by Bianca Mckay
"Grab her," Someone shouted, their booming voice ringing in her ear.
Agatha turned her head, not slowing her pace, and saw that the crowd had moved closer as she spent all that time zigzagging in her foolish hopes to stay upright. Now, it didn't matter, because she would be caught and brutalized and likely burned at the stake. Goddess, damn that stupid woman and her brute of a husband. All of this over prejudice against witches, against magic. She would get her retribution, make that vile couple pay for their scorn and lies. This was the problem with kingdoms that discriminated against magic, their own fears and jealousy turned them into something far worse than the beasts they thought witches and warlocks to be.
A meaty hand landed on her arm, snatching it roughly back. Agatha yelped in terror, digging her feet into the damp ground as she snatched her arm back away from her capture. She had never had such an appreciation for the sweltering heat as she did when the hand slid from her sweat-slicked arm. Not a second later, branches and brush slapped her in the face and snagged on her clothing. A hysterical sound escaped her, somewhere between a sob and insane laughter. She had made it to the forest, and here she could hide far from anyone who dared come after her.
A thick, ancient oak tree stood to her left, and she immediately dashed over and began to climb.
"I'm not going in there," A man shouted, his voice pitched high.
"You believe all that rubbish, do you, about the forest being haunted?" Another questioned incredulously.
"Well, Conrad, if you don't believe it, then you go in after her," The other man replied.
Agatha snickered as she climbed, her body as tired as her mind. She remained right on the cusp of hysteria, torn between laughing at the men who were not brave enough to enter the forest, and sobbing about her misfortune on this dreadful day. She grasped limb after limb, nimbly climbing until she reached a canopy of copper and yellow leaves. Her heart still beat frantically, and as she took her perch on a branch, her fingers wrapping tightly around the trunk of the tree, the tears began to fall.
Before the stars lit the night sky above the forest canopy, the voices of her pursuers faded into the night as they abandoned their mission and assumed her to be halfway to another kingdom by now. Agatha stayed hidden for long hours, through cramping legs and a numbing rear, until the night sky was pitch black, and she had run out of tears. Relatively certain that it was safe to venture from her hiding spot, Agatha started her descent, her limbs shaking from exertion. Her footfalls were silent, the forest a well-known area for her to move with stealth. Cautiously, she peered through the foliage at the edge of the forest, her heart skipping a beat at shadows that turned out to be nothing more than owls flying through the sky, hunting prey scurrying by on the ground.
With no sign of the crowd, or any stragglers left behind in the hopes to capture her if she left the security of the woods, Agatha rummaged through her pack. Her hand closed around a long, jagged crystal, and she smiled a little, her eyes alight with excitement. Pulling the crystal from her pack, she cradled it in her open palm gently, her thoughts on the woman who had tried to condemn her to death. With her body nearly vibrating with anger, Agatha whispered a spell.
"Goddess, grant me the power to find,
The woman who chose to scorn rather than be kind,
Then show me the way to the one who has the least,
One gains riches, the other a beast."
The pink, jagged, crystal laid flat in the palm of her hand, spinning rapidly before stopping at a slight tilt to the left. Agatha smirked and started walking briskly in the direction the crystal pointed. It took fifteen minutes to arrive at the town just northwest of the marketplace. The streets were paved with cobblestone; the houses all quite large, painted grey, with pointed black roofs, all of which had smoke drifting from their chimneys. The crystal turned sharply to the right, bringing Agatha to the front stoop of a house with the curtains closed tightly, as though to shut the world out. Agatha walked right up to the front door, rapping her knuckles softly against the wood.
Footsteps approached the door from the other side, and she quickly gathered her magic in her hand, hitting Melvyn square in the chest as he opened the door. Melvyn flew backward, completely airborne, and crashed against a wall fifteen feet further into the home. Agatha stepped over the threshold and calmly closed the door behind her, grinning broadly at the sight of Melvyn struggling to bring himself up to his feet.
"I knew it." He sneered as he stood up.
