The Secret of the Sacred Four

by E J Elwin

  Out of the imprisonment, and vicious abuse

  Out of the terror and out of the pain

  Out of injustice and innocence slain

  Magic shall rise

  Magic shall rise, from this heinous time

  Powers profound, gifts new and sublime

  Brewing within the earth, and above in the skies

  For hundreds of years, like blossoming butterflies

  Until a future age, many moons on

  When four witches live, and comes a new dawn

  Into their blood, the magic shall fly

  Marvelous gifts, death will they defy

  The secret to survive the stake, sidestep the stones, slip from the noose

  To defy drowning, to emerge from the lake like the graceful goose

  The secret to break from bondage, to flee the prison place

  To flout capture and torture, to spit in the butcher’s face

  Risen from sorrow and pain

  The Drowned Witch of water

  Of ocean and rain

  Born to be the witch who cannot drown

  Can breathe in the sea all the way down

  Can vanish at will, turn clear as a drop of water

  What a witch hunter cannot find, he cannot slaughter

  Risen from terror and fear

  The Stoned Witch of earth

  Of mountain and pier

  Born to defy an end by stoning

  No torn flesh or agonized moaning

  Stones will pass through her and she will walk through walls, just like a ghost

  No shackles or prison will hold her, a true freedom to boast

  Risen from defiance robust

  The Hanged Witch of air

  Of gale and gust

  Born to defy death by the gallows and noose

  Tie her in hanging rope and watch her break loose

  A witch with flair and a gift so rare, witch hunters beware

  She can fly without broomsticks, she is master of the air

  Risen from anger and ire

  The Burned Witch of fire

  Of candle and pyre

  Born to defy the flames of the stake

  To bear pain no other man could take

  From his bare hands, he shall command the power of flame

  Without a cauldron or crystal or spell to exclaim

  Born of unmagical parentage, an occurrence unique

  Magic shall leap across generations, and be at its peak

  In a village by the sea, the paths of the four will cross

  Each already having defied death, each coping with loss

  Amid whispering winds and flights of flickering fire

  Shall burst forth their gifts, a magical sight to admire

  Four lives will merge, a bond so deep

  With joy, the stars themselves will weep

  Keepers of magic, legends of lore

  Destined for battle, these witches four

  For as their star rises, so will new murder and gore

  A new threat against witches, a vile villain deplored

  Cavalries will come, boundaries will break, and worlds will bleed

  Terrors immense, but wonders too, our four at the lead

  So unto greatness these witches will ascend

  Brave and true, standing between us and our end

  Four by four, and of these be four

  Of tender years, yet they will roar

  Strong souls who will choose to fight

  Fierce hearts who will bring in light

  The witches to go beyond the door

  The warriors to fight the new war

  Champions of witches evermore

  Henceforth known as The Sacred Four

  “Wow,” said Sylvie and Hortensia together, just as I reached the final few words.

  We had all apparently read at the same speed, because Lizzie looked up too. “This was a story for children?” she asked.

  “Isn’t it great?” asked Jasper. He, Harriet, and Jessica had all been watching us intently as we read Ursula’s words.

  I was conflicted. On one hand, it was a pretty sensational piece of poetry. The gift of rhyming that Jessica told me all witches have, was on full display in Ursula’s prophecy. I understood why it had become a popular story for children. It read like a sort of nursery rhyme, exempting of course all the imagery of barbarity and execution. I was also struck by the many details Ursula had envisioned so long ago which had already come to pass: that the girls and I would meet in a town by the sea, that we would be dealing with loss, that the stars would weep, and even that there would be wind and fireflies when our powers finally showed themselves, which was clearly what ‘flights of flickering fire’ meant.

  On the other hand, it was all very morbid and extremely disturbing, a portent of doom told in rhyming verse. New murder and gore, a vile villain, the four of us standing between witch kind and its end… A new war… Could that all be referring only to the Brotherhood?

  “I mean… wow,” said Sylvie, her eyes scanning back over the text. “Master of the air!”

