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like a trinklet on her bracelet
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Bloom felt the seam of the ring creep over her skin. It was a sensation similar to the magical check she had been subjected to in Al’Ca-Tara, a little over one week ago. She had lost track of how much time had passed by, actually. The only thing that truly mattered was her journey to Alfea. Meeting with many of her old friends had reignited a long lost flame, and a feeling of being home again. But this was still a different time. She was no student anymore and the world as she had known it once had changed and was in danger, no longer in the hands of the fairies.
She clenched her jaws and swallowed the bile of nervousness that threatened to come up her throat. Normally teleport gateways didn’t have an impact on the content of her intestines, but something was different this time, she could feel it plainly. She didn’t have to think twice to find out however; remembering Farah that intensely had never brought the mind fairy as close as now. It was as if Bloom could practically feel her with her body. All senses on high, she concentrated on the image of the Alfean headmistress with all her might.
She stepped into the ring and was immediately sucked in by a vacuum of sorts. A tunnel widened before her eyes and engulfed her from all sides. It was cool and blue, sparked with little lights, and so tight she only managed to breathe with difficulty. She closed her eyes and thought she had to die as the sensation receded and her eyes opened over a broad street full of warm yellow glow. Okay, so she was really dead. Something had gone wrong and now she was having an NDE, which really was ironical.
Well, being nearly dead meant she wasn’t completely dead, so there was still hope. Chuckling at her sense of humor, Bloom took a deep inhale and turned her head. Out of nowhere, a blue shaped circle of watery substance formed to her right. The seam reminded her of the gelatinous bodies of jellyfishes, the ones that people found stranded on beaches after hot days. Beautiful and dangerous in an exotic manner at the same time. The center was wobbly like the membrane of said animals, floating between the waters.
She took a step to come closer to the apparition, as tall as herself, like a window into another world. She gasped as she looked through and discovered a sunset, a lake, and a silhouette bathed in its light. The contours of a woman she knew all too well.
She broke a sweat and her heart started racing in her chest. Every pore of her body sprayed warmth and the straps of her rucksack never felt so tight. Without thinking about the risks it might imply to do so, she placed a hand on the membrane that felt deliciously lukewarm and soft, and looked at the woman who was turning her back on her. She was only a few meters away.
“It is beautiful.”
Bloom heard Farah sigh as clearly as if the latter had uttered the words right next to her. The redhead panted and uttered the first thing that crossed her mind. “Yes, it is.”
The words passed the wall as crisply as if it had been invisible. Bloom kept her eyes trailed on Farah, praying the latter had heard her. A few moments stretched in stressful nothingness and Bloom’s heart constricted from the hopelessness of the situation as she noticed a change in Farah’s posture. Not much, but enough for the redhead to smile again.
“Ha, at last you come and visit me in my realm.”
Not exactly the answer she had expected… “Turn around, please.” This time a bit louder.
“No, it’s a trick.” Decidedly. Almost harshly.
My gosh, how long had the mind fairy been in this dimension? If time went by like in Bloom’s reality, that was enough to be brain damaged for life. She couldn’t even start to imagine how Farah had to feel if time had flowed quicker, or slower. Anyone would get mad in such infinity.
Bloom’ ears gushed with adrenaline. She slapped the membrane out of frustration. She couldn’t afford to lose Farah’s attention now. She had to make her listen to the redhead, even if it meant exposing Bloom’s plan and probably draw Farah’s worries on her. She pressed her lips together before finding the right words. Farah had to believe her. “I thought so too, at first. But then I understood. I thought of you. I... I wished to be by your side, to find you. I wanted to go to Alfea. But – it’s here I meet you. Farah, please, I don’t know how long the ring will hold. Let me see you.”
Bloom waited nervously and hoped desperately for the other woman to turn around. It took her eons to do so but in the end, she managed to face the ring and see her.
“Bloom…”
“Farah…!” Bloom smiled and panted, slapping the wall of water with her hand, animating the older woman to come closer. And so she did.
She stood now just one step away. And she looked gorgeous, with her uptight hairdo, her wrinkles and her long neck. And her everlasting worrying gaze, carved deep inside the sockets of her eyes. She looked as beautiful and breathtaking as always. And – alive.
“Bloom… Where are you? What are you doing? How…?”
Instead of an answer Bloom pushed her hand though and let her fingers close around Farah’s. She felt warmth and smiled. Was that a miracle? For a moment she held onto that possibility.
“Farah, listen to me carefully, I don’t have much time. I am on my way to Alfea to save you. But everything has changed in the worlds we used to call home. Yours, and mine.” A pause. “Ours. The Otherworld is in danger, and needs you.” She licked her lips. “I – need you.”
