Chartreuse || ONC 2022

Prologue

Once upon an indeterminate time, in an alternate dimension much like our own, the great and powerful sorceress Morgana le Fay gave birth to a baby girl.

This infant, whom Morgana christened 'West' for the position of the moons upon her birth, possessed the perfect genetic makeup to become an infallible sorceress like her mother. All she required to gain her blood inheritance was proper discipline and practice. Herein lay her problem.

While growing up, West never saw the need to pay careful attention to the tutelage her mother gave her. She would put on an expression of interest and pretend to listen intently while her mother lectured, but in truth, all this was a ploy to keep her mother from getting angry with her. West thought she would become invincible with no training, for she was the only daughter of Morgana le Fay, and why must one go to lessons for that?

At the age of seven, West asked her mother, "Mamá, why is it that I'm green and you're not?" For truly West's skin was the color of an emerald gemstone. Only with all of her concentration employed could she temporarily suppress the hue.

To this Morgana replied, "All those who will become sorceresses are first born witches. A witch is the primitive version of a sorceress, and without proper training, a witch will remain a witch for all time. The green of her skin can only be hidden by an elusive and tedious potion of chemical supremacy. A concoction no witch or sorceress, not even I, has ever successfully coalesced. Put it out of your mind, my dear. Such a potion is science fiction."

But West did not take her mother's warning to heart. Surely this foreboding message was only a ruse to frighten West into more diligent practice and study. On top of that, her mother showered her with praises, solidifying West's already egotistical and indomitable self perception.

"You are special, West," Morgana told her once every day, if not twice. "One of a kind. Never let anyone tell you otherwise. Humans are liars, and they are terrified of witches. We are the villains in their stories. And what does fear inspire in humans?"

"Hatred," West answered. "Suspicion, and distrust, and hatred."

"That's right," Morgana affirmed. "Such simple, fallible creatures. But pay them no heed. You are the strongest; you are the most powerful; you are the only one who is right and just. A born ruler, cunning and clever. Remember that. No one is your equal. Apply your talents, and you will conquer whole realms."

At these proclamations, West would gaze pensively at her mother and let the words wash over her like water over a stone, smoothing the jagged edges into something beautiful. "Yes, mother," she would say. "I know."

And so, West grew up wholeheartedly believing the words her mother had told her to be irrefutable fact.

A mistake that would haunt her.

For West never became a sorceress. Instead, in secret, she remained a witch for all time.

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