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The inn is tucked under a canopy of trees that grow on the outer edge of the Black Woods. I imagine this is the house young Hansel and Gretel stumbled upon. A grand estate, it is reminiscent of a gingerbread house, fitted with an aggressively sharp triangular roof with decorative fascia with fanciful swoops and swirls like royal icing, small windows you can see out of but never escape from with fanciful filigrees, opaque windows that look like poured sugar. Plus it’s quite possible a cannibalistic old witch hag lives inside it. The thought of it makes me giggle to myself. The house itself, once inside, is far too boring to be described in a fairytale. It feels like a flophouse, one inhabited by passing travelers, and not a good one either. It smells of old beer and cheap cigars, I don't imagine the rooms will be much better. An old woman approaches us, just as round as she is short, dressed in a plain brown frock and white apron. “Good Evening, Madame. Welcome to Halwayat House.
“I prefer order to destruction, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of it. I’m tired of not knowing things.” I say in a menacing whisper as I plait the Luna’s hair to prepare her for bed. Her and I are alone, but I take no chances or someone overhearing us. “The truth reveals itself in its own time, as it should.” She replies cryptically. “You cannot compel a flower to bloom. It reveals itself when the time is right.” I yank her hair a little tighter than necessary in my frustration. “Mind yourself.” She warns, staring intensely at me in the reflection of the vanity mirror. “I know nothing of what is to come. I don’t even understand what I am and what I’m capable of. How can I navigate this world safely if I am ignorant to how to protect myself?” I ask exasperated by this entire situation. In a perfect world, I would not have to rely on my mother for anything. This is not a perfect world. “Truth be told, I’m not quite sure what you are capable of either.” She says softly. “You
“I felt strange when I first saw your servant. She gives off an energy.” I confide in my mother. She smirks. “What does it feel like?” “Like ghosts dancing upon my skin.” I say quietly. “She is a witch. She hails from our tribe, though from a lesser line.” She says. “So will my skin always tingle when I’m near a witch?” I ask, confused. My mother laughs heartily. “No!” She finally manages to say between giggles. “Well, maybe. Every witch senses things differently. It’s hard to say what you can or cannot sense without time and observation. Our powers are things we grow into. Some are more powerful than others in sensing energies and intentions.” “Hm. So how do I interpret these feelings and signs?” I ask. “Your guardian will help guide you. Only she knows how you access the source.” She explains. “So why did you buy a witch at market?” I ask, changing the subject. “She needs entrance to the Moon Ceremony. She is also vying to achieve our tribe’s purpose. I think she me
Seducing a man in front of my mother, in my mother’s room, a man employed by my mother— has never been on my list of things to do. I have been taught that being modest, quiet, and chaste is the only way to honor your mate. Be a clean canvas, untouched by any other paintbrush, so he can make you exactly as he wishes. I suppose I still live the spirit of modesty and chastity if I only violate the boundaries in my thoughts. I feel as though I am deserving of such a concession as men do not have to follow the same principles of chastity. My mother wraps her evening robe around her nightgown. It’s a heavy forest green velvet with fur lining at the cuffs and collar all along the front edge of the robe. The sleeve a long bell shape, dramatic and moody, my mother’s figure is dwarfed by its proportions. Even after marriage the emphasis on modesty persists, perhaps even more so. Her hair perfectly plaited, her skin glows even without makeup, she is captivating. She pulls a small satchel from
“Theia. You can call me Theia. I will not tolerate being called ‘dog’.” Theia says with a serious tone. She stands with an authoritative and rigid stance. Not overtly aggressive, but certainly ready to defend. “Hello, Theia.” The guardian drawls slowly. The tone is bordering on mocking, but not outwardly disrespectful. “It is important for us to guard our true names fiercely. In order to do this, Theia; you will have to allow me to bestow a true name upon you. We are linked together and cannot pull each other apart, to do so would be our demise.” The guardian says solemnly. Theia scoffs. “What do you mean?” I ask, hoping for clarity. Everything is foreign to me in this world. I expected to have a wolf, but everything else is a mystery. “When witches are made, the Goddess pulls a thread from the witches of the past, in order to weave a new witch into the tapestry. A small thread of life is borrowed from our energy, the thread breathes life into the new witch, and the two spi
The moon looms large in the sky. I have seen it for the last few days, a little fuller each day, sometimes even visible before nightfall. It hangs like a pocket watch, steadily keeping the pace, the arms of time racing towards midnight, the rhythmic tics of a bomb about to explode. The full moon is only a few days away. Seems like all the stars collide then. My powers set to more clearly manifest, a naming ceremony, a potential mate, Theia and I fully realizing our bond— destiny and lines of power converging, all colliding with one another at the same point in time. My witch, my wolf, and myself all coming together, a triad of energies intertwined, forever woven into the tapestry of life, together. I shift my focus from the sky to the woods. The window in my mothers suite is fit for viewing but not escaping. The woods are thick and dark. It’s hard to see anything with true clarity after twenty paces past the tree line. The woods seem to swallow everything, even the light. Why do th
