Forum Thread

Illumira flew through the sky on her sturdy, hawthorne broom. The cool night air rustled her gray cloak and sent her dark brown hair streaming out behind her. The last light of the waning moon caught the sparkle in her hazel eyes, even though it was barely enough to light her path.

To be a witch was hard work in the land of Dargwald; those of her kind were mistrusted by the villagers and blamed for all evil, no matter how minor. And while it was true that to be a witch was to be a user of dark magic, the intentions of her sisters were rarely malicious. Many of them sought to help the villagers nearest to them and indirectly contributed to the harvest each year.

There were many rumors about the witches of Dargwald, most of which were false. For instance, they did not feed on small children, plan world domination, possess people, or serve the nefarious devil. But a few true rumors about witches were that they brewed powerful potions, flew on broomsticks, met in a coven in the dark forest, and had amazing hearing.

And as Illumira flew through the sky that night, she could hear the sound of a girl crying. Strange, she thought to herself. This was less common to a witch like Illumira than one would think. While her acute hearing was usually an asset, it could at times make the world an overbearing place. And so, her magic regulated it for her, tuning out the unimportant drivel.

For some reason, she could feel her magic drawn to the girl. It seemed… important. Urgent even. Illumira had time that night; she had nowhere else to be. Breaking from her usual routine, she veered towards the capital city of Ziemetshausen to investigate.

Silently gliding through the streets, Illumira felt powerful. She was the real shadow of the night; no one below had any idea of her presence. Following her instincts, she traveled closer and closer towards the center of the capital.

Illumira found the girl in one of the larger houses near the capital’s center. She was illuminated in the open window of her small bedroom. A beautiful young thing, Illumira noted. The girl had long, dark hair, and flawless olive skin. She was dressed in a simple, but elegant dress the color of midnight. Illumira figured she was sixteen, perhaps seventeen.

Curious, she landed in the nearby alleyway a few blocks away from the house. The streets were nearly deserted, but no one could see her under the cover of darkness anyway. Illumira shrank her broom to the size of a twig and put it in her pocket.

As nimble as a thief, she crept along the edge of the buildings. She could feel the tug of her magic getting stronger. There was clearly something important about this girl.

At last, Illumira was standing below the house. She gazed up at the wooden door frame and the stone facade above. With but a whisper of magic, Illumira scaled the wall effortlessly. She peered in through the open window, and nearly lost her grip. What is this cruelty? The girl’s anguish was somehow being amplified by the witch’s own magic.

This was a new feeling for Illumira, and she was dimly confused through the haze of pain. It hurts so badly. Why did she have a connection to this random girl? Why did she feel this way? Illumira didn’t think, couldn’t think, and stepped through the window.

The girl didn’t even notice her entrance. Illumira silently stood, watching her. She felt useless. She had never been prepared for this. Slowly, she inched towards her, waiting for her to react. She didn’t.

Illumira had no idea what to do, no idea why she had been summoned here. But the witch trusted her magic implicitly; it had never steered her wrong before.

And so she did what anyone would do to someone crying their heart out: Illumira embraced the girl. And to her surprise the girl hugged her back.

It took the girl a few minutes to pull herself together. When she turned and faced the witch with her tear-streaked face, there was only resignation on it.

“Are you real?”

That was not the question Illumira had been expecting. She raised her eyebrows sardonically and stared at the girl. She glanced down at her hands, and smiled briefly. “I should hope so. The alternative is altogether much too disturbing.”

“Well then, who are you?”

“I am Illumira,” Illumira said simply.

The girl watched her with equal parts apprehension and intrigue. “You’re a witch.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I’m not completely sure.” It was the truth after all. “Why were you crying?”

The girl laughed bitterly. “It’s stupid; anyone would think so. I’ve been betrothed to a man that everyone wanted, but I’m not everyone.” Illumira waited for her to go on. “I… My father and my family are powerful, but this would cement their position in society. Of course they want me to go through with it. I don’t have an option. They said they were proud.” She barely whispered the last sentence.

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Illumira said.

“Well, you’re a witch.” She answered promptly.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Illumira nearly smiled.

“You live alone in the Dark Forest. You don’t get married and start families. You’re incapable of love. No one else would agree with you.”

Now Illumira laughed. “Yes. And no. I am but one in a sisterhood of magic. My kind are never truly alone.” A pause. “You sincerely do not wish to marry this man?”

The girl swallowed. “No.” The laugh that came out of her throat sounded more like a strangled sob.

