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Even in the time before the Pact, stories about the unexplained phenomena of contact with that of the supernatural kind have been passed down generations. In a time where magic was unfettered and capable of fulfilling men’s wildest dreams and desires — and the unravelling of their hubris. Still the question of mortality and the inevitable decay of time, what becomes of the conscious mind in death, remain the forbidden fruit in the furthest reaches of the unknown. The witches of yore and practitioners of the healingcraft, for all their supposed infinite knowledge, were never able to grasp the purpose or reason of the essence of life itself — the soul.
— Mortellis Tetran XII, Great Hall Scholar of Time, Cartographer of the Constellations
I.
Since having returned from the Great Hall, the trees had turned rusted shades of brown and orange. The leaves had become dry and delicate to the touch, easily crumbling in the palm of the hand. The sun had begun to set earlier and earlier as the cool autumn breeze was a subtle reminder of the winter to come. The remnants of the summer competed for its grapple with the approaching winter, painting the skies in grey, causing them to swell with precipitation. A series of dreary, sleepy days fell upon Master Qifrey’s atelier.
On these laggardly rainy days, the atelier’s Watchful Eye, Olruggio, found himself pacing his makeshift workshop. With the deadline looming for a contraption to be made for the Silver Eve festival, his inspiration and motivation were running thin. His “Phantasmal Fireball” spell was becoming more trivial by the day. Trying to plead to his muse for a solution to make his idea work, he found himself only met with deaf ears and empty prayers. Scattered throughout his chamber were burnt scraps of paper where he modified and modified again his spell to no success. If his muse wasn’t going to help, maybe a nice bottle of willowgrape wine would.
Olruggio emerged from his cave, to a dead silent atelier, which was odd for a place overrun by four little witches, Brushbuddy, and their chaotically good master. Speaking of their teacher, there was something Olruggio wanted to say to Qifrey. When he tried hard to remember just what it was, as quickly as it came, the thought would slip from his weary mind. Lately, his memory had become increasingly fuzzy with random lapses in time; even finding himself passing out next to Qifrey on the hill the night they returned home, which he concluded was due to his lack of sleep, overworking, mixed with heavy drinking — all pillars of self destruction. Things he should cut back on — the drinking, moreso — but that would be a problem for another day for the great “Olruggio of the Torch.” The fire in the hearth was still burning strong in an empty room. Descending the steps leading to the kitchen, he found Qifrey cooking a pot of stew.
“Ey, Qifrey! Where are the girls at?” Olruggio groggily asked as he stumbled in.
Qifrey gave him a puzzled stare and looked out the window to the pitch black night. “Olly, my friend, it is a clock away from midnight. They have long been in bed.”
“Ah, I see. I’ve been at it all day, I reckon I lost track of time,” Olruggio said while rubbing the back of his strained neck. He grabbed him a seat at the kitchen table.
“In your defense, with how this weather has been, it is getting harder to differentiate day and night,” Qifrey noted, scooping some stew into a bowl for his late night acquaintance. “On the topic, a letter came from the Windchaser Society this morning that stated a possible vicious storm is brewing over the coast. They will send scouts to fly into the approaching typhoon at daybreak to assess its strength. To say the least, we will probably have our hands full in the coming days. I want to get a start on preparations, in case.”
“Ah yes, the ‘Windchasers,’ a bunch of crazy sods, I say. I wonder how many of ‘em will get blown out of their sylph shoes this time,” Olruggio jokingly remarked, blowing on his hot spoonful of stew before taking a bite.
Qifrey faintly chuckled, “You have to at least admire the dedication to their niche in our craft… from afar. And, you can’t deny that they do provide ample warning before things become volatile. Of course, I have no desire, myself, to purposely soar into a torrential rainstorm.”
“Ha! That’ll be the day I know these apprentices of yours have driven you mad!”
“I strongly doubt they will ever do such to me. I couldn’t ask for better pupils,” Qifrey solemnly responded with a tinge of guilt in his voice. He stirred the perpetual stew mindlessly, drifting off into his own thoughts. The distance in an already contained space such as the kitchen somehow widened between the two men. For a spell, Olruggio was hopeful to have a moment of candor with his dear friend, but the door opened only to swiftly close. With the room becoming suddenly cold, Olruggio quietly decided to get up and find the bottle of wine that brought him out of his personal confinement in the first place.
He would be lying if he said he wasn’t still peeved at Qifrey for his recklessness at Cape Romonon. That day when Richeh suddenly showed back up to the atelier out of breath, afraid, and alone, the terror that filled him was something he never wanted to experience again. Rushing from the atelier to the Serpentback Cave was all a blur. When he got there he found a bloodied Qifrey and Alaira going head to head with a Brimmed Cap, and the other three girls fending for themselves, dealing with another witch’s apprentice being marked by forbidden magic and transformed into a beast — an atrocity he had to keep hidden from the Knights Moralis’ interrogations afterwards to protect the poor apprentice and everyone else from being mind wiped.
