself a bit, taking the charm back and tied it to her frock sash. Her attention was caught by her parents further down as they looked back with stern expressions, but her light never faltered even as she ran back to her parents, thankfully waving Ellie goodbye for the discounted gift and happy wishes. 

Ellie's expression maintained a flicker of genuine warmth at the girl before turning back to her sales ledger. One of her hands ran along the expensive elk pelt that lay across her table, the last thing left to sell. This was completely predictable, as her customers tended to always buy the cheaper items first unless the larger pelts were necessary. At least it was something to keep the roof over her head and her hobbies fed. Marking down and double-checking her sales, a familiar, gravelly, charismatic voice caused her to finally break a genuine smile for the second time this morning.

“Guess I should have come over when you had more in stock.” Ellie replied, looking up at her uncle, “The one thing I can be thankful for at this time of year is at least I sell better.” “Good. Nice to know you still keep a good roof on that house.”

The wide brim of Tommy's hat just shielded his eyes from the foggy wind as he looked down at the last remaining elk pelt for her to sell.   “Still haven't sold this one? It's been a good while, and the weather is getting colder.” His eyes held a slight surprise beneath the lingering wrinkles and rings around his eyes. “I'm not too mad, I made a decent profit otherwise.”

A silence lingered a little as Tommy felt the cream-dusted fur beneath his fingers. Ellie looked down in pride at the walnut-tipped hide in her own fingers, perfectly cut and soft with not a speckle of blood or dirt. “You want me to buy it off your hands? I'll take half of it if you want to keep the rest as a prize.” “You know you don't have to give me charity just because you're my uncle-” “I'm not. It's some really nice quality fur.” Tommy interrupted her own objection with a stern yet charismatic, genuine expression. “I'll stop by later today with some money to buy the fur off your hands.”

Ellie looked back up with pleasant surprise at the notion that she had finally sold off the elk fur, packing up the empty fur racks. “...Thanks, Tommy. You know, with all due respect, I don't know how much the family discount can get you off the elk; it's still a quality fur.” “It’s okay kiddo, I get it. You should be proud of the hunting you do. Joel taught you well, crazy as he was sometimes.”

A soft silence fell upon the both of them as Ellie cleared her throat and neatly folded the pelt. Tommy’s aged, faintly scarred hand extended a fairly decent amount of gold coins as a tip, catching Ellie off guard as she took a second look back at the gold. “You're…tipping me? The pelt already had a high price, you don't need to.” “Maybe with this you can actually invest in a decent rifle.” Tommy joked, sliding Ellie the coins. She chuckled back, “To each their own, arrows get less blood on the fur.” Tommy shrugged a little, adjusting his coat in the morning foggy breeze. “Keep up the good work....Hopefully it turns up something real good for the community. ”

His charismatic half smile veiled over gravelly promises. Tommy turned to go chat with a few of the other hunting party members on their way down the street as Ellie's pleasant smile faltered. She stashed the gold coins into her box, the subtle age and grime on the gold weighing deep beneath her ribcage and settling in her gut. She brought her hands up and down her freckles to soothe the dreadful cold nipping at her skin,  lingering her fingers to wipe the dust beneath her eyes. Letting out a thorough breath at the cold, she couldn't help but turn her gaze opposite to the hunting woods and down the street to the blackened wood of the witch's pyre.

“Well if you're all set for the morning–” Jesse’s voice next to Ellie caused her to flinch with surprise, snapping her out of her state before quickly shaking it off. “Whoa, hey. Didn't mean to spook you.” “It just looked like you were all done selling, figured you'd want to have a little hangout.” Dina smiled back. Their chipper cadence finally warmed Ellie from the hollow business conversations she’d had all morning. 

Ellie quickly shook off any crawling nerves and smiled back at both of them as Jesse helped her finish packing up her selling booth. “It's alright. I even managed to sell that elk fur thanks to Tommy.” “Looks like someone’s got the funds to buy us a few rounds of beer,” Jesse playfully responded back, drawing a small groan out of Dina. “Oh heavens what did you two get into this time–”  “Nothing.” “Nothing!” They both replied with a little too much haste. Dina shook her head with an exhaled chuckle as they walked along the cobblestone to Ellie's house, handing Ellie a slice of bread for breakfast. “Well at least let me know when you buy those drinks so I’ll steal one from Jesse~” “I heard that.”

Dina playfully chuckled back, leaning on Ellie's gate and petting Shimmer, cooing at the mare tied to the tree. As Ellie set down her things on the dining table, Jesse peeked inside the home. It was slightly messier than he remembered, but he wasn't one to judge. He perked up at Ellie’s state, and couldn't help but think back to the day he last walked her home.  “Hey.” “I won't be long, just give me a minute.” “...about that night.”

Ellie immediately hardened as she kept her gaze away from the young man at the door, pushing down the dread she got at the mere allusion to what she witnessed. “I'm fine. Actually. Really.” “You know if you're still stubborn we can just go out for regular drinks and you don't have to get me anything.”

Ellie turned back to the jet-black-haired man at her doorway to find a genuine expression on his face, eyes tinged with concern. A long silence passed before Ellie said anything as she dusted off her boots. They both took in the dull grey ambient lighting from the windows that hinted at the layers of dust that coated each pine plank. Ellie relucatnatly sighed, knowing that her friend wasn't going to give up his effort. Even as the whispers and tree shadows flashed back in her head, she still hushed herself so Dina outside wouldn't hear.  She both appreciated and hated his insistence for her.

“I'm just… pissed. Pissed I took so long. Pissed that I was stubborn and ignored you about going into those woods alone— not even with a horse. Pissed that I spent hours and only scared myself. All of that and I didn't even br– f-find anything... I'm so stupid...” A genuine crack sunk to Ellie’s face, a somberly sparked anger in her sage eyes that Jesse rarely saw. “Hey.” Jesse’s gentle firmness struck Ellie with support, his look giving unspoken comfort to his friend in distress. A strong beat of silence passed between them. He was unable to fully express himself in words, yet Jesse’s look and presence were all she needed. Her breath no longer wavered, the smell of dust and pine just faint in her senses from her calmed breathing.

“... You went without a horse?”

An annoyed scoff came upon her face, breaking a smile while shaking her head. “You're the worst.” “Now come on, we don't wanna leave Dina out there longer than we already have.” “Alright, alright.” “...Still dumb you went without your horse though.” Ellie scoffed back as they walked out the door, finding Dina still petting the mare. “Well, you’re easily entertained." “Oh, shut it~” Dina retorted with a playful eye roll, giving Shimmer one last pet before catching up with Jesse and Ellie. 

They continued walking along back into the market street, many of the booths still full and chipper amidst the cold. Morning church bells provided a sense of true community amongst the hustle as they rambled on while walking along the cobblestones. And yet, those treetops peeked over the gates still remained in their peripheral vision. Those pine whispers and haunted reverberations rang in the breeze. The whispers Ellie quite couldn't completely shake, even as she zoned back into whatever booth Dina pulled her into. 

“Will that be all, dear?”  Dina smiled back and nodded, handing over coins and dropping a spare one into the tip jar. The seller logged it down before starting up their chatter again, Dina’s laugh carrying a warmth like thick fur in snow. And yet Ellie's mind couldn't help but drift back to the eerie cold as another chill drifted past. The memory in the woods made familiar by just how many times Ellie raked over every single detail. That chill. The eerie taste of powder and dirt that lingered, traveled, and infected her brain. Those damned daisies that made her see even more than she wanted to in air already thick and obscured. Her brain filled in impossible terrors of just what could have made her feel that watched. That stupid crow and how it croaked its voice. The fact it talked and mocked her. That witch. And those eyes. Just what she could have morphed into if Ellie had the guts to actually step forward and kill that witch.

Ellie's focus was drawn away from her mind as Jesse subtly tugged her arm away from the booth, gesturing for her to look to her far left. She looked back at him in annoyance and confusion, before she noticed his expression was locked onto something at the end of the street. A single dusty brown hare at the end of the street, tall ears upright, sat in perfect poise. The hare’s cold, beady eyes stared blankly back at both of them through the distance, its nose twitching in eerie rhythm. The wind let out a dull, deep howl that reverberated through their eardrums and shot down their spines. The wind further raised their nerves, and yet the hare’s bone-thin forelegs stood tall. No one else in the morning market seemed to notice the hare’s gaze at them, and yet it continued to stare. Unwavering. Ellie’s nerves perked the longer it stared at them, Jesse’s hand unknowingly tightening on her forearm. Her heart began to quietly quicken as it continued to stare with its vacant gaze, a subtle sinking feeling catching in their chest as the quietest distant whispers of the forest wind anchored Ellie and Jesse down in their spots.

The hare only broke its stare to perk up at a passerby unknowingly walking towards it, looking up before hopping into a nearby livestock pen, and disappearing behind a building. Jesse tried chucking it off, Ellie mirroring him to mask her own discomfort. “...Hares were always weird animals..heh.” 

Dina turned to catch their uneasy looks, reflecting her own soft smile as she nudged Ellie and Jesse to move along in the market.  Despite secretly knowing her friends had seen something, she didn't know whether she wanted to lift that veil. “We should probably stop at the Nicholsons. You needed more gunpowder, right, Jesse?” Dina chimed, trying to help distract them from whatever caused their odd masked looks earlier. “Yeah– Yes, I did.” Jesse cleared his throat, nudging Ellie as they walked along the market, continuing to eye the other goods and market stall tables.

“Don’t give me slack for buying so much gunpowder.” Jesse piped up without prompt. “I didn't say anything.  You just want to get more practice shots in?” Ellie responded, an eyebrow quirking up with slight tease. “Okay not all of us are lucky to get a hunting apprenticeship at, what, six?” “Eleven. You think a six-year-old can shoot a bow?” Ellie snarked back, no real bite to her words. “Awww Ellie, you finally found someone as stubborn as you, real soulmates.~”  Dina playfully cooed and chuckled, laughing at their briefly baffled and disgusted faces. “Oh shut it Dina, you know how close I was to that coyote?!” Jesse huffed defensively, "You know how big that thing was?! Could have bought me a whole new dining table.”  Ellie responded with a chuckle, “That was two weeks ago, man. There's other animals.”  “...Seems like you really needed Ellie to buy you those drinks to take your mind off it.” Dina chimed back.

Jesse nudged Dina’s arm a bit as they all laughed it off, a weight seemingly becoming lighter as they walked through the market stalls. 

A small smile began to rise on Ellie’s face at the comfort of her friend's presence. At the feeling that no matter how scary things may seem and be beyond those gates and walls and foggy woods, at least she was safe with their presence. Until through the ambient noise of the crowd she started to hear the sound of panicked yelling. The weight of unease bred with curiosity, and gradually grew as Ellie turned her head to the commotion.

That once heavy feeling slammed back into her ribs as she turned around to spot a woman fighting to take hold of a musket rifle, the commotion merging with the chaos of the wind. The woman continued to yell, and before anyone knew it, the gun tore out of the man’s hand and was fired. Within an instant, the echoes of the gunshot rattled throughout the market. Screams and commotion of townsfolk rattled the once peaceful town square as everyone ducked for cover. Within a moment, Ellie instinctively caged Dina’s body to protect her on instinct as the reverb of the gunshot faded into the wind, as Jesse quickly moved to cover them both. 

Their breathing began to slow down as they opened their eyes and looked up from the cobblestone street, Dina’s gaze meeting Ellie's as she looked back up in shock. Ellie's own look of concern reassured Dina’s panicked breaths as they just started to slow.  “W-what was–”

“Dina! Dina, are you okay?” Ellie looked reassuringly, her hand moving up Dina’s back to soothe her concern. “Y-yeah… Jesse?”, Dina’s quivering voice just starting to calm. “I'm okay.” Jesse helped both of them up before turning to check on the other people nearby them, continuing to check if anyone was hurt. Looking back at the source of the commotion with the rest of the townsfolk, two people continued to fight near an imported goods table.

A lingering puff of white smoke from the musket directed their eyes to find an older woman in a gunpowder-stained frock dress, hair slightly disheveled, and breathing in panicked fury. The man she was fighting with tore the gun from her fingers as he continued to yell at her.  “Give me the gun, Seth! I'm telling you–” “Mrs. Taylor! You’re paranoid for no reason!” Seth barked back, his aged fingers firm around his musket, “You didn't see anything! Now look at what you did!”  “I know what I saw! There was a fox! Plain as day, stealing my goods! Again!” Mrs Taylor gestured to her table, eyes pleading and frantic. “Mrs. Taylor–” Seth grumbled, unamused. “I know what I saw! It ran down the road and took my expensive yarn! They always go after me! Why me?!” She continued to wail with frustration into the still air of the market as some of the crowd started to murmur. “You're being hysterical,” Seth growled back, the wind only causing more tension.

Tommy emerged from the crowd, his cloak drifting in the wind as he came up to try and calm the situation while people started to murmur. “What is the issue here? Is everyone alright?”  Seth spoke up, “Mrs. Taylor started yelling, came up, and grabbed the gun right out of my holster. I tried taking the gun back, but she shot it in a peaceful market.” “I know what I saw!” Mrs. Taylor pleaded in desperate anger.

“Maybe that sickness your husband caught is finally catching up to you.” Seth bit back before Tommy put a hand on his chest to try and calm him.  Mrs. Taylor continued to yell anxiously in frustration, “I'm telling you! There was a chicken, no– a fox! It turned into a fox! I saw it! It took my yarn–” Seth couldn't help but roll his eyes. “Now she doesn't even know what she saw, she just fired the gun.” “They took my yarn–” She gestured to the table. “You could have shot someone! Or worse!” Seth infuriatingly bit back. 

His hand grabbed Mrs. Taylor's arm and led the crowd’s gaze to a gaping gunshot hole to a wooden bark wall. Faint hints of smoke came off splinters from the heat of impact, a burn mark from the bullet singed into the wood. Tommy’s look from the splintering wood fell onto the basket on the ground, standing upright and full of pristine bundles of yarn, untouched except for a thin layer of kicked-up dust. The older woman’s shadows beneath her eyes, once singed with anger, now looked at the untouched yarn in disbelief that morphed into fear. “That's… I swear, it was stolen! I-I'm telling you, it came, it morphed... It’s- it’s witchcraft!–”

“Calm yourself, Jane.” The booming firmness of Tommy’s voice hit like a second gunshot.

“We’re safe here in Salem. I know things are rough for you now, especially after Madison, but we don't need any more panic than you already caused. It's unnecessary.”

The wind stilled and the murmurs of the crowd stood still. Tommy glanced around at the townsfolk and straightened himself, clearing his throat, calmly holding his hand to help Mrs. Taylor off the dirt street. She looked around to spot the townsfolk all looking back at them. Their looks ranging from concern, eye-rolling, fear, and even some of malice. Though all were restrained and kept under whispers that blended with the uncertainty of the pine wind howl.

“Now. I suggest you head home for the day. Clearly, the stress is getting to you. Perhaps see the doctor and your husband.” Mrs. Taylor’s expression remained sheepish as she quietly nodded, starting to pack up her tables despite the load of unsold goods. Tommy retreated back to the booth he was at, and the market carried on like before.

The market crowd continued to look at each other and back to the scene, muttered whispers flowing like gunpowder smoke. Ellie caught her breath, unsure of what to even think, her eyes drifting down as Jesse checked on Dina. Her mind still reeled from the near-hysterical account of Mrs. Taylor, unsure of what to believe. Something stole yarn, but it remained untouched.

Yet as Ellie walked down the street and passed Mrs Taylor’s booth, as people continued to pass by and not help her pack up, something hit Ellie’s senses as fast as it disappeared in the wind. The faintest musk of a wild animal. Denial of the scent hit just as fast, before being ripped from her as her downturned eyes fell upon the faintest impressions in the dirt. Fox tracks. And yet they were unknowingly brushed away just as soon as they were noticed by Ellie. The small beady eyes of the hare’s look still crawled on her back, but the musk that faintly lingered in the wind ruptured her ribcage in dread.