She could see Farah didn’t understand what was going on. And she had no clue herself either about how the ring had appeared or how long it would last. But she didn’t believe it would be enough to pull Farah in. And who knew what would happen then?
“Bloom…”
Oh the sorrow in her faint voice… it was really the woman she had shared quarters with, everlastingly trying to protect her from Rosalind’s aggressive impulses, shielding her from her own tortured body and mind, failing all along because Bloom had noticed and accepted a long time ago the fate of the mind fairy. That very woman she adored and without whom she refused to take a single breath any longer. The soul she cared for and knew she still would have to wait for before they could be reunited again.
The redhead saw Farah’s other hand pierce through the membrane and touch her face. It was her, Farah, she was there, and so Bloom pulled at the hand and kissed her wrist. It was her, the woman she loved, caught in a parallel world for how long she didn’t know.
As she looked at her side of the mirror, something weird happened. The fingers she held started to dissolve. They were still strong like matter, but their color changed to transparent. So she was right. That thing was just a moment out of time.
She licked her lips. “I don’t trust this. It’s just a momentary window in your world. Farah… I’m on my way to save you. But if you could try to close up with whatever all this is, I would really appreciate it. I miss you.”
“I miss you too.” Mere words uttered under her breath.
Bloom saw her. The browns in her eyes, the depth in her stare. It was Farah as she had seen her the last time they had been together, in the woods, fighting Rosalind and the Burned Ones. Only without the blood and the burns and the death. But this reality was not devoid of tricks. It was not forever, and the circle already started diminishing, closing from the bottom. Their fingers still touched, interlaced in one another’s.
Bloom panted, heart thundering in her heart. Her magic was naught, nothing worked, and she had too little time. So she said the only words that would ever mean anything to her. “Farah, I love you. Wait for me. Don’t give up on me.”
She hadn’t meant to disturb the woman she loved above everything else. But the look on Farah’s face said it all.
“Never.”
The mind fairy had not spoken the word louder than a whisper, and yet, Bloom had heard it as if it had been ushered in her ear as softly as a caress.
She let go of Farah’s hand and riveted her eyes a last time on the deep browns of Farah’s orbs, now a new shade of maroon with silver and golden sparks she couldn’t explain the origin of. The sensation remained, heavy like a hidden secret, well-guarded for ages and ages. But at once the magic revealed itself, like words of gold in filigree sentences escaping an old manuscript in brilliant waves of light.
The older lady didn’t have to tell her with words. It stroke Bloom’s mind like lightning what Farah felt for the fire fairy, it was written all over her face. It was not the love of a parent for a child. It was neither the reverence of a director for a student, nor the respect of a teacher for her pupil. It was not the friendship of a fighter for a comrade in arms. And it was not the hope of a lost one for her savior. It was the fire of a partner, a lover, a stranger turned home, a heart, all melted into one, one flame and one soul. Burning to be reunited with her true mate, overcoming everything, in any dimension, any reality, anywhere.
The circle closed on Farah’s last glance and Bloom was pulled away in another direction. It all went so fast she had no time to realize she was out of the ring before long, being kicked out of it and falling on wet grass.
She turned around and looked up at the starlit skies, hands searching the soil under her fingers. It felt moist and cold and dark. Like a wood, of which she had had a broad share since she had come back to the Otherworld. And without her smartphone or FindMe, she was far more lost than ever before.
She had no time to process the last minutes of her life. A dark rumble and a strong puff of smoke in her nose made her jump to her feet and run through the underwood. Without knowing where she was heading at, she trusted her guts she was on the right track. She heard dogs barking in the distance and ran even quicker, now sprinting between bushes and scratching her jeans on thorns.
She didn’t care. It was dark and though springtime, somewhere around end of June, it wasn’t particularly warm at this hour of the night. She needed to find a place to hide away.
She ran until she found a clearing that looked familiar. Then, down a slope, almost mouthing into a lake, there was an old abandoned cabin. More a den of sorts. She ran to it, opened the door of the barn, and managed to shut the pane before her pursuers could make her out. Head close to the wood pane, a moonbeam lit up the forest before her. She didn’t see who came after her.
It was quiet for a while. Then, she heard the thumping of heavy paws, the panting of an animal, rasping and hissing, and the infinite pause ensuing. She knew that thing stood close to the door. A yellow eye suddenly turned in her direction, and saw her.
She felt like the world dissolved under her feet, but she couldn’t look away.
