Divided: Act 6:15 - The Perfect Victim

CONTENT WARNING: Nothing that hasn't been warned for multiple times already - murder, death and so on. Also heavy discussion of religion and one character criticising it.

Katlego

Before we heard the news, the school was flourishing, and the students were bright and joyful.

I'd been teaching Mischief magic to Jade and Gracelyn, and was teaching every student herbalism and alchemy, supplementing Owen's more scientific approach with the knowledge of the witches of old. 

I admired the students' dedication and passion, and it was uplifting for me to see the next generation of witches engaging in their culture, building their skills without the fear of witchfinders.

They are a remarkable bunch, and I almost didn't want to hand the position back to Áine nor Owen. I hoped that this would be the last resting place for me, somewhere where I could truly and honestly build something of a future. 

That was, until Xander delivered the news. 

The conflict between the witchfinders and the witches back in Finchwick had escalated. Áine's daughter, Róisín, was burned at the stake, to my horror...Áine went after them all, reportedly stealing their life forces, and leading to other witches coming out of hiding and fighting back. The witchfinders have always been afraid of us, but not quite this afraid. Áine had instilled a fear in them that even Owen's grand public display of magic - and murder of Lord Volpe - hadn't managed to do. 

I like to think that my speech at the attempted recruitment was a start of positive change, and that I got through to Volpe that we were not going to back down to him - but perhaps it wasn't. Perhaps I should have did what Áine and Owen did. History will remember them, won't it? - but will it remember me, Katlego Anansi, the woman who fought using her words for as long as she could?

The cruelty over the years has become almost too much to bear - both to myself and to others. What did people like Róisín and I do that threatened so many people? All we'd tried to do our entire lives was better the lives of others, even those who would have killed us given half the chance. We'd done nothing to earn that kind of disrespect, and yet... 

It was never about Volpe losing his children that day. Everyone went along with it, but I do not believe that everyone believed it. Even then, what were they to say? How terrible would someone look, accusing Lord Volpe of not caring about his young children? In his claims for doing what he did out of love for his family, he had turned them into nothing but a convenient excuse for his own violent hatred. That does not sound like love to me.

 

I was the one who found out that Áine was pregnant all those years ago. I watched her flourish in my care, and I watched as her little daughter grew inside her. I've known Róisín for so, so long, and to know she is gone...it leaves a pain and hollowness inside of me. She and Reynold treasured her - everyone did. Before I addressed the entire class, I took Matis and Verity upstairs into the spell practice room in private so they could have some space to mourn away from the other students. After all, Róisín was their best friend.

"So what are we going to do about them, then?"

"Matis, please... I understand you're angry. I'm also angry, but we musn't be rash at this moment. Please, take this time to mourn and let your feelings out - we can decide how we proceed later."

"That's not enough!" he yells. "They killed our best friend! She was sixteen years old! Where I am from, people like this don't get away with it! We do something about them!" 

"We will - in time."

"What more time do we need? How many more people need to die?!"

"Matis, please! Stop!" Verity begs, through floods of tears. 

I cannot imagine the kind of pain they must feel. The children, the teenagers, they should not have to be so resilient at their ages...

I am beginning to accept that we have no way of surviving this through pacifism alone. I've tried, numerous times - with Samuel with Volpe - and the same problems still persist. Then again, even with Volpe's murder...what changed? 

"I don't know what to do, Miss Anansi! Even if I were to fight back, I hardly doubt I'm strong enough to take on a whole load of witchfinders, not even with fire! I only wish you knew her, Miss Anansi. She was such a nice person, no matter what she thought about herself. We didn't care that she'd be a werewolf eventually. It didn't scare us. We knew she was no danger to us." 

"I...I did, Matis. I'm not sure if it would be of any comfort to talk about her-"

"No, please. Go on."

"I was the one who found out that she existed at all. That is how long I have known Róisín- since I confirmed her mother's pregnancy."

Matis turns back to me, his eyes sparkling. "That long ago?"