That day Qifrey was so consumed by his thirst for revenge, he had forgotten about those who needed him the most and, moreover, himself. He would have pursued the Brims until he fell dead if Olruggio didn't jump into the fray to snap Qifrey back. Recalling the look on his friend’s face when he stopped him, it was a look of pure hatred. His one bright blue eye fogged and dilated, dark as the deepest abyss in the ocean that knew not of the sunlight’s grace. It was the side of Qifrey that frightened Olruggio.
How selfish he can be… Why can’t he just let it all go and live in the present? His thoughts ate at his heart while he opened a bottle of wine and sat himself back down at the table. No matter how much he tried to push him away, Olruggio cared greatly for Qifrey, and he knew hidden far in the prison of his entangled mind Qifrey felt the same.
At a very young age, almost as long as he could remember, Olruggio was deemed a prodigal son of his mountain clan, carrying the unbearable weight of the title of “Olruggio of the Torch.” A title that came to him as a mixed bag of gratification and misery, full of praise and veiled resentment. Everywhere he would go, people would recognize him, showering him with compliments and requests, others waiting for his fall. It was overwhelming for a child, and he desired so badly to be no one. Qifrey was different from all the other kids in the Great Hall. He phased in and out of the corridors like a spectre, unnoticed by most until he stood next to his master, Beldaruit the Wise in Teaching, and then he became an anomaly. Ever since he first met Qifrey, after saving him when he went out the wrong door and into the ocean in one of many attempts to escape from the Great Hall, he had always been drawn to him. Maybe because he envied him to some extent, wanting so badly to be a spectre himself. Maybe it was also because Qifrey didn't know who Olruggio was before and did not care, becoming a friendship born of genuineness. Qifrey loved him not for a hollow title but for the actual person he was, a love like no other. A dying flame that dwindles as the years draw on, a flame this fire mage tries so hard to keep ignited.
In the silence, Olruggio’s eyes wandered over the kitchen, he took notice of things out of character. Chores half finished — dishes in the sink, papers and primers from the day’s lessons sloppily stacked to the side, muddy footprints on the floor that were partially mopped up. For all his friend’s occasional anarchic outbursts, one thing he was not and that was messy. Where his mind was unruly, his dwelling would never show it. Lately, he was clearly starting stuff only to stop and go onto something else in the middle of it. His scatterbrain was something he was typically good at concealing and never putting it on display for everyone to see.
"Nghh!" Qifrey let out a painful whimper, grasping his injured shoulder and dropping his ladle into the pot.
“You're doing it again," Olruggio gruffly snarked, taking a sip of his drink. “You're doing too much.”
“Look at the pot calling the kettle black,” Qifrey returned the sarcasm in kind.
“You got me,” Olruggio shrugged and gave him a gentle smirk. “In all seriousness, that is your drawing arm. Sinocia said you need to get plenty of rest for it to completely heal. What good will you do as a witch and a teacher if you can't draw, so don't overexert—”
“I’m fine, Olly!” Qifrey snapped back at him, catching Olruggio off guard. Something he said must have struck a cord. As fast as his irritability came, it left. “Olly, I’m—” Qifrey tried to mutter an apology.
“It’s alright, you stubborn ol’ crank,” Olruggio tried to lighten the melancholy in the air. He walked over and took the pot away from Qifrey. “Can I at least negotiate a light duty with you? No offense, but the place is in total disarray. It is beginnin’ to look like my room out here. Also, you need to remember who taught you how to lie, which I will say you still aren't that good at.”
“‘The kind of lies only a friend would make up,’” Qifrey softly recited. He let out a sigh in surrender to his partner’s persistence, “Ok, you win.”
He walked over and picked up the stack of papers of his students’ work from earlier. “The girls started drafting their ideas for contraptions for the Silver Eve. I’m behind on reviewing all of it, so I'm going to go work on this for the time being.”
Smiling ear to ear in victory, Olruggio began cleaning up the kitchen. “The hearth is still burning warm and bright, so go make yer’self comfortable,” he proposed. “I wouldn't mind also looking over what ‘em girls have been cookin’ up either. I’m rather curious. It will be a good palette cleanser for me, too. I’ll join you in a bit.”
Qifrey winced at Olruggio's suggestion about getting nestled in the den, “I’ll be fine here.” He sat down on the cold stone bench in the kitchen.
"Mmmph," Olruggio grunted in protest. Both men found each other locking eyes in an unspoken duel. Again, Qifrey finally ceded and got all of his stuff, moved to the couch near the hearth and started shifting through the papers.
