CONTENT WARNING: trauma, mentions of murder, one or two sexual jokes
[Excerpt from Áine's diary]
Dear Diary;
I had a nightmare again. One of someone else burning, surrounded by a crowd of shadows. Every time I try to help them, I wake up, usually in a cold sweat. It's horrible. It happened months ago and yet I cannot shake it from my mind.
I made Mother cross. I put too much of something in the potion that we were making. She said that making potions was not like making biscuits. Too much flour, and it is dry. Too much egg and it is too runny. Too much or little of something could mean the difference between life and death, she said to me. I do not normally cry when she gets angry, but I did.
Mother does not like to yell; she immediately felt awful, and gave me a hug and apologised. I now know why sometimes she always seems so worried, and why she sometimes loses her temper. Mother must be thinking: what if it's me next time? I wonder what that woman thought of before she burned. I wonder who she thought of. Her children, maybe a husband if she had one, or a pet.
[ There is a crude drawing of what appears to be a figure burning on a stake.]
I have been honest with Mother about what I did, what I saw, and the dreams I am having. She was a bit cross at first because I went outside by myself at night, but she is mostly glad I am okay. Father came in just as I was talking about it, and he yelled at Mother. The two argued for a long time. Father argued that this was why I never should have been shown magic in the first place, that I never should have been shown how to use it.
I got very angry because Father was yelling. I lost control of my magic, and the sparks hit one of the planters and set it on fire. Mother put it out with a Kyronis spell, and the ice put the fire out.
I wish Mother and Father would not argue so much about me. I want to learn magic. I know it's scary, but if someone tries to capture me, then I will know how to defend myself. I don't want to hide my magic forever. Magic can be used for good, and that's what I want to do. I want to help people with my magic...even if Father doesn't want me to learn.
* * *
Áine
ten years later
Out of the many students we'd had over time, Jonathan and Erica were the only two other students from my childhood who'd stuck around with us. We were still learning inside the cave; Mother had fashioned a sort of 'ceiling' in it and added decorations to make it a little more homely. I knew deep down in my heart that none of the other students would have left if they had to. I find myself thinking about what may have happened to them, and praying to the Sun and the Moon alike that they just moved away, somewhere safer than here...
Today was another day of spell practice with Mother. Erica was practicing some raw magic, still on-edge about trying out actual spells. Meanwhile, Jonathan was showing off with his Ignis spell. Every time he cast it, I thought back to my old students, my old friends. What became of them? Were they too punished with fire?
The more I think about it, the hotter my palms feel...and that's when it strikes me. I'd been too scared to try an Ignis spell. I had become afraid of fire; I did not want to think of it. I saw it every day, in the candlelight of night and in the firepit I cooked our dinner in. There has never been a day where I have not seen fire, and I did not want to be reminded of it. For now, I have another idea...
I bring my hands together, and I think of nothing but the flames. I feel an anxious chill throughout my body, but the heat burgeoning in my palms offsets the nerves. I picture the many faces of fire- the one that kills, the one that warms, and the one that guides us through a datk night. A large part of successful spellcasting is intent; I have to make peace with the flames if I am to tame them.
It will take hard work and dedication, but I will not let fire take me. I will not let it do harm to anyone else. I will harness it, and I will use it against anyone who dares try to do harm to me or any other witch.
I shoot the blast into a nearby empty wall, leaving a black mark in the rock specked with red. The heat leaves my palm a little sore at first, but for once, I did not feel afraid of it.
"What is it that's so funny?!'
"Nothing, Miss Ó Sé. It's just that...I was remembering a joke someone told me the other day..." Jonathan replies, stifling his laughter.
I think I owe her an apology when I get home.
* * *
Mother gave me quite the telling off when she'd realised her eyebrows were missing. I asked her if there was a spell for that, and earned myself another three hours cleaning residue out of the cauldron in the process.
"Goodness, yes, Mother! We do not need to have that discussion again."
"If you are sure. My child, we need to discuss something that I know I have not told you yet...If something should ever happen to-"
"Mother, please-"
"Almost everything you need will be in my grimoire. I know you don't want to have these conversations, but I believe we ought to be prepared for as many possible futures as we can prepare for."
I don't want to think about losing Mother, at all, but there is no time to mourn a future that is yet to happen. We have to catch fish for a local village, to feed the poor.
Annoyingly, I find very little to give them, but my mother manages to catch enough to feed the entire village for a week.
* * *
The village is not too far from our spot in the middle of nowhere. There is a small farm there, but even with the few animals they have, it's not enough to feed all of the children, so Mother and I, and a handful of other witches, lend a hand.