"Indeed. She was a lovely girl. When she returned to Henford, she came to visit and helped me with my work. I'm...I'm beyond sorry for your loss, Matis and Verity."

Matis throws himself at me, sobbing his poor heart out.  

 

"I understand why you feel vengeful, Matis. You have every reason to. But we cannot approach this situation with rashness. We have to think this through. Glimmerbrook has been a safe haven for witches for many years, and it's always managed to defend itself from any threats. We will do everything we can."

"Can I ask you something, Miss Anansi?"

"Of course, Matis."

 

"I hear you lived in Glimmerbrook a long time ago. What brought you back?" 

"I pride myself on not hurting others, Matis, but I had used my Mischief magic on a witchfinder to give him horrible thoughts so I could get away when he came after me. He left a note. It had caused him to take his own life. When the witchfinders found his notes and came after me, I turned into a tiger, attacked all of them and then fled on my horse with my partner Ellie."

Matis looks solemly down at the floor. 

"You pride yourself on not hurting others, but it seems people enjoy hurting you. I heard you were the one people turned on when Samuel framed you for something. How? How can you still be so kind after everything?"

I ask myself the same question day after day, but the answer is always the same.

"Because people helped me, Matis. I have been mistreated and exiled time and time again, and yet others welcomed me with open arms when I needed it. Even amongst all this, Matis, there will still be love and kindness. There will always be people deserving of my help - people like yourselves."

 * * * 

"I understand that today's news has made us a mixture of emotions - grieving, fearful, but maybe even proud and celebrative knowing that the violent retaliation against the witchfinders is now in its early days, but I need you all to understand a few things." 

 

"I don't want any of you getting involved in any conflict that arises from this. Not a single one of you. Let Tsuna, myself and the others deal with any issues. The whole point of us running this school is to give you the tools you need to survive and thrive, and that's not going to be any good if any of you try to get involved, okay?"

"I understand that some of you may feel hopeless, but we cannot lose hope - both for the sake of the dead and for the sake of living. We must keep hope even when times are dark, or we stand no chance of carving out a meaningful existence in spite of the witchfinders." 

I fear my friend, Áine, may lose her way.Perhaps she already has. I worry that, in all her rage, she may have lost sight of her plans for the school and even for the eventual magic school in another world she was talking about. I would gladly take this place over, but she has always been a brilliant teacher; I'd hate to see her talents thrown away. As outlandish as it sounded, her magic school in another world idea grew on me the more I thought about it. We're witches - we may know more of the universe than most, but we certainly don't know all the possibilities. 

Speaking of outlandish, I believe now may be a good time to visit Isidora Viridis. With any luck, there's a sliver of truth to the fairy story that Jade told me. Even if it means nothing, another Mischief caster would be more than useful.

 

Gideon 

When Daniel told me that he'd met Áine, it simultaneously felt as if a boulder had been lifted off my chest, and that a chilly nervousness had replaced it. I'd heard about the burgeoning violence in Finchwick, and I'd heard tragically about what happened to Róisín, the young girl who I'd met -  Áine's daughter. 

This evening, a woman knocks at the door - Daniel confirms that it's her, Brádach's daughter. I can't predict the outcome for our conversation at all, but I have to be prepared for anything. After all, in my lifetime, I myself left many women without their daughters.

"Áine...I've been waiting to meet you for sixteen years. All that time ago, I'd hoped I'd find you someday, and now...you're finally here. It's good to meet you."

Even after all I'd heared about her, there's a vulnerability about her, and her eyes are darkened by grief and exhaustion. 

"I hear you knew my father, Gideon."

"I did. It's why I wanted to try and find you, and what with life and everything else, I never got around to it. I'm terribly sorry. Please, come in."

Edwin offers her tea, but she politely refuses. He and Daniel sit at the dinner table, reading, but I know Daniel is here in the room with us as a mediator. 

