Witches

Ensuring to keep a moderate distance, Quelurillian trailed behind Crescent down the short hallway. Millions of words ran through her thoughts, though none could adequately convey her regret at what transpired. She doubted any word, in Crescent or her own language, could.

It had been Crescent's shriek that had woken her with a start and she'd flown to her aid without thinking. Her heart shattered when she found her, tangled in the strands of her nest, the little ones crawling on her trying to assist, unwittingly fueling Crescent's terror. She closed six of her eyes trying to forget the hysterical, repulsed expression Crescent had worn at the sight of her.

"My sisters are right. I truly am a fool. Would things have transpired differently if I had shown her myself? Or was this merely the fate of our love?"

"Cress, please let—"

Crescent's door shut in Quelurillian's face, leaving her to stare at the flimsy white barrier barring her from her dearest. Within she could hear her lover's wailing sobs muffled by a pillow along with every mumbled word and pleading prayer. The explanation, the apology, the comfort Quelurillian wanted to give would never bear fruit. The conclusion had already been written before they exchanged a single word.

Salty ichor pooled within Quelurillian's mouth, dripping down her chin as her daggered teeth sank through her bottom lip. Her entire being trembled as she returned to her room and she wanted to rip the ashes of her heart from her chest. She wanted to scream, to throw things, to destroy everything around her until there was nothing left of the building, no, the city, but rubble. Maybe then she wouldn't feel like ripping off all her limbs and rolling into a river. Once again she'd failed to protect what was important. Once again she'd have to leave her home.

She shooed William away as she made her way back to her quarters and closed the door, careful to ensure the feathered guardian was safely out of the way. Once again he would take on the mantle of Crescent's sole protector. The thought fed the storm spreading through her emaciated innards and she snatched the salvaged desk against the wall and hurled it at her nest. The furnishing caught on the webbing and left it suspended in the air provoking her.

"I mustn't. Undue ruckus will further agitate Crescent. I've let my emotions cloud my rationale enough already. That is what prompted this debacle to begin with. I should never have diverted my attention from returning home. Would that I could go back…"

What would she do? She sunk into the rickety chair that had accompanied the desk, letting her proud shoulders droop. She detested the answer.

After casting a healing spell on herself, she began her work. Drawing her sword from her nest, she shredded the webbing in her room and with a deep breath drew the remains within her. Buttons and coins clattered to the floor while hundreds of perplexed little ones watched.

"Begone," Quelurillian muttered, kicking the scattered trinkets towards the window.

In less than half a second the swarm of spiders descended on the mess and each spider towed a button or coin behind them as they crawled out the window until the only thing left in the room was the worn desk in the middle of the room and its accompanying chair. After ensuring no little ones or webs remained, she stepped a leg out of the window but quickly withdrew it.

Listening through the wall, she could hear Crescent's slow clogged breaths in her room. A part of her was surprised; she had expected the ordeal to keep Crescent up for days, but the strain of the last twenty-four hours had taken its toll.

"She's asleep. Should I see her one final time? No. That would be uncouth of me. She barred me from her chambers for a reason and to disregard those reasons for my own selfish desires. Besides, I have no plausible reason to retu…"

How could she have almost forgotten? She wanted to slap herself as she stepped soundlessly into the hallway and made for the kitchen.

"You know you are prohibited from the countertops," Quelurillian wearily lectured William as she snatched her kitted treasure from beneath him and tugged it over her head. The bird chirped in annoyance, as if her sudden reappearance had hampered some devious plan he had been hatching.

"Hush." Quelurillian scooped the creature up and stroked its feathered head. "Do not cause undue trouble. My Little Sling is going to need you more than ever."

With a nibble of the finger and a few hops, William nodded and he let Quelurillian set him on the back of the couch.

"Now I can…"

As if to find another reason to delay her departure, Quelurillian stepped into the hallway bathroom and examined Crescent's blouse soaking in the sink. Quiet as a whisper, she rang the article out and replaced the ruined threads before hanging it to dry. She hoped Crescent wouldn't discard it.

Out of excuses to stay, Quelurillian listened a final time to Crescent's slumbered breathing and she sighed. Judging from the location of the breathing, Crescent had fallen asleep on the floor near the center of her room instead of her bed.

"My little Sling, why must you be so helpless."

Ignoring her better judgment, Quelurillian crept through the condominium like a shadow and slipped into Crescent's lightless room where she found the girl half dressed and fast asleep in the middle of her floor with only the pillow she'd soaked with her tears. With a morose smile, Quelurillian pulled the blanket from the bed and laid it over Crescent. Their mingle scent wafted from the blanket as she did and the tempting urge to steal a kiss gnawed at Quelurillian's heart. She couldn't bring herself to do it.