The Great Mother reaches towards me, instructing me to follow her. I reach towards her hand and grasp it, eager to leave the circle now shrouded in silence. She leads me down a path deeper into the woods. A small trail marked by moss and mushrooms, cuts through the thick brush and dark trees. Snakes lay in wait under the oak trees camouflaged by leaves and debris, foothold traps begging to be sprung. The further we venture from the fire, the darker it becomes. My eyes are struggling to adjust. She pulls me down a steep embankment and we trudge through deep rocks, small and rounded, clanking together like marbles as we cut our path through. My thick robe dragging in the muck leaving a smooth trail in my wake. “This will be cold.” The Great Mother says, before we plunge into the river to cross it. The stones slick and smooth, tiny minnows and slippery grass tickle my ankles, making me feel unsteady. The current is strong and the sound of a waterfall rushes in the distance. My cloak d
The Great Mother clasps my hand tightly and leads me along the path. We do not cross any river nor do I hear any waterfall rumbling in the distance. A short walk through the thick trees and the circle is again visible, the fire more subdued, providing a warm glow of light painting shadows across the clearing in the trees. My mother stands at the fire, staring intensely at the dancing flame. Several men and women standing near, talking to each other and her, but she does not seem to pay any mind to their words. As we step from the shadows into the reach of the fire’s glow, silence falls. My mother’s eyes snap to mine, scanning me and the Great Mother for any clues of what has happened. “Let us welcome our new sister to the coven. The Goddess Hecate has smiled upon her and we shall embrace her with open arms!” The Great Mother says loudly. “Blessed be!” The crowd gathered calls back. “Blessed be!” The Great Mother echos in refrain. “The Blood Moon is to be auspicious for our dear
Some oaths cannot be broken. The thought tumbles in my mind. “It is true. The consequences can be dire when breaking a promise. An oath is sworn with your life.” Theia warns. “A witch is nothing without her word. Our whole existence is built upon the truth that words are powerful and have meaning. A covenant is an agreement, but an oath is a solemn promise. Breaking an oath is not a simple undertaking. The consequences of such actions can be catastrophic and change who you are entirely. To break an oath is a choice of darkness. Embracing the worst that this world has to give.” Asteria chimes in. “Last night, for me, was filled with dreams and nightmares. They don’t even all make sense to me at this point. A mix of my memories, and what I assume the two of you were seeing.” I say. I made an oath to the King, but I would break it in a heartbeat if I thought I could do it and continue to keep my head. Are oaths really oaths if you are under duress? Or is that simply fealty, a forced
I hear a soft rapping at my door. I tear myself from the sheets like a petulant child, stomping towards the doorway. The warmth of my bed calling to me. I don’t think I’m ready to be shoved into a bath and corseted into a gown. I feel as if I have not even shut my eyes, let alone gotten any rest. “I’m coming.” I say, in a decidedly grumpy voice. I put the most sincerest grumpy tired face expression that I can muster, and open the door. “What?” The hallway is empty. I cannot even hear distant footsteps of maids and servants performing their daily task list. A list that starts the moment their eyes open and does not end again until they close. The realization washes over me with shame. I think back to the endless hours, scrubbing dishes, scrubbing floors, standing over hot stoves. I looked to my arms to see all the faint scars I have accumulated over my years. Each one with their own story. The time I sliced my hand open or when I burnt myself on the edge of a pot because I wasn’t t
Your highness. I suppose it is better than being a slave, though your name is surrendered just the same. Instead of no one caring to know your name they are forbidden to speak it, it’s traded in for formal titles. This elevation does not bring freedom, rather luxurious chains, forced to follow antiquated traditions. It is not the same as being an actual slave though. To compare it as such is a denigration. A lie. One cannot be both slave and master, though it seems even masters have masters to bow to. The breakfast I consumed without having to perform any labor only underscores my place in the pecking order, now far above the one I used to enjoy. I struggle to enjoy my new position when Dmitry has been left behind. I should rest though. I am to be a bride today. The wedding is less about me and more about the future of the monarchy. The continuation of Malakai’s line through history. I am only the womb used to usher in this future greatness. The wedding itself is largely performat