“Then don’t. And if your society won’t accept that, then leave. Perhaps it sounds harsh, but those are your options. Marry or don’t.”

She was looking at Illumira intently now. The witch could tell she was mulling the words over in her head. Idly, she realized the girl’s eyes were a brilliant green.

“Why are you here?” She asked again.

Illumira didn’t know. She couldn’t answer that. The girl waited for a response. She looked inside herself at the magic within her soul, thinking.

“Perhaps I’m here to give you a choice.” Illumira realized as she said the words that they were true. They locked eyes again. The girl’s gaze was piercingly intelligent.

Abruptly, she turned away. “Wedding or witch? Wedding or witch, wedding or witch, wedding or witch.” The girl began to pace around the room, muttering the words to herself.

Illumira was a patient witch. She could and would wait forever if she needed to.

“Are witches evil?” There the girl went with her questions again.

“Are humans evil?” Illumira countered.

“Are witches human?” She asked, eyes blazing.

“More or less.”

“Those aren’t answers!”

Illumira smiled. “Magic sustains us, and is far kinder than the human reliance on mere flesh and bone. And as to the question of our morality… Well, we don’t kidnap children to eat or use in rituals, despite what you all may think of us. Many of my sisters actually use magic to make a difference, whether they be guardians of the forest, bringers of the rain, or something else.”

“Would I be a witch?”

“If you had the aptitude.”

“Define aptitude.” She was sharp.

“A spark of magic in your soul.” At the girl’s confused look, she continued. “There really is no easier way to explain it: some people have it, and others don’t. I can teach you all you need to know, but without the initial spark, I cannot grow a flame.” Was she really considering this?

“Do I have… a spark?”

“I think so.”

“Then I choose witch.” There was a steely resolve to the girl that hadn’t been there before.

“And what if I don’t?” Illumira couldn’t resist teasing her slightly.

“Then WHY ARE YOU HERE?” The witch laughed quietly. She couldn’t help but notice how cute the girl was when she was frustrated.

“Do not worry your pretty little head.” There was a note of indignation in response to that statement. “What, you don’t like being called pretty? And I was only joking.”

The girl sighed. “I’d rather be valued for my mind than my looks. But that’s all anyone sees. I could have been the shrewdest Hofkaufmann in the King’s court. But that’s not the role I’m supposed to play in this life.”

“And now I ask you. Who are you really? What do you want to be?”

“My name is Corrine Albrecht. I am seventeen years of age. And I want to be free of this life.”

“Well. It’s a good thing I found you when I did, Corrine.” The witch was concerned. Her name was just as pretty as she was.

She averted her eyes from the witch, the only betrayal of how troubled she truly had been.

“Well then, we have a few formalities to take care of.” Illumira straightened. “Do you, Corrine Albrecht, wish to be my apprentice?”

“Yes.”

“Then you must swear an oath of allegiance and apprenticeship. Here is what you will say: ‘I promise on my magic that I, Corrine Albrecht, will in the future be faithful to the witch, Illumira, never cause her harm and will observe my allegiance to her completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit. I promise that as an apprentice I will learn to the best of my abilities, use my magic responsibly, and never reveal the secrets of my master.’” She looked at Corrine questioningly. The girl nodded.

Illumira took Corrine’s hand, and whispered an enchantment, emblazoning a pale purple rune upon her skin. To the girl’s credit, she did not pull away. The witch mirrored the same rune on her own hand in a dark green, and looked back up at Corrine.

"I promise on my magic that I, Corrine Albrecht, will in the future be faithful to the witch, Illumira, never cause her harm and will observe my allegiance to her completely against all persons in good faith and without deceit. I promise that as an apprentice I will learn to the best of my abilities, use my magic responsibly, and never reveal the secrets of my master."

There was a bright flash of light, and each felt a warm tingling sensation where the rune was. The runes glowed for a few seconds, and then faded until they were barely noticeable.

“It is done. We should leave this place.”

“But… how?”

“Why, we shall use a bit of magic, my dear apprentice. Have you ever ridden on a broomstick before?”

Corrine opened her mouth, and closed it again.

“I had thought not. Now gather anything of absolutely paramount sentimental value that you wish to take with you. The rest is replaceable.”

The girl froze for a minute, and then walked over to her bed. Lifting up a pillow, she took a black, leatherbound journal, a small stuffed fox, and a folded piece of paper, and hugged them to her chest. With a wave of her hand, Illumira summoned a traveling cloak from its place near the door, and gave it to Corrine, who put it on. Sliding her items into its large pocket, she walked back over to where the witch was standing.