Dogs’ barking and the thundering of boots clad feet let the beast turn its head, a cloud of moist exhale surrounding it. A plaintive howl later, it was gone.
It was so deep, Bloom’s heart felt with the animal. But she wasn’t out of danger herself. She shuffled back into the barn without seeing anything, until she found a ladder and quickly climbed the stairs up to the gallery. She threw herself flat on the ground and waited. A few moments later a man came in and searched the darkness with a flashlight.
“Nothing here! Let’s move on!”
A woman shouted to the rest of the troop, the door banged close and the voices and the barks receded in the dark. Bloom swallowed and let a breath out. She had no clue if that had been a werewolf or a wolf shifter or a vampire gone wrong, but something more than crazy was definitely going on in Alfea. She wanted to know exactly what had gone awry. And she was going to find out.
The morning kissed her nose with a flick of a sunray. She lay on the side, face turned to the opening in the gallery. A whirl of dust danced in the sun before landing softly on her chest, crawling under her nose and bringing her to sneeze.
Bloom woke up alone, a shiver running up and down her leg. She turned around on her back, after listening to the birds chirping in the woods outside. She couldn’t make out barking or shouting, what was a good sign. She stood up and went cautiously the ladder down to the stall. It was a simple construction with a pole in the middle, a chain around it lying to its feet, and some old straw scattered on the ground. Under the gallery where she had slept, a few boxes for horses had been redesigned to serve as garage place for various tools. Good to know she could come back and help herself among the rakes, pitchforks and other scythes she could make out in the half dark of the dawning morning. She took a sniff but the smell of horses had long gone. She didn’t dwell on the emotion that came up in her soul, but she acknowledged it with a pinch in her heart. She had ridden only once with Farah on her stallion’s horseback, and that day had been engraved in her memory forever. Yet, all the pictures she had taken from the mind fairy driving Doris’ car were gone.
“Get your shit together, Bloom,” she chastised herself in the crying silence of the shed. “Fuck. Focus.” She felt a natural urge and went into a box to relieve herself. Then she packed her rucksack and walked up to the barn’s doors. She pushed one pane, but no one was there.
She peeped into the woods but apart of a few robins and blackbirds chirping in the branches nearby, she heard nothing. The ground was damp with dew and smelled of herbs and wet wood. She liked it. It reminded her of the lonely mornings she used to wake up after a few minutes to an hour of sleeping, her insomnia driving her mad, and sports having proven the only sane alternative to a bunch of chemicals. Sports, and coffee.
A grumble in her stomach let her know there were priorities to be set in this world too. She was hungry and longed for a good breakfast. She took a deep inspiration and took a path in the underwood.
Before long she reached the outskirts of what had once been the magic barrier of the Alfean perimeter. She recognized the trees and the meadow she had burned down back then. Now there were no magical veil and the grass was green and juicy. But she couldn’t just step into the school grounds like that. She thought about what Beatrix had told her and took to the right, in direction of the greenhouse.
She walked for a while and stopped at the seam of the forest. Her jaw dropped at the majestic view of the castle in front of her, the old grey stoned buildings she had spent a little time of her life in. Automatically her eyes moved to the tower where she had seen Farah at her window for the first time, where she saw the private quarters of the headmistress, the living room, the kitchen, the sleeping room and the en-suite bath. In a pang, all memories resurrected like a myriad of pictures lined up one after the other, like a slideshow of her life with Farah. She could see herself moving amongst the pieces of furniture, talking to the woman bent over heavy paperwork at her desk, or simply looking at the high shelves garnering the walls of the headmistress’s office sheltering hundreds of books Bloom was sure had found their way in the proficient hands of the mind fairy at some point in time. The woman she barely knew anything about, and who had come out to be more than she herself might ever have thought to be.
Bloom sighed and let the view impact her for a while. It was quiet, as it was class time, and no one was out. End of June, the sun went up early and classes stopped earlier too. She looked around, fooled by a memory, a flashback of Farah walking over the gravel before the entrance porch, clad in soft maroon leather boots up to her knees, fluffy dark navy blue trousers, a thick red turtleneck pullover, hands stuck as so often, in the wide pockets of her navy blue rain coat. Her hair up, wisps of it in rivulets along the frame of her face. For a moment Bloom imagined the scene, and was taken aback as she crossed the brown gaze of the former headmistress. She could literally see Farah walk past her, look up and offer the redhead a genuine smile, before the moment vanished in thin air, like a fata morgana.
The vision was so vivid, it seemed Farah had been there, back then, and recorded her presence for Bloom to experience. But it couldn’t be. Bloom steadied herself on the ground, listening to the morning radiating in pearls of dew and singing birds. Farah was not here. Not really.
