Belladonna

Deep within the woodland bordering the westward side of the town Ellerdale, a lone cottage can be found. Quaint in appearance, its crisscrossing timber frame, thatched straw roof, and wood-shuttered windows give off a certain, simplistic charm. Wisps of smoke drift from a cobblestone chimney into the afternoon air, carried east by a lazy breeze that gently rustles the nearby trees. A small, slightly unruly garden of various sorts of herbs and flowers grows round the side of the house, and a path of weathered stepping stones extends a short distance from the oaken front door.

A passerby, if they caught sight of it, might wonder idly who it was that lived in such a humble abode. A retired priest, perhaps, or maybe a sage who spent their days deep in thought. A peaceful sort, most likely, but one who preferred the company of nature.

This innocent assumption, however, couldn’t be more wrong.

For in this unassuming cottage lived a Witch—and with their kind, talks of peace would inevitably be futile, and the company they preferred was anything but natural.

With any luck, such a hypothetical passerby would carry on without so much as a second glance, putting the place completely from their mind.

Never knowing just how close to a truly horrific demise they had come.

~ ~ ~

Bella sneezed.

She cried out as the abrupt motion sent a new cloud of dust up into the air, and quickly covered her nose and mouth with her hands—but too late. She turned away from the desk—and, more importantly, the tome sitting open on it—as a renewed fit of sneezing claimed her.

When finally it had passed, she slowly lowered her hands, scowling at them. Her large, wolf-like ears, a testament to her Faean blood, were flattened against her head in irritation as she muttered two curses—the first one being magical, to clean off her hands and face, the second one being of the more mundane variety, directed with malice at the tome.

To call the thing old was an understatement; Bella didn’t even dare touch it, for fear that it would crumble into nothing as soon as she did, and instead used a spell to turn the pages as gently as possible. And even that wasn’t enough—it was only by layers and layers of complex magic that she’d managed to keep the thing in one piece for as long as she had. The writing itself was a whole other matter, as it was faded at absolute best, not to mention in a language that hadn’t been used in millennia. Honestly, it was such a pain to deal with.

That said, at least it wasn’t all for nothing. The tome, an ancient grimoire, contained a treasure trove of valuable Knowledge. Spells, theories, contemplations, and more, the likes of which Bella had never seen, could be found inside. Along with a great deal of dust.

She’d been translating it for moons before she’d finally decided to give one of the incantations a try. After much debate, she settled on one of the ones that intrigued her most—the book referred to it simply as “The Seer.” It would, best as she could figure, allow her to glimpse into another’s future.

She looked over her shoulder to the center of the room. A bright blue orb floated there, like a mini sun, encircled by half a dozen rings of shifting runes. Seeing the spell, seeing the progress she’d made in constructing it, cheered her up immediately—her ears perked up as she grinned, her bushy, brown-furred tail swishing back and forth in anticipation, its tip brushing across the floor. Humming, she turned back to the tome, blowing softly on the fog of dust that still lingered in the air to dispel it before continuing with her translation.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before a knock came at her door. She glanced up, annoyed at being interrupted, and hesitated for only a second before getting back to reading. The knock came again, but she ignored it. There were a few blessed moments of silence—and then the knock came a third time, more insistent now.

“Go away,” Bella called, letting every bit of her irritation show in her tone.

“It’s Azalea,” a voice called back through the door.

“I’m aware. Go away.”

The lock suddenly clicked, and before Bella could do more than turn around the door was flung open, letting in a torrent of sunlight. All the cottage's shutters were closed, so the brightest light in the room had hitherto been the glow given off by the Seer. Now, daylight assaulted her eyes with a vengeance, leaving her completely blinded.

“Honestly,” she heard her sister say as she blinked rapidly, wiping away the tears that were forming at the corners of her eyes. “I’ve seen sewage canals cleaner than this.”

“Az,” Bella said, squinting with difficulty at the vague silhouette standing in the doorway. “Leave me alone. Or else come in and close the door already.”

With a snort, Azalea stepped into the cottage—leaving the door wide open. “I’m sorry, is the fresh air too much?” she said unsympathetically.

Ears pressed flat, Bella flicked her wrist sharply, causing the door to slam shut with such force that the nearest shutters rattled. Though spots still danced in her vision, she did her best to glare at her sister, who gave the incomplete Seer a passing glance before moving over to the somewhat dusty full-length mirror in the corner of the room.

Azalea was about a head taller than Bella, with short black hair, ruby eyes, and sharper features. Unlike her sister’s ears and tail, she manifested their bloodline with a pair of white-feathered wings—which she now unfolded, flapping once to blow all the dust off the mirror, nearly knocking over several potted plants in the process.

“Why’re you here?” Bella asked in a pointed way as Azalea considered her reflection.

“I came to check on you,” her sister said, peering at her over her shoulder as if to prove it. “You look terrible, by the way. How long have you been sitting at that desk?”

Bella waved her hand dismissively. “Just since noon. But you—”

“Noon?” That seemed to make Azalea pause.

“Um, yeah?”

“Bella.”

“What?”

“It’s morning.”

Bella opened her mouth, then closed it again. She… hadn’t realized it had been that long, admittedly. But—“So what?” she said crossly.

“Bella.”

“Shut it.”

Azalea sighed, turning back to the mirror.

Bella waited, but nothing else was forthcoming. Once it became clear that her sister wasn’t going to just leave, she reluctantly stood and stretched, her joints popping when she did. Maybe she had spent a little too long at the desk—not that she would ever admit that.

“So why are you here?” she eventually asked, the slightest hint of curiosity in her tone.

“What, it’s not enough that I wanted to check in on my dear sister?” Evidently growing bored with her preening, Azalea found a chair, unceremoniously pushing the clutter on it onto the floor, and sat, folding her wings around the backrest.