  She shot several feet into the air, and Hortensia, Lizzie, and I stepped back in surprise.

  “Whoa!” she said. She put out her hands as if she were swimming, like she had done in the trees behind the restaurant, and slowly hovered back down to the ground.

  “Master of the air, indeed!” said Harriet, looking mightily impressed. “I have never seen a witch do that without a broomstick. My own gift allows me to levitate other people but never myself.”

  “You’ll have to learn how to control these gifts, of course,” said Jessica. “You don’t want to be shooting up into the air as you’re walking through town…”

  “I can walk through walls…” said Hortensia in an awed voice. She looked down at the wooden table on which the book of Ursula’s prophecies sat, and walked right into it, not bumping into it as anyone else would have, but smoothly and effortlessly passing right through as if the thick wooden table were a mirage.

  “Cool!” said Sylvie, as Jasper made a whooping sound of amazement.

  “Well, it looks like you’ll get the hang of them pretty quickly,” said Jessica, amused.

  “Ha,” said Sylvie, “the hang of them.”

  I smiled. It was comforting to see how easily she and Hortensia were taking it all. Their breezy dispositions reminded me so much of both Connor and Harriet. Lizzie looked closer to how I felt.

  “What does it mean, the new war?” she asked uneasily.

  “Well, that’s the thing…” said Jessica, and Sylvie and Hortensia’s expressions sobered up a bit. “That’s your destiny, the purpose of the Sacred Four. Having lived through the Burning Times, Ursula then saw a new threat, right around now, rising at the same time as you. She doesn’t say precisely what it is, but I think we can all assume that the Brotherhood, which is actively pursuing you and dates back to the Burning Times, has something to do with it. Oh, and not to mention the psychotic traitor witch who was stalking us this evening.”

  She moved to one of the poofy couches, and Harriet and Jasper followed her. Sylvie, Lizzie, Hortensia, and I went after them. As soon as we sat down, our crystal glasses rose into the air.

  “More champagne?” asked Harriet. The four of us nodded and thanked her as a fresh bottle of champagne refilled our glasses. I took a sip and felt that pleasant uplifting sensation.

  “Can they really end witches?” I asked, the champagne bubbles tickling my throat. “It’s been long enough and we’re all still around, aren’t we?”

  “Remember when I told you,” said Harriet, “about our numbers declining?”

  I thought back to the first night we talked in her kitchen. She had said that one of her reasons for wanting to help bring Connor back was her fear that magic could soon be extinct from the world, and that she wanted to make the most of her abilities while she had the chance.

  “We’re at a critical point in our history,” she said. “Legions of people were killed during the
Burning Times, but most of them weren’t witches. In the past few months, the Brotherhood has tracked and killed more actual witches than they have in a long time. They may now be finally capable of wiping us out and, ironically, it’ll be made possible with the help of a witch.”

  “So, in order to stop them,” said Hortensia, “we’re going to have to kill that swan that we saw? Kill a witch?” There was a heavy silence. “That is ironic.”

  “And necessary, unfortunately,” said Jessica. “It’s kill or be killed with the Brotherhood.”

  “Do we really have to kill them?” asked Lizzie, fearful. “Couldn’t we put them in jail?”

  “Ha,” I said, and they all looked at me. “Jail won’t hold them. They have people in law enforcement. There were maybe a dozen police cars in Portland, patrolling that party before the attack. You should’ve seen how they acted when the Brotherhood arrived. Not even a flinch before they all drove off. I’m surprised they didn’t join them in coming after us.”

  Lizzie looked horrified and I felt bad, but there was no other way to put it.

  “Also, as I said earlier, they’ll try to kill you first,” said Jessica. “They already are trying to kill you. It’s self-defense, really. As small children would say, they started it.”

  Lizzie looked unsettled but pensive at this comparison.

  “Okay, so we kick their asses and then boom, destiny fulfilled, right?” asked Sylvie.

  “Not quite,” said Harriet. “They’re not simply killing witches. They’ve also been harvesting hearts from their victims.”