Another whispered word of magic, and the hawthorne broom was full-sized again. Illumira let it go, and it hovered just outside the window, waiting for the inevitable journey.

Illumira showed the girl how to get on the broom behind her, and after some trepidation on Corrine’s part, they were ready to fly. The witch kicked off, and they were flying over the streets of Ziemetshausen once more.

She could feel Corrine’s excitement as they soared through the night. Her death grip on the witch had lessened, and the two fell into a comfortable silence. Corrine’s embrace was warm, and not altogether unpleasant.

Illumira allowed herself a smile. She had never considered it, but was nonetheless excited at the prospect of taking on an apprentice. Illumira was young herself, only twenty-one years of age, but she had been a full-fledged witch for nearly a decade. Perhaps it was time enough for her to take on an apprentice.

But it was flying by the moon that Illumira realized the most important thing: her magic was once again content.

End of Act I

“Corrine, dear. I’m back from the capital.”

Corrine looked up from her potion, and smiled as Illumira entered through the door. She had been at the forest dwelling for four months as the attractive young witch’s apprentice. Her magic had awakened within a fortnight after her arrival, and she had been dutifully learning spells and rituals ever since then.

The house they lived in was built into the side of a hill, the door carved into a tree. It was warm, cozy and always smelled like the crackling of fall leaves. They made potions in one corner, stacked cauldrons and stored ingredients in another. Bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with old tomes and manuscripts. Even though there were no windows, the house was full of light. And life.

Hex, Illumira’s tiny black cat, padded over to greet his mistress. “Hello Hex.” Illumira bent down and scooped him up, scratching behind his ears. She set down her parcels and hung her cloak by the door.

“Corrine, we need to talk.” She had rarely ever heard her sound so serious. The time she had been with Illumira had been a dream come true; the witch was patient, observant, knowledgeable, and had a reasonable explanation for every request she made of Corrine. As the witch's apprentice, she was able to learn until her heart was content about everything from magic to math, high runes to history, potions to politics.

“What can I do for you, Illy?” And that was the other thing: Illumira refused for Corrine to call her masteress or mistress, dubbing the terms too stuffy and preposterous. Instead, she preferred Illy, the nickname her old masteress had given her. The nickname reminded Corrine of grass, and rivers, and freedom. She was direct and genuinely polite, two things that no one in the court had ever been.

Yes, Illumira was like no one else Corrine had ever met. She was confident, intelligent, self-assured, beautiful… She made Corrine wonder about what it would be like to live in the small forest house with her forever.

“There has been an… interesting announcement stapled to every town noticeboard in the entire Land of Dargwald.” Illumira gazed at Corrine unwaveringly, her striking eyes snapping her back to reality. “This curious epitaph has been put out by Prince Dietrich himself. It seems that he claims that his bride-to-be has… disappeared.”

Now Corrine looked at anywhere other than the witch’s face.

"This in itself was extraordinary enough, but it seems - look at me when I'm talking to you, this isn't the high court where you can play mind games with me. It seems that there is another Corrine Albrecht running around, who looks quite similar to you."

Her eyes quickly found their way back to the ground. She felt a familiar sickness churning in her stomach.

"One could imagine how annoyed I was to find this out today. I said to myself, 'My apprentice would tell me if there was something this important that I needed to know. My apprentice and I trust and respect each other enough not to keep secrets of this magnitude.'" She paused. "I would always, always prefer to hear information from you, rather than a random notice hanging outside of a bar."

"What does it matter if I'm running away from a betrothal to a bastard or a prince? The principle is the same." Corrine huffed. She did not like thinking about her life before the forest. But Illumira had been so good to her, and she felt immensely guilty for disappointing her.

"Hey," Illumira looked at her with intensity, as if reading her thoughts. "I don't want to force you to do something you don't want to do, but we need to discuss this at some point. For the past four months, I have turned a deliberate blind eye to the circumstances of your arrival. And now it seems the full story is imperative to our… unique situation."

For a long time, Corrine was silent, staring at her potion. She could feel the witch waiting for her, and knew that there was no way out of the conversation.

"I would not have married him no matter what," she finally said. "I refuse to marry a man I do not love, much less respect. He cares not for his people, cares not for his allies, he would even shun his own family if it would garner him fame and fortune.

"Do you know how I was chosen? Selected out of a hundred girls? I watched them all sent away, one by one, told they were too poor, too ugly, too imperfect. The prince thought I was like the rest of them, hanging on his every word. In reality, I was praying to whatever was up there that I would be the next girl sent away. That's how I learned that there is no god.