The peasant children are kind to us, and if witch-hunters come their way, they either lie about seeing us or give them false directions and lead them off into completely random places. Their parents joined in too. Some of them even lured them to their demise and took whatever Simoleons were in their pockets.
"We hadn't eaten for days! Thank you! Thank you so much," one little girl says, hugging me. She tells me about her day, and that some people in fancy robes calling themselves Jacobans came to the village, yelling about The Watcher, telling them to fear Their wrath and to become one of them. I tell the little girl that she doesn't have to believe anything she doesn't want to.
* * *
For years, I have been doing as my mother told me to- trying to 'think like the wolf.' As time went on, I realised my dreams felt less and less like dreams. When I wasn't dreaming of the burnings and the worst-case scenarios, I dreamt that I was something not human. I remember, as a young teenager, it was hard to tell what it was. Like most normal dreams do, they were a blur as soon as I awoke.
As the years passed, they began to feel real. It was difficult to tell whether they were dreams or hazy memories.
Mother is outside, 'moonbathing'; she says it 'recharges one's spirit.' I lie near her in the grass, and I ask her for her guidance. I've always been apprehensive to actually try it outside of in the meditative sense...
I try to recall the dreams as best as I can- the feeling of the grass between my toes and the gentle midnight breeze through my fur. Part of me likes to think of what sorts of secrets the animals keep from us, but I suppose that's a selfish way of thinking.
All of a sudden, I can feel myself dreaming again...only this time, the night seems much brighter than I remember, albeit less vivid. The strong smell of damp grass and soil fill my nostrils in a way that's almost overpowering. I try to stand, and...
Without thinking, I panic and trip, a strange yelp-like sound erupting from my throat. At that moment, I endeavour to get to my feet again and take a breath. After years of mental practice, I've finally managed to physically shape-shift. I have never seen my mother's wolf form, but it is as majestic as I had expected. I yelp at her, until I hear her voice in my head telling me we can communicate using some kind of magical telepathy.
Mother! I did it! I finally-
Now, now, Áine, calm yourself. Focus on standing on four feet first before you get too excited. And don't overuse this power. It is incredibly powerful and draining on oneself, and too much of that will make you unwell-
I have a sudden bout of energy. I want to run, wherever my legs will take me. To experience life from the perspective of a creature is a privilege others could only dream of, and yet here I was, in the form of a wolf. In a sense, it feels freeing. To worry about nothing other than your young and your next meal...it almost seemed an easy life.
I could feel something on my back, and an odd sensation as if I could move it; I suddenly realised this was my tail. Mother says they aid balance, but there's something inexplicable that makes me want to bite it.
Mother is teaching me how to walk and how to run. She is right when she says it is draining; learning the ins and outs of a whole other species, and getting used to a new body...I feel achey all over, even more so than I do after a whole week's-worth of chores.
My child, would you knock it off with the howling?
Please, Mother! Just once more!
...Fine. Once more. But no more after that until you've practiced.
We rest by the riverside, and the scent of the fresh water flows through the air. Now I've done it, part of me never wants to go back to being human again. I could spent the rest of my days as a wolf, though I suppose the difficult part would be that wolves are social animals, and I've no knowing how any of that works...
I'm glad you were finally able to shape-shift, my child. You can learn a lot about life through spending some time in the shoes...or paws...of another.
Is there a way anyone will tell I'm really human, Mother?
Only if they pay close attention to your eyes. A shifted witch's eyes will glow somewhat. That is the only way one will tell the difference, which is why you must spend some time practicing and observing others in the wild if you can. If you don't seem like the others, a smart enough person may notice. Not only that, but it'll help you blend in with the other wolves if you need to.
Anyhow, that's enough for today. Let us head back home.
Mother, no! Just a little while longer?
You remember what I said, don't you? You can't stay like this forever; it's not good for you. Now, hurry along, and don't lag behind!
Once I'm back on two feet, I fall flat on the wooden floor as soon as I get through the door, forgetting I'm back to two legs instead of four. I feel tense all over, but even more so when I notice a letter on the writing desk.
[Letter written by Brádach]
Dearest Saoirse, and to my wonderful daughter Áine,
After much thought, I have realised that my actions and beliefs have not been benefitting us at all- 'us' as in family, and as in witches altogether. That is why I have made the decision to leave this place, and work to make the world a safer place for us all. I have been hiding from the problem when I should have been doing what any good father should do- make the world a better place for his family. I apologise that this is so abrupt, but I do not want you to come and find me. I want you to remain here, to help the poor and to teach the young children. Thank you for everything you have done, and I cannot apologise enough.
With all my love,
- Brádach
Father. I want to hate him. I want to despise him, but somehow, I cannot stomach the thought of him being in potential danger. The ink is still damp and smudging on the page; he can't have gone far.