She checked her surroundings once more and scurried at the seam of trees past the Alfean grounds. The greenhouse was behind the next curve, protected by its own green setting. There was a house next to it, where she knew Terra had spent her life in. She had basically grown up in Alfea, surrounded by magic, and – Farah. Terra and Sam had been here all along, lived next to this wonderful woman. Of course she didn’t forget they had lost their mother early on, but from the interaction she had been able to observe between the mind fairy and the earth family, the kids considered the older woman more like an aunt, a person they paid a visit to on Sundays, to have some scones at tea time. Not a mother figure, a nurse, a loving hand on a sweaty forehead to calm down a nightmare. Farah was not like that. She was a lone wolf among the sheep, respected for her knowledge, but lonely nevertheless, protected in her fortress of ice and coldness. She never let anyone really through. And how Bloom knew? She had watched Farah act around her differently than she did with students or her older friends, Silva and Harvey. She was patient and open to the sorrows and problems of everyone, but always kept a façade up, a veil of seemingly indifferent politeness. The only moments she let her guard fall were in presence of a real danger, a matter that needed her entire focus, when Rosalind beat her, and when she was in her private quarters, cohabiting with Bloom. Oh, the moments of despair the redhead had been the witness of without telling further… Oh, the whispers in the dark, the trembling and shuffling of feet under covers, the cold of limbs and the clamminess of damp skin she had kissed away… Oh, the embarrassment of what others would think if they found out Farah wore torturing bracelets, and her red cheeks when Bloom stood close to her, no matter if in her office, in her classroom, in the music room, or in the kitchen, protected by a spell she had never been taught about, and yet knew how to use, a spell with its own magic, that had thread their lives together, without them knowing about its real legendary essence. Even without knowing, they had felt it, on top of their mutual attraction.
Bloom felt it now, even stronger than before, stronger than the last time she had seen Farah on her tombstone. The magic and the pull to be with her. Farah was not only in the vault underground, she walked the fields and the woods as an integral part of Alfea. She was Alfea’s soul.
“Farah…”
Bloom halted by a tree, hand resting against the ancient bark of the oak, the name of the precious woman of her dreams a hum against the air. For a moment it felt difficult to breathe, her vision blurred and her mouth dried out. She felt the weight of the last weeks and months and years press her down, and she slipped to her feet. She couldn’t stop it, it was stronger than her.
“Help me… help…”
Lights danced in front of her eyes and her heart caught up in a mad race to the sun. It ached and bled, and seemed to fall apart in her very chest. She couldn’t breathe but it didn’t matter. It felt so warm and right. She could let it go.
The lights faded away and the sounds receded and the ground was soft and nothing mattered anymore.
***
“F…a…a…”
She turned around. Bloom?
“…elp me… help…!”
That call, again. But Sarah Rose wasn’t there to confirm it anymore. And she didn’t need anybody’s opinion to know what she felt. A flowery scent reached her nose. Pink, warm and intense, like an essential oil extract. It was strongly defined and pulsating. Had she dreamed it all or had Bloom visited her in the realm between dimensions? But, how? It had taken herself ages to learn how to switch places and it had only worked with the help of Bloom’s fantastic abilities as the carrier of the Dragon Flame. Who was Bloom to draw a portal between the worlds and contact her?
Farah felt it again, the quiver in her limbs. Something was odd because she had never felt like this in this dimension. She started to shake all over but stopped at once. One knee on the sand of the beach by the lake, one hand in the malleable matter, feeling the smoothness of every grain falling from her hand as she pulled up the latter, she forced herself to breathe.
Eyes trailed on the sunrise, the sensation of Bloom’s eyes digging into hers unmoving. Once more Farah had kept to herself, unable to utter the words she knew were true and for Bloom’s ears only. And yet something had slipped through, something strong and immutable. For a moment she had felt a deep silence in her core, echoed only by the persistent thumping of Bloom’s heart. For one moment she was in tune, in complete accord, with the vitality and reality of the girl. The young woman.
She gulped. Even if Bloom’s appearance had changed over time – she didn’t want to imagine how long since the events in Alfea’s woods – it was still her, the same green-blue eyes, the same passion in her voice. Farah held her left fingers in the air and groaned softly. The same strength in her hand. Real.
She looked up at the sun bathing the landscape in streaks of yellows and bright light, curling up her fingers over her heart, and made a silent promise to the morning star. “I’m coming, Bloom. Keep fighting. Stay strong. I love you, my dear one.” She smiled. It felt true and warm and real.