Olruggio felt a youthful sense of pride for yet another win. Usually it was he that would be too tired and yield to Qifrey’s hardheadedness, especially now in their older age. Starting the kettle to make some thornbark tea, he knew he wouldn't be able to persuade Qifrey to get some sleep, which would be preferable for his condition; but at least he did win him over to take it easy. With two cups of hot tea ready, he entered the den where Qifrey was.
“Qifrey, I made you some tea to help you concentrate… Huh?” Right as he entered the room, he heard a pen drop on the ground and found the smoky-haired witch slumped over on the sofa in a terribly uncomfortable, folded position fast asleep. He was groaning and twitching like he was trying to stave it off and wake from his unconscious state, indicating it was all but a restful slumber.
“Yep, yer just ‘fine,’ alright,” Olruggio teased to himself. Quietly setting the tea cups down on the floor, he went over to his companion and placed one arm behind his back and slipped the other under his knees. Qifrey was skinny as a stick, with little to no muscle mass, but was as tall as a tree and managed to weigh like a giant log cut from one. After a few attempts to gain momentum, he successfully lifted his friend up. Qifrey’s head rolled inward and burrowed itself under Olruggio’s jawline, he felt Qifrey's breath on his neck slow down and his body relax. Gently, Olruggio laid him back down on the couch, stretching him out, removing his glasses, setting them aside in a safe place with the paperwork, and tucking him in with a quilt.
While Qifrey was in his arms Olruggio felt him shiver, so he took this as an opportune moment to finally have Qifrey use his “Snugstone” contraption. Knowing the girls loved them and used them all the time wasn't enough, the feedback he wanted the most was from the one special person that he made the warming stones for in mind, and that someone was his colleague and longtime friend. Every time he gave Qifrey a stone, he would conveniently and almost instantaneously “misplace” it; and every time that happened it stung at Olruggio’s ego, leaving him wondering what he did wrong in the design that Qifrey, being the bad liar he was, caused him to keep avoiding using it. The entire Zozah Peninsula, even King Deanredly himself, could sing the acclaim of such an invention; however, the praise Olruggio valued and needed the most was Qifrey’s. He stowed the stone under Qifrey’s quilt. Qifrey softly hummed to the warmth and rolled over on his right side, covering his bad eye with his hand.
As Olruggio raised himself using his old, crackling knees, in his now deep sleep Qifrey whispered, “I'm sorry, Olly…”
A shadow grasped from the far reaches of Olruggio’s memories, a familiar phantom taunting him with things forgotten. There was something he wanted to say to Qifrey, he needed to say to Qifrey. But, as when the water on the shore rescinds back into the waves of the sea, an invisible hand pulled a curtain over his mind and lolled him back to a state of complacency in obscurity.
“Yeah, you should be sorry. You keep me worried every clock of the day. Yer the reason my hairs are slowly going white to match yours,” he warmly jested. Not being aware of his sudden impulse, he leaned in and tenderly kissed Qifrey on the temple above his good eye. Realizing what he just did, the old witch recoiled himself a few steps backwards, covering his mouth with his hand. His whole face burned hotter than a pyreball, boiling the tears forming in his eyes from the shock of what he had just done.
Why did you kiss him?
Maybe there was a time this would have been okay but…
No…
Damnit…
Olly, you shouldn't have…
You can never…
He doesn't love you in that way…
His thoughts anxiously raced and qualmed with one another. His gut turned and twisted in revulsion to his shame, to his yearning.
Still…
He looked over and saw his friend, he was peaceful. For the first time in all the years they've been together, he looked serene. He was as beautiful as a full silver moon on a clear night… Like snow… harsh and cold… How long could Olruggio continue living like this? Being so close but yet so far? Like snow… He, the flame that would melt it when approached. Like snow… delicate and finite.
Despite feeling confused and abashed by his own action, he made sure not to disturb Qifrey as he quickly left the room. He desperately needed the distraction of house chores. He desperately needed to get Qifrey out of his mind, out of his heart — if only for a short-time.
After reapplying the seal of repetition to the magic cookpot to keep Qifrey’s fresh stew going for the next years to come, Olruggio started cleaning and putting away the rest of the dishes. The wind outside from the encroaching storm gained strength, causing the limbs of a young tree outside the kitchen window to lurch back and forth, turning the branches into claws trying to pry their way into the atelier, violently scratching against the glass. Being done with the dishes, Olruggio decided to re-mop the floors.
BOOM!
A sudden loud crash vibrated throughout the atelier following a bright flash of light outside, startling even Olruggio. It was thunder. Lightning must have stuck nearby. He peeked into the den to check on Qifrey, he remained asleep on the couch, inert and unbothered. Stepping back into the kitchen, Olruggio found himself bombarded by four little witches.