Small barrels,weights of gunpowder, and racked muskets lined another table. Dina lingered at the bags in at the detail and intricate designs in the bullet pouches. Mrs. Nicholson perked up at Dina’s interest as they chatted. Ellie’s mind briefly debated between listening in to the men and their enthusiasm for the metal powder, before realizing she would rather listen to literally anything else.  

“You doing well? That was quite the startle back there.” “Just a little frazzled. The bullet pouches are really nice; you really do have a gift for sewing. It’s so nice that you and your husband get to truly work together.” “Thank you, dear. It really is nice having someone, and that he lets me sell something of my own too.” They both smiled before the wind drew a silence between them, their nerves still spiked from the gunshot. Mrs. Nicholson’s gaze couldn't help but look back at Mrs. Taylor packing up her stall in slight concern and pity, her voice quieting down from townsfolk passing by as she talked to Dina.

“Apparently she needed her assistant more than she knew.”  The air in the stall stilled. 

“I've been checking up on her. The poor thing hasn't been doing well ever since... you know.” A somber, gut-wrenching feeling filled the table. Dina swallowed her throat, eyes clear with the memory of the trial and execution only a week ago. The stench of singed hair and skin. Madison’s desperate pleas and screams echoed in their eardrums.

Mr. Nicholson cleared his throat. “All due respect, Dina, you're blocking that end of the table. Can you just move a little to the side?”

Dina straightened up and nodded as she moved herself and nodded, Mr Nicholson calling his wife back over to help. Dina’s expression still carried a daze as she pulled her cloak over at the cold, her hand lingering to subtly cradle herself. Jesse comfortingly pulled her aside as they continued to shop at the different booths, despite his own memory of overhearing the trial. Bitter memories lingered in Ellie’s head of the courtroom's wooden walls, still hearing the men yelling nonstop accusations. The words of damnation. All while Madison wept and stumbled through prayer late into the night, the accusations continuing well into the morning. The heat of the candle flame on that day was a blinding beacon for the rest of the town’s gossip. Words that couldn't help but be overheard at the open court doors. The rumors outside about the certainty of the accusations. Deafening whispers that lingered through cobblestone streets. Dirtier than any dust the wind could possibly kick up..

“Madison Warren.” “That girl was always two-faced.” “Wonder what that was about.” “Such a sweet thing.” “I keep her in my prayers, poor child.” You know, I did hear yelling from their house a few times.” “She missed a few Sunday prayers.” “Madison.” “What will Henry do?” “I know witches secretly can't stand to be in churches.” “Why is he just now talking about it?” “I heard her screams every night.” “She tried to cover it, but I saw odd marks.” Madison. “Maddy didn't do anything.” “She told me everything was fine.”  “She did wear an eye covering for a while and didn't talk about it.” “Madison.” “Well, it's not like you can take back a dowry.” “I once saw witchcraft runes marked onto her skin.” “Tried talking to Henry about her once.” “She knew what she was doing in secret; she doesn't deserve God’s mercy.” “I heard screams in the middle of the night.” “Did you hear what she said in the trial?” “Madison.” “That house smelled like iron.” “Madison.” “It's a husband’s responsibility to keep control of his wife.” “May god have mercy on your soul, little Maddy.” “Well, Henry did frequent the bar; maybe he knew.” “You can't muffle that kind of crying.” “Madison.” “It's a wife’s responsibility to make a good house for her husband.” “Madison.” “May god have mercy.” “Clearly she failed her wifely duties.” “Mrs. Taylor was always a hysterical one; maybe it rubbed off onto her.” “Madison.” “Did you hear what she said in that trial?” “I saw blood pooling in her eye once in the water well.” “Poor Mrs. Taylor, she’s gonna be without an assistant.” “Madison.” “She couldn't recite the lord’s prayer.” “Madison.” “It's blood magic.” “Confess, child!” “Madison.” “So much yelling in their house.” “Madison.” “She kept stumbling because she was sobbing.” “Madison.” “Maybe she did something to her husband.” “Madison.” 

“Madison Warren, the court of Salem finds you guilty of the crime of witchcraft.”

Ellie’s eyes caught the courtroom wall as she hugged her friends for the day. Her boots echoed on the cobblestone streets as she opened her front gate. Ellie’s brain still reeled from the echoes of whispers, letting out a breath and being caught off guard by just how much she trembled. 

She took off her cloak and let it drape by the door before sitting back and letting her head fall back. Ellie let the scent of her home fill her nose, dipping deep down into her lungs, and back out through her mouth with a little stability. She rushed to close all of her windows and blinds, finally letting out a shaky breath. Her hands drifted over to the lute guitar perched on the side table, fingers passing over the strings as they dimly screeched. Ellie’s eyebrows briefly knit in displeasure before she moved her hands along the carvings and adjusted the tuning pegs, letting the thin layer of dust cake onto her fingers before wiping it off into the air. 

A moth carved into the neck of the guitar brought the slightest smile onto her face. The memory resurfaced of Ellie asking where one of her drawings was only to look over Joel’s shoulder to find him carving that very wing pattern into the guitar. She chuckled at the memory of Joel’s look of how she spoiled her birthday surprise, occasionally teaching her after a successful hunt. 

She tuned the strings with just a little effort, letting the gentle warmth and crispness of the music notes echo through the house walls. Ellie would count the money from the fur sales later. For now, she let the memory, the wood, and the scent of hydrangea outside soothe her senses. The once howling wind and whispers were now deafened by the subtle screech of the strings as she shifted notes. The melody her fingers strummed like a lullaby for her mind as she softly and absentmindedly hummed, the breaths she exhaled now fully serene. 

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

The quiet clatter of dinner dishes onto wooden counters seemed to finally clear Ellie's mind. Cold orange light filled her home from the candles, the emptiness in the air long familiar as shadows lingered in small crooks and bends of walls and furniture. The cooking fireplace now down to smolders, and the warm light shimmered only in small coals. The smell of seared chicken faintly remained in the fire pit, soothing Ellie's mind and stomach as she scraped the cast iron pan of residue. The dull air of a finished dinner left her stomach and mind fully settled for the night. The candlestick continued to flicker its meager light as the sound of splashed water echoed through the kitchen. Ellie hummed to herself to absentmindedly bring warmth to the still air of the house as she continued to rinse off her dishes. The wind left a dull reverberation on the kitchen window glass, the locks caked in a thick layer of dust. Ellie’s eyes drifted up as she absentmindedly attempted to scrape the burnt juices of the cast iron pan, seeing the residual glow of street lamps illuminate her sleeping horse tied to the tree outside. 

Her mind continued to fill itself with the hollow fullness of her humming until it perked up at the sight of something passing by the window in the street. Ellie perked up as she saw the sight of a young girl running along in the street, curiosity now filled her senses as she left the kitchen and opened her front door to see the sight of a girl running and falling, her breaths panicked as three people firmly rushed and called her name. “Sarah!” “Sarah, you can’t run out like this!,” Her father called out, trying to find her as he stood next to an older gentleman. “Sarah dear!”  Her mother called out, quickly catching up at the sight of her daughter tripping on the ground. Ellie peeked out of her house to see Sarah’s panicked daze, her dirty blonde hair loose from her bonnet in running and dishevelment. Her dress now dirty from the trip onto the ground, her faulty breaths still not ceasing as her mother came to her side.

“Now Sarah, don't run off like that! It's the middle of the night, dear.” “Mother, you can’t!” Sarah’s eyes remained panicked as she thrashed away from her mother, fully perking Ellie’s attention in concern and curiosity, staying in her front door as she noticed the neighboring blacksmith doing the same. “Sarah dear, you're being irrational.” “But Mother! You can’t be–”  Sarah’s panicked breathing came full force at the sight of her father and the older gentleman walking to them. “Now Sarah, do come back. This isn't how you should behave when we have guests… Well, he won't be a guest anymore.”

The older man looked down at the girl as her mother forced her to her feet.  “Now come along, Sarah. If you're out of the house, we may as well get the deed done.” “Y-You can’t be serious! No! I'm not doing it!” Sarah’s crying out seemed to further perk her and the surrounding neighbors as her father looked down at the girl and firmly bit back. “We're not causing a scene, young lady.” Her father turned back to the older gentleman, his voice and posture now firm and appeasing. “Now I do apologize for this hysterical outburst of hers, I assure you she's a good, god-loving woman, David.” “Father!-”

Sarah’s mother scorned down at her as she tugged her daughter along back home. “Young girl, we are heading to the church right now to get your mind straight. Your father and I already agreed.” “Again I apologise. She's usually a bright and happy girl. A good homemaker who has already shown potential. And I’d be happy to accept the dowry if you're still interested.” David’s hand calmly raised up to her father. “She does seem to have great potential, and I'd be eager to fulfill the dowry.”  David’s satisfied expression laced with sick pleasure. Ellie’s mind reeked with mental disgust as she seemed to follow the people out to the town, making quiet eye contact with the blacksmith who had done the same, and catching a few other neighbors also coming out to see the cause of the commotion. The dull, glowing street lanterns illuminated Sarah and her family’s shadows as they walked to the center of town, Sarah’s shadow continuing to struggle.

Sarah continued to scream and thrash as more people came out of their houses at the commotion, Sarah’s parents noticed and quietly chastised her, their hands firming on her arms as they helped her up off the dirt from her thrashing.

“I told you! I won't go through with it.” Sarah’s eyes filled with unseen anger 

“Sarah honey, we’ve been through this. You're of age. You should be grateful we found a husband for you so early to secure your future.” Sarah’s eyes darted back to David's sunken eyes, his skin aged and gruff as he quietly stood next to her father. 

“Grateful– Mother, Father, I won't go through with it!”

“Sarah, you're causing a scene.” Sarah’s father grimaced back at his daughter at her outburst.

David reassured her parents as his large gruff hand held onto Sarah’s arm. His eyes glanced at her almost hungrily through their sunkenness as a calm smile emerged through his bearded face. Firmness in the greying stray hairs of his full beard. “I agree, we should get to the church. Hit two birds with one stone to both set her right and secure the marriage,” David told her father. Sarah’s eyes grew panicked like a deer in an infernal forest as she continued to thrash and struggle against the grip on her arm, her father pressing his hand over her mouth to muffle her yells of opposition as he noticed the small observing crowd. 

Sarah’s mother straightened the hair in her bonnet and gave a reassuring smile to the crowd in acknowledgment. “It's quite alright. Sarah’s just antsy. It's just the wind, is all. It's very late.” Sarah’s father assured Ellie and her neighbors. “She’s just in a hysterical fit. We're taking her to the church, and we're quite alright. Although you're welcome to observe the wedding if you’d like.”

Ellie’s mind continued to sour as she saw a genuineness in their voices. Her gut further sickened at the normalcy in their expression and the look in their eyes as they seemed genuinely caught off guard by her ‘unexpected outburst’. The slowly growing crowd continued to follow against their better judgment, especially at talk of a wedding. Ellie’s mind further continued to swirl at the sickening thoughts and implications. The bitter freeze of the night didn't stop more townsfolk from secretly looking on, and the glow of the street lamps silently ushered people to emerge from their homes at the rising gossip. The sight of the young girl’s panicked eyes next to David's rugged, reassuring expression only caused more people to look on. She was so small next to his already tall stature, as Ellie's eyes sickened at the once happy girl now fearful of her own family.

Ellie followed along the growing crowd to the town square, unease filling her as the night wind once again circled up her spine, feeling no less unease in front of her than she had in the woods. The only glow of street lamps aided the tension as the wind howled. The shadows of Sarah’s struggling objection were muffled by the hands on her body as they pulled to the church, the girl almost screaming at the look in David's eyes. True panic hit her as her father yelped out in pain, holding his hand and slapping his daughter to the ground. Sarah’s mother turned in brief concern to her daughter still panic-stricken and holding her face, but turned back to her husband’s now scornful expression. “She bit me.” He growled back, mind debating between reassuring David and chastising his daughter. 

David's winced in unease at the sight of the father’s hand now swollen with teeth marks, giving an assuring look to her father before glaring down to Sarah in disapproval.  “Now look. I've offered to graciously pay your dowry, and I assure you, you'll be a great wife, Sarah. If you obey." His expression raked up and down her body despite the dirt on her dress and her marked cheek. She looked back in terror that morphed into revulsion, panicking and kicking up dirt, hyperventilating at the sight of an oil lantern on his sunken, wrinkled skin. 

“You dare defy the proposal your parents secured?! You should be grateful that you'll be well taken care of. Now be good and come with us to the church, and we will have the marriage secured,” David snarled. Tears of fear pricked in her eyes. Ellie looked back in sympathy, wanting desperately to help, and yet she felt that weight of dread anchor her feet in place, staying in the crowd despite the disgust in her throat. Her eyes were unable to tear away from the sight. Sarah’s face and dress dusted in dirt, arms quickly restraining her again, a discarded bonnet disheveled her hair. The girl’s dreaded eyes filled with betrayal at her mother, father, and soon-to-be husband. The creak of the massive gilded wooden door broke the crowd’s attention, the men continuing to chastise Sarah as she lay on the cobblestones.

An older gentleman emerged in priestly robes holding a lantern and emerged from the church doors at the commotion outside.  “What is the reason for this commotion at this hour? You are outside the house of God.” Sarah’s parents straightened up at the priest’s presence. David still scowled at Sarah but turned with an air of poise around him. Sarah looked desperately around to find some kind of help or exit, her eyes darting around the crowd as she continued to frantically breathe.  “We are simply here to complete the agreed-upon marriage of Sarah and I.”

The priest’s aged eyes looked down at Sarah, her eyes filled with desperation as she quietly cried, her throat filled with anxiety. “We agreed to a marriage.” David’s voice echoed with quiet command.  “We apologize for the commotion. I'm afraid Sarah has become rather hysterical tonight. We came to you hoping we could set her right and perhaps help with the marriage since we’re here,” Sarah’s father spoke.

The priest held a contemplative look behind his old eyes. When he looked down at Sarah, he saw the girl silently weeping and begging for the mercy that the church would usually supply. The entire town seemed to wait with bated breath as the situation, now fully public, seemed to weigh on the priest’s decision. That was until David cut in. “Father John, we’ve talked about this. Agreed that a marriage was in order. Is one more marriage not better for the community as well?” A fearful gasp fled Sarah’s lungs as David once again grabbed onto her arm for emphasis, trying to pull her up to her feet despite her anchor of dread. The crowd continued to wait with bated breath as hopeless tears welled in Sarah's eyes. 

Father John looked down at the girl still paralyzed in fear, a sympathetic gaze falling upon his wrinkles as he coughed at the smoke from the illuminating fires. “P-please, father…I beg of thee–” “Quiet, wench.” David lowly growled back at the girl, “How dare you defy my proposal and right to your dowry?”

Sarah cowered further at his words and the lack of help from the large growing crowd townsfolk, creaking their windows and lingering at their doorsteps, but not offering a glance to help her fear. A long beat of silence passed as more night shadows fell upon David’s face, only for Father John to lean on his cane and weakly raise his hand in defense. 

“I know we agreed upon a marriage… and I do think you have a right to a dowry.” The priest coughed a little. “But perhaps…perhaps there may be other women with available dowries if you wish for another. You should have faith in the Lord to give ample opportunity for happiness and a good home.”

David’s eyes were laced with rage and entitlement, closing them with a contemplative expression. “First, you try to refuse my right.”  David’s expression turned from annoyance to fury as he yelled down at Sarah. 

“Now, you have the audacity to hex a priest into saying this nonsense?!”  Sarah’s gut fell in pure terror.

The crowd gasped at the insinuation alone, eyes now hawk-focused on the situation as Sarah looked back in paralyzed fear up at David. He tried to scoot her immobilized form back before his large, aged hands held a vice grip on her arm, Ellie knowing how much it would bruise her skin, even if Sarah got away from the accusations. 

The priest coughed again, “W-Witchcraft?-- ”

“You initially agreed to this, Father. And now that you see what you agreed to, you deny it so adamantly?! And how would you know if you've even been hexed?! She just batted her whorish eyes and suddenly you're sympathetic… who knows what she did to make you, a priest, take back your word.” 