At once the sun turned into a massive ball of fire, splashing its majestic power over everything she knew, saw or felt. It didn’t stop burning and she let the fire pierce her through and through, setting everything she was asunder. A liberation.
***
She rested on something soft and comfortable. It smelled good, like washing powder and it was smooth to the touch as well. Bloom listened to the sounds around but everything was silent. She stretched on the mat she was lying on and noticed she was still dressed. For whatever reason she thought it was important she still had her clothes on. She looked in panic around, but there it was, in the corner. She immediately stood up and went to her backpack, and after she checked everything was in there, she took a better look at the room she had been brought to.
It was simple yet functional, of solid wood and with a window. There was a wine red plaid and creamy white pillows. It looked like a cabin, with a bed, a table and a chair. It was very tidy and clean. Huh, she thought, the work of a woman. She smirked. Wait. Hadn’t she been around the greenhouse by the time she had lost consciousness? She checked her body but nothing hurt. What had happened anyway? She’d felt okay but then, as if she had been unplugged.
“Fuck!”
All of a sudden, she jerked with her right hand, watching as the ring the medallion had incrusted in flamed up and hurt like a branding tattoo.
“What the hell…?”
She watched in horror as the symbols pulsated and came out of the flesh so that they stood above the palm of her hand like little fire dancers. And as much as such they started rotating and switching places-to re-form to a new shape and settle down again.
Bloom was mesmerized as the burning sensation receded. She was holding her wrist as the door of the room opened and a foreign woman came in.
“Oh, you’re up. I’m sorry, I heard some noise and wanted to check on you, if you were okay.” A little pause. “Are you… okay?”
Bloom curled up the fingers of her right hand but it didn’t hurt anymore. Instead she focused on the apparition in front of her. It was a dark blonde woman, an oval face and kind light green eyes. She wore a dark green pullover and a brown pair of jeans. Half her hair had been tied to a knot and long strands of caramel framed her face. For a moment it reminded Bloom of Farah, but this lady was rather curvier. She resembled Pomona Sprout from the Harry Potter franchise, but with less curly hair and a bit taller. And with longer hair. But still that same kind of gentle.
She walked on Bloom and smiled hesitatingly. “Are you okay?” She repeated the question, looking genuinely concerned.
The latter cocked her head. “Where am I? And who are you?”
“You are in a safe place. My name is Vera Seedwater. I live here.”
“And where exactly is here? I was on my way to the greenhouse and I…” Bloom searched for the right words, her eyes darting right and left. “I think I fainted.”
Vera nodded. “We found you in front of the cabin, that’s true. My friend and I carried you inside. He said… he knew you.”
Bloom frowned. “Do I know him?”
She heard a pair of heavy boots outside the room and as if on cue, a bald man with a pair of glasses, a brown leather jacket and a timber plaid shirt came into view.
“I think you do. And if not, I’d be very, very hurt.” He smirked.
Bloom’s heart skipped a beat as she recognized the deeper voice of Ben Harvey. Without second thoughts, she passed Vera by and gave him a bear hug that he returned. “It’s so good to see you, Professor Harvey. So, so good…” She mumbled on his shoulder. Still in his embrace she defied his glance. “What? Oh, the hair. It will grow back.”
“No,” he answered. “It’s pretty. It’s just… you look so much more… mature.” He frowned, scrutinizing her as if she were an exotic plant. He sighed. “I guess time passed by for all of us. In the end.”
He let her go, and Bloom had a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Do you live here alone?” She noticed Vera standing by them, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. “I mean, obviously not ‘alone alone’, but…”
He cleared his voice. “Terra is here too.” He randomly pushed his glasses back on his nose and there she saw it. The bandage on his hand and the scratch at his neck he had skillfully managed to hide away under a scarf of cloth. Showing up for a moment though. That one looked older.
Bloom looked at him in the eyes. “Can I see her?”
Ben stared back at her with the same intensity. “Sure. But not now. She is resting.”
Bloom felt the little hairs on her neck stand up. A presence came on the landing, outside the room. The next moment, an auburn head and a bright face popped up in the doorframe.
“Speaking of me in my back? Dad, how often have I told you not to do this?”
Harvey’s nostrils flattered quickly and Bloom meant to see his forehead glow slightly. A puff of smoke and a quake in her intestines, that had nothing to do with hunger, informed her of imminent danger. But as she saw Terra, her dragon stilled again.
It was impossible to stay stern and so she jumped past the grown-ups and went to embrace her former suite mate. The latter huffed at the intense display of affection but hugged Bloom all the same.