  “Hearts?” squeaked Lizzie.

  “Magick Malevolent,” said Harriet. “A form of dark magic that entails things like human organ harvesting to summon malignant entities.”

  “Entities?” asked Hortensia.

  “Harmful spirits… demons,” said Harriet.

  “Demons?” I asked, startled. Harriet had briefly explained Magick Malevolent to me and Connor after we’d overheard the Brotherhood outside her house. She’d mentioned spirits and entities, but hadn’t used the word demons. “Demons, you mean like—”

  “Like monsters?” asked Lizzie, pale as a sheet.

  “You could use the word monsters if you like,” said Harriet, “but I feel it’s too ambiguous. Plenty of human monsters walk the earth. But yes, monstrous, harmful entities called demons. Most of the time, we don’t have to worry about them. They exist primarily in another realm, a dimension right next to ours, a dark dimension. We call it The Hopeless Place.”

  “Like The Halfway Place?” I asked.

  “Sort of,” said Harriet. “Only terrible.”

  She explained to them about the Halfway Place, how it too was a neighboring dimension right next to ours, a halfway point between here and the realm of the dead beyond. She told them how I had traveled there only a few hours ago to see Connor, and they all looked at me like Sylvie and Lizzie had when they’d heard I had teleported in a cloud of ash.

  “We’re generally safe from demons if we don’t go looking for them,” said Harriet. “No witch really does. Magick Malevolent always backfires. There’s no other way around it. This traitor witch will pay dearly for whatever Malevolent spells she’s casting. Exactly when or how much she will pay, we can’t be sure, but pay, she will.”

  “It’s got to be us, right?” asked Sylvie. “We’re her big karmic reward.”

  “Most likely,” said Harriet. “A witch using Magick Malevolent to kill other witches… That’s going to get her a doozy of a return. I’m sure she knows that, being knowledgeable enough about the magic to begin with, and powerful enough to command a gift like shapeshifting, but she probably doesn’t care, or is insane… or both.”

  “So she’s going to send demons after us?” I asked.

  “That is likely what they’re planning,” said Harriet. “She could also be seeking a power boost. The maladjusted witches who have practiced Magick Malevolent in the past often did it out of greed, to attain greater power. You give a demon a tribute of human organs, and it’ll grant you a few tricks. Hearts, in particular, are coveted by many infernal creatures, and the heart of a witch, well… it’s the Tiffany’s diamond necklace of demon tributes.”

  I watched Lizzie grip the blue Cloaking Crystal that hung from her silver necklace.

  “Why this witch needs the Brotherhood to do any of this,” said Harriet, “I still couldn’t say…”

  “When is this happening?” asked Hortensia. “Are there demons out there looking for us right now?” She gestured at the floor-to-ceiling window which looked out at the dark ocean, and we all glanced at it, as if we would find demons clawing at the glass and peeking in at us.

  “It’s already happening,” said Harriet. “In the past four months, since last December, there have been twelve witch murders that we know of in which the witch’s heart was removed. The papers don’t report that they were witches, obviously, and the Brotherhood tries to keep them hushed up, but word gets around through the magical grapevine.

  “Twelve witch hearts is an enormous tribute, so whatever the traitor witch and her Brotherhood pals are planning, it’s ambitious. It’s worth noting, however, that it’s still only twelve hearts. In the most powerful Malevolent spells, the ones that summon demons to the earth, the magic number, so to speak, is thirteen. The thirteenth heart will get them whatever they’re ultimately after. By now, the news of their rampage is out. Every witch we know is on high alert. They must be struggling to find the last heart, or it could be that they want the thirteenth to be one of yours…”

  Sylvie, Lizzie, Hortensia, and I looked at each other.

  “They seemed happy to have mine, though,” said Harriet lightly. “Of course, that was before the traitor found out, like we all did, that the Sacred Four actually exists. They must be panicking right about now. They know that four mythical witches are coming for them…” She had that reverent tone in her voice again, and sounded almost dreamy, despite the grisly subject matter she was describing.