His words were acidic spit that only roared tension higher into the night. Already the town crowd started to murmur, only further drawn out by the alarming words. Sarah looked like she had just been shot as his accusations boomed through the plaza. “No… No! I’ve been a good, god-loving–” “You refuse your duty, you refuse my marriage, you hex a priest into saying this nonsense, what more could you do to corrupt this town?!” David yelled. The priest continued to cough and shiver in the night wind. “See how hard our holy man has to fight?!” David beckoned the onlookers.

Murmurs began to further erupt at the accusation as Sarah continued to try and deny, only to cower in fear and desperately claw away from David’s vice grip. Another older man dressed in his night robes and a coat emerged from the crowd. Ellie was both surprised and not to see Seth. “If you officially accuse her, we’ll set up the trial at dawn.” “No.” David barked back. “After the incident this morning, you should be grateful we found this witch already.” As the men argued, Sarah just managed to catch footing and twist free. Fear and instinct filled her as she scrambled to a run, but her father caught her arm and tugged back, unable to bring himself to look his daughter in the eye.  “Where do you think you're going. Young lady.” Sarah struggled to find her words as tears breached her eyes in her struggle to breathe. “You're not running into the woods. I won't have a daughter of mine be a witch…We’re setting you right.”

The men looked back at Sarah as she wept and begged through struggling breaths. “I swear, I-I can recite the lord’s prayer–” “Silence. You’ve hexed the priest. A man of god. As if he would forgive you anyway.” Sarah continued to hopelessly sob as her father held a vice grip, Sarah’s mother tearing up in disappointment. Seth looked back at the priest as he continued to cough and shiver while the altar boy stood beside. “We can set up a brief trial in the morning." “No.”

The murmuring town crowd looked in confusion at David’s own objection. Ellie looked on in bated silence as she felt Tommy stand beside her, looking onward as well as he tried to gauge the far-gone situation.

“...We have a cold-hard witch on our hands. You've all seen it; there's no need for a confession. And she hexed the only one to repent to.” David firmed to Seth. “I'm afraid we have to resort to… proper disposal methods.”  The crowd’s eyes widened at his insistence. “The crime is proven. You already witnessed it. We cannot let this slide. Especially after the panic seen this morning.” David’s aged eyes stung with determined fury.  “We have to accept it. The infection of witchcraft in this town has started to spread early.” An unspoken dread fell upon the townsfolk crowd as Ellie couldn't help but agree, and yet remained strongly opposed to Sarah still breathlessly pleading and weeping. “We’re not letting this infection spread this time. When a community bleeds with sin, you don't let it freely bleed. You don't hang it out to dry or let it poison others.” 

David looked back at the weeping girl with seething determination as his eyes caught onto the smoldering oil lamp in his hand.

“...You cauterize the wound.”

An air of heaviness fell as the town’s eyes were forced to the old blackened pyre, yet Ellie was further baffled at some of the murmurs turning to agreement. Ellie felt the weight slam and crack her ribcage as Sarah’s face further dropped. The girl babbled and pleaded, stumbling and screaming as breathless terror and disgust bubbled like gut bile and tore through her raw throat. “No, NO NO N-NO! Please, I beg you! I-I’ll pray, I’ll marry you! I-I didn't–”

“You think you have the right to confess after the crime you’ve committed…” A sickened, unamused, carnivorous smile fell upon his face at the sight of Sarah begging for his mercy. “The more you know, Seth. Witches have a sense of humor.” 

David turned to Seth as he signaled the men to pull another large wooden plank for the pyre. Sarah tried to thrash, screaming and begging. Ellie once again desperately wanted to step in and stop the madness, only to be anchored by the crowd’s now vengeful murmurs at the the weeping girl. She looked up at Tommy beside her to see what he had thought; not a murmur out of his mouth, only an unreadable expression in his eyes as he didn't even think to stop the madness.

Sarah’s knuckles turned bone-pale as she desperately failed to break free of the pyre ropes, the stares of the heating crowd plunging her ribcage down to the ground. David’s voice emerged as he held the oil lamp high to quell the crowd’s mixed murmuring. “Call it extreme, I call it taking care of the problem at the root.” David firmly continued as Sarah hopelessly wept. “You all know how bad witchcraft can be to a community if it festers. She hexed a true man of god. A priest. If you know what's best, you do what's best. You know it in your souls to be true.”

The men holding the wood plank further straightened at his assurance, their grip tightening as they tied  Sarah’s sobbing form, her fear lit by the oil lamps and torches. 

Just then, the sound of splintering wood hit Ellie's ears, and before she could even turn around, the sound of frenzied dog barking and shrieking caused people to look back. The crowd quickly fell back in fearful bewilderment, cowering as a massive black goat charged forward, It’s hoofbeat and charged grunting echoing like a dozen gunshots. 

Ellie felt a shudder through her body as the town further screamed the animal’s presence, Sarah’s father leaning to protect her mother as the men couldn't help but stumble back at its swift speed and massive size. A scream was torn from Sarah’s raw throat. The goat’s coal-black fur almost sparked at the oil lamp light. It’s massive twisted horns sharpened like scythes. Its darkened, aglow eyes charged with an ominous determination. The crowd continued to scream at the massive goat’s petrifying presence as it to charge toward the center of the plaza, townspeople backing up in fright. “It’s the devil!” “Have mercy!” “Good god!” “The devil himself!”

Before anyone had any time to think, the massive black goat leaped over the pyre wood as a thunderous crack blasted over the town. People looked onward to see the black goat headbutting the pyre Sarah was bound to. The large goat shook off impact and reeled up to try and headbutt the wood again with its massive horns. The townsfolk quickly lit torches at the sight of the animal’s fierce determination, but Ellie quickly realized what was in front of them was no mere animal.

Yet before anybody could think, another thunderous crack splintered through the night. Sarah’s bound body fell to the ground along with the broken remains of the wood, looking up in frightened confusion. The murmuring was long gone, drowned out by incoherent screams at the sight of the black goat storming back up on its hooves. 

David stepped forward to try and grab Sarah as she broke free, but the goat reeled up in rage and was suddenly thrown back by the goat’s massive curved horns in a firm headbutt against the church wall. Sarah cowered in fear at the sight of the large black creature, looking up in confusion as a hoof landed on the ground next to her shoulder.

The goat stood over Sarah in a menacing protective stance, Its eyes locked on the gruff men as it let out a firm exhale through its nose. It;s sharply daunting white breath blew through the goat’s nostrils, further illuminated by the townsfolk’s torches. “The devil! It guards the witch!” “Somebody kill it!” “Get the torches!” The animal’s ferocity-filled eyes darted to the crowd as its protective stance firmed around Sarah, rearing its head around at those who tried to get closer. Ellie stiffened as its eyes locked straight onto hers, inky dark pits with specks of reflected flames causing them to glow with protective rage. As more townsfolk started to light torches and approach, the goat screamed down at Sarah in a distorted screaming feminine voice. “Get on!” It’s urgency like a hornet sting.

Sarah stared up in fear before looking back around at the town, briefly paralyzed before the goat immediately reared its horns to undo the rope on her body. “It– It spoke!” An onlooker screamed. “Get on!” The goat once again ripped through its distorted throat.

Sarah’s eyes looked around before immediately climbing on the goat’s back, David and Seth’s eyes filling with rage as they stumbled back to their feet. “Danmed wench! You're not getting away!” David yelled as he darted for a nearby pitchfork. “S-Sarah!!” Her mother shrieked back.

Sarah’s eyes were blinded in tears before she felt the goat’s fur cave and swell beneath her. Ellie looked on in horror as she saw the goat’s mouth start to speak in ominous tongues, the townsfolk calling out as the night wind swelled with the goat’s muscles. It’s form started to writhe beneath its dark fur, snorting breaths turning into animalistic snarling as it spoke indecipherably. The breaths in its throat started to bubble and distort as it continued to speak, it’s horns almost melting into fur as Sarah held onto whatever fur could remain in stable form. Cobblestone cracked beneath the beast’s large legs as Ellie saw the goat’s once cloven hooves morph into massive clawed paws, snarling breaths still speaking in tongues as massive canine teeth erupted from its jaw, drooling as townsfolk in the crowd started to shriek in terror. The hunting dogs hysterically barked at the creature before it stared coldly back, the hounds whimpering and cowering at the beast’s guttural snarl.

“W-WOLF!” 

“Witchcraft.” Seth snarled back.

Sarah just barely held onto the morphing fur as Seth cocked his rifle and shot the large transforming wolf point-blank in the face. Large, inky muscles beneath its changing body ceased their twitching as the large puff of gunsmoke obscured the creature’s face. The sound of crackling flames was the only thing that meekly echoed throughout the town as Seth’s face grew a wicked, satisfied smile at the stilled wolf. 

Until two infernal orange eye reflections glowed in the gunsmoke. Then three. Then seven. Before a breath of horror could be torn from his throat, the wolf lunged and crunched his arm, the gruff man screaming in pain as he was thrown aside. Townsfolk looked on in horror as they saw Seth’s shredded arm, raked and bleeding  like it was dragged across barbed wire. Skin mangled and red far beyond any normal wolf bite. 

The creature let out a distorted snarl as it once again commanded attention. Ellie and the crowd gasped in terror as the beast disregarded the gunshot to the face, slowly turning to stare a thousand daggers back at Seth. And then the gunsmoke faded. Multiple eyes infernal glowing eyes haphazardly scattered across its canine face. A distorted growl simmered from its mouth, overstuffed in a grotesque display of layers upon layers of disarrayed scything teeth. Boiling blood and saliva trickled through the wolf’s overstuffed sharpening maw as it walked forward. Seth whimpered in horror at its unblinking hellish stare, feeling the beast’s boiling, raw breath on his face before its toothy mouth snapped shut with another guttural bark, quickly darting down a street. 

Sarah quickly held tighter onto the massive wolf’s back, moonlit shadows rushing over petrified livestock and breaking through the town’s wooden wall into the woods. The town looked on in horror at the beast taking the young girl, Tommy quickly pushing past Ellie and grabbing his musket, yelling at the men. “Get your horses and guns! We're not letting it get away!”

The hunters in the crowd snapped to their senses at Tommy's presence and immediately ran to grab their guns, the crowd continuing to mutter in horror at the massive blown-open spot in the town’s wall at the end of the street. People continued to ramble in fearful disbelief as Tommy quickly took action to dissolve the frenzy. The dogs continued to cower in their trance, not daring to bark back as they stared and whimpered at the void left in the blown-apart wall.  “It- it was huge-” “The witches couldn't have gotten too far.” Tommy called out to the plaza as he grabbed his rifle, looking back to the blown-apart wooden wall. “Get your asses up before it gets too big of a lead.”

Tommy’s vengeful eyes stared back to Ellie in the crowd, his newfound ferocity spiking nerves up her spine as the crowd continued to reel in terror. “Get your gun.”

Ellie snapped from her stun and quickly nodded, one of the townsfolk lending the gruff vengeful man a torch as he cocked his gun and mounted his horse. She was even surprised to see Seth temporarily bandaging his arm and grabbing a torch before following as well, no matter how much he grunted in pain. Before she knew it, the men were running out towards the massive blown open section of the wall. Tommy circled around to give Ellie one more wordless look before darting out with the other men as their horses became swept into the forest fog outside of the blown-apart wood.

‘You want to prove yourself, you'll pick up a gun too.’

Ellie's breath continued to quicken as the thoughts of everything that happened mere minutes ago hit her, her ears still ringing from the shrieking, the gunshot, and the horror of it all. 

The goat, how it morphed into the wolf, the injury of Seth’s arm. That wolf’s eyes. That goat’s distorted voice yelling at Sarah. How scared Sarah looked. Just how this situation escalated so quickly in tears and bloodshed. Sarah. How she was yelling and crying long before this all escalated. Her day was so peaceful before all of this. How the night wind still continued to howl in her eardrums as her heart raced. 

How that goat’s eyes stared silent daggers into hers. 

Another flash of terror wheezed through her as she felt something on her shoulder. Her eyes tore up, only to find Dina trying to talk her down from her rapid heartbeat. Dina’s own face mirrored Ellie’s panic despite trying to help her friend, not caring about her own shivering form in the nightgown or the way her black hair fell messy and disheveled from the awakening. “Ellie, Ellie! Hey! Calm down, breathe slower.” Ellie felt Dina’s reassuring hand over her shoulder, and the ringing in her ears slowly began its deafening chime into a low ring. Eventually, the ringing dulled into a low hum as Ellie's breathing began to slow down. “Breathe… breathe.”  Dina’s voice was somehow calm despite the terror mere meters and minutes away. “Did it hurt you?! It all happened so fast, what even happened?!” 

Ellie's heartbeat was still far beyond normal, but much more stable than when that beast’s infernal eyes sharpened at her. The way that goat spoke in its distortedness was burned into her mind. The more she processed the somewhat familiar tone that crept beneath the distortion, the more it rang in her memory. Ellie’s breath flickered between calming down by Dina and aggravated more by the terrifying memories both now and then. Everything was still freshly seared into Ellie’s mind like a terrible omen of what more horrible things could happen if she didn't get up to join the hunting party.  “I have to go.” “Ellie! Did you see the size of that thing?!” Dina cried back, her wood-brown eyes burning with concern like a forest fire. “Dina, I'm not arguing with you now. I need to catch up with them.”

Ellie left for her house before Dina even had the breath to object. Ellie fumbled to open her home gate before darting inside, immediately ripping out the drawers to find her gun. Drawer after drawer skidded across the floor until she finally found the bullets and gunpowder, scrambling for the rifle despite the bow and arrow set at the front door. After she almost flipped her house upside down, Ellie finally found the musket gun coated in a heavy layer of dust under her bed. She didn't even give herself mental relief as she cursed for how much time was wasted while she’d spent looking. She immediately darted for the door, grabbing her horse’s bridle and rushing to the tree to untie her. Shimmer whinnied in surprise at Ellie's speed as she briefly shushed her horse before gearing her up to ride into the woods. Ellie's mind continued to reel as she tacked the bridle on the fastest she could, not even bothering with a saddle. She quickly jumped on the horse and didn't give herself time to get used to the bareback feeling, kicking Shimmer to run out of the fence as she darted out of the back entrance to the woods.

Despite her speedy determination as she cocked her rifle, Ellie quickly halted Shimmer in place right right before the dense foggy forest. Shimmer reared up in a loud whinny as Ellie briefly struggled to stay on bareback, the mare’s hooves landing with a thud. Ellie’s breath was forced back to normal as she stabilized her mare, shushing the horse as a small apology for the abrupt stop.

Yet, as Ellie looked deeper into the fog that obscured the trees, curiosity pricked at the nerves along her spine. The fog she was facing wasn't normal. Her memory always envisioned the fog to flow in smoothly with the wind as it obscured the tallest of trees and flew inches before her skin. It had obscured the prey she’d hunted her whole life. It had obscured the witch she’d had the heart-racing encounter with. Mere minutes ago it had effortlessly swallowed the huntsman and horses chasing the wolf. Yet this fog in front of her was different. Almost patchy and still, instead of effortlessly flowing and swirling. Compared to the fog at the section of town gate that seemed to immediately sink the huntsman and horses in, other sections of the fog between trees seemed to spasm and stop still in the air instead of slowly flowing effortlessly with the wind. Perhaps this fog was never normal. A strong minute of silence passed as she continued to watch the fog, unlike anything she had ever seen. And yet just as she began to get drawn in, she felt just as unnerved. Ellie clicked her tongue to get Shimmer to go into the spasming fog, but her horse stayed firmly in place no matter how hard she kicked and clicked. A final firm kick and whistle finally got Shimmer to walk into the fog with a nervous whinny, Ellie taking a firm last breath of clear air before cocking her rifle and riding forward. 

The wind of the woods continued to howl the longer she stayed. And yet— these woods. Ellie had not been riding for too long, and it sent shivers up her spine how quickly the trees became unfamiliar. Nevertheless, she continued to keep her eyes sharp in compensation for the terror she pushed down into her gut. The forest creaked and groaned in its stillness as stygian shadows were cast and obscured by the darkness of the night, the only illumination coming from the spastically flowing white fog. Ears were kept open for the chance that she would hear horse hooves, bullet fire, or wolf snarling to catch up with the hunt. And yet the moonlit shadows continued to force Ellie into straighten her trembling hands. She was here for the hunt. To kill that beast, wolf, witch, or whatever it was. Ellie’s mind dared not to wonder what the witch had done to Sarah– if Sarah was still alive. Or why Sarah decided to listen and ride on the goat-wolf’s back. Her mind quickly became a mess of fear and confusion as Shimmer walked cautiously in the woods. Ellie’s mind began to tense at the thought that despite how long she had been riding, she hadn't even heard a single gunshot echo. Just how far had she been? 