"He said that I was beautiful, that I would bear him a strong heir. These words that any other girl would die to hear were the words that made my spirit die a little. All he saw me as was an object. An enchanting object, but an object nonetheless.

"I kept waiting for the other girls to realize that there was no difference between the prince picking a prized goat from the market and this farce. Surely I couldn't be the only one who felt this way. But no one said anything. This was how it had been for ten tens of generations, and this was how it would always be.

"And when he told me, with his oily smile, that I had been bestowed a great honor, I wanted to retch. But I swallowed my pride and smiled back. His hand found its way to my waist, leading me like he was leading a goat, and he presented me back to my father.

"We were to be married by the end of the year, the day after my day of majority. I returned to our manor, and endured my aunties and cousins fawning over me, watched my uncles pat my father on the back. The moment I had a minute to myself, I cried as if I was a child again.

"I'm sorry for lying to you, I honestly didn't think it would matter. At least I hoped it wouldn't. But I guess it was stupid for me to ever think that they would give up on me this easily." Corrine felt small again. Just remembering the ways of the court disgusted her, making her feel every inch the worthless goat they all told her she was in so many words. "I'm so sorry."

Illumira pulled her apprentice into a hug. Corrine felt safe in her embrace, and rested her head on the witch's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered again, on the verge of tears. If Illumira let go, she wasn't sure if she could support herself.

"Oh, Corrine. I'm not angry. Of course I'm not angry." Her voice was soothing. "They hurt you. They didn't even know their system was poisoning you from the inside. But worst of all, if they did know, they wouldn't care."

They stayed like that, the witch supporting the girl. Hex perched on the counter, just out of sight, watching them.

“I care, Corrine. I'll always care." Illumira whispered the words into Corrine's hair.

She tilted her chin up so she could see the witch's hazel eyes. "Illy, I had dozens of suitors before the prince. I- I could never even like any of them, and for the longest time, I had no idea why. I thought at least one of them would maybe make me smile, make me realize that I could be happy as someone's wife."

Her voice was quiet and trembling. “And now, I think I didn’t like them because-” Corrine took a deep breath. “Because I think- I think I like you.” She had said it.

“And I know that I’m younger than you, but four years won’t matter much in eternity, and even though you could probably never feel the same way anyway-” The witch lifted a hand, stopping her babbling mid-sentence. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid… Corrine fought to maintain eye contact. It had been one of the first lessons she had learned in the court: eye contact determined position; those that looked away last had all the power.

Illumira’s eyes scanned Corrine’s face, as if she was searching for something. Even though the witch’s carefully constructed gaze remained blank, it was as if an entire story was playing out behind her eyes.

“You know… there are rules against this sort of thing.” Illumira finally spoke in barely a whisper. "Rules that were put in place so that mistakes wouldn't be made. Rules to prevent this… exact scenario." She appeared to still be thinking. "Corrine, you are not yet the human age of majority."

Corrine couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She was dimly aware that she would be eighteen in five months. Her wedding had been scheduled for the day after.

"Yet you are no longer quite human. And the age of majority for a witch is sixteen." Illumira's stare was still void of expression.

"Do not tell me that this is but a joke, Corrine. If you are… attempting to toy with my emotions, I will be… beyond furious."

Corrine nodded at the beautiful woman, a glimmer of hope easing the sickness in her stomach. There was a story there, but she couldn't muster the energy to be curious right now.

"Say it if you mean it." A challenge. A final, halfhearted defense.

"I love you, Illumira." This time there was no hesitation in her voice.

The witch's smile was instant and brilliant, lighting up the entire room. Corrine grinned back, weak-kneed, and happier than she could ever remember being. If Illy happened to let go, Corrine would definitely fall now.

She pressed her forehead to Corrine's. "I love you too, my dear." And with that, Illumira kissed her for the first, and most certainly not last time.

The little forest dwelling was much the same as it had always been, but to the three inhabitants, it was as if everything had changed. The house was just a little warmer, a little brighter, a little more full of laughter. The newfound happiness of the two witches was tangible, shielded from the world outside Dargwald Forest. It was a house filled with sweetness, with togetherness. It was a house filled with love.

But their love could not take down the notices from the notice boards, nor could it stop the capital guard from searching for their lost princess-to-be. And the days grew shorter and Corrine's day of majority drew closer, the prince began to wonder. Surely no girl would willingly run from him? No, his bride must have been taken. And there was only one group of people within the land of Dargwald who would ever commit such a heinous crime…

End of Act II

They were in a clearing in the middle of Dargwald forest. It had been another four months that Corrine had been in the woods. An impossibly better four months.

llumira had prepared Corrine for what to expect for her first annual coven gathering. But Corrine could tell that the witch was nervous. For what though, she had no idea.