“Breakfast is already in your chambers.” Phoebe reassures, her delicate hand still clasping mine. “Thank you, Priestess Phoebe. I appreciate your consideration.” We fall into a comfortable silence. The floors of the temple are cold on my naked feet, my soles made soft and delicate by the last month of wearing shoes. I am only steps away from being a Princess, living a fairytale and touring the Kingdom. I cannot help but feel tragedy lurking in the shadows. A beast so insidious, patiently waiting to strike at your most triumphant moment. The climb up the social ladder feels like a climb that ends with me jumping to my death. I breathe deeply and allow the sound of our swishing robes lull me into calmness. I am greeted by the smell of breakfast when the door to my room is opened. “Such a feast!” I squeal like an excited child. “Your eyes are bigger than your stomach.” Phoebe scolds. “Then join me, priestess. There is more than enough for us both.”“Thank you, m’lady.”The formalit
Ceres“Papa! Papa! I think I have something!” I squeak. My little body wiggling, unable to control the overwhelming excitement that has washed over me. My tiny childish hands reach for my father, precariously balancing in the small rowboat. “Shhh! Hush. You will scare away all the fish.” He says gently. His heavy hands lovingly placed on my shoulders, calming me instantly. “You have plenty of time to make waves in your life, you need not do it when we are trying to fish.” He gently scolds. “Yes, papa.”“Now, let’s check that line. Reel it in gently but steady, then flick to set the hook.” He demonstrates the process on his own rod. I begin to reel it in, quietly squealing with glee, pulling it in as my father had shown me many times before. Springtime on the lake, learning to live off the land. “You must be able to provide for yourself.” That is what my father would say when I would complain about waking before the sun. Early morning on the lake is what heaven must be like. The w
Theia The air is crisp, the dew covers the ground and little droplets stick to my fur like tiny little pearls. Running in this form is so freeing. I wish it could always be just like this. “Catch me if you can!” I call as I weave through the branches and mossy stones. I do not even see his form, a shadow in the darkness, when he pounces on me and we roll down a small embankment. “Gotcha!” He gleefully remarks. The heat from his body presses against mine and I do not struggle or squirm under him. I am content to be here in his snare. “I didn’t even see you!” “Did you say that you owe me a wish? Do I now have two?” “No! I made no promise of another wish granted. I do owe you one though, so choose wisely.” He looks deeply into my eyes. “Yes. I will have to be thoughtful in what I choose.” I could get lost in his golden orbs. The fire in his stare. His darkness to my light. “We should go. The sun is already threatening to break the horizon. Dawn is here, it is o
Theia “The sun will rise soon.” I murmur. I stretch my legs out lazily. “We can speak of magic some other time.”“Some other time.” Erebus parrots back. His voice slow and lazy, as if considering the next possible occasion. “You are not lying if we agree to keep what has happened between us.” I say, breaking the silence between us. “That is quite literally called lying by omission.” “No, it’s keeping something sacred between us.”“You can dress a sow in silk gown, but that will not make her a Queen. Just because you call it something else doesn’t make it something else.”“Two things can be true.” “Yes, I suppose. That doesn’t mean it sits right with me.”“Oracles are not the Goddess. There is no guarantee that my mark will even look as the book tells it.”“Your optimism knows no bounds.” He quips sarcastically. “We pledged ourselves to one another. This bond is above all others. Period.” I growl, his insistence on calling me out is getting under my skin. No one wants an honest a
CeresDarkness can swallow you whole. The void of nothingness. I cannot even see Theia or Asteria anymore. Their thoughts are shielded from me, yet I can feel the veil thinning. I can feel my resurgence, my resurrection into my physical form. It is coming, I can feel the electricity in the air. “Ceres!”A voice calls to me from the abyss of nothingness surrounding me. I do not recognize the call. It is not Asteria or Theia’s voice calling. No one else should be here. “Come my child, come to my voice.”I have read enough fairytales to be suspicious of mystery voices calling from the dark. Their honeyed calls disguise their horrific intentions. Harpies calling from the cliffs, lulling you to your death. Do such creatures lurk in this place, this in between space, where I have no control? I am just a battered ship being tossed around the sea, only to steer myself into a rocky grave, calling to me so sweetly from beyond my vision. I will not blindly go towards the faceless voice in the
Theia“There is no affection in power. Power consumes all and no price is too high to pay to keep it. Edward may believe that his Grandfather’s love for him is unconditional, but I am not so naive.” Erebus growls. “Any threat to the King’s power will be eliminated. Period.”The truth weighs heavy. Silence settles within the cave. “Will the Immaculate Mother reveal the truth to the King?” I ask after a long bout of silence. “You said it yourself. Information you do not know, but want; is valuable.”“I have not read the myths of this prophecy. The Oracle Chronicle of the First King. I believe that is what the Immaculate Mother called it. Have you or Edward studied this?” “Edward is aware of all the sacred texts of the Kingdom. He has spent his entire life preparing to be King.”“What will he do when he discovers that I am the defender of the faith? Destined to fight in a battle and be the savior of the Kingdom? Will he see that as treason and address accordingly?”“I would like to sa