The longer she rode, the more Ellie yearned for simple pleasures back home. Yearning for the thin layers of dust on the highest beams. For running her fingers over guitar carvings. The longer she breathed, the sound of branches and twigs whistling no longer flooded fear into her senses. Instead, it was flushed out with nostalgia. Nostalgia for the night hunts, knowing that, however scary things would be, she would be guided and protected by Joel. Her mind sharpened as she let out a calm, yet firm exhale. She had a mission: rescue Sarah, kill the wolf later. Or the goat. Whatever it was. No matter how large and terrifying its size and distorted face were. No matter how many shivers it sent up her spine. 

The lack of gunshots echoes through the trees continued to pique her curiosity. She had not entered too far off by the foggy entrance of the blown-open town wall, and yet here she was, alone. Ellie breathed in despite the odd nature of the air as the scent of crisp pine and fog continued to singe her sinuses. The ominous energy was still present. But something was off. Almost like the evil was distracted. Far away and preoccupied, before it could turn and fully take over her body. Instead, she let her mind focus. Focus on the sounds of the woods. The night breeze through the pine tops, at the distant bug and bird calls to the crunch of the forest floor beneath Shimmer’s hooves. 

‘This is what I get for walking into weird fog… fucking Tommy. Pleasantries be damned when a wolf attacks your hunters and kidnaps a young girl, I guess… No, it yelled at Sarah to get on. That voice…’

Ellie’s attention was caught as she felt her body tilt with Shimmer walking down a small hill. Odd, considering how many times she had been in the forest and would have noted an odd angle. Just then, something new hit Ellie's senses as she breathed in the fog. A faint odd burning sensation filled her nose, the smell odder and odder the longer she tried to identify it, unknowingly kicking shimmer to walk closer to demystify it. And then it hit her. Spices. As fast as she questioned why spices were in the forest she quickly checked that her gun was cocked, and nervously clicked shimmer to walk onward. Ellie's nerves couldn't help but spike further at the faintest warm tingling sensation at the spiced air in her throat.

Dread settled in her gut at just what was in this part of the woods that made it smell like that. But what secretly terrified her most of all is that truly within the deepest part of her gut, beneath all the dread stored in her chest; she didnt mind the odd warmth in the cold forest. That was until something new finally came into her vision among the obscured infinite trees. Light. The faintest orange glow beneath a hill. Just as Ellie was about to call out, dread hit her again the longer she stared and absentmindedly rode towards the foggy light. The entire time she had been in the forest, she hadn't heard a single ominous snap in the woods, nor a single echo of a gunshot. Yet this odd light was the only sign of anything besides miles and miles of fog-dusted trees.

Before she could even arrange her thoughts, a gust of wind howled through the trees and spooked the already uneased mare, bucking Ellie off. The hunter hit the forest floor with a muffled thud as she silently cursed at her horse for its abandonment as it ran off into the forest. And yet, something perked at Ellie’s attention among the howl of the wind, coming from the same source as the dimmed candlelight. The faintest sound of odd metal chiming and clinking.

Ellie’s breath began to quicken with fog filling her lungs and sinuses, having no option but to go towards the odd light and sounds. She quickly double checked that she had her hunters blade, relieved at the sight of the knife-marked holster before she grabbed her rifle again. Ellie’s heartbeat rumbled as she cautiously approached the thickness of the fog. It drowned almost every last sense. Her vision was painted in pure darkness and moonlight so thick she couldn't see within an inch of her eyes. Anything could be standing in front of her and be easily obscured. Her heartbeat and the howl of the wind echoed louder and louder in her eardrums, her nerves almost begging and praying for her to turn back. And yet, that smell. The cold dread of fog that shredded everything in her senses and festered at the bottom of her lungs. But the warmth of the faintest spices infected those wounds. 

That warmth–

Ellie felt her feet fall beneath her as she stumbled down a small hill, landing with her face covered in leaves and dirt. She lay paralyzed for a minute until she realized she no longer felt the sharp crispness of the fog in her body. Only the chill of the night, and the stinging smell of spice. That warmth. The smell of fire. The hint of smoke among the forest night breeze. 

As soon as it filled Ellie’s nose, she turned toward the firelight source and felt once again firmly paralyzed as she looked up to find a massive, macabre wooden cottage lying feet from her. Wood that lay aged yet incredibly stable, cobwebs and moss in every corner and cranny, its loose patterned rings Ellie swore looked like eyes stared her down. Mysterious herbs, spices, and objects hung from the ceiling of what looked like a large kitchen window, cracked open, and clearly the source of the dreadfully alluring aroma. She grabbed her musket at the sight of the candle glow through the cracked windows and the sound of the crumbling fire flickering from inside. Ellie carefully found her footing and moved to the side of the house, only to have a fearful breath torn from her throat at the sight, further confirming what she had stumbled upon. She dared not speak a breath out loud in fear of who or what may be inside. Ellie turned the corner of the cottage, her rifle held firmly as adrenaline filled her system. In the front, a sprawling front garden filled with distantly familiar crops, plants, flowers, and berries that drew her eyes up to an elevated front porch. 

The large, hefty wood door drew and forced her eyes like a Venus flytrap. Spirals and woodgrain almost groaned and whispered in archaic language among the night air. Ellie had to rip her eyes away to even notice all the other purely eclectic details there, wondering how the garden fountain of an unknown woman and the large petrified tree-trunk porch swing weren’t the first things she noticed. She could only afford a second of solace at the sight of what made the mysterious rings and chatter in a peeking corner of the porch roof. An eclectically macabre wind chime continued its odd layered sound: strings of small bronze bells, sturdy bones, and wood splinters in the shape of circled stars, all tied with twine to a small animal skull. It seemed to stare with a voided energy in its hollow eye sockets directly back at Ellie, no matter how it swung, twisted, and chimed in the night breeze. 

Again, Ellie’s eyes were lured to that door despite the haunting gaze of the chime and the whispers in every step. Everything in her survival instinct told her to turn back at the ever-present energy of the witch’s cottage. Yet the sound of muffled conversation inside the cabin pushed her forward, despite the possible danger of what horrors could be inside, or even if Sarah was still alive. She carefully made her way through the garden, being sure to dodge the view of the candlelit windows. 

A small, surprised shock hit Ellie right as she stepped on the porch. The wood, however old it looked, didn’t creak with age at all. Almost like it was still breathing with arcane life in its sturdiness. Ellie carefully made her way up to the door and took out her sharpened blade, and couldn’t help but let out a quiet, humorless chuckle as she looked down. A hand-woven straw doormat lay down in front of the dark door, painted with soot black ink. She scowled down at the painted letters reading ‘Please wipe your hooves’.

“Apparently they were right. Witches do have a sick sense of humor.” Ellie thought to herself.

Ellie stepped forward and gripped the knife firmer. But as soon as she was ready to burst through the door and attack, she felt her eyes forcefully roll themselves to the back of her head, and a weight falling down to anchor her legs. A breathless gasp left her as she instantly collapsed in sudden light-headedness, her head slamming against the wall of the cottage. Her head rang as she felt her consciousness rapidly drain, eyes twitching as she weakly looked up. The last thing she saw was the cottage door opening and a pair of large cloven hooves standing before her, with a faintly familiar anklet jingle that rung her off into unconsciousness.

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

It was a miracle Ellie began to slowly awake from the draining feeling in her head. A dull and deep pain in her neck and the smell of fire barely brought her back to consciousness. Her eyes began to slowly open at the sound of crackling fire despite the continuous lull of ringing from unconsciousness. A cacophony of smells coerced her awake as she gradually opened her eyes. She tried to make out her surroundings despite her incredible weakness and the sharp pain in her neck. The smell of herbs and spices forced her body into a meek but awake state, before the lingering scent of flowers and firewood kept her from passing out again. 

Even within her weakened state, Ellie found it so odd that she felt so incredibly weak and lanky after passing out. Despite the dull pain in her neck as her head hung over the back of whatever she was sitting on, her eyes struggled to stay open. And then she realized she was sitting down properly. On a chair. Her mind jolted awake despite the weakened state her body was in, before she felt the sharp pain in her neck further crawl down her spine. The panic helped her eyes open as the blurriness in her vision slowly crept down from total blackness to frosted glass. And then she saw it. The large, heaping, black cauldron the size of her own body, hanging from a thick, ceiling-bound black chain. The sight caused the crick in her neck to only increase as she breathlessly groaned in pain and struggled to tilt her head fully up. As she did, Ellie shakily blinked her eyes open despite the blur to find herself sitting down in some kind of firelit room. Another surge of panic and pain pricked into her skin as she picked up the sound of muffled conversation through her very hazed mind. 

Ellie could feel a cold pair of eyes staring before she sensed a figure in the cabin move and sit down in a lowered living area. Just as soon as she registered the fact that there was another person, her mind flew awake. Ellie felt another groaning breath tear from her throat as she looked up and finally came to in her still-weak body. She was in an expansive cottage, each crook and corner ornately decorated with macabrely eclectic trinkets and decorations that each seemed to tell a twisted tale. Candles flickered all over the home, illuminating the skulls, books, cobwebs, tied herbs, bottles of items, decoratively painted wood beams, and items her foggy mind couldn't even properly comprehend in the moment. So ornately decorated she could look at each detail of the cottage for hours and still not realize if one of the corners hid a venomous snake. The smell of herbs, the look of the cottage, the smell of fire. That smell. The odd sweetness to the spice in the air that left as that figure passed by earlier. And then it hit Ellie as the panic and dully sharp pain flooded through her body. She was in the witch’s cottage; and she wasn't alone– far from it.

Ellie’s focus was drawn to the figure as it stood up from a large couch, draping a woven blanket over something. Dread overtook her as her vision fully came to. The familiar woman stood up and walked to the cottage kitchen area as Ellie watched the candle flames illuminate her familiar, long, pale-blonde choppy locks. What she thought was just shadows were eerily familiar black tips and thin streaks of blackened darkness. Her oddly alluring face structure warmly glowed as she looked back to her couch, smiling as Sarah spoke rather warmly. “You’re right, the cinnamon really does bring out the flavor.”

Sarah. She still had a mission to save her. Ellie instantly panicked and groaned as she weakly called out with the same odd breathlessness she felt ever since she woke up. The familiar witch perked up at Ellie’s meek breath as the hunter felt more panic and dull pain in her system. As she felt a verge of determination to save Sarah, fear overcame her as she looked down to find her whole body bound to a wooden dining chair with thick, writhing vines. Thorns pricked into her skin and cut along her body, her breathing shaken in fear as the vines only seemed to grow tighter and tighter. Thick curved thorns tapped into the sides of her neck and kept her prisoner, slowly draining her jugular veins. Just as she thought about how long she had been passed out or how long she had been bound and drained, adrenaline filled her system at the witch’s cold stare from the couch.

She turned back to Sarah with her honey-sweet voice. “You've been through so much tonight, it must be so overwhelming for you… I figured you deserved a nice treat at least. I know I'm scary sometimes, but chocolate sure helps warm the soul.” “It sure does, Magnolia. Thank you, really. This is– it's incredible– how did you even get chocolate? It's so rare in the imports these days…” “Witches secret~” The witch playfully teased back.

Ellie watched as the witch got up to her expansive kitchen, glancing down in horror at the fact this witch of a woman had two large, black, cloven goat legs beneath the layers of her hiked-up dress, clacking on the stone tiles. Her layered black dress and gold jewelry continued to sicken and stir Ellie. She weakly watched as the witch walked back from her kitchen with two full plates of seared vegetables and meat. Ellie grimaced at how oddly delicious smelling it was.  ‘All the more to hide poison.’

The witch stepped her cloven legs back down into the makeshift living room and sat back down with Sarah on the couch, gently placing her hand on her shoulder.  “No need to eat at the dinner table, you’ve had a long night. I want to make sure you’re comfortable.”  She could sense an air of hesitation in Sarah and gave her a reassuring smile.  “You don't need to thank him or say prayers, it's the least I could do for you.”

It was only then that Ellie’s attention turned. Any air in her body vanished at the sight of a large, ancient gold statue of a goat-headed deity. Perfectly poised in a cross sitting position with its cloven legs, two snakes coiled at its core, the figure’s metal eyes almost seemed to stare Ellie down into her soul as she felt a sinking feeling within her ribs. Pure dread, horror, and a sense of fearful awe filled her at a mere still statue’s capability to have this kind of presence in its small, still form. She wondered how it took so long for her to notice the large, imposing statue as soon as she awoke, but before she could know it, the women on the couch were finishing their dinner. “S-Sarah! Don't eat or drink anything! You’re in a witch's hut–” Ellie called out in panic.

The witch’s dark gold eyes slyly grimaced and rolled at Ellie, as she coldly tapped her fingers on the edge of the couch. Ellie felt another offshooting vine branch roll up her skin, coiling over her open mouth like a muzzle as more thorns recklessly pricked into her cheek. She let out a muffled grunt in pained surprise as she saw the witch’s looking back to Sarah with care and kindness, noticing a large painted leaf acting as a bandage to the witch’s forehead.

‘This witch got shot in the face and now she uses a damn twig to heal herself.’

Ellie couldn't help but scowl back, even as the tightening thorn vines betrayed just how fearful she was of being in the witch’s own cottage. Bound, bleeding, and afraid. 

“You're gonna kill yourself worrying like that," Magnolia scoffed at Ellie as she turned to Sarah, “Anyway, I usually make more intricate meals for my guests, but it was on somewhat short notice. Healing your bruises took priority there.”  “It's more than okay… You've been so kind to me, even though… you’re… you’re…” “A witch. You can say it. It's what I am.” Magnolia blankly replied as she continued to finish another bite of meat. “Is it okay? I'm sorry if I offended you, Magnolia. You’ve been so kind.” Sarah’s voice perked with concern.

Magnolia chuckled back as she nodded down to the separate plate of food, encouraging Sarah to eat more. “Hey, you're okay. I understand… You've had an overwhelming night, and here you are in a witch’s cottage, it must be a lot for you. Just eat, spend the night, have a little cry, sleep all you want, it's more than fine.” Sarah’s eyes widened in gratitude as Magnolia warmly smiled.  “We have spare beds upstairs, and you can spend some time figuring out wish you want to do. There's no pressure, you’ve had a lot for one night.”

“…I-I don't want to go back. I want to join you.”  “Sarah, no!” Ellie protested, muffled. “Now, it's a very big decision. The benefits are great, but… just realize you can't go back,” Magnolia cautiously warned, “We can teach you to survive out here, and it's easier to join us if you do… but please do know this is a big decision.”

“Magnolia, please…I really don't have anywhere else to go. I'd like to pay you back for rescuing me, for taking me in tonight, please, I–” “Hey… It's okay.” The witch’s face glowed in the candle fire with a deeply sympathetic look before Sarah desperately pleaded once more. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“...We can talk about it more in the morning. But if you do decide to stay, we can take you in. We’ll teach you to survive, thrive, learn, and truly live deliciously. Not to solely appease some god or deity or fit into some stupid role, but so you can be your truest self,” Magnolia gently reassured the girl. “Well, when you say it like that…” Sarah contemplatively looked to the fireplace with a gentle, hopeful smile.

Magnolia got up from the couch and softly stepped her cloven feet. The witch was in brief awe of the goat-headed statue before being transfixed by an ancient metal ritual dagger beside it. Each imperfection in the grooves and ridges seemed to sparkle with magic in the flickering light. As it was removed from the stand, the metal seemed to ring with a deep, resounding aura as the witch walked over to Sarah, who seemed a little nervous. “Scared?” “A-A little…” “They’ve already accused you, why not give in... sister?~” Magnolia playfully chimed back as Sarah giggled.