"First off, I met Róisín briefly when she worked for Katlego. I recognised her because Daniel spoke about her, saying she was Eli's niece. I said I may have known her grandfather. She asked about him, and I saw it only right to tell her the truth. I'm sorry." 

"Don't apologise, Gideon. She deserved to know at some point." 

"As for your father - Brádach and I worked together, for a time. He was always nervous and not particularly useful. Eventually, it seems his guilt, if he had any at all, got to him. He told me about you, and that he'd fled your family home when you became a woman. In his eyes, if the witchfinders found him, they'd find you. He wanted you to be normal. He didn't want you to be taught your magic as your mother was doing."

She doesn't react at all. I can understand. She must be holding back so much unimaginable fury.  

"He thought your mother teaching you magic was endangering you. He decided it was no good if both him and your mother were around. He took the Rite of Dissolution, survived...and he-"

"-told a witchfinder about her whereabouts," Áine interrupts. "She was burned, and he survived. Then he found me, and he told me of what he did. I lashed out, and without knowing it at the time, I'd stolen his life force with my magic. Now I carry him with me everywhere I go, and his memories taunt me at night."

I'm glad to know she dealt with him and gave him what he deserved, but to know magic can steal one's life force right out of them? I clasp my hands together to stop them from shaking. 

"I'm glad you killed him. It's what he deserved."

 

"But I don't know how he found me. I suppose Henford isn't that big a country, but it still doesn't make a huge deal of sense. Did someone tell him?"

I can feel nausea rising from the pit of my stomach up into my throat.

 

"I believe it was through our work that he found out about you."

 

Áine looks at me darkly, and stares ahead, the two of us refusing to make eye contact for a moment. One of us knows the answer deep down, and the other doesn't want to say it... 

 

"What did you do for work, Gideon? Your son didn't give me much in the way of details," she says, her voice devoid of any tone. 

 

I only wish that I had found her all those years ago. I've had the knowledge that I would have to do this weighing down on my conscience like a rock since then, and now I know just how truly powerful she is. 

 

 

"Spit it out, Gideon."

 

I take a breath in and try to settle my nerves. I peer back at both Daniel and Edwin, who watch intently.

 

"Up until Brádach admitted to that me, I was a witchfinder."

 

A fire lights in her eyes, and for a moment I see one in her palm.

 

"So that's what your son was hiding from me?! A witchfinder?"

 

"Yes. My wife died during childbirth, and I lost my job to the machines. I needed money for my-"

 

"You raised your children on the blood of witches! I don't care if you needed money - I hope your son is proud of the fact that you destroyed families to save your own skin!"

 

"My children come first, Áine - nothing and no-one matters as much as my children do! I stopped everything the moment your father admitted to what he did! I defied Volpe twice, and both times he could have had me killed where I stood! I was sent by him to kill Oskar, and I refused to do it! I didn't wait until Volpe died to see the error of his ways! I haven't done harm to a single witch since you were still in your early twenties!"

 

I partially regret losing my temper like that, but I never know how accountability is supposed to work this day in age. People claim to despise Jacoban ideology, but they cling to it themselves - the idea of eternal punishment, of the only way to morally purify oneself being to die.

"What you're doing now and what I did, Áine - how different is it?"

 

"What do you mean?" she screams. "You killed innocent people!"

 

"I'll say the same to you as I did to Oskar - not all of them were innocent. Innocence and guilt get blurred whenever this sort of thing happens. Some of those witches did heinous things. You can't guarantee everyone you burn at the stakes is as guilty as the man burning next to him. This is a conflict - this isn't a childhood storybook."

 

"I would never do anything of the sort to any innocent person?"

 

"Fine! If you're going to scream at Gideon, then you can do the same to me, too!"

 

Edwin storms up to her. I've never seen him this furious. Dan quickly follows behind him.

 

"Volpe took me in off the streets! I believed everything he told me because I'd be straight back out on the pavement if I didn't, and I'm not the only one! Dan saved me when I chickened out of killing a witch and he taught me fishing! So did Gideon!"