“What’s up? Did I hurt you?” Bloom shot out.
“I’m just…” Terra looked behind her, before redirecting her gaze on Bloom, arching a brow, “you know, those days… just a bit tired. But seeing you, here, I mean… wow.”
Bloom couldn’t keep from smiling. It was as if the gang had come back together, just staggered in time. “Hair will grow back. And these days… they aren’t infinite at our age.” She winked and hugged again.
“Uff… yeah, right…”
Terra patted her on the back but as much as it should be comforting it felt annoyed. Bloom let go but still held onto Terra’s forearms. “I’m sorry I didn’t… call before. My cell phone died in the flames.” She produced a little smile. “A hotel room. I had a bad dream.”
Terra exhaled purposefully and nodded to the two behind Bloom. “Come to the kitchen. We have to talk. And I’m sure your body will be happy for the energy.”
After they had eaten and drunk – no Linphean coffee, but coffee all the same – the four of them went to the living room, a mug of tea simmering at their side. Bloom looked at the foreign woman by Harvey’s side, the way they exchanged looks silently. It was obvious they shared intimacy. Once more, she felt a pang of envy in her heart, and it was hard to watch them act that complicit.
“So, Vera, are you an earth fairy too? Like the whole Harvey family?” She took a sip of her tea, observing the couple sitting next to each other from over the rim of her mug.
The other woman smiled gently. “I am no fairy, Bloom. I am a witch. A poison witch.”
The redhead almost choked on her beverage. She didn’t need her dragon to be in defense mode within a split second. Although she knew it was totally stupid, she put some distance between herself and the mug she just had drunk from. She darted a dark side-glance at it but looked at Vera as the latter chuckled.
“Ok, so now you’re afraid I poisoned you?”
Bloom looked at the rest of the audience. Terra shifted in her chair and Ben tried to conceal – a smile?
“What’s going on here? I leave seven years ago because I can’t bear to stay here for reasons of my own, and when I come back the world has radically changed. Can you explain?” She looked at each of them in turn.
Harvey leaned forward and began talking. “As you left, December 2021, the world was still as you had known it. Rosalind,” a twitch at his right eye betrayed his suppressed emotions, “and, Farah, were gone, but the rest of us adapted to the circumstances.”
Bloom felt a shudder of anger ripple over her limbs. Sure. That must have looked like cowardice to leave them all behind. She clutched an invisible chunk in her fists, but shut up.
“That said, although we had lost her, life went on. Aimee Leroy was the new headmistress and Alfea went on being the fortress of knowledge for teachers and students, a stronghold for fairies.” He took a deep inhale. “That was until Luther Furlong came upon a visit in the very last days of December, checking up the site and deciding one month later that this would be a perfect place to establish rules of his own and overthrow the order as it had been known until then.”
Bloom looked at Vera who understood the hint. The latter tilted her head and opened a hand.
“As you have probably experienced in this new world, assuming from the fact you’re here with us today, not all witches approve of this way of ruling. Furlong has a certain reputation in the witches’ world already. His radical ideas have never really captured the acceptance of the many. His fanatic views of pure race and sexist opinions about women’s role in society have not contributed to his drastic rise in the media.” Vera paused. “But his actions have. You see, witches and fairies have lived alongside each other for a long time now. But we have always lived in the shadows, whereas you fairies have lived in the light, as the main species with rights and privileges.”
“Wait a second,” Bloom held up a hand, “how come you live among us and we have never learned of you?” She looked at Terra and Ben, furrowing her brows. “How come we’ve never been taught about that fringe of the population?”
“A fringe?” The upset in Vera’s tone could not be overheard. “You mean we represent a quarter to a third of the world’s population. I wouldn’t tag it a small percentage.”
“But that’s my point. I’ve never been told there were witches in the Otherworld. Only as Rosalind spoke about Aster Dell did I know there were other – beings than fairies. And to be honest, I’ve never really seen witchcraft at work. But I know… Musa did.” She darted a glance at the Harveys, a cloud of sorrow darkening their faces. She looked back at Vera. “And who changed the course of action in the world and when. Furlong is a danger, for all of us, both fairies and witches. How can we take him down?”
“You have to kill all the heads.”
Three faces turned to Terra.
“What? You kill him, another comes after him. You’ll have to chop off all the heads. Then you can be sure his reign is over once and for all.”
Bloom looked at the pacifist Earth fairy she had once got to learn on those very grounds. How much time had passed indeed, how much sorrow. And when would it ever stop?