  “So we have to stop them before they get the thirteenth heart,” said Sylvie. “We’re assuming they haven’t already?”

  “We’re almost sure they haven’t,” said Harriet. “After the debacle last night in Wineville and Portland, where they failed to get mine and then discovered the existence of the Sacred Four, their new focus is the four of you. However, even if they had managed to murder another witch and acquire her heart between last night and now, the spell can’t be done until the new moon.”

  “When’s that?” asked Sylvie.

  “The next one starts this coming Monday,” said Harriet. “But they’ll do it on Tuesday, the second night, which is when the sky is darkest. Malevolent spells always call for a dark sky.”

  “So we have until Tuesday before they raise hell or demons or whatever it is they’re planning on doing with the thirteen hearts?” asked Hortensia.

  “Yes,” said Harriet, “but—”

  “But we can’t let them get the thirteenth heart!” said Sylvie.

  “Exactly,” said Harriet. “We can’t let that happen. I’ve sent word to all my contacts— Jessica, Jasper, and I all have— and all the witches we know are warning everyone they know. No one is going out without double-charged Cloaking Crystals. All are avoiding major spells out in the open, staying out of the skies, wearing disguises, until this threat is neutralized. They’re all very excited about you, by the way. Parties left and right. Remember that most of us thought the Sacred Four was a fairy tale. Many are begging to come meet you. I’ve persuaded them to wait until we deal with all this.”

  “What do we do first?” asked Hortensia. “We have to find them before Tuesday. I assume there’s a spell for that?”

  “There is,” said Harriet. “Usually, it requires a bit of the person’s blood, but those feathers Jessica got from the traitor can also work. Fortunately, I don’t think we’ll have to look very hard for them. They’re looking for you, remember? They want to destroy you, quickly, before you can go
through your Bonding Ceremony.”

  “Bonding Ceremony?” asked Lizzie. I remembered Harriet mentioning those words earlier when we she came to my room with food.

  “The Bonding Ceremony,” said Harriet, “is one of the oldest and most sacred— pardon the pun— magical traditions. When a coven is formed, they conduct this ceremony to solidify their bond and to prevent demons and harmful spirits from causing any rifts among them. It’s a powerful ritual that creates many unique powers that witches only have when they form covens as opposed to practicing alone. Among other things, it provides the ability to always find one’s sisters, using a few drops of one’s own blood, rather than needing some of theirs as in a standard tracking spell. Arthur used that very magic tonight. It’s how we were able to find you girls.”

  Sylvie, Lizzie, and Hortensia looked at me, and I smiled, suddenly shy. “Wait,” said Hortensia, “if that magic is only possible after a Bonding Ceremony, then how were you able to use it?”

  Harriet answered before I could. “Needless to say, the Sacred Four are different,” she said. “You are uniquely bonded, more powerfully so than any other coven in history. I wondered if maybe the Bonding Ceremony would be necessary at all for the four of you, but I believe it is. Even with Ursula’s prophecy and all that we’ve seen so far, we still don’t understand everything about the Sacred Four. Better to be safe than sorry, especially given what you’re facing.”

  Hortensia nodded solemnly.

  “Also,” said Harriet, “it’ll be a perfect lure.”

  Lizzie, who had been sipping champagne, sputtered into her glass. “Lure?” she gasped.

  “Well, they’ll know that the four of you will want to do your Bonding Ceremony before doing battle with them,” said Harriet, “and they’ll want to stop it. It’s a perfect way to bring them to us without having to look for them. The Ceremony is always done around midnight, outdoors in nature, preferably in woods, and around a simmering cauldron. We’ll all shed our Cloaking Crystals, and they’ll come right to us. Tomorrow night should do.”

  Lizzie looked terrified, and even Sylvie and Hortensia looked uneasy. “But we don’t even know how to use these powers yet!” said Lizzie. “I didn’t know what I was doing earlier, I don’t know how it works—”