The forest was shrouded in mist. The trees swayed in the wind. Other witches had started to gather, and they stood by the edge of the clearing.

North, South, East, and West. Northeast, Southeast, Northwest, Southwest.

As the witches of the Northwest Forest, Illumira and Corrine stood by their cardinal direction and waited. The forest wasn’t exactly silent. While there was an audible whisper of the leaves and creaking of branches, no birds sang. Even the footsteps against the pine needle carpet, lining the forest floor, were silent. As if the forest was holding its breath…

With a bright blue flash, a witch dressed in royal blue and silver appeared in the center of the clearing. She slowly looked around the circle, passing her gaze over the witches assembled. Her bright red hair was striking.

“That’s Magisteria Serafina. She was appointed to live in the central forest and run the proceedings neutrally.” Illumira leaned over and whispered to Corrine.

“Are there often disagreements?” She whispered.

“I know we’ve discussed and analyzed most of the major disputes in coven gatherings, but arguments are rather uncommon these days.” Illumira turned forward, waiting. “These meetings have evolved to become respectfully cordial.”

The Magisteria knelt down on the ground in the center. Muttering an incantation, she lit a lantern with eerie blue light. Corrine knew that it signified the start of the gathering.

“Witches of the forest of Dargwald, you may enter the clearing of the sacred grove.”

The witches silently drifted closer to the center. Corrine thought that many of them looked wraithlike in their dark cloaks and hoods.

“Sisters. Welcome. We shall commence with the sharing of news.”

The silver haired witch of the North stepped forward. “The Great Cypress is well. Being the only cypress in the pines, it thankfully hasn’t attracted much attention. All is well in my parts of the pines and there is peace in the fog. Our community continues to grow; we of the North now number six. My sister has taken on a young apprentice who will serve us well.” She gestured to a smaller cloak, standing a few heads below the others. “This is my summary.”

The Northeastern witch strode forward next, removing her hood. “All Borders are quiet. I have discovered a swamp in the borders that has an abundance of frogs and have used this to befriend the wolves of the Northeast. The three of us continue to use the properties of lupinewart in our potions. Relations with the human civilization at our border were going quite well, but they are… recently agitated.”

Magisteria Serafina nodded. “Yes, Aurelia. We will discuss that later.”

The Northeastern witch bowed in acknowledgement to the rest of the gathering. “Then this is my summary.”

The Western witch rose. “The woods are a secretive place with many things to be learned. I continue to improve the magic of the East by finding direction in the rising sun. The aurumine foxes have successfully had kits. I am hopeful that their population will continue to grow in number. This is my summary.”

Corrine was unsurprised when the Southeast delegation spoke next. “Under a boulder, black mold grows in our territory. If any of you are low on the stocks, I will trade some for Western salt cane. Our trio continues to brew potions, and help with the human harvest. The borderlands respect and appreciate us even with the new order from the crown. At least some humans believe in our innocence.” She glared around the circle pointedly. Illumira clenched her hands into fists. “This is my summary.”

The witches continued to speak. “The climate of the South grows warm in the summer. We have found a rare patch of Aridbloom in our territory. We shall continue to cultivate it. The songbirds are intelligent messengers and bring news from the southern reaches of the kingdom. It seems that the port cities have discovered a new country. The Crown is deciding their next move as we speak. This is my summary.”

“The twilight woods of the Southwest are as dark as ever. The humans have taken to coming in on dares, and each time, I direct them out. They still believe that our small society will eat their children, and are ignorant of the help we give them. Our society of twelve continues to grow plants from the dread soil. This is my summary.”

“As you know, I am well in my land. My bat continues to serve me well. I have a suitable amount of Swampsludge. If anyone needs some I am low on newt’s feet and powdered mammoth horn. The humans grow even more suspicious of my tangle. They build closer to the edge each day. I fear that they may someday decide to torch it, but they are manageable for now. This is my summary.”

Magisteria Serafina nodded seriously at the Southeastern witch. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. We will aid you if the need arises.” She turned to them next.

Illumira stepped forward confidently. But only Corrine could see that underneath the facade, she still was nervous. Hex padded up to Corrine; she hadn't even known that the small cat was following them. He sat down, leaning against her ankle, mewing forlornly. She placed a finger to her lips to signify that now was not the time. She glanced back at Illy just as she began to speak.