“Not all witches are in line with his ideas,” Vera went on. “And yet, the majority approves of his actions. Since Furlong established his dominion in Alfea, his word has spread in the world. The few of us came out in the light, he laid a vast network of his most adamant supporters, nothing but better bodyguards or shackles if you prefer, about the government structures at the time, and rules ever since with an iron fist. Fire fairies are enemies of the movement.”
“But what are your demands? And why is that so hard to be represented in the fairies’ world?”
“We want nothing but being seen. We want a voice in the senates and governments of this world.”
“But you’re not a new species. And why are we speaking about species at all? You don’t look different to me than the rest of us.” Bloom shrugged innocently with her shoulders and took her mug to drink from. She took one gulp and looked at Vera’s lips moving slowly. Bloom didn’t hear a sound but all of a sudden, she felt extremely tired and dropped her cup. It fell on the floor and soaked the wooden slats.
“What have you done?” Terra jumped on her feet and knelt down to have a look at Bloom.
The latter sat slumped in her chair. A tinge in her fingers and a cold pang of adrenaline a moment later, and she came back to the present. “Wha-wha waszatt?” She managed to ask.
Vera stood up and checked her vital signs by placing a cool hand on her forehead and at her neck. “A little demonstration of our true power. The reason why fairies denigrate and hate us. Why they persecuted us back in the days, and still do today. Because our magic is as strong as yours, even stronger.” She murmured something and a little bluish cloud came out of Bloom’s nostrils, evaporating in front of her at once. “Better?”
The redhead looked up, completely back in place and time. “Yeah. But how is that possible it works so quickly?”
Vera smirked, patting Ben Harvey’s knee as she sat back by his side. “That’s the true power of the witches. Where fairies are able to work with the elements, channeling them to their will and directing them in space, we witches work with time. We can control the rapidity of the effect of a spell. I intentionally put a special herb in our tea.” She smiled, and everyone gulped. “If I had wanted to, I would have been able to activate the spell I wove around it by a mere thought.” She let the words suspended in the air. “That’s no joke.”
Bloom heard the seriousness in Vera’s words. Her heart still raced from the intermezzo.
“You fairies work in time with the elements. What we do, as witches, is, we plan beforehand. We use strategy as part of our magic. So if Furlong is here, then because he has planned it a long way.”
Bloom’s eyes searched the ground, lost themselves in the carpet’s design to their feet, switched up to the plants garnering the window sill until they landed back on Vera’s light green eyes. “Aster Dell…”
The latter tilted her head. “Well, Aster Dell was not everything but it surely was a start. The heartless eradication of our blood witch sisters and brothers was in the news for a long time. Their tragic end made the headlines and their fate passed down as history to be remembered forever.”
Bloom noticed a change in Vera’s tone. “You lost someone. Someone dear. Didn’t you?”
Vera didn’t answer. Instead Bloom saw how she trembled, and how Harvey took her hand.
“I could have hated you. And I did. For a very long time,” the witch started. “When Furlong asked for volunteers to infiltrate the fairies’ citadel I didn’t think twice. I wanted to kill the killer of my sister. She was a young woman, not older than you now, Bloom. She could and she should have lived.” She licked her lips, still hanging onto Ben’s hand. He had placed his second hand on top of hers. “So I came here seeking for revenge. I was full with hatred and I wanted that man to draw his last breath. But the one I met was not a murderer, but a father, and a kind soul. The man I met didn’t hide his deeds nor his responsibility in the murder of the blood witches in Aster Dell. Because there had been more to it than just Burned Ones, you see. Aster Dell was a village of witches, killed on purpose, by a crazy woman. Rosalind Hale.”
Bloom swallowed. The place was eerily silent, everyone attending still.
“I will never know why she did it, what her motives had been. But the man I found was no murderer. He had been misused, his powers misused, to merge with her and another, powerful, fairy, as I know you know of, to destroy a village of innocent people. It is a miracle you were spared.”
“Me and Beatrix.” The words were out before she could keep them in. She straightened up in her chair. “Another survivor of the massacre. A young woman my age. A fellow student.”
“I see. A sister of circumstances. Then you understand how you would feel if she were die so randomly it still hurts after twenty three years.”
Bloom’s eyelids flattered. “I’m sorry.”
“You did nothing. You were a victim.” A pause. “As much as Ben was.”
Bloom’s gaze embraced the picture of the three of them sitting across from her, as a family of sorts. “I don’t understand. You came here to kill him, and his children, didn’t you?”