Like a burglar in the night, she withdrew from the room back into the bright morning sun and departed through her window. The world was blinding, the air crisp and soured by the smoke of the vehicles milling about. Lingering on the side of Crescent's building, she contemplated where to go. Her contacts on Earth were limited to those close to Crescent and… She spat five times at the thought.

"That hag with the foul mana last night likely knew this would transpire. That's likely why she told me to come to her coven today. Conniving sow. Still, she is an abnormality for this world I should be wary of."

Jaw clenched, Quelurillian made her way across the city, flitting between rooftops and alleys until she reached a rickety house on the outskirts. The house leaned to its side, its triangular roofs sagging from the weight of built up grime and debris. Every gust of the wind threatened to knock the building over. It was almost enough to make Quelurillian believe she was in the wrong place. Almost.

"Reveal yourselves, witches," she yelled. "I can feel your wicked gazes upon me."

"Sharp-tongued as ever, aren't you, Princess?" The old witch, Yara, stepped out from the shadows of the rotted porch. "Have you found the 'Heart of the City' yet?"

Quelurillian clicked her tongue and narrowed her eyes at Yara. Unlike their first encounter, her attire consisted of a dull brown skirt and white ruffled blouse that reminded Quelurillian of something Miss Vianna might wear.

"Your meddling sister already informed you of my progress. Do not feign ignorance."

"Meddling? And here I thought we had a connection last night," the dark haired witch from the night before said, appearing next to Yara. "Did you not like the show? It got a bit touch-and-go when your little toy ran back in like a hero, but I enjoyed the twist."

The peerless blade of Quelurillian's sword sliced through the dark haired witch's neck before her final consonant fully left her lips. With a thud, her head bounced off the wooden porch until it came to a stop with a smile.

"Foul sorceress," Quelurillian hissed, kicking through the woman's dematerializing head. "You charmed the humans last night."

The witch's smoky form condensed on the sagging roof of the house while Yara rubbed her nose.

"Human men are so easily manipulated. I didn't even need magic to set those whorehounds loose, though I admit I used a little razzle on the rich girl's guards. You shou—"

"Enough, Sivan. We require her help, so refrain from taunting her further."

"Aw. You're no fun, Yara." Then with a huff and a grin, Sivan faded with the passing wind.

"I apologize for our youngest. She still has a wild streak in her."

"A streak you would do well to beat from her."

Yara shrugged and made her way inside the condemned home, ushering Quelurillian to follow her. The interior of the house was in as poor condition as the exterior: the red wallpaper was torn and wet in multiple places, and black mold thrived on the edges of the ceiling and corners of the walls. The stench of rotten plants and decomposing animals assaulted Quelurillian's sensitive nostrils. She truly despised witches.

"Down here," Yara instructed, opening a door with the same markings as the one in the basement of the occult shop.

It was hardly a surprise when they arrived in the same room they had the month prior and Quelurillian didn't bother waiting for an invitation to sit at the table adorned with a new crystal ball.

"Tell the rest of your sisters to reveal themselves."

With a nod from Yara, the shadows that had danced in the room during Quelurillian's first visit rose up, revealing several women in an assortment of clothing. Among them was Sivan, playfully hiding behind a plump, curly haired witch.

"Allow me to introduce you, Quelurillian Il Dansgrian; we are the last of the exiled witches of Fanasi."

"So you are from Ilsia Habia."

Yara laughed, working her hands over the crystal ball. The rest of the witches surrounded Quelurillian and the witch, joining hands and swaying back and forth. "Quick as ever, though I am a bit disappointed in your detective work. I was sure you'd have found the 'Heart of the City' by now."

"Perhaps if you had not spoken in riddles—"

"Or perhaps if you hadn't relied on those dust brained spiders of yours. Did you truly believe they were smart enough to find the gate? They brought you buttons for heaven's sake!"

Quelurillian shifted in her seat, unable to retort.

"The 'Heart of the City' is underground, Princess and this time, I'll draw you a map. Though, without another coin or some other artifact, you cannot access the inner sanctum where the uncharged portal lies."

"That will not be an issue," Quelurillian said, gripping her sword tightly at her side. "So long as you and your ilk can charge the portal."

"Sivan can. So do you accept the pact?

Quelurillian nodded. Witches or not, she needed what little mana they had, especially from the vixen, Sivan if she wanted to activate a portal. If only she'd been able to find another coin.

"I do."