CONTENT WARNING: Violence (graphically described), people getting set on fire, child in danger, blood, illness, discussion of child death, image of burned body
Owen
On my way back from visiting my little brother, I hear the din of arrogant voices from behind the fir trees.
The voices are demanding someone to give them information on the whereabouts of witches...and it is not until I move in closer that said someone is naught but a little boy. Whatever could they want from a child?
"Please!" begs the smaller voice. "I'm sorry! I haven't seen any for a few days! All the fighting probably scared them away! Please, I'm sorry!"
"I don't believe him for a second," the middle man says to his cohorts. "Every single lead you've given us has been complete and utter codswallop! You're covering for them, aren't you?"
"I'm not! All I told you was the people I saw! I can't tell you anymore than that!"
"You know what happens to lying little witch boys, don't you?" He goes to draw his sword. "Do you also know what happens to their mothers?"
I promised myself and others that I would go careful with my magic given the circumstances of my health, and I had promised my brother that I would stay out of the conflict. That said, I don't plan on letting them harass a child.
For once, I decide to put my own interests last.
"Just what do you think you're doing?"
The men turn, startled. They gather themselves and reapply a veneer of overconfidence as I move closer.
"Bugger off! You've no business being here!"
"This is a public space. I'll go where I please."
"Wait - you? Why are you intervening?"
"We thought you just loved the deaths of poor children, Dr. Annorin. Why not let us continue and go about your merry way before we cripple your other leg as well?"
"Idiots! Didn't you see what he did to Lord Volpe?" the other one whispers, though loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Eduardo Volpe will have had a quick death compared to what I'll do to you three if you do not back away from this child this instant!"
The youngest of the trio tugs on the insides of his jacket, cackling. I notice the boy slowly stepping back, his glassy eyes fixed upon me and glistening in the muted starlight.
"Come on, you cowards. It's three of us versus one!"
As he dashes towards me, sword drawn, I call to the child to run. He dashes towards a fir tree, taking both of the other men by surprise.
Time appears to feel slower as he heads toward me. I think of the witchfinders. I think of Volpe. I think of their unimaginable cruelty, and then I think of my own - of the way I followed in the footsteps of my father for so many years without a care in the world for those who could not afford to be treated by us.
I think of Áine and I teaching each other wild magic by the waterfall, and her mastery of flames.
I will show him a level of ruthlessness no witchfinder could ever hope to achieve.
Flames burgeon between my palms as the witchfinder goes to strike.
I thrust my hand into his face, and the sword falls to the grass. His screams rumble in his throat, and I deny him the privilege of a release, my hand pressed tightly against his lips.
He grasps onto my arm with wavering tenacity. I feel his skin tear, shrivel and peel under my fingers. I feel them sink into his blistering flesh.
Many believe that the last face they see before they die is that of the Watcher.
This man is not quite so fortunate.
The flames envelope his body entirely and he falls back, wailing towards the other two. Even if they could do something about it - even if they were smart enough to get him towards the pond - would they? The complete lack of compassion the witchfinders have for society, it's clear that they have the exact same lack of compassion for one another.
His barely-recognisable body flails about on the ground, reaching a clawed and charred hand toward me. Lightning strikes through my muscles, and my vision blurs for a moment. A warm trickle slithers down my lip, and I taste salt and metal on my tongue.
I draw my wand from my pocket, and it lightly glows a deep orange colour. Perhaps I was wrong to tell Valravn and Áine that I could not bring myself to kill again. I feel as little as I did for Volpe. Perhaps the misplaced guilt will come later. Perhaps there will be no guilt at all - it doesn't matter. I've let the working people of Henford suffer enough; I will do whatever it takes to ensure this child's safety.
I cast a wall of fire in front of me as the witchfinders approach, the flames rising high enough to obscure them - leaving only blurred silhouettes. The stench of smoke and singed flesh fills my nostrils and leaves a sickening sensation in my stomach.
The nauseating sense of excitement and power strikes again, nearly as powerfully as it did back with Lord Volpe. With the power of fire and lightning, nothing could stop me. Nothing could perturb me.
Even with this power, even surrounded by this blaze, the witchfinders considered themselves even more unstoppable than myself.
"Mister! Go careful!"
The second witchfinder charges, his sword glistening orange in the firelight, seemingly believing himself to be invulnerable to a wall of fire. Raw magic crackles around me, and sparkling lights obscure my vision. My hands quiver in excitement.
I blast him with another stream of flames, and his yells echo off the trees. The arcane fire burns with such heat that his sword begins to wilt before he drops it to the ground. Everything appears brighter, and I feel my breaths picking up. The sense of colourful euphoria burns within me as brightly as the flames outside do, distracting me from the aching in my muscles and the heavy sensation in my forehead.