Agatha chuckled a bit evilly at his words.
"There are few ways to know if a man is a coward, Melvyn. One of them is, of course, if he dares to put his hands on an innocent, be it child, woman, or man. Another is if he refuses to speak of his knowledge out of fear of persecution. The last is how quickly that man stops fighting for that in which he believes. You have managed to prove your cowardice in all of those ways today,"
Agatha said, her hand going into her pack as Melvyn glared at her.
"I will kill you," Melvyn roared.
"Yes, yes, sure you will, but for now, you will sleep," Agatha said, waving a dismissive hand.
Agatha pulled her hand out of her pack, raising it to her lips as Melvyn advanced on her. When he was directly in front of her, one fist raised to strike her, Agatha blew the blue powder she was holding in his face. She quickly sidestepped him as he fell face-first onto the floor. She walked down the hallway towards the room at the end, soft light escaping beneath the door.
"Surprise!" She shouted as she threw the door open, sending it crashing loudly against the wall behind it.
Hazel shot up in bed, satin sheets falling to her waist, revealing her pale, naked form. A cry came from a tiny crib situated against the wall beside the bed, and Agatha walked over to the screaming child.
"Such a beautiful babe. A pity her parents are such horrid people," Agatha said conversationally.
"Get away from her, witch," Hazel hissed.
Hazel may have been trying to act fearless, but her wide eyes and trembling hands showed just how scared she was, and Agatha reveled in that fear.
"In a moment," Agatha replied. "First, I wish to give her my blessing and your punishment."
Hazel jumped from the bed, but Agatha was prepared, sending out a blast of magic that tinted the room a brilliant shade of purple as it knocked Hazel back on the bed, holding her there immobile. The baby quieted, soothed, and entertained by the bright light illuminating the room. Agatha chuckled down at the babe and turned her back on the paralyzed woman.
"For you, Hazel, I think I will make your life an unending nightmare of embarrassment and ridicule, as you found it so enjoyable to do so to me today," Agatha said, her eyes on the child who gazed up at her.
Muffled sounds came from the bed, sounding as though Hazel's mouth was stuffed with fabric. Agatha laughed and shook her head.
"You get no say in this, as you did not allow me to defend myself," Agatha said cheerfully. "Now listen closely."
Agatha spun her finger in the air, sending what looked like sparkling purple dust around the room.
"Tomorrow, you will wake up, and everything you hold dear will be taken from you. Your husband will lose his job, only for your sister's husband to take his place. You will lose your status, your home, your materialistic show of wealth, and your sister will become the envied, wealthy wife of a banker. As for your child, she will remain healthy and beautiful..."
Agatha's smile widened when Hazel's shoulders sagged in relief.
"...but she will forever be filled with feral rage, a rage that only magic or true love can tame. To accompany her rage and to fuel your shame, every full moon, she will change. The beauty will become beast and have claws, fur, four legs, and sharp teeth.” She finished.
There was a blinding flash of purple light, and Agatha stood grinning wickedly at Hazel, who was no longer magically bound to the bed, but perhaps frozen in fear.
Agatha turned to walk out the door before a sudden thought hit her, and she
turned back around.
"Oh, and don't forget the wee beastie will eat meat," She said to a stunned looking Hazel.
With those parting words, Agatha took her leave, kicking Melvyn square in the jaw as she passed him on her way out the front door. Agatha hummed happily as she left the town and entered a modest village closer to the edge of the forest, skirting around the huts and blazing fire pits. Not a single soul noticed her as she made her way into the woods and back to her home.
When she arrived at her small cottage, she started a fire, put a cauldron full of water over the flames, and imagined the hot soak in the tub she was about to take. She imagined tomorrow, telling today's tale to her friends. She imagined the horror on Hazel's face when the curse destroyed everything in her life that mattered. But there was one thing Agatha could never have imagined...
And that was for her to find a familiar beautiful babe abandoned in the woods just three days later.
Two: Certain Truths
“Momma, why can’t I go to the festival?”
