The Witch of Northester

From the Eye of the Graeae we Stole

Home...sweet home. I would be lying if I said I was ready to return. Truth be told? Northester could not be a more unwelcoming place than in November. Everyone is stressed after the festivities, as winter is upon us and the town has too little more often than too much at times. Families hole themselves in their homes, conserving warmth and firewood. Bathing is restricted until the streams melt, which usually doesn't happen until spring.

I didn't let anyone know I was home. I skipped town, spending a night at the inn before catching a ride back home. I'd left Helda with Fresca to be taken care of , so I would be walking into town when I returned tomorrow. The house, for now, seems as it should when I last left it. Empty. Cold Dark.

I opened the door, welcoming the musty smell of old wood, dried leaves, and fur that hung on the backwall, waiting to be worn.

Moving to the fireplace, I threw on some wood, lit the kindling, and fanned a flame. I waited until it was a nice even height before sitting back on my heels, reluctantly scuffing the floor until I was seated properly on an old straw pallet I left for occasions when I wanted to read and keep warm.

I fingered the worn titles on the small bookshelf nearby. Plucking one with a dark red cover, I traced the dull gold lettering before opening. The creak of the spine, the smell of the old, yellowed pages, the vibrant black of ink on old parchment that stuck out to me in a font I could barely relate to the language I spoke now...

Somehow, it seemed so strange and yet so familiar.

I'd read this particular tale many times after Mom died. It was the one thing that had brought us together, my thirst for learning. Her willingness to teach me everything...

Sometimes far more than I was ready to receive. "Tell me a story, Mom."

I closed my eyes to let the memory play.

"You can read. Pick out a book and tell yourself a story."

"But I want YOU to tell me one." But I had picked out a book. A small red one, so as not to be a burden. When I brought it to her, her face lighted with a smile, beaming to me. "Do you know what this is?"

I had shaken my head, settling in for the tale about to be told.

"This is the story of the Graeae, the three fates."

"What were they?"

"Three sisters that held the threads of mankind. When it came to be their time-" She plucked up a pair of scissors, snipping at the cold air while thunder rumbled above our house.

I had shivered at my young age, but not in terror. These were times when scary stories delighted me. Delicious tales of pining and woe, cautious things I could carry with me while traversing the woods. I truly didn't believe in monsters. I didn't think anything could ever happen to me.

My mother was a witch, after all, and a powerful one at that. She would keep me safe.

I opened my eyes briefly. I had forgotten that I believed in such things. Maybe I had set myself up to believe so strongly in these follies, that when the time came to call to action, I didn't REALLY believe the town would do it...

Until I saw her swinging from the end of that rope.

Snapping the book shut, I replaced it on the bookshelf and stood, boots clipping the floor as I went to wash my face. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid." I continued muttering while I stormed all around the house, wishing to forget. Wishing I hadn't made myself remember. Old memories hold no consolation. They give no warmth, but leave a bittersweet aftertaste in your thoughts at all things that used to be, what could've been...

What should've been.

I find myself back in my bedroom, unlocking the jewelry box that held the treasure I knew was inside. I thought about Kelan's words, his ferocity. The vehemence when he learned that I had left it behind...and confusion in how I couldn't believe his stories. That it held power.

"Ridiculous," I muttered to myself, turning over the jewel in my hand.

But...I...remember. I didn't believe in its power...because Mom HAD.

The sisterhood entrusted her with it. It was her place to hold onto it, but in the end...she had tried to take it with her. I found it in the river. I saw it glistening in the dark waters, in the middle of the night, when I sat sobbing, digging my hands in the freshly plowed dirt of her unmarked grave.

She told me how important it was...that if I wore it...nothing would ever happen to me. I would be unharmed in any danger.

Is that what she had tried to do? Had she tried to use the power of this necklace, as a talisman? An amulet against those who wanted her dead?

My eyes filled with tears at the idea of my mother, having noone and nowhere to turn as she was dragged to the gallows tree. I remembered watching it happen. I remember the women at the church trying to prevent me from watching. I remember fighting them off, racing to catch up, realizing what was about to happen.

Unable to BELIEVE what was about to happen...until it did.

And it was MY fault.

My mother had been all alone, with only this cold, cutting jewel to clutch in her bleeding palm for support. The only spark of hope she had left...it felt heavy in my hands. It must've felt heavy in hers, when she dropped it after realizing just how pointless her beliefs were. No amount of magic could save her from death. And no amount of it could bring her back.

Regrets? Is that what I'm experiencing? Now? All this time after trying to justify my actions...or rather the ONE action that had yet to rear its ugly head in repercussions, am I actually SORRY?

I dropped the jewel back in the box, closing the lid. Placing my hands on top of it, I started to cry. My shoulders shook, as I imagined the green stone the at the heart of a circle of fates, the graeae sisters cackling as they picked up the scissors and snapped it shut against my mother's thread.