I show Mother the letter, and she sits down on the bed.
"My child...I want you to remain here. I will go and look for your father."
"Mother, no! I don't want you both getting-"
"I understand, but Brádach is my partner, and your father. I understand that we do not always see eye to eye, but I would never let harm come to him."
I find myself drifting into bouts of tears...but Mother is right. She would never do such a thing to Father, and I would not want any harm to come to him either. I just can't stand the thought of losing my mother, but nothing I say to her will change her mind. She would never let a fellow witch become potentially endangered, not even someone like Father.
"He hasn't gone far, Áine. I will go and find him, and I will get him to return here. He's no good without us around. He can barely perform an Ignis spell without accidentally almost setting himself alight."
I hold her as close as I can. In my mind, this may be the last time I ever do. It's likely the worst-case scenario again, but it's hard to think of anything else.
It has been three weeks, and no sign of either Mother and Father. I have been to the village, checked around the surrounding forests, and no-one else has seen them. Had I not spent my entire life preparing for the worst, perhaps it would have hit me harder than it has. Perhaps it won't hit me properly until later on down the line. I don't want to assume the worst, but I can think of no other logical explanation why neither of them came back. If witches were executed, they were often executed alongside their partners.
I try to live life as normally as I can, remembering all Mother taught me, kneeling by the altar in the hopes that she will come back, or that the Moon will guide me from here on out.
* * *
[Excerpt from Áine's diary]
[Two years later]
Dear Diary,
I understand that I have neglected you for quite some time, since I was only a child...but for now, I realise you are the only company I have, and the only company I shall have for some time.
I will no longer be staying here. I have done all I can, and I am tired of doing nothing but survive. I understand that Mother told me to 'think like a wolf', and a wolf would care about nothing more than survival...but I cannot ignore a human desire for a full life. I will not get one here. I have learned much alone over the past two years, and though I will likely have to keep my abilities hidden to some extent, I want to go back to helping people with it. All of this knowledge and little use for it.
Though I will never see Mother nor Father again, I have my mother's grimoire, full of her knowledge, with a golden trim decoration of a wolf on the front cover. On my travels, I must be sure to look after it. I have found a map hidden in the back of my home of Innisgreen and the surrounding countries and areas. Though I dread to think how far it is on foot, the nearest to here is to the west. Two major places are Willow Creek, Britechester (a little too fancy from the little I've heard of the place) and Henford-on-Glimmer. Whichever I come closest to, that is where I shall start a new life. It seems risky, but as Mother told me, sometimes we have to take risks.
I will miss this place, but at some point in our lives we must say goodbye to the things that comforted us as children, and move forward, as easy or as it hard as it may be.
I must keep telling myself that, with my mother's knowledge and a lifetime of her love, I am never truly alone.
* * *
Áine
Two weeks later
It's been a very long journey, one I likely would have not had the energy for were it not for a kind farmer who was heading half the way on horseback and offered me to travel with him. My feet are aching and swollen, and I'm starving. I spent the night asleep in wolf form- I figured a wolf sleeping in a cave would draw less attention than a woman sleeping in a cave would.
As the morning dawned, I reluctantly continued my travels...until I eventually came to some kind of town, Withernham. It seems eerily quiet, but it might just be my timing; it's only sunrise. It looks beautiful, a huge tree in the centre of the square.There's a low-pitched humming sound, and what looks like a very old building towards the north.
The stonework is incredible, but it looks as if it must be hundreds of years old. It appears to be some kind of place of faith, at least judging by the statue outside of a cloaked figure holding an eye. Carved into the stone at the base of the statue, and weathered by the years passed, it appeared to say:
'THE EYE OF THE WATCHER'
LET THEM BE YOUR GUIDE
FOLLOW IN THE WAYS OF PETER
It sounds a lot less daunting than what the little girl was telling me about the Jacobans, so this must be some other kind of place of worship. I didn't know much of anything about faith outside of what us witches believed, but at this moment, I had little other place to turn to.
This was where the humming sound was coming from earlier. I can hear it clearly now, a choir of voices, male and female, singing something which sounds like Old Simlish.
With a deep breath, I make my way up the steps, and hope to the Moon that I've made the right decision in seeking out where to go next from here. None of them would know I was a witch, after all, and I'd like to think a community that believes so strongly in the 'Watcher' would not pass some kind of ridiculous judgment on me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The church design is from the Gallery; I'll credit it when I'm able and when I remember who made it. I'll add the CC to the CC credits page when I have time.
The two faiths that will be appearing in this story are taken straight from The Sims Medieval, though I will be making a few changes to the 'canon' lore behind them. The whole idea of me using the ones from the game was to avoid any issues.