The flames begin to dissipate a little, the wall of fire opening enough that I can walk right through it. It takes all my energy just to move, just about managing a limp even with my cane.
The sparks of raw magic grow stronger, and with each pulse of magic, the pain in my entire body grows tenfold. My hands once again tremble with deific pride as the last witchfinder falls to his backside trying to back away from me, begging for his life.
He does nothing but stutter and point to the charred remains of the other two men. His voice is a blur one moment and clear as crystal the next. Something about his family.
* * *
* * *
"What were you doing out so late, Rowland?"
"I...I..."
"Spit it out! Tell me the truth!"
"I lied! I lied to witchfinders who asked me where witches were! I did it because they gave me money!"
"What? You could've gotten yourself killed! So you weren't out playing with friends during the day?"
"No! No, I wasn't! And I snuck out last night because they asked me to! I just wanted to help you!"
"Rowland, don't ever do that ever again! You're lucky that this rotten soul of a man was there - or you'd be dead!"
"Rotten? But Mother, he saved my-"
"Oh. One moment. I think he's waking up."
* * *
There's a sensation like acid flowing through my veins, and as if something is hammering against my skull. My vision is a little blurry, and my throat is dry and painful. My hands are freezing and won't stop shaking. My last memory was standing with the cowering witchfinder at my feet. I must have fallen unconscious again... There's a strong scent of fresh bread, and the soft light of a cloudy winter morning casts a gentle glow inside the room.
"Do you know who this man is, Rowland?"
I turn my head towards the voice - a woman in a green dress.
"This man is Owen Annorin - a former physician, and the reason your dear brother died," she tells him.
He looks solemn for a moment, but soon perks back up again. She grits her teeth at his enthusiasm. "Yes, boy. The very same."
Already, The after-effects of heightened magical charge strike - the highs of unimaginable power are dissipating, now leaving a dark, deep hollow pit inside of me.
"Listen, you - I only saved your life because my boy was worried about you. He yelled out for me, and I came as quickly as I could. Imagine my surprise and disgust when I find it's you. If my Rowland wasn't there, I'd have left you for dead - just like you and your wretched father did to half the country!"
Sandwiched between arcane-fueled suicidal overconfidence and the crushing aftermath of said overconfidence, a small part of me wanted to set her alight, and yet a larger part of me knew I had no reason to refute anything she'd just said to me.
"My young boy died because Samuel Annorin refused to treat him. There was no way we could afford his cures."
The prices I charge are far cheaper than that of my father's, but I see no point in trying to prove anything to her. It isn't entirely relevant, and it seems her mind is set.
"I did not see the error of his ways until it was too late, Madam, and for that..."
An apology to her feels meaningless and almost hurtful, and silence comes across as ignorant. My mind is too muddled to think of the right words, so I opt for silence. She tuts at me.
"There's a gap in my memory. What happened?"
There's a sharp ache in my ribs. I'm still finding it difficult to breathe.
"You scared the living daylights out of my Rowland, is what happened! You killed a witchfinder by stabbing him in the eye with a hot wand, and then you collapsed. You were trembling, overpowered by magic, struggling to breathe, bleeding from your eyes, nose and mouth and completely unaware of your surroundings. My boy put you on your side so you didn't choke on your own saliva."
What an intelligent thought, to put someone on their side like that to stop them from choking...and all the idea of a little boy.
"I've never heard of any condition that does that to anyone. It sounds like something out of a horror story! What's wrong with you?"
"It's a condition related to my bodily magic. That's as much as I can give you."
"I see. Well, my boy is the reason you're still alive - and you'd better make it up to him for that."
"Of course. Please, take my wallet - the contents are yours, and then I'd be happy to do something further later on."
"Umm, Mister Owen...I have to tell you something."
"I took your wallet already. I took it when I realised you didn't know what was happening. You see, I needed-"
"The money for your mother and yourself. It's okay. You don't need to apologise. It's yours. Those men won't bother you anymore."
The mother's expression softens, and I notice tears in the boy's eyes. I don't think the mother would benefit from an apology, but the boy might.
"Rowland...I'm...sorry. I'm sorry I was so careless for years. I'm sorry my father didn't help your brother. And I'm sorry if I scared you when I killed those witchfinders. I just wanted to protect you."
The boy bows his head, and his mother watches intently with hawk-like eyes.
"It was sad when my brother died. I miss him. I did to you what I used to do to him when he had his...problems. At first I didn't mean to do it, but then I realised it made him breathe easier."
"You're a very clever little boy, Rowland."
His sad, soulful eyes soon sparkle with validation, and he gives me a soft smile and grabs me by the hand, surprised by the coldness.
"Your hands are shaking, Sir."