“Sarah! NO! I’ll break out of this! Don't do this, you’re selling your soul! You want to damn yourself to hell?!” Ellie panicked in confusion. Determination rang in her voice before it was quickly halted by the witch staring her dark eyes into Ellie's soul.

Magnolia carefully placed the dagger back onto its stand. With another rolling tap of her fingers, the already tightening vines continued to grow, fusing Ellie into the chair as the thorns pricked deep into her mouth and cheeks.

“I’ve almost had enough of you for one night.” Magnolia deeply growled back as she walked over, staring daggers back into Ellie's eyes as the hunter's head was thrown back in a mass of thorny vines, tangling in her hair and sewing into her skin..

“Why thank you for being oh so inconsiderate and interrupting our practices.” 

Magnolia sarcastically cursed back, each step with her cloven hooves booming the floorboards. Ellie struggled to muffle as she felt the edges of her mouth become further pricked and torn. The skin and muscles separating the longer Magnolia’s eyes stared her down, as much as she tried to break free. “Oooh-hoh-hoh, yes I'm sure you're mighty repulsed by me~”  Magnolia teased back with a chuckle, her hand dragging along the arm of the chair tauntingly as Ellie felt goosebumps and bloody thorns hooking and sinking into her skin.   “You speak nothing but lies– indoctrinating children.” Ellie was finally able to bite out. “And I thought witch hunters were supposed to be smart, but here you are... Tied up by a houseplant.” Magnolia couldn't help but lowly cackle under her breath, releasing a sickly warm chuckle that caused the goosebumps on Ellie's skin to sew themselves deeper.

“You want to know what I think of you, Ellie?” The hunter's nerves somehow shot up even tighter, unable to help her already restrained self from trembling at the thought of the witch knowing her name. Or what else she could know. The thorns couldn't help but sink themselves deeper into her skin, threatening to prick and tap into her spine and shoot the infected nerves further into her body.

A chuckle bubbled in Magnolia's throat. “I think you're just salty and upset that you got tricked by a doormat!~” 

The witch couldn't help but fully cackle wickedly as she moved behind Ellie, just out of sight. Even Sarah couldn't help but chuckle as well while she sipped her cocoa and watched from the couch. “W-Why not just kill me? I'm sure you're low on severed toes a-a-and would love to grind my bones and eat my organs.”  Ellie snarled back through the tremors, though the tightening of the vines around her chin betrayed her true fear. She could feel the witch’s eyes roll back behind her.

“I need you alive, for now at least.”

A strong silence was drowned out by Ellie’s own confused thoughts at just why this witch was keeping her alive, tortured, and seemed to revel in her fear.

“I want your blood.”

Before Ellie could properly think, she felt the witch’s arm on her shoulder as her hand dangled a bottle brimming with blood. A deep shutter fell throughout Ellie’s entire body at the feeling of the draping sleeve over her shoulder. The hunter could do nothing but look on in terror at the dark manicured hand that swirled deep crimson liquid. How her blackened fingertips and runic-carved scars shimmered in the nearby candlelight, and how Ellie’s blood swirled in the bottle like a brimming deep wine goblet. The warmth from Magnolia’s arm on Ellie's shoulder only sickened her further. She tried to struggle, but couldn't even get a single shake free from how deeply the thorns writhed and scraped along her skull.  “Ohhh look how it shimmers~...so full of fear, like salted meat~”

Ellie felt the witch's voice spiral and cave through her eardrums. It sent shivers through her core like snakes that climbed and twisted through her ribs, drooling honey like venom. There was a sick and genuine admiration of the deep crimson liquid as Magnolia continued to swirl the bottled blood, corking it with a satisfied hum before turning back to Ellie. Darkened eyes illuminated by golden flecks and candle flame, only enough to see the veil of threat of whatever this witch had intended for her captive.

“...Maybe I could kill you now, I’ve already got your hair more than all the blood I need~”

Despite how much Magnolia teased and taunted, Sarah looked back at the scene from the couch with pity, feeling the fur charm still tied to her frock. She looked back at Ellie’s bound form as she struggled to properly breathe through the writhing vines, and gave a look of pause to the woman toying with her heartbeat. A long look was exchanged between Sarah and Magnolia, which only aided in Ellie's terror at just why the witch could be so joyfully writhing. “Please…” Sarah kindly asked.

“...Fine." The witch scoffed, "I am nothing if not a decent host.” Ellie watched as Magnolia walked over to her kitchen, anklets jingling against her now human footsteps. Her dark dress flowed as she retrieved a crude mug, before grabbing the ladle from a small, aged metal pot. She watched as Magnolia’s face bloomed into a sweetened smile while the flames underneath the pot gradually grew. A sweet, rich aroma of spice quickly flowed from the kitchen and into Ellie’s senses, easing her for just a moment. She felt the thorns and vines loosen slightly before she tensed up again at them moving, wincing more at the thorns once again tightening.

“Did you have to make it so tight?” Ellie weakly groaned, irritated. “Trust me, it's you doing that,” Magnolia warned, a smile growing on her face as she smelled the blooming spiced aroma. “Why should I trust you? You're probably going to feed me a potion that will melt my skin or something!”  Ellie tried weakly thrashing against the vines, only to feel them impossibly stiff and tighten. A beat of silence passed as Ellie watched the witch pour the aromatic drink into a mug.  “Just…try to relax. You're already weak.” Magnolia softly warned Ellie. “Relax?! That's rich…” Ellie scoffed back.

She felt Magnolia’s eyes back on her even as her vision started to weaken. Magnolia cautiously walked closer, the cottage candles flickering on every detail on her form. Ellie couldn’t help but look back at the soft glow on Magnolia’s face as she stepped closer and looked down at the handmade mug in her hands. The deliciously intoxicating aroma was swept up into Ellie’s senses; a deeply sweet earthy spice before she tensed up again.  “Drink…” “So you c-can poison me?” Ellie retorted, weak. “Your choice if you want to die exhausted and starving… or have a decent last meal of sorts.” Ellie’s expression flashed in bitterness as the thorn vines kept her restrained, but partially loosened around her head to prop her up to properly drink. 

The rich cocoa aroma hooked her in and lured her like a lamb to the slaughter. Magnolia stopped right before Ellie and watched the thorns and vines shift to clear up Ellie’s thigh, shifting and pushing into her gut that was already overflowing with dread. Ellie sucked in a trembling breath at the close proximity as she felt the witch sitting on her thigh. She looked deep into her eyes as her foot brushed against Ellie's leg. Her weakened eyes could still see every detail of the witch. From the grooves of the antique gold and sparkling gemstone jewelry to inky tips and shadows in her pale blonde hair. The softness and unapologetic unrestraint of it. The way her skin and smooth nose managed to cast shadows that caved and danced along her face and down to her chest. How her darkened eyes illuminated in shadows and glowed their golden speckles in the candlelight.

Magnolia’s hands cupped the aromatic mug, her eyes searching her captive’s bound form; Ellie’s sage green eyes smoldering with pure terrified trepidation. The cottage candlelight continued to illuminate them both as the air, full of magic, somehow stood still. Ellie was filled with the smell of aromatic, rich spices that danced with sweet florals and burning candle wax , becoming more fearfully intoxicated with every moment that Magnolia hesitated. 

Ellie weakly struggled until she felt the warm clay mug against her lips while the scent alone flooded and drowned any doubt or fear. As it slowly tipped, all she could do either choke or drink as the liquid flowed down her throat and into her stomach. After a moment, Ellie decided to bitterly accept her fate and drink from the witch’s cup. The flavor of sweet and rich cocoa caused her mind to release itself like it hadn’t done in ages. Notes of earthy spice brought a welcoming pleasant bite as Ellie continued to swallow, letting the drink flow into her gut and willingly gnaw in her stomach. She felt her body and soul grow lighter in her weakened state, not even registering the vine restraints retreating back into the small flower vase on the table. With what little strength she had left, she continued to feverishly drink, not daring to let a single drop fall down her cheek. The mug continued to tilt in Magnolia's hands until there was nothing left as she watched Ellie gutturally exhale, her breath still lingering with rich cocoa. Ellie leaned back on the chair in pleasant exhaustion at the drink’s rich flavor that settled and filled her stomach. Magnolia felt herself snap out of the infectious daze of Ellie’s fullness, Ellie's sage green eyes half lidded in lingering deep flavor and aroma. “Do be honest… more cinnamon?”  Ellie was too weak and full, mind lingering to much to hum in contentment or scream in fear as she sunk into the chair and savored the cocoa aroma. Magnolia stood up and dragged her manicured, blackened fingers along the dining chair arm. 

With a rhythmic tapping of her fingers, the beat resonated onto the floorboard, and Ellie blinked on in disbelief at her own boots stepping and lacing themselves onto her feet. Before she even had time to process, she felt her feet anchor into her shoes and lift her whole body up and out of the chair to hastily walk out the front door– all before she could get a proper breath of disbelief out of her throat.

“Now that's a real Irish goodbye!” Magnolia couldn't help but chuckle at herself and look back at Sarah, almost in awe of how speedy the hex was. Ellie’s muscles continued to ache as she looked back at the door while her feet walked her past the witch’s garden gate.  “Well, it was not nice to see you! Thank you for reminding me I need to reinforce some spells, have a good night!~”

The last thing Ellie saw was the bottle of her blood waved in the witch's hands, a cackling shrug back to Sarah, and the closing of the cottage door all by itself. With a wave of the witch’s finger, Ellie felt her legs naturally move themselves with even more haste and speed as they climbed back up the steep forest ground and into the fog.

Ellie felt her body slapped and scraped by trees in the blinding fog as her feet continued to move with nonstop speed through the blinding fog, only to stop in their forced movement as she once again barely walked into the fog and found herself by the outer gate of Salem. She cursed at herself for not being able to accomplish either of her goals after walking into the woods, but found some relief at the sight of Shimmer calmly walking around, sniffing and eating the grass, before perking up at Ellie’s exhausted return, walking over to comfort her rider.

Ellie looked to Shimmer with overwhelmed, tired eyes and simply hugged her neck, breathing in the comfort of her trusted mare for a long minute. She picked up her dagger that flew out of its holster at the abrupt stop in her speed. The hunter looked up at her mare and finally breathed out steadily at Shimmer, looking back to her, only to look in surprise at the cacophony of exhausting breaths at the other end of the gate. Tommy and his hunters looked in the absolute lowest of physical and mental exhaustion, not even bothering to comment on how lost Ellie had gotten. Their stallions somehow just barely trod on. It was a miracle they still stood, all their horseshoes long abandoned after the nonstop chase.

“Danmed… those damned witches…” One of the hunters let out in exhaustion, surprised he was still able to let out a functioning breath that sounded like a word. “W-Went the entire night chasing the wolf…” “H-how did it keep speed that…t-that entire time…?” Another questioned in disbelief and exhaustion.  “Get some rest, you all. It’s been a long night, we can continue the hunt in a few days.”  Tommy spoke, still exhausted, but trudged along with the authority in his own presence with the hunters. He had long lost the bite to ask Ellie how they had gone on the entire night chasing the wolf and not run into Ellie once, and neither did Ellie after the night she had.

Ellie threw her shoes off in weak rage as soon as she closed her door, scowling at the small green clovers that fell out of her shoes that caused her to curse at the floor. She flopped onto her bed with a muddle of emotions. The terror that was still fresh in her mind at the overwhelming events of the day. The aching pins and needles beneath her skin of the thorn vine restraints. How when she looked at her skin, the thorn-dug marks had all miraculously healed, yet the sting dully persisted like a fresh wound. The ache in her legs from just how fast she was forced to leave. The disappointment that crawled on her back. The lingering goosebumps embroidered into her skin of the witch’s wrath and revelry in the terror she caused. 

However, there was one feeling that eclipsed the others. The thing she hated most of all, despite the fear, aches, and pain. The full, rich feeling that lined her stomach from the drink. The faintest lingering warmth that left as soon as it appeared, where she tauntingly sat upon Ellie’s thighs. Ellie’s gut was lined in a gentle and rich warmth that harbored ungodly terror, like a woven basket that was brimmed with writhing serpents. 

Whether it be in an overwhelmed mind or her own blood loss, Ellie was knocked out on her bed. The last breath she exhaled for the night was one that deeply shook through the wood of her bedroom. Darkness consumed her before she could even properly close her eyes.

Next Chapter

⛧Hello my spookies, hoped you enjoyed these more longer chapters!

I apologize for the weird formatting, I’ll fix it for tumblr. I usually write these on PC in Google Docs, ty for your patience 🫀🫀

⛧Apologies for taking long to get out, work has been really busy, and i apologize in advance for inconsistencies in update times, im trying to write as many chapters as i can in advance but they take a while. If you'd like to be added to the taglist, feel free to leave a comment!

⛧I deeply appreciate you for reading, feel free to leave comments, they’re very appreciated and fun to read

⛧stay spooky ཐི🫀ཋྀ

This time, no hesitation echoed through Ellie's room as she sharpened her blade, the residual rock scraping on metal ringing in her ears. A week since her internal promise, and not a witch had Ellie and her hunting party come up with. A week of fear and frustration building up driving Ellie’s knife further up and down the sharpening stone. A week of her hand gripping the rock firmer and firmer as the grinding ring of metal on rock echoed in her room. A week of chastization not only in her own head, but from the side glances of her hunting party and the slow-growing unease of the Salem townsfolk. A week and not another witch caught, tried, or sentenced.

A knock at her front door was the only thing that snapped Ellie out of the trance she didn't know she was in. Straightening herself, she slotted the engraved hunting knife back in her holster, the leather grazed and marked with the unused blade as Ellie stood up. She quietly straightened up her shoulders before opening the aged wooden door, being greeted by both the blinding morning grey and the young man in front of her.

“Hunting party waiting for me again? I’m sorry I lost track of time.”

Jesse chucked back as he shifted to casually lean on her doorway.

“The group decided to call off today's hunt, wanna go out and get breakfast?”

“Ahh, why not?… Tommy really called off the hunt today?”

Jesse playfully quirked an eyebrow as Ellie fitted her cloak.

“Are you complaining about not riding out for hours and probably coming back empty-handed again?”

“No, it's just—”

She sighed, shaking her head.

“Could have used the spare change, you know?”

“Let’s be honest, you're more than fine on cash despite your arrow usage," Jesse chuckled.

She mirrored his laugh with an exhale of defensiveness at her worn arrow quiver, closing the door behind her.          “Hey, the group has their methods, I have mine. I'd just prefer to not scare off every other animal in the forest when I shoot.  If I even land a bullet at all.”

“Fair enough, I'm just messing with you.”

She smiled back as they both walked into the heart of town, the cobblestone streets busying themselves with townsfolk morning chatter. Animal noises peeked through the ambient autumn breeze, from the running of chickens below to coo mourning doves above. The smell of fresh rye bread among livestock bleats, the ringing of church bells, it all provided an air of domesticity as they passed along the tavern and carpentry shop. But no matter how much community chatter made up the morning hustle and bustle of Salem Massachusetts, the land continued to whisper. 

Shaking off the breeze and pulling up her coat, Ellie couldn't help but slightly scowl at the unnerving feeling crawling up her back while pretending to listen to whatever Jesse had been rambling about for the past two blocks. The treetops always remained a constant visual omen, but Ellie never missed the looks from some of the older men in the Salem streets, still glancing at her hunting boots and britches stained faintly with aged blood. As much as they huddled in the furs she herself skinned, hunted, and sold, it was always with a quiet reluctance as the breezes got more biting. 

Jesse’s calling voice snapped Ellie out of her stupor, catching up to Jesse talking with Tommy in the bakery line. The older gentleman still wore the elk fur-trimmed jacket, a brown, short bearded face with speckles of grey, and a small twig cross brooch on his jacket. He nodded back to the two of them as he continued chatting, giving a welcoming smile to a family Ellie had not seen around town before. The husband and wife gave kind looks to Jesse and Tommy, and a reserved, polite smile to Ellie.

Shaking off the breeze and pulling up her coat more, Ellie couldn't help but slightly scowl at the unnerving feeling she had crawling up her back while pretending to listen to whatever Jesse had been rambling about for the past two blocks. The treetops always remained a constant visual omen, but Ellie never missed the looks from a few of the older men in the Salem streets, still glancing at her hunting boots and britches stained faintly with aged blood. As much as they huddled in the furs she skinned, hunted, and sold, it was always with a quiet reluctance as the breezes got more biting. 