A tear fell and another. Words came out strangled. “I did. But then I found out that killing him or his children wouldn’t bring my sister back. That’s not what she would have wanted. Me, roaming around, being bad and killing people. She would have wanted me to love and care and defend what it worth preserving. And it’s not a fanatic idea. It’s life. In all its forms. A plant, a child, the memory of the loved ones. Furlong doesn’t love anyone. If you ever felt something for someone, as a partner, as a family, then you might understand that people can change. That people can choose a new path.”
Harvey coughed a little. “It is true. I was a single parent because I chose to focus on my children. But as Vera came and I saw her, it was as if my life had taken another turn. It was as if my dead wife could finally rest in peace. I had not moved on from the place of sorrow and dread I had been ever since Rose had passed. I had loved with such intensity that I had forgotten I could still love, and more. And that I had to let go.” He patted Vera’s hand. “I was so infused in holding on to the past that I almost missed the opportunity in front of my very eyes. No question,” he added, pointing at Terra, “she will always be part of our family and the mother of my children, but our lifetime is short. And why deny us the pleasure of joy if it comes knocking at your door? Granted, the lady here wanted to kill me. But,” he huffed, “I don’t know. She didn’t, in the end.”
Bloom witnessed how the two of them held hands and exchanged looks. Vera spoke up.
“Honestly speaking Ben is absolutely not my type. But – there was that one time, he looked at me and… I saw his pain. He was chastising himself for the loss of his wife. He had been in pain for as long as I had. Without knowing from each other we had experienced the same loss. The loss of a dear one who would never ever come back. A child is not the same. The partner, the sister, the friend you had, can never be compensated. So as I saw him, kneeling in this pain, I felt for him. And I felt such deep loss and despair I couldn’t end his life anymore. From that day on I tried to listen to what he said, the way he taught about plants, and hey, we found a common ground and started understand each other better. Terra and Sam were not happy about the turn of events, but here we are, six years later.”
Bloom’s eyes widened. “What? That long already?”
Terra rolled her eyes. “Yes. And the trick with the herb in the tea? An old one.”
Ben Harvey looked between both women. “That’s a joke. Right?”
Bloom watched as Terra and Vera exchanged an accomplice look, the witch formulated a sentence and little bluish clouds evaporated from their tea mugs.
“You knew all these years and all this time… that the tea was poisoned?” He swallowed, getting his hand away from Vera’s hold.
The latter chuckled. “Oh dear, relax. I never wanted to hurt you. It is a soporific ingredient. I just activated its properties. Like a catalyst?” She smiled at him but he didn’t look convinced.
He stood up and started walking out of the room before he stopped and turned around. “You will be the death of me one day! You, you… w-”
“Woman!”
Ben turned his head to his daughter. They all looked at Terra.
“Dad… Does it make a difference? Fairy, witch, human, demon? We’re all women. All unpredictable, subtle, calculating bitches. What? I’m not being sexist, just stating the facts. It’s our all magic. As women!”
Ben’s face constricted and turned as red as a peony. He swallowed down his words and disappeared in the kitchen. Bloom looked at Terra who shrugged and smiled. She chuckled. The other two joined in. And for one moment, she could forget about all her sorrows.
***
He took the paper knife in his hand and played with it for a while before it found back on the desk. His slick dark hair was combed back, his dark eyes lost in the distance. The round staircase that led to the loft gallery was bare, as were the windows sills and most of the shelves. He had let his assistant, the young water fairy with chocolate skin, take care of the old possessions. Where books and plants once stood, now trophies of metal, certificates and pictures of himself had pride of place. An oversized portrait of himself in his best costume had been hung over the shelves to his right. He had kept the clock. It was handy for knowing the time.
He stood up from the desk and paced the place. The old wooden slats creaked under the carpets under his feet. He let his gaze sweep over the only pieces of furniture the office of the headmaster held: his desk, his chair, and one chair in front of the desk. The rest had been taken away. No need for more tables and couches and unneeded things. He had stuffed the room behind the office with all of it. No. Anyone coming in should know what they were to expect, namely, nothing at all. No pity, no compassion, no understanding. He didn’t want the pupils to lack respect towards their headmaster.
He took a deep inhale and checked the front entrance. He smirked.
“I’m waiting, Bloom Peters. And when you come, I’ll be ready.” He smiled. “To annihilate you.”
A sparrow chirped outside the window. He looked at it intently. The bird looked back, cocking its little head. Until it stopped singing, stopped jumping on its feet. It turned its head to the man behind the window and stared in silence, frozen in time, until its little black eye exploded like a punched in balloon, and blood ran down the orifice of its beak.
The animal fell of the wall. Who cared? He looked up and smiled. “Just come to me, fire girl. I promise, you will go down in flames.”