“Because, my beauty, the men of Vildaheim feed on the flesh of the young.”
Agatha stood at the stove, flipping thick slices of bacon, the grease popping as the cottage filled with the mouthwatering aroma of spices and smoky meat. The small wooden table was already set with earthenware plates and intricately carved wooden utensils. As the bacon fried, Agatha set a tall clay pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice on the table, smiling to herself as she heard footsteps approaching.
"I knew you would wake for a hot breakfast," Agatha said, turning back to the stove.
"Good morning, Momma," replied a feminine, raspy voice.
Agatha took the bacon out of the frying pan, adding slices to a platter that was already stacked with sausage and venison patties, chunks of beef coated in a brown, savory gravy, and fried eggs. She set the plate on the table and took her seat, just as the young woman sat across from her. Nearly nineteen years had passed since that fateful night that brought Aribelle into her life permanently. Agatha had been picking berries in the moonlight, her only thought being to gather enough to make pies the next morning when she heard the unmistakable cry of a child. It took ten minutes to find Aribelle, wrapped in a blanket, hidden amongst bushes, far enough away that even the closest villages would not hear the child. Agatha had half a mind to return to Hazel and Melvyn and teach them another lesson. Still, she could not bear bringing Aribelle anywhere near the very people who had abandoned her without care of her wellbeing and safety.
"I need to discuss something with you, Aribelle," Agatha said, worrying her bottom lip.
"It will have to wait, Momma. I am sparring with Wren this morning, she is beginning to piss me off, so I've decided today is a day for lessons," Aribelle replied as she piled food on her plate, an involuntary growl rumbling in her throat.
The cup in Aribelle's hand shattered, sending shards of clay clattering to the floor. Agatha gasped softly, eyeing the glowing crystals embedded in the stone walls of the cottage. None of them were dimmed, but they would need to be magically recharged if Aribelle was having issues controlling her rage. Agatha observed Aribelle picking up the shattered pieces of the cup. Aribelle kept her jaw clenched and huffed out long breaths through her nose. When Aribelle turned her back on the table, crossing through the kitchen to throw the clay pieces in thrash, Agatha dug in her pocket and quickly dashed some sulann over Aribelle's food.
The sulann was one of Agatha's greatest creations, which she perfected by the age of twelve; the salt was mixed with a calming draught then left to dry and crystalize over three weeks. Those who consumed the sulann would experience instant waves of calmness so strong that a man in the midst of committing murder could have a few grains placed on his tongue, and he would sit down, apologize, and make his victim a cup of tea. Thus, the calming salt had become a popular staple with royalty and common folk with adolescents. However, as with any great invention, another discovered how to make the calming salt and began selling it for far less than the amount of coin Agatha required.
"I'll go down to The Pit with you, dear," Agatha said with false cheer as Aribelle approached the table.
Putting on a cheerful smile, hoping to mask the wariness in her eyes, Agatha watched with bated breath as Aribelle sat down. Aribelle hesitated as she looked down at her food, and for a moment, Agatha's heart stuttered as suspicion entered Aribelle's gaze, which remained locked on her plate. Tense seconds passed before Aribelle dug into her food, shoveling so much in her mouth that it was a wonder she didn't choke. Agatha relaxed, her smile turning true, and she nibbled on her own breakfast.
"That'd be nice," Aribelle replied through a mouthful of food.
"Fantastic, you finish up, and I'll get this kitchen cleaned while you get dressed," Agatha said.
"Alright, Momma," Aribelle mumbled through her chewing.
A short while later, Aribelle had finished decimating the platter of meat and eggs and drank more than half of the juice before going to her room to change. Agatha waited until Aribelle's door clicked soundly shut before rushing around the kitchen, dining area, and den checking and recharging the crystals.
"Lenthwi," Agatha whispered for the fortieth time, watching the crystal closely as it glowed a bright purple before dimming to a dull shade, looking as innocent as a gem-encrusted into the stone walls.