“Not for you, it’s not.”

“How rude. As it so happens, that really is why I’m here.”

“Liar. You were bored and wanted someone to annoy.”

The corners of her sister’s mouth twitched up. “Maybe. But not without an excuse.” She folded her arms. “The humans are getting bolder, you know.”

“Eh?” Bella said, her brow furrowing. “Who cares?”

“Well, you should, for starters.”

“Humans are so weak, though.”

Azalea snorted. “So are ants. That doesn’t mean their bites don’t sting.”

“Hmm,” Bella hummed skeptically. “So what makes you think they’re getting ‘bolder?’ ”

“Exactly that, really. They’re not as afraid as they used to be. There’ve been a lot of anti-Witch campaigns in the area lately, for one thing.”

“And? What good will that do them?”

“Well, there’s been word that a Witch was actually burned in a city north of here.”

Bella paused. “Really?”

“No. I looked into it and it was just a cheap rumor. Plenty of the humans around here believe it, though, and that’s the real issue. You’re only a hop, skip, and a jump away from Ellerdale’s doorstep; it’s only a matter of time before they find you.”

“If they try and burn me, they’re dead.”

“Tell that to them, not me.”

Bella flipped her hand. “They haven’t found this place yet, and they never will. My protective runes are too good.”

“Well, sure,” Azalea said, eyebrows raising. “Except I noticed when I arrived here that you took them down.”

“Wait, what?”

“You… don’t remember doing that?”

“I…” She thought about it, and suddenly, she did remember—a few days ago, she’d realized that she had too many incantations going at once, and had lifted some to make room for… “Oh,” she said, glancing at the Seer.

Her sister sighed again. “So what is it, anyway?”

“A spell.”

“I can see that. What’s it do?”

“Foresight.”

“Foresight?” Azalea echoed, brow furrowing. “There are plenty of spells that do that.”

It was true, technically. There were lots of incantations that offered glimpses into the future, whether it was by feelings of foreboding, flashes of inspiration, or even vague prophecies. But—“Not like this one,” Bella said, grinning. “This one can do true foresight. Supposedly.”

“As in,” Azalea said, peering at it with a suddenly renewed interest, “actual sight?”

“Yep. Supposedly.”

Her sister considered it a moment longer, then glanced at the tome still sitting open on the desk. “Is that even possible?”

Bella shrugged. “Supposedly.”

Azalea shot her a look. “What are its limits?” she asked.

“Three uses.”

“And?”

“A pain in the ass to make.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

“That isn’t much.” Azalea said skeptically.

“For the record, it's a really big pain in the ass to make.”

“Hmm. Three uses?”

“Yup.”

“Any ill effects?”

Bella hesitated. “None.”

Her sister raised her eyebrows.

“… None specified,” she admitted. “But it did have one of those general warnings. You know, the kind the writer includes just so they can say, ‘I told you so,’ if something goes wrong.”

“I’ve… never seen anything like that.”

“Oh, um. Well,” Bella said, glancing at the cluttered bookshelf against the far wall, “I’ve seen it before. A lot, actually… But it’s fine, nothing to be taken seriously.”

Azalea shrugged. “Your life, your loss.” She stood, flapping her wings a few times as she stretched, kicking up another cloud of dust. “Well, I’ve said my piece. It’s up to you whether you take it seriously or not.” She moved to the door, with one last look at the Seer. “Try not to die. And if you do,” she added, glancing around the cottage again, “try to clean up a little, first. And maybe change your clothes every once in a while. Or, y’know, go outside for a second or two. Or all of the above?”

“Got it, thank you so much. Get off my property.”

Azalea chuckled as she threw open the door, letting the light stream in once more. Bella again raised her arm to shield her eyes.

“I’ll be back to check in on you sometime later.”

“Ugh. Please don’t.”

“It’s a promise, then.”

With that, her sister departed—once again leaving the door wide open. Bella shut it with another flick of her wrist and a scowl.

~ ~ ~

Working all through the night—again—Bella finished the spell the next day.

She’d neglected to inform her sister just how close it was to completion, knowing Azalea would have stuck around if she’d known. That was an extra distraction Bella didn’t need.

The Seer no longer hovered in the center of the room—it had shrunk to the size of a pebble as the runes had integrated into it, and now it sat, a little glowing ball, on the desk. Behind it, the tome lay open. Bella stared at them both.

Despite what she’d told her sister, she was, admittedly, a little hesitant. Then again, she wasn’t about to let all that effort go to waste. Before she could have second thoughts, she placed a finger on the spell—it was cold to the touch—and read a single word out of the tome: “Alvijhe.”

A sudden flash of light made her wince, and she felt a chill down her spine. Then, as quickly as it had come, it passed, and her vision cleared. The spell had disappeared from the desk, meaning, hopefully, that she had taken in the spell without a problem.

In other words, all that was left to do was test it.

That said, now that the light of the spell was gone, Bella couldn’t deny how dim the room was. She hesitated, then rose stiffly, moving to the nearest shutters, and pushed them tentatively open, giving her eyes time to adjust. After a time, she stuck her head out, squinting up at the sky—it was close to noon, it seemed. She took a deep breath, which quickly turned into a yawn. Maybe… Maybe she was more tired than she’d realized.

Turning back to the room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and approached it cautiously. Azalea’s words echoing in the back of her mind, she looked herself over with a critical eye—long, untidy brown hair; large, fur-covered ears; a bushy tail that could use some grooming. Slightly crumpled clothing with a few noticeable stains. She ran an idle hand through her tail fur, smoothing it out, as she stared into her own yellow eyes, noting the bags under them.

She sighed ruefully, shaking her head as she turned back to her desk. Maybe—