"Don't you worry. I'm alright - thanks to you. You were very brave."
"I was very sad and angry when Mr. Annorin didn't help my brother! We couldn't pay! But...but...you saved my life. So I forgive you. Is that okay, Mother?"
Rowland's mother doesn't even look at her son. "I suppose. But Owen Annorin is going to give you a nice big reward for saving his life - aren't you, Mr. Annorin?"
"Of course. I owe you, Rowland. Thank you for your bravery - but never speak to any witchfinders again, okay?"
"I didn't tell them the truth, I promise! I lied to them about witches to get money!"
"I know, I know - but these witchfinders are dangerous. They're not to be taken lightly. Let the adults deal with them. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Owen. I understand."
Rowland immediately wraps his arms around me, and a twinge of pain flares up throughout my chest. Despite the pain, I return the favour.
"You're not leaving just yet, are you?"
My family will worry and wonder where I am, but as soon as I try to lift myself up I realise I'm in no way to move much without it causing me agony. I slump back down onto the bed, and Rowland's mother heads back downstairs to make us a light breakfast. The rising winter sunlight is an assault on my senses, so I close my eyes again.
I hope that I won't be forced to overuse my magic again anytime soon. I don't like having to do it at all, but I couldn't put my own life before a child's. I just hope that either I won't be here long so I can get back to my children, or that the boy's mother can possibly let my family know where I am.
...surely all of them...
...guilty of witchcraft?...
...you really prove that?...
...watcher, the stench of it...
...have you done this for so long?...
...necessity of it all...
...never been one for feelings...
...seemed easy enough...
...get easier for you too, eventually...
...look as if you're...
...why so pale?...
...just the beginning...
...keep going...
...the job is finished...
...don't know...
...could be days. could be months...
...hundred years, for all we know...
* * *
Áine
I wake up in cold sweats, barely able to breathe.
That dream - no, it wasn't a dream - it was a memory, another memory that is not my own. This time, it was someone who I recognised right away.
That's why they recognised her. I had assumed that she was well-known amongst them for killing so many of them - not because she killed so many of us!
I find myself curling up under the covers, like a child who heard thunder during the night. I gather my blanket tight enough that the winter cold cannot reach me.
My insides are on fire. Is that why she was after Róisín? Witchfinders are vicious bloodhounds - what if she sent me after James to cover up her own part in it? What if she had a hand in my daughter's murder? And if she did...Why is she pretending to help me? I wouldn't put it past her to be willing to kill off her cohorts to keep up an appearance - what's she planning?
Violeta lights the candle next to the bed.
"Good morning."
Maddie mentioned Daniel, didn't she? He was a witchfinder. Perhaps that's how they met. Could Maddie really be so cold as to try and throw every single person she's ever worked with under the horse and carriage to remove any suspicion from her?
After pretending to care about my daughter - how many more mothers has she left without daughters?!
"Did you sleep well-"
"Not in the slightest."
Which reminds me, my dear - how does it feel to know your daughter's murderer has been more honest with you than your assistant here? I have told you the entire truth, but what about dear Madilyn? What has she told you?
"Where is she?"
"She? I assume-"
"Maddie. Is she in the living room?"
Violeta seems taken aback by the urgency. "Yes, she is."
I force myself out of bed and shove the door open, startling her. The second she turns around, she slaps on her friendly façade. I want to burn it off of her face.
"No! I gave up on those idiots once I realised Lord Volpe was too much of a wuss to let us go after Owen Annorin - whose kill count is thrice mine, shall I add. It was nothing to do with witches, not if he let the rich ones get away with it for whatever reason. That's when I gave up on it all - and so did these other two men. I forget their names, but the ones I live with."
"You live with them and you don't remember their names?"
"If you'd met them, then neither would you."
Maddie picks up her sword and holds the blade between her fingers, staring into the tarnished perversion of her reflection.
"James was one of Volpe's best. So was I. Neither of us could compare to ol' Gideon, but still. I think James was always jealous that I was better than him, though he'd never admit to being beaten by a woman, would he?
I saw him out and about and I tried to kill him. Evidently, I didn't do a very good job, did I? James headed to the Annorins' where your daughter healed his wounds, pretended to be supportive of her cause, I assume, and told Róisín that I'd tried to kill him for no reason. I had a bloody good reason to kill James. He's got less brains than a trout, but he was one of Volpe's most dangerous. If he were still alive, he'd have been the one to take up the 'Tartosan Fox's' mantle, no doubt."
"I'm not going to convince you of my morals, Áine. I don't have any. I needed money and believed Volpe's stories like everyone else, and I lacked the compassion that put so many people off the work. I was good at it. I destroyed families. I didn't change my ways for the same reason everyone else did. I didn't care to purify myself or redeem myself. I realised the stupidity of the people I was working for and went my own way."