Jesse’s voice calling out snapped Ellie out of her stupor, looking up and speeding up her pace to catch up to Jesse talking with Tommy in the bakery line. The older gentleman still wore the elk fur-trimmed jacket, a light brown short-bearded face with speckles of grey, and a small wooden crucifix brooch on his jacket. He nodded back to the two of them as he continued chatting, giving a welcoming smile to a family Ellie had not seen around town before. The husband and wife gave kind looks to Jesse and Tommy, and a reserved, polite smile to Ellie.

Tommy's gruff voice introduced them,

“Adam, Mary, these are two of my hunters, Jesse and my niece Ellie. If you're looking for fresh game or fur, they're the ones to go to.”

“Well, it's a pleasure to meet you two.”

“Yes, very kind,” the wife piped up. 

As Jesse offered a welcoming handshake, he looked down and saw a small, humble navy dress peeking out from behind her mother’s frock, a tiny hand tightly clutching onto the fabric.

“And who is this little one?”

Mary gently leaned down and softly chuckled, gently urging the girl no older than seven.

“It’s okay, honey. They help keep the town safe.”

“...im…im Anne.” A soft voice piped up as she retreated her hand back into her mother's, still clearly shy.

Ellie kneeled down to the girl's level, gently looking at her.

“You know, my uncle Tommy’s right. We work hard patrolling the woods to keep Salem safe, and also bring home lots of animals and meat to all live very comfortably here.”

Anne turned a little to look more clearly at Ellie, feeling her strong presence easing her shyness. The young girl curiously looked at Ellie up and down.

“You dress kinda funny.”
Ellie couldn't help but chuckle at the vocal observation, far used to the odd looks she got from her hunting attire.

“Well, I have to be warm, safe, and practical if I'm going out into the woods to hunt, so I wear breeches… You know, we go on horseback. You like horses?”

“Mhm!” Anne finally cracked an interested smile on her face, her parents smiling down at the interaction.

Jesse chimed in.

“You know, I think you may get along well with one of our community stable apprentices. I’ll help flag him down when I see him, Jonah is just about your age.”

The young girl cracked a soft smile up at Ellie, her demeanor becoming more confident and at ease, her hand comfortably holding onto her mother's finger.

Mary’s voice calmed more as she spoke to the men.

“It's nice to see her finally warming up. We do thank you for taking us in, by the way.”

Tommy warmly smiled, his gruff voice reassuring them.

“Of course. We hope you all have a pleasant time settling down in Salem. And of course, if you need any help or assistance, don't hesitate to ask a neighbor or come by the church any day of the week.” 

Mary softly smiled down at her daughter, whom was happily distracted as she continued to look around at the morning hustle and bustle of the streets before more cheerfully chiming in.

“We originally came from West Connecticut! You guys have so much more fog up here!”

“Indeed! The path was almost unrecognizable at times, the fog was so thick. We just kept the faith that God would watch over us to be guided to the right path.” 

The father spoke more quietly to Tommy.

“... We had to pass by Little Faith to get here.”

Ellie's ears couldn't help but perk up. Tommy's former smile faded into stone-cold sympathy.

“Anne didn't take it well, we had to distract her and cover her eyes… the wildlife is still… You know.”

Ellie couldn't help but give a faint quirk to her eyebrow, thinking to herself, but keeping up her facial facade. 

‘If the wildlife is still messed up there… that land is still somehow cursed with black magic after so long.’ 

Tommy's voice immediately took front again after a slightly too long silence.

“Well. Do come to our Sunday sermons, we have plenty of room, and plenty of time to listen to the lord to help ease our minds.”

The parents’ expressions became relieved at the comforting words and the small crucifix charm on Thomas, continuing to chat more about where they can get things done in the new town.

As they continued to talk and walk up in line, Ellie couldn't help but zone out a bit. Tommy had always been one to first formally greet the occasional new family coming into Salem, but she couldn't help a silent exhale as the talks got all too familiar. Ellie noticed a chipper young stable boy walking by with an albeit oversized bucket of carrots for small hands and flagged him down, urging him to come over. He curiously looked at Ellie before noticing Anne. Ellie leaned on the bakery wall as the men continued to talk to the parents, her eyes turning down to the kids. Anne and the young stable boy introduced each other, unable to help their soft blushes and smiles through banter. Either the morning autumn chill or each other’s presence, it didn't matter.

“You know, my mom's gonna teach me how to sew for my birthday after I accidentally tore a hole in Sir Woolsy on our wagon ride up here.”

“How was the ride up?” The stable boy curiously asked the young girl.

“Long. And really bumpy. The roads here are all so stony. We did go on this one road that was kind of smooth, but it was really thick with lots of grass and flowers. I did try to make Sir Woolsy a flower crown. But mommy said not to touch any of the plants, or even look outside of the wagon. Really weird.”

Ellie glanced down as she saw the young boy mentally psych himself up a little, almost eager to impress his new friend.

“You know, I've heard my dad talk about that weird Little Faith colony a few times.”

Anne immediately turned insanely curious, lighting like a campfire ghost story. She couldn't tell if she was supposed to know, but the thrill was too enticing to pass up. The adults were talking anyway.

“Dad says lots of weird things happened in the abandoned colony of Little Faith, Mast– Massachusetts…”

The boy briefly stumbled on the complex state name before looking up to the adults to see if they were paying attention.  Anne lightly hit his arm in impatience,

“Well, out with it, Jonah! What happened?!”

“Shhh! Keep your voice down! It's reeeally spooky.”

Anne blushed and immediately dusted herself off at Jonah’s remark as Ellie leaned back to watch the two, until hey both brought their attention to her. The children’s eyes looked back like paralyzed deer at the end of a rifle, only for her to amusedly smile down and make a subtle gesture that she would keep her mouth shut. Much to the amusement of the two young kids as they continued quietly talking.

“Dad said that in Little Faith, there was this one girl, a little older than us. Out of nowhere, she was caught doing a hex on her own best friend.”

“Wait, wait, you mean like-”

“Uh-huh! Witches!” Jonah quietly hushed Anne, her eyes going wide.

“What happened?”

“Well, the adults didn't even need a trial! She tried to fight her way out, she thrashed, she bit, she took the lord name in vain! And she didn't even feel bad!”

“But she placed a curse on her friend!” Anne curiously chimed back in bafflement.

“Yuh-huh! And she still didn't feel bad! So… They burned her.”

Anne’s eyes grew wide, small hands over her mouth in pure enthrallment until Jonah spoke  again.

“But she lived! She was a witch, after all! She spoke all crazy and cursed the town, and her skin became all crazy burned and scarred! Dad said a ton of people disappeared, the town came on fire, and all the chickens' heads were backwards!”

As much of a frightening tale as this was for Anne, she couldn't help but chuckle and shake her head at the mention of chickens being bewitched.

“Okay, now you're fibbing. Upside-down chicken heads? Really?”

“Am not! It's Witches! Probably why your mom wouldn't let you look outside the wagon! You might have gotten scared of a chicken.”

“Would not!”

“Would too! If its head is backwards, you would have freaked out! I would!”

Even as they laughed it off, Anne grew unnerved at the callback to her journey up to Salem. Jonah quickly noticed the girl's uneasy look and picked one of the carrots from the stable bucket. Ellie softly chuckled under her breath as she saw the boy dusting off the carrot the very best he could to give to his new friend.

“These bakery lines always get pretty long. We can share… if you want, of course.”

His cheeks grew faintly dusted as Anne tucked some of her brown curls back into her bonnet, the wind making her cheeks redden too as she bashfully snapped the carrot in half for them to share.

Jesse finally moved back to talk to Ellie in the bakery line just as they reached the entrance door, the warmth of bread a warm welcome from the cold wind.

“See you finally stopped chatting about import prices with the new folks.” Ellie playfully chimed.

“You say that, and then Mrs. Taylor will ramble all day about how she swears a witch’s hare stole her silver goblet.”

Ellie couldn't help but chuckle as they moved up in line, the smell of rye bread getting closer and fresher. 

“See, I would have taken that money if I was that pissed about it.”

Jesse playfully shoved Ellie's shoulder, telling her to quiet down.

“Well, honestly, I'd believe her with how badly she insisted that money was cursed. She didn't even take it because it was ‘Witches Gold’, and then, what, a few hours later that black dog came up and stole, what, a whole two-pound of sugar?”

“How do witches even make money in the first place?”

“I dunno, double bubble toil and trouble, boil and… bullshit.”

Their chatter paused as they smiled eagerly at the young woman handing bread to the couple before them in line.

“Yes sir, you have a good day as well, we hope you come back soon!… Now look who finally came around to say Hello. Now didn't I tell you to come early to skip the line?”

“Morning, Dina,” Ellie warmly smiled at the raven-haired woman. Her warm, deep, olive skin shining through her flour-dusted frock.

“Same as usual?”

“Long as it's still fresh and hot.”

“Hey, it'll snow in June before there's ever stale goods around here. Besides, you know more than one thing here is fresh and hot.~”

“Easy there, tiger.” Ellie playfully chastised Dina.

“What? Just talking about the corn and rye bread. What did you think I was talking about?” Dina shot a playfully accusatory look at Ellie and Jesse.

She pulled out two pieces of cornbread wrapped in paper and slyly slid a little butter underneath the slices, carefully accepting the coins from her friends.

“Are you ever gonna try something else on the menu one of these days?” She asked.

“You know us almost too well~” Ellie slyly smiled as she shook a strand of hair from her face.

“Good luck today, give Tahlia my thanks.” Jesse chimed in, taking another coin and letting it rattle inside the small tip cup. Dina smiled up with a genuine warmth before Tahlia walked up to her younger sister and shoved her shoulder lightly, her husky voice butting in. 

“Dina, we got coin to make. And tell me why I just saw the line reach all the way back to the kitchen window. How about we speed up the pace before winter?”

“Well, a pleasant morning to you too, Tahlia,” Jesse pitched in. 

“Would love to stay and chat, but you know. Morning rush.” Dina bashfully waved them off, knowing it wouldn't be long before she saw them again.

Jesse and Ellie’s chatter resumed as they leaned against a fence away from the crowd, the smell of fresh cornbread providing warmth from the autumn chill. Ellie looked down at a presence by her fur boot and tossed a crumb to a stray chicken wandering the street below.

“So generous to feed the poor,” Jesse joked,“You know the price is only gonna go up.”

Ellie playfully scoffed back. “As if Dina doesn't give us discounts anyway.”

“One of these days her dad is gonna catch on and make us pay the normal price.”

“Lord help us, he’s gonna force Dina to charge us double!”

They laughed as they dusted off their hands from the breakfast cornbread. The breeze ushered a few fallen leaves as the breeze carried them down aged cobblestones. Ellie's smile slowly disappeared, her voice hushing.

“The corn is dying off earlier this time.”

“You’re being paranoid. We just got bread, they looked to be doing well. Besides, it’s barely autumn."

“Last night, when I got back from my hunt, I saw it. The rot on the corn husks.”

Jesse’s voice went quiet as the foggy breeze bit their sinuses, the sound of bird chirps and distant crow barks finally setting Ellie off. She couldn't hold back the bitter look on her face as she crumpled the napkin and stuffed it into her coat.

“I'm tired of this. Those damned wenches are torturing towns as their pastime. We need to work double time. Find and kill every last one, this with season will the last that–”

Jesse’s sternness cut Ellie off. 

“Don't do anything stupid, Williams. You go with the party, and no one gets lost and hurt in that fog. Or worse. We’ll turn up a witch eventually. Catch one of them when they're off guard.”

“But you know I'm right! The closest we’ve come to real, proven, witnessed hex in those woods was when someone went alone–”

Ellie hushed herself just as quickly as she spoke, catching the look from Jesse as he glanced over to church. The faint burning splinters still on the outside wall from the foreboding scorching on the inside. Right where that confessional booth was slotted.

After a few moments of haunted silence, Jesse chuckled to break the tension.

“What has Tommy gotten into you this time, Ellie?”

“Nothing. Swear.”

“…I know he wishes you well, but if he's been hammering in your head that you need to do dangerous things to prove yourself knowing you’d–”

“He hasn't.” Ellie firmly barked back.

A strong unspoken silence came between them as Jesse exhaled from his nose, knowing that the familiar guard that she still held up. Ellie's unbroken, unfurling angry eyes stared back at the forest treetops over the town gates. Jesse chuckled, realizing there was no more hope in fighting the sternness and stubbornness in Ellie's sage eyes as they scorched with a fierce temper.

“Nice getting to know you at least… Think I could get that nice dark oak table if you die? We know the Millers are fierce with their last will and testaments.~”

Ellie nudged his shoulder back at the joke, stubbornness still lingering behind the smile he drew out of her as she gestured to the knife holster tucked beneath her coat.

“Hey! Trust me, alright! I don't plan on dying. Either see and come back with results, or I'll pay for a few rounds of beer.”

“I might just hold you up on that.”

“Deal… Just nothing imported. The long shipping makes it taste like garbage, and if I were to come back empty handed, I'm not filling your fix with shitty beer I'm forced to pay for.”

They both couldn't help but laugh at the banter and newfound bet, continuing their day off from their patrol and hunt. However, Ellie's eyes never truly strayed away from those whistling pinetops, determination only becoming fiercer as the sun rose and sunk in the sky. 

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

The only real light Ellie could see in the forest was the pure grey fog contrasting against the stygian-shadowed trees. Ellie let matted fur run through her fingers as she tied another weasel onto her belt hooks, slotting the bloody arrow back into its quiver. And yet her itch to hunt still hadn't been scratched the longer the forest darkened. Letting out a breath of frustration, the smoky chill had startled her, not realizing how cold it had become. So cold, and not even anyone with her to warm and ease her senses. Yet she was still not satisfied. A week of frustration and no results, a week of her crucifix-embossed blade remaining clean in its leather sheath. Despite the week of game and fur profit, Ellie couldn't have felt more penniless. 

‘At least the weasel will make a new set of lined boots,…’ Ellie thought and exhaled through her nose, the chuckled exhale bringing on more grief and exasperation that betrayed her own underlying emotions.

Standing on her feet again and walking forward, her breath stumbled as she slowly started to realize that although the fog wasn't nearly as heavy as other parts, some of the trees looked unfamiliar. Although Ellie should have felt frustrated, there was an odd sense of curiosity within her that this newer part of the forest had lacked the thick fog that plagued the deepest edges of her sight. 

Curiosity and cold gnawed at her senses. Crickets and bugs continued their chatter amid distant low bird calls. The audacity of the forest to continue its normal chatter with the pure unknown lurking in the fog. Forest air both flooded and cleared her sinuses; survival instinct taking a firm hold with a shiver up her neck that tore straight through her thick fur cloak. Dull, yet full ringing continued to echo in her ears, unsure if it came from her own heightened senses or the windy whispering of the woods themselves. Out of the corner of her eyes, she would occasionally catch shadows swaying and creaking along the eerie myriad of trees. But just as quickly as she would feel a shadow crawling along the floor, she would continue forward, pure spiteful exhales as her fuel. 

Ellie continued cautiously walking through the forest, a strange feeling of nostalgia rising with the lack of thicker ominous fog present. However, that sense of nostalgia was soon outweighed by concern at the lack of familiarity in the trees. Yet, her stubbornness insisted it was too soon to deem the uncharted territory truly dangerous. There must have been a high reward at the end. 

‘If not a witch, then—“

Ellie's doubts ceased as soon as they intruded with a firm shake off of the ominous whispers crawling on her back. She could take some comfort in the lack of immediate fog as she breathed in the crisp pine air, the forest gradually darkening the longer she walked. The wind blew past her short, tucked dark auburn locks, loose strands nipping at her ears. 

