2#— I Am a Clumsy Witch

Even if she hated to admit it, the article shook her. But the worst part was the look in Lord Oberon's face. There wasn't any disappointment or expectation in his dull eyes. Only disdain, as if he were looking at a malfunctioning clock. Sienna grabbed her hat and toyed with the brim. Many people said she had a charming, candid attitude. They meant it as a compliment, of course, but the witch wished she could be taken more seriously. But even while making every effort she could, her clumsiness and her childish naivety always took over.

"That's not fair," she mumbled, sitting down on the staircase.

The stones felt wet and freezing against her bare skin, but she paid no attention to the discomfort.

"I didn't ask to be the one organizing the festival."

“The Halloween festival is our greatest tradition since the birth of our town. I won’t tolerate a debutant ruining our reputation.”

The memory of his words made her burst.

"Organize the cursed event yourself! All you do is complain, but you never do anything yourself! You are just a lazy wolf, rotting in your office waiting for everyone to do your tasks! I am sick of you, and I doubt to be the only one!"

The few people walking down the main place of Autumnal had stopped to watch with round eyes her sudden vent. Sienna closed her eyes and replaced her hat, the shadow it cast on her face accentuating her red-angered expression.

'Great!' she thought sourly. 'May my words be transcribed on tomorrow's newspaper; I don't care!'

She had a small chuckle, imagining the werwolf reading the new frontline: 'The Autumnal Witch Slanders Her Lord Reputation.'

'I am really hopeless,' she smiled sadly, walking toward Grave Hill.

During those last two months, she went there more time than she could recall. She climbed up the stone road, admiring the decorations the villagers crafted. Carved pumpkins were placed each meter, offering a devilish smile to everyone adventuring into the hill. Fake graveyards had been placed where red and orange candles were burning an eternal wax. Paper garland was hunted at every tree crossing into a beautiful web. Little nightmares were flying around Grave Hill laughing. Bats were taunting spiders as ghosts were taking possession of the false mummies, transforming the area into a giant tag. Three times the little creatures try to steal her hat or glue some obscure message on her back. She simply offered them a wicked smile before getting a parchment fragment out of her pocket. The little nightmares screamed and backed off in front of her hex; they didn't try to bother her anymore after that.

Little nightmares were creatures of the dark. They came from the dark part of the Sleep world, giving them a natural affinity with wickedness. They were usually harmless, but it was popular knowledge to always wear a talisman when encountering them. Sienna herself was a nightmare, a superior one, as she possessed a psyche as complex as a human one. After many years wondering in the Sleep world, she decided to sacrifice the majority of her power to be able to live among humans and other nightmares or dreams that made the same choice as her. She sometimes wondered if it was because of her sacrifice that she became so clumsy. Either way, she was glad with her decision; most of her wickedness had been erased, still leaving a lingering trace in the depths of her heart.

Finally, the shape of the Grave Hill tower appeared. Sienna's hand quivered as she reached for her pocket. Her fingers carefully wrapped around the old black key. No matter how many times she entered the tower, the powerful aura of the sacred artifact always shook her. She felt her core being woken up, trying desperately to run toward the tower. Like a deep craving or the thrill of a dark secret. She walked through the weeds and dead leaves, ignoring the screams of the little nightmares playing behind her.

She made a brief pause when she saw the perfect circle of mushrooms surrounding the tower. She crouched down the floor and took out a small silver knife out of her pouch. She didn't need to open her grimoire. The spell had been imprinted in her brain and belonged to her as if it were a mere cell.

'Praetereo, nulla maledictio prohibere voluntatem meam'

Something broke in. Like a mirror shattering on the floor. Sienna ignored the shreds of power flying all around her, grazing her soul on the way. It always stung, but it was a small price to pay compared to what would happen if she ever stepped into a magic circle without having the passage grant. The witch felt goosebumps thinking about the stories she heard—fae were not kind souls. She wrapped her hands around herself before rising and steeping in the mushroom circle.

The rest was the easy part. The tower was a tall purple brick construction. High of four dozens meters, it reached the clouded orange sky, like a thorn trying to pierce the sun. There were no windows. Only a long wooden door where sixty-six parchments were stuck. The maroon-tainted letters were not traced with regular ink.

Sienna drew her knife and dipped the sharp tip into the soft flesh of her palm. She slightly winced when she drew out the blade.

"Why is magic so painful for us, spirit of darkness?" she wondered aloud, placing her bloodied palm against the door. "Is it retribution for breaking the laws of nature? Or is it a way to remind us of our dark roots?"

The blood glistened before causing a slight ripple. The creaking sound of the door opening traveled through Grave Hill. For one moment, only one moment, everything was quiet. Like the course of time had stopped, to let everyone admire the powerful magic flooding down the town.

She stepped inside and grabbed a white candle standing alone on a wooden desk and blew on it. A green flame appeared. Even if the place was being regularly cleaned, spiderwebs were hanging at every corner. The floor was wincing at every step; the dark paintings hung all around the walls were torn, and a moonlit darkness inhabited the sacred temple, illuminating the center of the tower.

On a black marble cylinder, under a glass bell, usually lied the sacred Jack O' Lantern. But today, it was empty, and it wasn't Sienna who had taken it.

The witch let out a silent gasp as she dropped the candle on the floor. The green flame died at the same time someone violently pushed her against the wall.