Going about her daily morning chores, Agatha hurriedly sprinkled several grains of the sulann in Aribelle's water jug. For added measure, she was sure to pack several treats that were made with the same calming salt, wondering if she would soon need a potion to control Aribelle's rage. Aribelle had managed to control the beast within her, becoming capable of releasing it at will, rather than only during the full moon. The rage had always been a bigger problem. Agatha had scars on her face, arms, and legs from Aribelle's tantrums as a toddler, and more than once she had to cast a bubble of protection around herself to avoid objects thrown at her head. If the crystals were failing...well, that could mean that Aribelle's rage was outgrowing Agatha's power. Agatha tried to shake away her troubling thoughts, reassuring herself that there had not yet been a time when she could not eventually get Aribelle under control. She would not let today be the day that she failed to calm the beast within Aribelle; there was far too much at stake. The time had come for many changes to occur, and Agatha was prepared to put those changes into motion, but there was not a soul in their small kingdom of Jurot that would dare go against the beast.
"Let's go," Aribelle barked from the doorway, causing Agatha to start.
Agatha felt dread infuse her being as she looked to Aribelle standing in the doorway. Gone was the infant she rescued in the woods. Gone was the inquisitive young girl who's curious and incessant questions had landed her in trouble --and grayed many a hair on Agatha's head-- more often than not. Aribelle's beauty had morphed from childish innocence to a full-fledged woman; all five feet, eight inches of her form, was curvy and toned. Aribelle's eyes were the same striking shade of blue as her father's, her hair a dark chestnut like her mother's. Her features were soft and feminine; she had dark arched eyebrows, a pert nose, full pink lips, high cheekbones. Aribelle's leathers fit snugly against her frame, her sleeveless top showing an indecent amount of cleavage, and her pants and boots were covered in straps that held her daggers. Agatha gulped at the vision before her. This did not look to be a normal day of lessons and training. Aribelle looked like she was going to The Pit with the full intention of killing Wren.
"Momma!" Aribelle snapped.
Agatha snapped out of her trance, her worry for Wren's well-being distracting her from the fury burning in Aribelle's eyes, fiery anger that still burned, even after a dose of sulann and recharging of the crystals.
"So sorry, dear, I was just admiring your beauty," Agatha mumbled, grabbing the wicker basket full of snacks and a jug of both water and juice.
As the door closed behind them, Agatha drew her cloak tighter around her to ward off the chill. The gray sky above was jus
t visible through the canopy of trees, and a chilling mist covered the ground so thickly that they could not see their feet as they walked through the woods. Aribelle sighed loudly, causing Agatha to glance at her daughter from the corner of her eye. Aribelle was smiling, her shoulders relaxed, as was her gait. Agatha kept her face a mask of serenity as they walked, never showing how much it had always bothered her, knowing that the sound of scurrying animals and people alike was a soothing sound that lulled Aribelle into such a peaceful state.
Deeper into the forest, Agatha knew they were quickly approaching The Pit and snapped a low hanging branch from a nearby tree. If they were not careful in the mist, they would tumble down the steps or directly over the edge, and nobody fell a thousand feet without being gravely injured or dying.
"Never mind the stick, Momma, I can see perfectly fine," Aribelle said with a roll of her eyes.
"Oh?" Agatha asked, surprised. "When did you develop such keen eyesight?"
"About ten moons ago," Aribelle answered dismissively, pointing to the ground directly to her right. "Right here is where you will need to step down."
Agatha stepped forward, then realized that Aribelle had excluded herself from the directions.
"Wait, what do you mean where I will--"
A shrill scream of terror echoed through the forest as Aribelle leaped from the edge of The Pit. Despair and sorrow crippled Agatha, who fell directly to her knees, unable to stifle her sobs.
"My child! My child! Not my baby! Not my beauty," Agatha cried repeatedly.
"Goddess! Whatever is the matter, my dear Agatha?" A woman asked, rushing to Agatha's kneeling form, wrapping her tightly into a warm embrace.