Dusk soon set as Ellie walked through this new forest territory, the sense of nostalgia for the occasional  nightly hunts with Joel now fully eclipsed by a wary feeling. Fingers inched closer to the dagger as a distant husky sweeping pricked at her ears. Her old thoughts became a haunting as she looked to the ground, and an odor hit her among the shallow forest fog. The minerals of briskly kicked-up dirt, and faint musky smell still in the breeze. Wolf tracks. Ellie’s senses intensified immediately, debating if she should follow them or not. The tracks looked kicked up as if the beast ran off in a sprint: but whether in hunt or escape was the question. 

Her steps became very uneasy before ducking below a large collapsed tree at the sound of the distant wind howling. Her senses spiked at the brush of crackling fauna on the forest floor. A weak animalistic cry hit Ellie's ears, causing a rush of cold air to flee her lungs. Her eyes went wide. Adjusting her position behind the large fallen tree, she tried to catch her breath, wincing a little as she looked down to see the overly sharpened dagger pricking through its leather holster and onto her thigh.

Withdrawing the knife from the holster, she knew she would at least stand a chance in the uncharted darkness while armed. That was, until quiet breathing hit her ears. Light, and yet heavily labored. Further bewilderment stirred as Ellie heard the tiny-lunged exhaling mixed with desperate bleating. Staying close to the trees for cover, she peeked over only to immediately duck back. In an instant, her breath was ripped from her throat at the sight of a dark-cloaked figure running and kneeling on the floor at the sight of a severely mauled baby deer, as it dropped to its knees and dropped a large, covered basket.

As Ellie rushed to silence her breathing, a soft quiet feminine voice from the cloaked figure hit Ellie's ears. Her unintelligible sweet voice was laced with concern, comforting the fawn. Baby white spots were eclipsed in its own blood, as each hazy breath sounded painful from its perforated lungs filling with blood. A pale hand outreached from the dark cloak to gently pet the mangled fawn. It looked up with merciful eyes at the unexpected comfort, its bloody, labored breathing slowed at the kindness and sympathy. The woman quietly spoke to the fawn, a sweet whispering voice almost softly singing as she pet its ears that just barely hung onto its cracked exposed skull. The fawn let out one last gargled, weak bleat before lying its head in her pale hand for the final time.

A grim weight settled in Ellie’s ribcage beneath her fur. Despite being a hunter of countless wild game, the fawn was so young. Too young to experience that much anguish. It must have been in unbearable pain with every disjointed bone and rip to its skin, before being delicately sung off in the quiet foggy forest. Ellie thought of at least some relief on the fawn’s part, for finally passing and moving on from its injuries. Despite blood rippling from its throat and bones and fur mutilated beyond any structure, at least there was this mysterious woman assuring the fawn that it wouldn't die alone. 

But just as she was about to walk forward, something in Ellie's survival instincts stopped her as her brain once again alerted her to the cloaked woman. Something deep in her gut anchored her. 

A beat of silence, and then something struck an odd feeling in Ellie in as the woman continued to pet the deer carcass and wispily spoke. Before realizing the woman wasn’t speaking. She was chanting. Her voice twisted in tongues and held a sickening sweetness like honey, drenched and boiling over hot coals. 

A small snapping cracked through the thickened air. The spontaneous sliding and setting of small bones pierced the forest silence, as Ellie saw the once-shattered fawn leg stiffen and snap back by itself. Bones ground into place, muffled inside the bloodied fur. The deep haunting chanting continued as she saw the cloaked woman’s hands now waving and pushing up into the air. The cloaked woman continued muttering under her breath, waving and twisting her fingers, each focused movement seeming to cause another snap in the fawn’s structure. Each twitch, snap and convulse of its body was like a raucously tuned violin string being plucked by ungodly claws. 

With a strong twitch that made Ellie's nerves crawl, the sleeve fell down the pale woman’s arm. Ellie froze at the heavily scarred arm skin, before realizing the marks were carved. Odd shapes, marks, and ungodly runes began to clarify as Ellie slowly approached, finally finding the will to step forward despite the utter horror at the witchcraft before her. Each snap and firm gasp of the fawn adjusting its legs and lungs caused Ellie's heartbeat and adrenaline to spike up. The cloaked woman let out small grunts of frustration between her chants and kept her concentrated hand movements, oblivious to Ellie due to her and focus on the rising carcass.

The crimson-drenched fawn rose onto its hooves once again from the blood-soaked dirt. Its neck vertebrae twisted and sunk back into place as it shook its still dislocated head. Merely brushing off the pain of death. Cracking and setting beneath its torn and bloody fur. Ellie’s adrenaline went into overdrive as the fawn’s glassy, bead-black eyes stared through at her. Realizing there was no other time to strike, Ellie firmly gripped the back of the cloaked woman's neck and pressed the dagger to her throat. The strangled honeyed voice stopped her chanting at a torn breath, some of the fawn’s bones dislodging from their restored form.

Quickly hissing out an indecipherable language, the undead deer swiftly darted into the fog as best as it could with its barely set bones and possessed eyes. 

“Forget the trial. You’re coming back to Salem to be burned, witch.” 

Ellie snarled at the woman in her hold. The witch’s cloak seams suddenly ripped and wrapped around Ellie’s head as she felt the woman try to slip from her grip. Ellie quickly responded by cutting the cloak from her head, only to see the woman standing back, with her runic carved hands ready to strike. 

Ellie’s sage eyes scorched back at the witch. Long, pale-blonde choppy locks tipped in black fell back into place from the tousle, furious dark eyes burning back at her as the witch huffed while clutching her bloodied throat. Ellie looked the strange woman up and down. Despite looking close in age, she had never seen this woman before, much less in an uptight town like Salem. 

Ellie would have surely noticed the hair if she were walking in town; chaotic, choppy, unrestrained, dipped in darkness.  Especially with her rather decorated and eclectic outfit: dangling jewelry all over, odd corset, and a dark layered skirt upon her slim figure. Fresh goosebumps aligned her pale, carved skin in the cold forest. That skin. Too pale, especially standing out amongst the forest darkness. It would have caused so much more than suspicion– death on mere adrenaline sight. That posture was a far cry from a civilized woman. Almost hunched over and animalistic as she breathed heavily and firmly. Those clothes. The colors and patterns too odd and even more oddly styled, but fitting. Really nicely form-fitting. Those eyes. Darkened and black, but almost dusted in candlelit gold. She had to admit, they were enchanting. Even as they stared back at Ellie in furrowed malice. Snapping back and regaining her still firm composure at the imminent danger of the witch, she kicked the woman’s basket aside and away, pointing the silver dagger at the witch.

The witch held an expression of both anger and bewilderment, before her morphing into disbelief as she, too, looked Ellie up and down. She caught her breath with her nicked throat before she, too, seemed to subtly raise herself, flashing a wicked, taunting smile.

“You’re still trembling…”

Her tone reeked of sickened honey as she mocked Ellie, scoffing before flicking the blood off her throat, trying to hide a wince at the contact with her wound. Leaning down to grab her coat, the woman tried to quickly dash for the covered basket before Ellie kicked it further and stood her ground. Raising the silver dagger, Ellie tried to assert her power over the snake of a woman before she had the chance to strike. 

The witch looked back at Ellie in frustration as she raised to full height, posture much more aware. Her head quirked slightly as she once again took in the sight of Ellie, eyeing her up and down with a now doubtful expression. Ellie returned with a confused look, eyeing her in return. Ellie's eyes drifted down to the blood-stained forest floor, her mind swimming with what else this witch was capable of besides bringing the back the dead. Without a moment to process, the witch sprang forward and flashed a powder in Ellie’s face the very moment Ellie unfocused, Ellie coughing and collapsing to the ground before she could even process the numbing of her senses and her darkening vision into unconsciousness.

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓☾༻⋆. °⛧

Ellie had not realized she was coughing herself awake until her vision started to come to, eyes landing on fallen forest leaves. A dull ring still rippled in her temple, her mind and senses disoriented. She inhaled the smell of kicked-up minerals and dirt before continuing to cough up a bland powder, vision and senses just barely starting to come to. And then another smell hit Ellie’s nose— blood. Her adrenaline spiked as she stumbled up from the ground, her vision finally starting to clear as she saw a woman a few feet away readjusting her cloak. That cloak…that hair… something was familiar, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Something was eerily familiar, and yet she had never seen this woman before opening her eyes. As Ellie cleared her throat of the surprisingly bland powder, the cloaked woman looked back, spooked.

“M-ma’am…” Ellie spoke, trying to clear her throat.

Ellie winced as she got up off the ground, the woman hiding a stunned expression. As she turned around to face Ellie, more of her outfit showed, further confusing Ellie's senses at the eclectic nature despite the freezing dark woods. Something was off with this woman, Ellie just couldn’t tell what. Too eccentric for uniform Salem. Ellie’s instincts spiked again, but she still cleared her throat to maintain formality, finding hints of a mysteriously bland taste in her mouth that faded as soon as it was made clear. 

“M-Miss, are you alright?”

Ellie stuttered, her senses finally clearing up. The cloaked woman held an unreadable expression, clearing her throat to clear nerves as if she too was hiding suspicions.

“Oh.. I’m fine. I'm just on a forage.”

Ellie was taken off guard by the odd sensations rising in her chest at the surprisingly sweet, rich voice of this woman as she adjusted her gloves.

“I’m fine physically, just… not as successful as I’d like.”

As the cloaked woman looked fully back, Ellie couldn’t help but be enchanted by those eyes. Dark, and yet candlelit as if she had seen treasure for the first time. Still housing her suspicions, something in Ellie’s soul couldn’t resist the amber flecks, like gold shimmering through a black river. She quickly cleared her throat as she slotted her dagger back in the sheath at the woman cautiously eyeing the weapon. 

“Miss, this is a rather deep part of the woods, and it’s already night out in an already dangerous forest… I insist on walking you back to a town.” 

Ellie grew curious as to why her outer cloak was now in tatters. 

“Oh, it’s quite fine, I know my way back.” 

The woman politely declined with a smile, the undertone making Ellie’s instincts spike up for some odd reason. 

Looking around at the foggy forest, the faint smell of blood once again hit Ellie’s nose, her thoughts racing.

‘Who is this woman? Why do I smell blood? Blood rituals? No, Ellie, you're crazy. That’s too much of a reach. Why did she even think that? Maybe the woman is hurt and is hiding it.’

“Miss, are you hurt at all? Your cloak is ripped, and it is getting colder. I'm sure I can guide us back to Salem town, where you'll be safe in civilization.”

“I'm fine, I know my way back, though it is a little long and it's in the opposite direction, so you may just want to find your own way home.”

As she dusted off herself, the woman continued to give Ellie an unreadable look as she composed herself, continuing to focus on Ellie instead of the woods ahead. But Ellie’s voice was boldly insistent, unwavering.

“Ma'am, I really do insist…with the fog rolling in, these woods are awfully dangerous with wolves and wildlife…especially for an unequipped woman.” 

The woman seemed to faintly scoff under her breath as she adjusted her cloak and chuckled under her breath, causing Ellie further confusion.

“I assure you, I’m plenty capable, now if you please.”

As innocently eccentric as this mysterious woman was, something in Ellie’s gut insisted she stop this woman from getting her basket as she kept a vigilant eye. Her gut and mind were at war with each other, but she couldn’t tell why. Ellie’s eyes drifted back to the covered woven basket, seeing up close how the fabric was embroidered with small flowers and bugs.

“Well, let me at least carry your basket for you.”

The woman’s gloved hand reached to grab the basket, but something in Ellie's instincts told her to hang on for some reason. Quickly shaking off these odd feelings at the woman in front of her, Ellie cleared her throat as she led them back along where she had walked before, an odd smell hitting her nose as she held the wicker.

“What's in the basket?”

“Just some berries. The odd thing you may smell is tea leaves and flowers.” The woman replied, her voice almost stern between her caution.

Ellie couldn't help but wonder just how long and how far this woman was out in these whistling haunted woods, and seemed to know them well. She couldn't help but feel a little self conscious at the woman’s face and eyes looking back at her, sighing a little at the familiar look.

“It's so I—“

“You ride horses.”

Ellie was caught very off guard at the woman’s understanding, letting out an amused exhale through her nose as they continued walking.

“Yeah.”

“Where's your steed now?” The woman questioned, her gloved hands tugging her tattered robe further over her body.

“Left her back home. Shimmer doesn't like it when I go this far out into the woods. She gets really freaked out.”

“...So you're saying you're out here all alone, no reliable way home…In these woods…?”

Ellie looked back at the woman in slight stubborn offense, only to find her with a somewhat judgeful expression, looking Ellie up and down again. She couldn't help but feel that this woman was withholding information that made her hostile, but what exactly it was she couldn't put her finger on.

“No offense, ma’am, you seem a bit bitter that you're being escorted back to civilization…”

“I'm just a girl on an unsuccessful food scavenge being stopped from going home. Of course I'm bitter.” 

The woman huffed back, catching Ellie off guard by her open defiance. 

Ellie wondered to herself just what kind of town or city would allow a woman to have such an open attitude like that. She could just barely mask her confusion as to why this woman was so bitter to be escorted out of a dangerous dark forest. A strong minute of silence passed as they both continued to keep their thoughts to themselves, Ellie constantly looking back to see if the mysterious woman still followed. Ellie found herself second-guessing every word and second of silence between them, the lowly whispering forest brewing more self-doubt. 

She was still unsure why she shared so much so easily with this mysterious woman she hadn't even known the name of. This woman. She really did have quite the eclectic look, despite how much she covered herself with the ripped cloak and gloves. An elaborate layered skirt and belt draped in odd assorted golds and twigs, each step a quiet jingle from anklets underneath. As dark as the cover-up was, Ellie couldn't help but mentally acknowledge that her ensemble was very form-fitting. From the hand-embroidered corset that caged her busty form in, to the coin necklace charm obscured between her chest, firmly pressed between the edges of the corset boning. The woman’s eyes looked up to meet Ellie’s as she adjusted her gloves, Ellie cleared and wiped her dusted cheeks, seeing only a glimpse of the woman’s unreadable expression. Ellie tried to shake off the odd emotions that rose, and just what about this woman made her have such an oddly enchanting allure, despite the sting in her honey-toned voice.

“I don't think I got your name, ma'am.”

As Ellie looked back, she saw the woman hiding an exasperated expression, staying quiet in response.

“...Well, I must say you sure do dress quite… distinctly.”

The woman seemed to coldly scoff back, “I just don't think society is ready for individualism.” 

Ellie turned her head to hide her own bewildered expression, looking back down at the oddly musky herbal scent of the wicker basket. 

“I just prefer to be one with nature and its gifts. A lot of people pay so much for imported English tea when they don't even see the use of herbs in the forests they chop down,” The woman chimed up defensively. 

Ellie found herself agitated at the odd woman’s demeanor as another hard beat of silence passed. She continued to scan Ellie's face, almost testing the waters and seeing what she could get away with. But Ellie's expression only harbored more confusion. 

Dried forest floor leaves continued to rustle with every brushing step they made.

“You know, I'm not a believer in mob mentality. I prefer to go based on hard proof. And so far, you don't seem like the epitome of an ‘innocent small-town village maiden looking for help.” 

Ellie stopped and turned to the woman accusingly.

“I'm looking for my way home. Now, excuse me. If you're going to continue making rather rash assumptions about my look, I should make my leave.” 

The woman coldly bit back, amber flecks igniting with annoyance as she reached to take back the wrapped wicker basket. But Ellie’s gut continued to persist as she held onto the woven handle. The woman looked up with a heavily irritated expression before they both snapped out of their bickering at the sound of a firm crow caw through the howling wind. Survival instinct reared its ugly head in Ellie's gut as she let go of the basket and flexed her hand to her dagger.

“Ma'am, I must insist we head back quickly, it's getting too dangerous, especially with the fog rolling in–”

A weight of dread grew denser as Ellie did a double-take back at the woman. Odd posture grew taller. Ellie was unable to suppress a low exhale that was plagued with pure fear and trepidation, especially with how openly peaceful the cloaked woman's once bitter expression became. Her posture became more comfortable as she willingly let the fog in through her nose, rise through her chest, and out of her lungs with a deep haze, exhaling with a deep smiling underbite. A crow's bark sliced through the fog as Ellie instinctively backed up at the bird’s feathers slicing through the murky forest air. Perching on a nearby branch, the inky black bird quirked its head back at Ellie. Its fixed, beady gaze filling her with both loathing and terror. She somehow knew this was the same corvid that caused her to run out of the woods in panic a week ago. 