 

Dan gets in front of Edwin a little.

 

"Volpe accosted me and forced me into his employ when I was coming back from the inn, when I was spending time with Eli. He said he knew my father and threatened to kill both Gideon and Josiah if I refused. I didn't hurt a single witch. I only survived for as long as I did because my mentor, Micah, he wanted to protect me. He didn't want me to become like him, so he did everything, covering for me and telling Volpe about my 'talents'. He was going to help to me get out of there - that was until Oskar killed him. 

 

Then Volpe made a deal with my father - I didn't have to work for him anymore so long as Father killed Oskar. He found him already dying, and Oskar gave him his bloodied cloak and sword and told him to give it to Volpe and lie about having finished the job." 

 

"Does Eli know about this?"

 

"I told him some years back. It didn't go well." 

 

"The reality is, there aren't any perfect victims in all this, whether it's the witches, or the people who were forced to work for Volpe whether by him personally or by circumstance. You already allied yourself with murderous vampires and a man who let the working classes of Henford die without a second thought for almost thirty years. My father hasn't killed a witch since he chased your father out."

 

Daniel is right. I almost feel guilty, him standing up for me like this. 

 

"I've told many of the witchfinders who fish for us about my experiences to scare them off ever going back to it. I did the same to Edwin when we met. Without Volpe around, a good chunk of them recognise that he was misleading them entirely. Those who were in it for the money now work alongside us. We don't make a huge deal of money, not unless the Annorins are putting in a massive order, but it'll get them by. I can't guarantee that everyone will behave, but if it gets even just a few people away from them - then it's worth it, is it not?"

 

Áine falls silent, staring into the candlelight.

 

"You have every reason to be angry, Áine. I did terrible things, and even with my financial situation, I did it because I wanted to make a safer world for my boys - but Daniel and Edwin didn't hurt anyone. They didn't have a choice. If you want to be angry, be angry with me - but you know exactly how it is, to go to extreme lengths in the name of your children. We've both killed in the name of the people we love. We've both destroyed families for the sake of our own - whether you want to admit it or not."

 

"I...I can't forgive the witchfinders, Gideon. I can't."

 

Daniel lets out a soft sigh. 

 

 "And you don't have to. I don't particularly like having to give them a second chance either, but it's worth it for the sake of getting people out of witchfinding. The more people we sway from their viewpoint, then the safer it will eventually be for witches - as well as everyone else that gets accused of witchcraft.

 

You don't have to befriend anyone - you just need to give those who want to try again a chance to. There's nothing pure abour revolution, Áine. Let them help you achieve your goal, at least."

 

 

Áine doesn't say anything to Daniel, but her expression softens. She gives me a solemn nod and heads for the door.

 

"Thank you, Áine. I'm glad I managed to tell you about your father. You've given me a sliver of peace."

 

Áine huffs. "That makes one of us, then."

 

The door slams, and the house falls quiet. 

"Don't blame yourself, Father," Daniel says, with a hand on my shoulder. "In time, she'll understand." 

Clementia

I had to try. 

In all the bloodshed between us, I had to be the one to put my life on the line to try and put an end to all this. I doubted that I could get through to Thorne the way we got through to Julian and Juniper, but I had to give it a try. If I didn't... I didn't want the fights between the Peterans and Jacobans of old to return.

The cathedral felt daunting, more than it ever had one before. Before, it gave me strength. Now, I can feel the burning eyes of Jacob in the stone trying to drain my newfound power from me. 

A part of me wanted to kill him. I've spilled blood in here before, and I could do it again, easily - but I wasn't going to make Dr. Annorin's mistake. His death will solve nothing. A vicious Jacoban only gets replaced with someone even worse than he was.

He sent his men and women to kill me, all because I protected the witches. All because I spoke up at Juniper's trial. My words threatened him, and he was too much of a coward to face me with his own, so he sent his people with their swords. Today, I give him no choice.

 

I don't bother with the traditional clothing. This is not a case of Peteran versus Jacoban.

