Witch Child - Secrets of the past

8 - Genie in a Bottle

Twelve years prior...

She was angry. Her subjects could always tell when she was angry. It was obvious, especially with how long the castle had known her. Since she was a child she'd always had a terrible temper. One does not grow out of that kind of anger easily. It was also easy to tell how mad she was, with three main stages.

First she would yell. Anyone and everyone who went near her received a torrent of screams, threats and bad language. She yelled all the time though and the smallest thing done wrong would set off her screaming. She once yelled at an old manservant for bringing her the wrong type of tea. The unfortunate man was so scared that he dropped the service trays which, naturally, lead to more screaming. The poor man was scared out of his wits and froze on the spot. This lead to more yelling until a second manservant, also an aged man, came in to drag the poor man away from the presence of the woman. This, naturally, sent her out hunting in order to calm down.

"Nothing like a bit of death to lighten her spirits," they whispered to each other. But she fell in and out of the screaming moods and as quick as they started, they finished and she was calm again. And they all liked her better when she was calm.

Secondly, she broke things. When she was in a very bad mood she would lock herself away and throw, kick, tear, jump on and generally break everything in sight. The servants had to clean for weeks to tidy up the master bedroom after one of these fits. These fits of rage lasted for hours on end and by the time they were finished there was nothing in sight that was not broken or damaged in some way. Even the heaviest of objects were tossed around the place and used as a club to smash other things. In one of these moods she even threw a clay jar at one of her maids who were just trying to soothe the woman. The maid was injured so badly and thrown back with such force that she had to be put out of service for three months due to a broken leg.

Finally, the last sign of anger, she would burn things. This only happened when she was furious. A silent seething anger. She would sweep through the castle, blue hot fire trailing behind her in every direction, burning tables, chairs, beds and wooden pots to a crisp. That was when she was at her most dangerous.

She was in the last sign of anger that day; her fires so strong that they melted the cooking pots and burned holes in the stone walls. The tips of her long, crimson red hair were singed with flames; anyone who went close suffered heat stroke from the intense temperature that was emitted from every one of her pale, delicate features. It had not been a good month. Her subjects were worn off their feet trying to douse her flames. By the time her informants had come back with complications, she was at boiling point. She had set fire to everything and she wanted answers. And if the person to give them happened to have bad news, then it was curtains for them.

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"You wanted to see me, your Majesty?" came a nervous voice from the doorway. The Queen silently watched from her high backed, stone throne as a woman was ushered into the room, lowering herself onto one knee, she bent her head and waited for the Queen's permission to continue. The woman's name was Griselda and she was one of the Queen's spies. She was one of the best in her league for getting information because, despite being very pretty, her one power was to turn invisible. Literally. She stood nervously in front of the high backed throne in the empty room, shifting in and out of focus. The Queen narrowed her black eyes as she studied Griselda. The woman shifted her weight from her favoured right foot to her left side and looked down, not willing to meet the Queen's burning gaze. 

"I have summoned you here to give me a full report on the boy," the Queen ordered, "What do those Hunters know of him?"

The Queen sneered. The boy. Oh how she loathed him. It had been two years since she had cast that ancient spell on him and turned him loose. The boy. He could ruin everything for her. All her plans could be foiled because of a six year old child. The Queen felt her anger begin to boil again. She should have killed him. She should have burned him where he stood, he should be dead! He should have been swept away in the wind by now! But he was alive!! If her enemies found him, she was as good as dead. She had sent spy after spy to find him and bring him back, but the spell was too strong. No one could find him; no psychic could locate him. So she had sent Griselda to the 'Witch Hunter' camp to see what they knew of the boy. The Queen narrowed her eyes even further at the woman, angered she was taking so long to speak.

"Well, my Queen," Griselda started nervously, "I have no new news to report."

"What!" the Queen rumbled low, her hair flaming up again.

"Please, my Queen," Griselda hurried on, "The Hunters have no memory of the child. No one knows where he is or even that he ever existed," the Queen nodded her understanding as Griselda continued, "I know you are frustrated, being unable to find this child, but our memories are fading too. We cannot keep this up."

"How are you to know my frustrations?" the Queen smiled insincerely, her eyes hot with her barely contained rage, "How dare you think to know my mind!" The Queen rose from her chair, looking down on the now trembling woman. The Queen stepped towards Griselda, violence etched into her every movement.

"Queenie!!" a voice came from outside the double doors of the throne room. 

The Queen paused, mid step, "Shit," she swept back to her throne, waving a dismissive hand at Griselda, "You may leave." Griselda bowed gratefully and rushed from the room as another young woman entered. This woman was taller than Griselda and had lively blue eyes that stood out against her silky black curls framing her pale face. She stood at her full height and produced a graceful curtsey.

"Greetings, my Queen," the woman's voice was light and breezy. Griselda pulled the doors shut behind her, leaving the Queen and her subject alone. The woman rose and laughed at the stoic expression on the Queen's face. The Queen was not impressed.

"You must wait until I speak to you," she spoke coldly, "It is courtesy. I could have you burned on the spot."

"My deepest and most humble apologies, my Queen," the woman gave a mock curtsy, "It will not happen again."

"What do you want, Genie?" the Queen sank into her chair, feeling all her pent up anger dissipate with each breath taken in the woman's presence.

"What are you so upset about?" Genie asked blandly. 

"The boy."

"What boy?"

"THE boy."

"My memory is not what it used to be, Queenie," Genie apologised.

"Doesn't matter," the Queen rested her head in her palm, "It seems as if I am the only one to remember the child. Everyone I tell, slowly loses their memories of him. I'll never get him back now."

"Planning to kill him?"

"Yes," the Queen stated.

"He's just a six year old, right?"

The Queen frowned, "That 'six-year-old' is the bane of my existence. The sooner I am rid of him, the better."

Genie nodded in understanding, "The spell is bound to wear off soon, you will find him then, my Queen."

"It's just a matter of who gets to him first," the Queen nodded. The two stayed silent for a beat to conclude their own thoughts on the subject. The Queen was thinking about what she would do when the spell wore off when she realised something.

"Why did you come here, Genie?"

"Ah," Genie furrowed her brow, "I had hoped you had forgotten that."

"Spit it out," the Queen growled.

"I had a vision."

The Queen sighed, "Good or bad?"

"More on the bad side, I'm afraid," Genie admitted.

"Tell me," the Queen ordered.

Genie took a deep breath and began, "Flesh of flesh and bone of bone, ash to ash and flame atone. Wash the world, make it new. Children rise, life is due."

"What does that mean?" the Queen huffed.

"No idea," Genie smiled brightly. The Queen rubbed her temples, small flames licking her hair as the riddle began to frustrate her. The heat of the room built and built as the Queen's anger rebuilt and spilled over. The boy, the riddle, the spell, the Hunters. Nothing was going as planned. The Queen yelled in rage. Genie stepped back quickly as flames shot out from beneath the Queen's feet.

"That's my cue to leave," Genie scurried out of the room as the Queen, now in a new terrible fit of rage, burnt down her throne room, the castle hurrying to dampen the new flames. It was no wonder, amongst all the commotion, no one saw the six year old child sneaking out a low window, swimming across the moat and running off into the forest.