"My lands have been well. The humans at the border still largely ignore my forest and exaggerate the stories of witches. Most notably is my new apprentice I have taken on. We continue to keep the order of the forest and-"

"Illy, Illy, Illy," Serafina had interrupted as politely as she could. Illumira fell silent. "You weren't really going to gloss over the subject of your… apprentice, were you?"

"Of- of course not, Magisteria."

"Where is she from?"

"The capital city. Ziemetshausen, Magisteria."

"How old is she?"

"Seventeen, Magisteria."

There was some stirring among the witches. "Isn't that rather old, Illy?"

"She is more than ready to be formally examined. In my eyes, she is a full-fledged witch. I merely thought it would be more of a courtesy to present her first." Corrine could tell that somehow, she didn't know how, this was going badly.

"What is this apprentice's name?"

Illumira was silent for a minute. Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Her hands, hanging by the sides of her cloak, were still clenched tightly.

"Illumira Ravenor, what is your apprentice's name?"

"Corrine. Corrine Albrecht."

There was gasp from the witches, and then they began talking urgently. Corrine could make out various voices shouting, all of their eyes on her. Watching her. Except for Illy, who stared at the ground, furiously clenching and unclenching her fists.

"SILENCE." Serafina's eyes flashed, and she whirled around with a dramatic flutter of her cloak. "Illy, I cannot imagine what was going through your mind. I know you are young, but I am… disappointed."

"I would apologize, but I'm not exactly sorry."

The witches gasped again. Illumira rolled her eyes and continued.

"Magisteria, there is nothing to be done. She has been my apprentice since before the proclamation was made and has taken the oath of apprenticeship."

Serafina looked at the witch with a mixture of disapproval and anger. "The Prince has threatened to march on the Dargwald Forest if she is not returned to her place by his side. You have disregarded our order and made liars out of all of us. She cannot stay here."

"Magisteria, she has taken the oath. It is unbreakable."

"Even the unbreakable can be broken." The witches fell completely silent. Illumira took a deep breath, and let out slowly, a frustrated smile on her lips. Corrine was frozen to the ground. She could barely move.

Serafina began to walk around the circle, slowly. Impactfully. As if everyone wasn't already hanging on her every word.

"Illumira, you are the last of your Northwestern kind. Nearly a decade ago, you entered this clearing uncertain and afraid. And oh so very young. You came with a story of your community dying, you told the tale of a Fenrir entering the forest. Everyone was slain. Except you."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Annoyance colored her tone.

Serafina continued as if she didn't hear her.

"As the last survivor, we appointed a young girl as the mother witch of the Northwestern Woods. A girl who had looked death in the eye and watched the blood of her friends, her family, mix with the blood of a monster."

"You had no choice; I was the only successor to the Northwestern Magic."

"Perhaps. The magic of their sparks joined with yours as they have for generations, as they will continue to do so.

"You were tasked with rebuilding what had once been. Expanding your society of one. And I am pleased that you are finally ready for this task. But Corrine Albrecht does not belong in these woods. I will not permit her to stay."

"Corrine." Illumira's voice was quiet and gentle as she turned to her apprentice. "Is it your wish to go back to Ziemetshausen, and marry the Prince?"

She could barely choke out a word. "Never."

"I stand by that decision." A mild tone.

"It is not your decision to make!" The choice was simple: Corrine or their way of life. The witches stood behind the Magisteria, and neither Corrine or Illumira could blame them.

"I…" she trailed off into silence. The clearing held still.

"Then the breaking will commence. And as an additional precaution, Corrine's magic must be neutralized."

"Neutralized?" The question came from the surrounding witches, but Corrine was screaming it in her mind as well. This can't be happening.

"Yes. Her spark must re enter a dormant state so neither she hurts society nor society hurts her." Serafina's logic was sound, making Corrine respect her, despite the circumstances.

Illumira turned to her apprentice, her best friend, her one true love. Eight months of joy and an eternity of sorrow was conveyed in a single second. Closing her eyes, she turned back to the witches.

"I can't let you do this." She looked down. "I can't let you do this." The second time was a whisper, but Corrine still heard it.

"There is no choice." There was honest regret in the Magisteria’s voice.

As if in a trance, Illumira reached into her cloak, and pulled out a silver dagger. She held it in her hands, feeling the even weight of it.

"Illy," a flicker of confusion crossed Serafina's face. "Do you think that you can fight off all of us? Even if your apprentice helps, we outnumber you twentyfold."