Maddie's honesty is disheartening. I thought that I had found another ally who shared no similarity with me other than a connection to a cause, and it wasn't the case. I can't look at her the same - all of her emotions were a performance, nothing more. She was Volpe's puppet, and the severing of the strings changed nothing about that.
"Then why did you bother helping me at all?"
"Most witches are faceless enemies," she explains, without a sliver of feeling in her voice. "The same way you don't consider witchfinders and their families before you steal their lives from their bodies, we didn't care for the witches that way either.
Róisín wasn't faceless to me. I knew her, and I knew that she would never hurt anybody. That was another turning point for me - I didn't know there was such thing as healing magic."
"Even if she wasn't perfect, she still wouldn't have deserved to be murdered."
"Of course not," she replies, sharply, "but you didn't ask me for the moral reasoning. You asked me for my reasoning. If I wasn't serious about changing my ways, then I wouldn't have murdered a Jacoban, of all people, to protect a woman who had her sword to my throat less than thirty minutes before that happened."
"If I may add something?"
"Go ahead, Violeta."
"I myself killed hundreds of witches after what they did to the vampires during the Bloodmoon resistance. I thought them cruel and selfish, as you did, Maddie. In fact, when I met Áine, I tried to kill her. I paid it no mind that she was pregnant."
Maddie's eyes widen.
"Like you, I have little in the way of compassion - these days, I am merely trying to do as my dead son wanted - as he tried to do in his life. I am trying to help others. I have done terrible things in my life, most of which I do not regret in the slightest. Áine's brother Owen spent half of his life undermining the poor of Henford as his father did. Her adoptive father was a ruthless killer who treated his kills during the Bloodmoon as if they were rituals. There is no living person that Áine has ever loved who has been pure and free of cruelty."
Violeta has grabbed my heart into her hands and crushed it. It hurts. It burns. It fills me with a misplaced ire, but...she is right. I forgave her, despite everything.
"I'm not a do-gooder. I don't keep friends and I don't often think about anyone's feelings - not even my own, when they pop up every now and again. Still, you have my sword despite it all. I don't care who I have to kill, we'll do something about the witchfinders - but you're going to have to let people like me help you if you want to truly deal with them. I reckon there's a lot more Maddies out there that realise how ridiculous the whole movement is who'd join you as well."
Maddie makes a good point. If Gideon, Julian, Violeta, Owen, Juniper, even Maddie can realise the error of their ways...If they can seek to want to try and put it right, then it's no good not letting them have the chance to do so. The conflict is only going to get worse, and I need all the help that I can get from whoever is willing to offer it.
"I'm not perfect either, Maddie. I don't regret any of the lives I've taken. Whatever help you're willing to give me, I'll take it. I forgave Violeta, and so..."
I can't bring myself to finish that sentence.
"And if you know anyone else who wants to help, then I'll consider. You were both right. I was blinded by-"
"You're not blinded by anything, Áine. You're a mother freshly grieving the murder of her daughter - believe me, very little can compare to that kind of agony. You have the right to be angry, you have the right to be vengeful - but we mustn't let it distract you from your goals.
I do not care for your violence as some others do. You can kill as many witchfinders as you want and I won't think any differently of you. However, I also used to think violence was all that my future would contain and yet I have found my life outside it, my true calling - my paintings.
Your true calling is the education of witches, Áine - giving them a safe place. Your true calling is the magic school you were so proud of. Do not lose sight of that, whatever you do."
It's impossible. There's no way I can do both - get rid of all the witchfinders, and focus on the magic school. My mother's story about worlds outside of our own, the possible spell for exactly that - I'd lost sight of it. If I can't carve out a safe space for the witches, then we'll be lost to time anyway. Once I secure a safe place for them, I can defend it from the witchfinders, but if I focus too much on the witchfinders, then there may be no witches left to create a sanctuary for.
Again - everyone else was right.
Henford is in good hands. I have to trust in that. Maddie and Violeta are here. Owen and Valravn are here for the moment, as are Reynold, Clementia, and Alistair. Gideon and Daniel are working on rehabilitating witchfinders, and Eli, well, I'm sure he'll find his place in all of this.
Glimmerbrook will be far easier to protect than Finchwick is. The witches of Glimmerbrook are prepared to stand their ground in whichever way possible. We have the likes of Tsuna's magic and Kat's deliriating spells. The witchfinders will go whichever way I go, I know - but then the people of Finchwick can focus on building defense and community, and we can do the same with the chances of better outcomes. I know people may think I'm leading the wolf to the sheep, but it feels more as if I am leading a wolf to hungry dragons.
"Maddie, Violeta, thank you, truly. I believe I may have to leave soon."