A Magical Scheme

Chapter 1: A Disappointing 'Good Morning'

Morgan

Witches don't eat children. At least we aren't supposed to. I, Morgan Fairhand, am a witch that does not eat children. Instead, I eat normal food, like salads and cakes. But apparently humans don't like it when witches eat children, and that's why a certain witch hunter came to my door that fateful morning.

It was barely 9 am when the large knocking on my door woke me up from my deep slumber. my little wooden bed frame creaked as I stood up, and the dark oak floors froze my toes. I grabbed my silk bathrobe from the hook on the back of my bedroom door and wrapped in around myself- struggling to capture any form of heat to my body. I rubbed my eyes as I walked down the steep steps into my kitchen. The front door shook as the banging continued, and I yawned and flicked the lock open with a flick of my fingers as I walked over and opened the door. Standing in the doorway was a big burly man, with a small tuft of red hair, and a rough blonde handlebar mustache. He was easily over 6 feet tall, and the leather pants and vest combination did not help to lessen the fear that was bubbling beneath my blood. I knew who this man was, and if his gruff-looking face and chipped teeth didn't say anything, the wooden cross he was wearing on his neck and the crossbow on his back did. He was a witch hunter. I scowled as I closed the door behind me and stepped out onto the porch. "Witch." He spoke, anger in his tone. "Witch hunter," I replied, spitting on the porch. I heard a low growl escape from his throat as he reached from something in his back pocket. Before I could say anything else, another man appeared from behind him. He was tall, but not as tall as the witch hunter, and he had thick brown hair to match with his bright green eyes. He looked sad, and a bit confused, the opposite of his tough companion. He was wearing a tweed jacket with a loose collared white shirt underneath and brown straight pants. The only similarity between the two was the crossbows on their backs, yet clearly the younger one, probably around 18 or 19, did not know how to use it. His skin was quite pale, he looked scared. "You know witches don't bite, right?" I asked him. He gave me a confused look. The witch hunter stared me down, "Or at least I don't bite." The hunter looked down at me. "We aren't here to play games, witch. My protégée and I are here on behalf of the townspeople of Dawnberg. There has been a murder, children. Two twins were murdered by a witch." He held up a paper photo of the children as he spoke. I scoffed, did this man really think I could have murdered two innocent children? "I live on the outskirts of town for christ's sake. I isolated myself for a reason, yet clearly you pesky humans are still accusing me of murder." This time the younger boy spoke up, "We are not accusing you ma'am, we are just investigating on behalf or the town's sheriff-" "Be quiet Lukas," snapped the hunter. "We don't call witches ma'am either, she's not human." By now I was seething through my teeth. I'm more human than this killer, I thought to myself, as he opened his mouth again. "And we are not accusing you, but we would like to know about the other witches' in the area. We are going to need names, locations, anything you can tell us." Asked the hunter. I was taken aback, "Just because I don't go around murdering children, doesn't mean that my purpose here is to be your personal snitch. I will not betray my fellow sisters, the fact that you would even ask that is insulting. You need to leave. Now." I said as calmly as possible, though my voice slipped at the end and my tone slipped deeper. Then without another word, I opened my front down and slipped back in, slamming in with the flick of my wrist. However mad I was, I was intrigued. Who would kill children? And why? Killing humans was against every coven's code, but what if this witch didn't belong to a coven?