She continued to stare at the dagger in her hand, thinking.

"I will not fight."

Illumira straightened up. She had a look of calm clarity on her face.

"Corrine. Listen to me, and never forget what I am about to say." She still held the dagger. She did not move.

"You were the best thing that happened to me. The light returning to my life. And I cannot let you return to a land, a life, where you will forever be taken for granted. I will always love you, more than you could ever know." And with that, she plunged the dagger into her chest.

Corrine screamed, running towards Illumira. She caught the witch as she slumped to the ground. Cradling Illy in her arms, Corrine fought back the tears. It was bad. She tried to stop the blood, but it spread across Illumira's chest like a crimson bloom.

And then Serafina and two other witches were by her side, trying to steady them. She could hear the urgency in their voices, but could barely make out what they were saying. Her head was spinning, there was a ringing in her ears.

Illumira laughed. It was the exhausted laugh of a madwoman. The laugh of someone about to die.

"You can't save me, the blade was poisoned! My spark and all of the sparks will flow into the one person who has Northwestern Magic."

Serafina exchanged a look with the other two witches and the three stood up, backing away.

Corrine was numb. "Why?"

Illy leaned into her and smiled. "My dear Corrine, I've already lived a life. Maybe it's been filled with sorrow, but it was a life well lived. It's your turn to live a life of freedom."

"But it's not a life without you." She choked on a sob. "You can't leave me."

"Oh, Corrine." She sighed. "It was the only way. I'll miss you too."

"Please don't go."

"I love you." She used all her strength to reach up, and kiss Corrine. "I love you," she said again.

They were her final words.

Corrine couldn't even cry. She just held the lifeless body of the woman she had loved in a daze. Her mind tried to make sense of it all. Illy… dead? What just happened? It couldn't be… real?

Her heart ached, she felt nauseous. Her brain was on fire. Corrine's life had become a living hell in a single hour.

Hex padded up to them. Sniffing his mistress's cloak, he let out a pathetic mewl. He lay down, curling into a ball, his tail covering his nose.

The witches in the clearing were silent, shocked sadness permeating the air.

She had been so close to having everything she had ever wanted.

Her eyes found their way up to Serafina's face. The Magisteria was staring down at Corrine with a grave expression. A single tear traveled down her face, the only contrast to the blank slate she presented.

"Hail Corrine, Mother of the Northwestern Forest."

The abandoned apprentice wanted to scream.

End of Act III

There wasn't much else to do but return to the forest dwelling. Illumira's body had faded, returning to magic. Corrine couldn't believe she was gone.

She lit a fire in the hearth and sat down on the warm earth in front of it. Hex curled into her lap, and the two sat in silence, feeling a hole where the third of their number had been. They sat there for a long while, until Corrine couldn’t take it anymore. The walls were closing in on her, she was suffocating in memories.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat, and stood.

“Hex, I’m leaving.”

He looked at her, cocking his head curiously.

“I’m… leaving the forest.”

Hex seemed to frown.

“If I stay, the Prince will march on the forest against the witches. And I know that Illumira gave me… a life of freedom, but I can be free in multiple ways.”

He still looked at her.

“Where am I going?” She sighed, a forceful exhale. “I was thinking at first of going South. Catch a boat out of the harbor, and never look back. Travel to one of the new lands the port cities discovered. But then I thought of a better plan. A worse plan, honestly. I’m going back to Ziemetshausen.”

Hex hissed, angrily. Corrine’s lips curved into an empty smile.

“I know. Ironic isn’t it?”

She had packed all her belongings in the pockets of her cloak. The same cloak she had worn the night of her departure. She put the fire out, and turned to leave, taking one last glance at the house that had become her home.

Corrine hesitated, and then reverently lifted three books from Illumira’s work table. They were once her three prized possessions, her favorite tomes of magic. One book of rituals, one book of potions, and one book of spells. A quick incantation shrunk them, and they fit in her pocket.

She took a broom, and closed the door. A soft mewl told her that Hex had followed her out, and was trotting by her feet. She crouched down next to him.

“I cannot promise you anything if you follow me. You know that.”

He followed anyway.