"Edmund."

"You shall adress me as High Priest Thorne."

I cough in my throat. "Edmund." 

"What are you doing here? There shall be no Peterans in the Jacoban cathedral unless invited."

"I don't come here as a Peteran," I tell him. "I come here as Clementia Morgan. Nothing more and nothing less." 

"I want to ask you to stop what it is that you are doing. Stop sending your people to their deaths. Stop trying to kill me and the people of the monastery who've done nothing to you. Realise none of this is benefitting any of you."

 

"Julian and Juniper were both misled and eventually saw the error of their ways. I know you're not like that. You know you're misleading people."

"I'm not misleading anyone!" he yells, his voice echoing off the old walls. "All I'm doing is the same that you're doing. The dangers of the witches, the eternal punishment, the constant eye of the Watcher - all of those are true. But as you know, you have to stretch the truth to keep people around. If I do not instill enough fear into the people, then I don't get paid, and if I don't get paid, I lose this position and the faith I've lived my entire life under. My father and the Watcher would be immeasurably ashamed. Tell me, Clementia - how many times have you spread hope to the people when there's nothing of the sort to be found?"

"What kind of hope am I supposed to find when your Justicers are after me? And if you want the witches dead so badly, then what are you going to fearmonger about to keep your fat pockets lined?"

For a second, I see his nostrils flare like a bull's. 

"What's happening outside of our window is all the proof you need, Clementia! Don't you see it? The witches are slaughtering witchfinders faster than Volpe's men have ever gone after them! There's a witch who they say is stealing the life right out of their bodies - the life that belongs only to the Watcher! It's beyond horrific - it's sacriligeous!"

Áine...I'd heard the same story told differently by multiple sources. Almost everyone in Finchwick had become terrified of her. If it were true, it almost felt mocking - to know she had the life force of so many people after her accusations had almost convinced my brother to discard his own. 

"It's scaremongering, is what it is." I'm still furious with her - but not as much as I am with the High Priest.

"None of this will mean anything in three-hundred years' time. Or two-hundred, or one-hundred - maybe even fifty. We've done irreparable damage to both our faiths. You twisted a faith about doing good for the sake of the Watcher into fear and humiliation. Your people may have tried to kill me, and one almost did - but they're still victims of your lies. I don't wholly blame them."

"Is that so? And since when did Peterism decide violence was acceptable? I don't recall Joyce ever condoning such an attitude."

"Since my brother, Edmund. Since myself. We aren't going to sit there and pray when your Justicers come knocking. However, if you tell them to stop - if you tell them to cease their witch-hunt - then I will leave you be. The reality is that both of us have changed our religions beyond recognition...We really have to think about just what the future holds for Peterism and Jacobism alike. People are losing faith in us both."

They weren't. The Jacobans would never lose faith - they were too terrified to step out of line, but I need to get him to listen to me.

"Our religions have lasted for nearly one thousand years. They may change over time, but they will certainly never fade."

"There's nothing certain about the future, Edmund. Call off your people's witch-hunt. Go back to teaching true Yacothian Jacobism to your people, and I'll go back to the peaceful ways that  true Peterism teaches."

Edmund chortles. "And what will you do if I refuse?"

 

If you refuse, then I'll take a sword to each and every one of your men and women that comes after me or any witch." 

 

"You know that whatever you do to us, they'll just get replaced by someone else, don't you? If I am killed, the Proxy will just elect someone new. Jacobism is far too widespread and organised to fall. Did you really think that I would just give up on the witches because you asked nicely? Well, I suppose that, at least, is Peteran enough."

 

"At least I can say I tried to reason with you," I tell him, taking my leave. " If you won't stop, then neither will I. I will keep going. I will keep dealing with your people in whichever way is necessary until I die, until I'm killed, or until your vile branch of Jacobism is nothing but a stain on history - whichever of those comes first."

 

"And Peterism, Clementia? What if that ceases to be, the way you believe Jacobism will?"

"Then so be it."