A rogue witch. That's a new one. I walked into my bathroom across the room and the cold tiles made me bite my lip hard as I glanced in the mirror. My crow black hair was a mess, and my grey eyes had dark shadows beneath them. My skin looked awfully pale- I was starting to feel the symptoms of The Sickness. When I was little, I caught it somehow. It's the only disease witches are vulnerable to- it causes uncontrollable large spasms of power, depleting the victim's mana, while at other times it blocks the magic in their veins entirely. I caught it at a young age, my mom made me a potion to take whenever I got a flare-up of it- looks like I'm going to have to take some now. I reached into the cabinet above my mirror and pulled out a small green vial from a row of 4. My mom only made so many- eventually, I would have to learn how to make them myself, but until then I do have another source. I closed my eyes as I threw my head back and swallowed the whole potion, leaving a nasty taste lingering on my tongue. I shivered as I tossed the vial into the wooden garbage bin under the sink. I looked back in the mirror and saw colour return to my face. I sighed as I trekked back into my room. My room was large, a bit bigger than my kitchen actually, my bed was in the corner of the big square room, the bed frame was made out of thin oak tree branches. The walls were thick oak logs that my grandmother had used to construct this cabin over a century ago. I reached into the wooden dresser across from my bed and pulled out a plain black dress with a white collar. I stripped off my bathrobe and slipped on my dress, then I pulled a pair of white leggings on underneath and grabbed a pair of black flats from beside my bed and pulled them on my feet. With the swish of my finger, the buckles slipped around my ankle and secured the shoe around my foot, and I stepped over to the window beside my bed and glanced outside. My serene cottage was in the middle of the Dark Forest, a nickname I coined to keep outsiders away. The nearest village, Dawnberg, was a little over a kilometer away, but with the rough terrain and creatures lurking in the dark woods, no one dared make the journey. Hell, I only did it when I was low on food or clothes. My cottage was in a clearing on top of a subtle hill, with a thin creek running beside it- my main source of water, and I had a quaint garden in the back where I grew various vegetables and ingredients. On the outside, my house looks like it's barely more than a shack, but on the inside, it's at least five times bigger. I wandered out into the hallway, there were only three other rooms on the upper floor, the library, a storage room, and my mom's room. The door at the end of the hall was my mom's room, and ever since she died, I haven't dared go inside. It felt disrespectful to go where she hid all her secrets, even if there was something in there that could save me from The Sickness, I would not betray her trust like that. As I walked down the creaking stairs I walked into my kitchen, it was quite crowded, fine china in every cabinet, wooden and glass cups beside the sink. I walked into the dining room, where the long birch table was surrounded by ten backless wooden stools. In the center of the table were a few candlesticks and I whispered a quick incantation as they came to life. I rounded another corner and walked into my living room, which was decorated with a large grey rug with a stone table in the middle, surrounded by stone chairs and a long chaise lounge with a wooden frame. I walked over to the front door beside the lounge and glanced out the little window. The witch hunter had clearly left, and I opened the door and stepped out onto my front porch. The porch flew around the entire house, and I walked the length of it until I reached my garden. I had a few rows of daisies, and tulips, rose bushes on the perimeter, and then I was growing some carrots, tomatoes, zucchini, and lettuce beside it. I had a fence on the last row where I grew strawberries, raspberries and green grapes. I looked at the empty green grass and stared at the tree line on the perimeter. What caught my eye was a crow, sitting on a branch of one of many trees surrounding the property. I looked and saw that it was a normal crow, except for the dark look resonating from its eyes, and I tried to get its attention before it made eye contact and fled, off into the forest. Confused, I went back into the house.

Tonight was the bi-weekly coven meeting, or to be specific, the meeting of my coven. Every designated geographic area has a specific coven, formed up of however many witches decided to join, with a set of rules and perks to each coven. Any witch that wasn't part of a coven was seen as being rogue and uncontrollable, but some part of me was envious. Humans have tried to join and learn more about covens for centuries, but of course, coven members and meetings are all confidential knowledge to humans. The meeting today was at the house of our leader, Circe Sparked. Circe was kind and fair, she never enforced any evil or cruel rules, and respected our relationship with our human neighbors. In the coven, there is a hierarchy structure. Circe is our leader, our High Priestess, nowadays witches were always women, warlocks have been extinct for centuries, rumor has it the Elder council of witches decided men couldn't be trusted with this sort of power. Everyone has a place in the coven after the high priestess is the seconds of the coven, typically referred to as the knights, then there are other roles, such as the Raven, who is responsible for upholding the relationship between humans and witches, then there are the Owls, who are responsible for enforcing the rules, and finally, the Drafters, who recruit new witches. My mother was a ruthless Owl, and I had hoped to follow in her footsteps, but Circe knows about the Sickness I carry, and yet it's no longer contagious, she hasn't given me a proper role yet. Though, I supposed I should be in debt to her, if any other witch knew of my condition, they'd reject me. I walked up the stairs and to the library, where I decided to use my spare time studying, might as well get to know every spell before The Sickness renders me unable to use them.