By the edge of the forest, she scooped him up, and flew on broomstick to the capital city. She landed, and walked the rest of the way, and knocked on a door. She was back.

~~~
Her parents had made a fuss, but she had thought about this before she returned. Corrine had prepared herself, and spun a simple yarn.

She had gone out for a walk the night of her disappearance, and before she knew it, her feet had taken her outside the city. She fell in a ditch and hit her head, losing her memory. She wandered among the towns, wondering about her purpose, until the posters had gone up. She realized that it was her face on them, the lost bride, and started to remember. She had all her memories back now, and would marry the prince in one month’s time as she was supposed to.

People would believe anything if they wanted to believe it desperately enough.

Wedding preparations were made in a hurry, and Corrine quickly found herself in a corset and wedding dress that weighed almost as much as she did. Her handmaidens gushed over her, tying flowers into her hair.

“Aren’t you excited? You’re going to marry Prince Dietrich!”

Corrine affixed a bland smile to her face, and murmured simple responses. Yes, she was excited. No, she wasn’t nervous. She was so lucky, so grateful, so blessed.

FInally, she couldn’t take it anymore, and asked for a moment alone. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Beautiful, but alone.

She turned away, burning with self-loathing, instead turning to look out the window. A raven flew past. If she squinted hard enough, she could almost imagine it was Illumira wishing her well. Illumira Ravenor. What Corrine wouldn’t give for ten more minutes with her.

“Please forgive me, my love. I could never love another, but this is… necessary.” Hex twined himself around her ankles, hiding in her wedding train.

An hour later, she walked down the aisle, her father giving her away. She spoke vows she really didn’t mean, and took a new name like her husband’s property. He kissed her chastely to symbolize love she didn’t feel, and she wanted to hurl.

Slipping him a quick potion later that night took care of all marital obligations for the duration of their relationship. A quick accident about a year later found her crowned queen. And a ritual using magic itself made Corrine pregnant with an heir to the throne.

The queen mother, Zaria, was kind to Corrine. She was the only one besides Illy that had understood what it was like to want to feel like more than a goat. The two became great friends, and so she alone was spared.

~~~
On the one year anniversary of Illumira’s death, the witches met again for their annual coven gathering. The witch from the Northwest was… conspicuously absent.

Just when the Magisteria was about to grow concerned, an owl flew into the clearing with a letter:

Dear Magisteria Serafina,

It’s been a year since we met. Ironic, isn’t it? A year since the worst day of my life.

You’re welcome, by the way. I left the forest and therefore made sure the men of the crown didn’t interfere in your affairs.

What’s new in the Northwestern Forest? Not much. It’s currently uninhabited since the last Witch Mother tragically died. But you know this. It's probably a little more overgrown, a little more wild since I last saw it.

Illumira taught me many things: potions, spells, the value of freedom. Freedom. Your personal truth. What makes you happy and fulfilled. The satisfaction after a long day of doing work that you love. I know now that the choice is what makes life worth living.

So don’t worry. I’m Queen now. And I will make it possible for everyone to live a life of freedom. For everyone to be loved. For magic to be openly appreciated.

I have just learned that I am going to have a daughter to continue the legacy of magic. She is not bound to the crown, but to the force that connects us all. I will do everything in my power to make sure that she will grow up loved and free.

You may have suspected it on that night, but Illumira also [ink blots] taught me to love. [more ink blots] And you took that away from me when you made her choose between her life and my freedom. Which hurt. It still hurts. More than anything else in my life.

I do respect your decision. After a year, I still can’t bring myself to blame you, no matter how much I want to. Instead, I channel my pain into writing the legislation that will change Dargwald

I will not return to the forest for many years. But I will ensure the Northwestern Magic will pass to someone worthy in time.

Farewell, Serafina. I’m sorry this letter is a mess. Watch out for Fenrirs.

Forever in Magic,
Queen Corrine

Serafina smiled sadly. Corrine would never know how much she regretted that night. How much she missed Illy as well. She had been like a daughter to Serafina; but that was a time when she had visited the Northwest often. That was the time when her love had been alive.

~~~
She gave birth seven months later. Her daughter’s name was Princess Mira, short for Illumira Zaria Serafina. She went on to have many adventures of her own in the better world her mother had created. But that’s another story.

End.

I had a recurring dream about a forest of fog and witches. A curiosity.

This is the third attempt at placing a story in that forest, and has been... more successful than the last two.

I had a friend beta read this for me. It was originally going to be a mentor-apprentice fic, but she suggested an alternative:

"******, I know you don't write romance. but what if Illy and Corrine were in love? I think it would be more impactful in the end..."

So I changed it, and had some fun. This is my first romance, so be kind.

And guess what? She still hasn't read the final product. Cuz I'm mean like that. :)

The first four entries were from a diary I started and abandoned after a week. I changed ten words and it fit my purposes perfectly.

I was bullied through my formative years like the main character. Don't bully people. It's not cool.