Its raspy, ominous caw seemed to only fill the cloaked woman with comfort as she willingly let the bird perch on an outstretched finger, ominously smiling and whispering to it. Ellie had heard of this before from all of the town talk. The legends. The rumors. The texts. Familiairs; faithful animal servants to witches gifted by the devil himself to have them carry out their master’s dark deeds. And yet just as Ellie's thoughts began to spiral at its gaze, she was torn out of them in terror as the bird dove and darted into the basket, causing Ellie to drop the wicker while its feathers ruffled through the contents. The crow from inside the basket continued to let out muffled caws as it dug around, the woman chuckling back to the bird.

“I’d like to avoid having a fool’s blood on my hands so close to Samhain, just so you'd know.”

The bird continued to caw back in banter despite the muffle of fabric, Ellie's breathing growing faster and faster as a million questions fearfully rushed through her head. The familiar hazy fog grew closer and closer to them.

“Yes, yes, All Hallows Eve, I still need to get used to that.”

The bird cawed back through the muffled fabric, Ellie reaching for her dagger in fear.

“Y-you're talking to a bird.”

The woman coldly eyed Ellie the interruption before giggling through a mocking grin.

“Gosh, you don't know this part of the woods well, do you, dearie?~”

A beat of silence. Ellie's eyes shifted back, trying to soothe herself of the mockery and nonchalance of the witch in front of her. So close to striking distance. So close to easily killing her on sight, but hesitating for some ominous reason as the crow continued to rummage, finally peeking its head out and flying back onto the witch’s gloved finger, holding a bundled object in its beak.

“Why is that good?” Ellie shuddered back.

“It means you can't find us.” 

Clicking and almost purring in wickedness, the crow quirked curiously between them. The witch let out an unrestrained guttural exhale as she confidently and comfortably stood, staring down Ellie with intimidation with a willing breath of fog through her lungs.

A raspy, feminine voice interrupted as it crackled through the crows’ cawing.

“No need to try anyway.”

Before ellie could even properly think at the crow’s speech, the fog grew thicker before the bird suddenly slammed the bundled object on the forest floor, causing Ellie's vision to once again blur with a dark explosion of black powdery smoke. She struggled to catch her breath in the dust and choked in her own fear.

The fog slowly suffocated the forest, growing thicker and drowning Ellie's senses. She could barely see an inch in front of her as she felt the foggy wind swirling around her body, shivering with anxiety. The witch’s honeyed voice ethereally whispered through the fog. 

“Now, why don't you follow the lights and run along home?”

Ellie's adrenaline was keeping her running a mile a minute at the witch and her familiar’s disembodied voices taunting her.

“What lights-”

Before she could finish, she felt the ground beneath her rumble slightly as small daisy flowers softly breached through the forest floor, opening up and glowing a dull sea green. The flowers began to slowly rise and bloom, forming a dimly lit path that Ellie only felt pure distrust and dread toward. They bloomed with a sickening sea light, only causing more shadows among the foreboding midnight branches.

“How do I know I can trust this to guide me back to Salem?” 

Ellie bit back, rage just barely veiling over her fear.”

“You don't. This doesn’t concern you. So how about we both agree to just leave me and my sisters alone? I don't think you want to agitate them more than you already have.”

Ellie's adrenaline ripped a few breaths from her throat, the dancing shadows from the pulsing flower lights causing a surprising amount of paranoia. The witch’s shadowed figure peeked through the fog and breathed down her neck, causing Ellie to stumble forward a little with pure chills, ripping her gaze around. A faint silhouetted figure gently pet the bird’s head with an ungloved, clawed hand, and giggle long disembodied.

“I do suggest you run along. I didn't want to hurt you, but Rowena would have you dead where you stand if she didn't find you so amusing.”

The last thing Ellie saw was the witch’s veiled figure walking backward into the fog, her figure morphing and shifting beneath the cloak that retreated into her veiled contorting body. Her eyes widened in disbelief at the clouded horror in front of her, like the sickeningly sweet allure of a flytrap. Ellie found her footsteps naturally backing up into the dull, seasick green  of the daisies, finally finding the will to turn back around and follow the lit path against her own instincts. She didn't know what to believe anymore. A path so ominously lit by something so small and innocent, it surely must lead to her death. The faster she walked, the more her ears perked up to the sound of hooves and distant, wickedly honeyed giggling. The cloudy treebranch shadows continued to haunt her, the feeling of animal eyes watching her shiver through her cloak dredging up her spine. Unseen eyes not of the wild, each pair filled with barely restrained malice. Another breath was shredded through her throat as a hare darted before disappearing into the fog. A meek disembodied whisper resonated through Ellie's ears.

“Be grateful that Sister Magnolia has decided to spare your foolish ways… for now.”

Ellie let out a heavy breath at the hare’s gaze, her mind reeling with even more questions that were quickly drowned out by her own footsteps along the unreliable makeshift trail.

Ellie found her footsteps growing faster and faster, and yet before she knew it, the smell of livestock and grain lit her senses. A few steps forward, and Ellie was simply in shock. The Salem front gates stood right in front of her. Impossible. She had spent hours and a whole afternoon walking through those woods. Her breathing just barely came into stabilization. Looking back, she found a very familiar set of trees that only caused her more confusion. She would have noticed those. Why would she be back here so soon? What was with that fog… those animals, those–

A familiar, friendly voice called out to Ellie from the comforting presence of the town. Jesse ran up to her and quickly snuck her back through.

“Holy shit you really went into those woods alone– oh lord.”

Ellie's breath instantly stabilized at the familiar voice clearly in front of her. After hours, she had finally seen a friend instead of a foe. 

“You look like you've seen a thousand ghosts, Ellie.” 

She didn't respond back, mind still barely reeling.

“Look, we’ll get those beers another time, you just need to go home and rest. Visit the church tomorrow in the morning.”

Even as she was snuck back into the town, Ellie couldn't help but look back at the familiar tree path she came out of, no longer a dull daisy. She will visit the church tomorrow. Just maybe she would get that woman's voice out of her head, as much as the woods whispered it through every gust and breeze.

Next chapter

⛧ Hope yall enjoyed the chapter hehe (don’t worry they somehow get even longer)

⛧ Feel free to leave comments and feedback I love reading them

⛧stay spooky! ཐི🫀ཋྀ

The smoldering pyre embers by Salem's courthouse have always brought an air of both ease and restlessness to those who watched the flames and incinerated screams.

Scorched strands of twine rope laid on charred wood that formerly restrained those damned to hell only hours ago. It brought the townsfolk a sense of accomplishment that they were able to rid their township of evil, one by one. And yet, the surrounding stygian pines and cedars only howled louder with every woman damned to the fires of purification— darker and darker not only in the physicality of the dense forest but within the wrath of the evils harbored and birthed among the flora and fauna.

Ellie only heard the hellish screams of today's trials from miles away in the forest. The sound of horse hooves and foggy breathing continuously snapped the vast forest silence in the ever present August fog. She was well aware of the high risk and reward that was hidden in the ever present fog. Fog that would haven hellish cackles of witches both maiden and crone, and yet the potential game was too tempting to ignore.

Hunting had always brought Ellie a sense of solace, despite the eerie nature of the Salem wood. It always struck up memories. From striking her first rabbit with her mentor to the sense of accomplishment with her first deer at fourteen. Of course, that brought astonishment and stares from the village, such a young girl bringing such large game from the enigmatic wood— especially compared to the standardized pastimes other girls had.

Nostalgia warmed her as the evening sun peeked through the pine branches, her horse’s head shaking and snorting with uncertainty of their plan forward.

As Ellie gently shushed her chestnut mare, Shimmer cautiously looked around at the surrounding wood, still trusting her hunter. Ellie’s senses sharpened as she looked at the possibility of one last worthy hunt, no matter how dangerous it was to go into these woods alone— so very far from safe havens. her fingers slipped between feathers as she unquiverred an arrow.

The faint sound of dragging footsteps on the forest floor immediately keened Ellie's senses, intaking a deep breath to stabilize her aim. Her gaze fixed onto a barely camouflaged beaver as it wandered aimlessly, arrow whistle piercing the air. It easily darted into the beaver’s tail, pinning it as it squealed in pain, causing a cacophony of caws above the opaque sky. A large murder of crows in the trees wildly dodged the branches at the startlement, inky feathers rustling and cawing at the sudden chaos. But Ellie still noticed the one crow left standing on a tall branch, its black eyes staring into hers unwaveringly.

Quickly slashing the beaver's throat, Ellie defiantly stared up at the lone branched crow with malice— its caw back almost taunting Ellie. Shimmer nervously pawed her hoof on the forest floor, letting out a fearful whinny. Ellie drew an arrow to shoot the mocking corvid, however as the arrow flew right below its talons, the crow’s sleek black feathers popped into dark flowing smoke. The blackened air was quickly consumed by the fog as the forest wind started to howl in their ears.

Malicious cackling started to howl through the rustling foggy pines as Ellie's concentration fully broke at the bellowing echoes. She quickly abandoned her earlier kill at the sight of Shimmer fearfully neighing uncontrollably, trying to calm her hysterical mare.

“Shimmer, hey! Hush girl, we're getting out of here.”

Ellie quickly jumped onto the saddle and snapped the reins, the chestnut mare darting anywhere but the thick fog growing behind them. Adrenaline filled both hunter and mare’s instincts, the rustling of trees and howling cackling continuing to ring in their heads. Swiftly steering her mare to weave towards the fog-covered clearing, their hearts beat with dread for what could be lurking just behind them. Ellie's hands tried desperately to steer her speeding mare, her own mind racing with what could possibly be in the fog beside the residual smoke of that crow illusion— if Ellie even dared to look back. Minutes and minutes passed by as the adrenaline and fear spurred them forward, until Ellie quickly steered her horse back onto a familiar hunting trail. Unholy whispers and raspy mocking laughter just barely started to dull out, still lingering in their minds. Mercy took the form of the thought that they might make it out alive.

Ellie continued to mutter and stumble through her prayers to god as they darted through the trees, the rushing wind causing her heart to pulse faster and faster. After what felt like ages to the ominous winds infiltrating her brain, a clearing of tree stumps just barely started to come into view. A sense of relief hit them as she cracked shimmers reigned faster toward mercy– finally making it towards the clearing near the town gate. The haunting laughter in their heads finally faded. Ellie let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. She sighed in relief, but also disappointment as she saw the silver hunting knife tucked into Shimmer's saddle.

Her memories of Thomas’ words hung on as Ellie felt her fingers over the crucifix embossed in the silver— the dagger given to her by the hunting party’s head witch hunter. Her own uncle. Those words lingered like the raised skin of an old scar. How his cold stare glanced down at the steel before sneering under the cover of generosity.

“You’ve always had that habit of hunting your best game at night. Maybe one of these days you'll actually find a witch for us and pull your weight besides cashing in on deer.”

And maybe it was time to finally pull her weight. Moving forth instead of lingering in the game hunts and pyre building. Despite it giving her the oddest vulnerable feeling with every witch she tied as they screamed for mercy. Ellie had always choked it up to a ramification of last-resort mind control to manipulate lingering sympathies. Damned witchcraft was all.

Shimmer nudged her large soft nose into Ellie's side, making her realize that she was staring at the dagger for a bit too long. Leading Shimmer on the outskirt roads, Ellie picked a small ear of corn from the edge of a stalk and fed it to Shimmer as a token of gratitude. As her fingers lingered for a few seconds over the corn husks' edges, she noticed the dwindling freshness creeping in— odd for an August harvest. Just for a moment, she pondered if the land the town expanded onto was indeed cursed, only to immediately snap out of her thoughts and walk home.

“I'll have to do some extra prayers tonight, thank you girl…”, Ellie reassuringly spoke to her mare and pet the soft chestnut fur, clicking her tongue to escort her back home.

Finally making it back to her humble home, she laid Shimmer to rest by a tree before glancing over to the town square. Ellie decided that she needed to fully clear her conscience before settling down for the night, pushing out the laughter that lingered in ear grooves. Her boots quietly clicked through the town on the stone-laid roads. Familiar steps towards the church. The smell of night air and slowly turning autumn leaves escorted her to safe haven. Most of the townsfolk had already settled down into their homes for the night, and yet a few also headed down the street for additional peace of mind.

She looked at the overly scorched pyre in between the church and courthouse, the fading horrid smell of burned flesh making her question just how the base wood still stood from the pure char leftover. The screams from the afternoon trial were silenced, but they couldn't be louder in Ellie's head.

Her mind was instantly rejuvenated as the remaining air of frankincense hit her senses and intertwined within the church's wood fibers. She wordlessly kneeled towards one of the front pews, looking up towards the wooden crucifixion. Ellie let out a breath, but halted as she began to think her prayers instead of whispering. The slight paranoia still pestered her— paranoia and residential guilt she knew she shouldn't have in a place like this. Despite the doubt of unknowing sins slowly inching into her back, she still looked to the guidance of Christ that had provided her with mental comfort in many hard times throughout her life. At least in the crowd that all looked up to the carving.

The detailed crucifixion scene at the head of the humble church overlooked unlit candles. The figure instead just barely illuminated by a singular cold glass lantern at the front of the pew. Ellie thought to herself, not daring to speak out loud. Especially with the presence in her peripheral of the infamously scorched confessional booth covered loosely in cloth and chains. The quiet rumors still lingered of the spontaneous combustion years ago. Focusing herself again, she thought numerous prayers of gratitude. For living another day, for the salvation of escaping the witchcraft, for her hunting skills, and for the ability of connection to her mentor through their passion for the hunt.

She hadn't realized how long she was praying until a chill hit her shoulders, realizing the lantern had burnt out. Relighting the small glass-caged candle inside, Ellie glanced over to the other small handful of people throughout the church, her eyes catching on to a father and daughter as he whispered to the young girl to repeat her prayers into the late hours. Deciding her mind was temporarily at peace for the night, Ellie walked back down the aisle of the church, not missing the odd look of reluctance from the girl's father at the sight of her hunting garb and faintly blood-speckled forearms.

Ellie briefly glanced back at the father and young daughter in the church before closing the door, her mind going through the memories of her old hunting mentor. She faintly smiled at the nostalgia of how the burly man had taken her on hunts in the middle of the night, the evening darkness shining through her faint facial scars. Teaching her everything from how to draw her first arrow (despite how her improper formed arrow notched her eyebrow) to shooting down her first stag. Its pronged antlers were arranged with aged hydrangeas, still there as she looked down to his grave in her front yard.

Kneeling down to water the flowers by his graveside, she contemplated all the lessons he had taught her as she grew up. But one rang true as she couldn't help but look back to the pitch-black forest. The ominous fog still lingered on her back as the words cradled in her ears. It was essential to be warned of the evils that lurked in the Salem woods. Witchcraft. The dark arts. The unholy women and their sinful cackles. Hunting was a dangerous job already with the threat of dangerous animals, increased tenfold in the cursed woods' dreadfully grey fog coating.

The late August evening chill reminded her of all the stories told by Joel, her uncle Tommy, the townsfolk, and even infamously madness-ridden towns colonies away. She shuddered at the thought that not even god could help the madness that may still linger in the damned lands of the old, mere miles away. Parasitic possessions, odd sightings, deadly delusions, outed witchcraft and blasphemy, turning towns, riots in the courts— the ‘season of the witches’ was always merciless.

Ellie took out the silver crucifix-engraved dagger as it reflected in the late moonlight. The sharp point led her sage green eyes back to the near-distant forest fog, brows furrowing with barely restrained malice and driving in them. The foggy forest wind grew colder, and her urges for mercy grew slimmer. Maybe it was time to pull her weight in a hunt of her own.

Next Chapter

⛧paragraph spacing will become better for mobile readers, I write these in computer

⛧ hope you enjoyed this little prologue blurb, I was unsure if I should make it a prologue or the first chapter LMAO, future chapters will become m u c h longer I assure you

⛧I deeply appreciate you for reading, feel free to leave comments, they’re fun to read

⛧stay spooky 🫀