“MASTER OLLY! MASTER OLLY!” Tetia waved her arms, jumping up and down, as she cried out loud, “I’m scared! There was a horrible sound outside!”
Olruggio grunted in frustration at having Qifrey’s gremlins suddenly descend upon him. Tempted to correct them for the hundredth time to not call him “Master Olly,” he decided he was too tired to do so. Honestly, there was a part of him that was getting used to the sound of the title. Also, he couldn't deny that they were growing on him, especially witnessing their remarkable progression as witches and people — a lot in which could be credited to their exceptional teacher, despite all his shortcomings.
“Shhh. It’s jus’ the storm outside. There is nothin’ to be afraid of. Run along and go back to bed,” Olruggio tried to assure them in the gruff Olruggio way. It did not work. The girls remained where they were, and they all awkwardly stared at him.
“Aw, come on,” Olruggio grumbled, racing a hand through his hair, matting random clumps of strands as he scratched his scalp. “A little thunder and rain ain't gonna hurt you.”
Richeh broke the girls’ silence, “Master Qifrey hates the rain… And I can’t sleep. The rain makes it sound too much like being stuck and separated underground in that cave again.”
The sound of rain…
Olruggio’s eyes widened at the realization that those girls were still processing everything they went through not even a whole month ago. In the end, they were still just children, emotional sponges to their own experiences. What transpired at the Serpentback Cave was horrific for the adults involved, no telling how much it had impacted these kids. The test was supposed to be safe. Everything during the chapter of one's adolescence was supposed to be safe, and it was the adult’s duty to uphold that sense of peace.
Magic’s purpose is to bring happiness to the world… A creed full of contradictions.
The dilemma Olruggio faced now was he didn't want the kids camped out in the same room with Qifrey, since he was finally having the most restful sleep in his entire life. He definitely would not be able to convince them to return to their rooms and leave him be either; the storm outside was becoming stronger by the clock, and the thunder boom from only moments ago would be one of many throughout the night. There was an alternative, and the old witch was far from keen on the idea.
Olruggio crouched down to be at eye level with the runts. He tried to keep his voice down, giving his proposition, “Alright. Here’s the deal. I got Mr. Qifrey in the other room finally getting some much needed rest. You girls do not understand how hard it is to get your ol’ teacher to do any such. I don't want you all waking him up. Gather yer blankets and pillows and you all can camp on the bottom floor of my chamber, and I’ll sleep on the floor out in the den with Mr. Qifrey.”
All four of the girls’ — even the ever stoic Agott — faces glowed in a form of excitement.
“But!” Olruggio firmly exclaimed. “There is one condition! Yer not to touch anything in my room!” He snorted and shot Coco an accusatory glare. “And, I mean do not, absolutely do not, mess with anything!”
Coco cut her eyes to the corner nervously smiling, tapping two of her index fingers together, “I promise, Master Olly…”
“Go now, get yer things. Jus' be quiet about it,” Olruggio shooed them away as he started to head to his chamber to get his bedding together.
With certainty in her voice, Agott told the other girls as they went to their chambers, “Unlike the rest of you, I am going back to sleep in my room. The only reason I'm up is because Coco was making such a big fuss. I'm not afraid of thun—” Right as Agott was speaking another loud clasp of thunder shook the atelier. Without saying another word to admit her fright, Agott also collected her things to take downstairs and join the other girls.
The little witches were getting settled with their blankets and pillows spread out on the floor in a circle. Though Olruggio had strict instructions for them not to touch anything, he made an exception for his “Glowstones” scattered throughout his room. He knew Coco loved them and was what endeared her to magic to begin with, and he thought it would be beneficial for all of them to use for comfort if they were to get spooked again. Over his balcony, he threw a few of his own pillows, blankets, and Brushbuddy — by complete accident — who had cozied under his covers.
“Aye. Sorry ‘bout that, little fella,” Olruggio hollered down to the creature. Luckily, Brushbuddy landed on its feet, shook itself off, and walked out the room, unscathed.
Once getting to the bottom floor, Olruggio gathered his tossed things to head to the den. “You girls settled in?”
“Yep! Yep!” Tetia happily replied.
“Yes! Thank you, Master Olly!” Coco was excitedly rolling around on the glowstones, moving her arms like she was making a snow angel.
Giving him the official Richeh-Seal-Of-Approval, Richeh gave him a thumbs up.
Agott silently sat with her nose in a primer.
Olruggio took notice, “Agott, you don't have to be studyin’ every waking moment. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, it's all gonna catch up with you in yer ol’ age. Yer gonna end up like me and Qifrey passin’ out in random places.”
Agott pretended not to hear him. He walked over and slipped the book out of her hands, she flashed him a scowl. “Yer gonna thank me for this later. Get some rest,” he said as he snapped the book closed with one hand in front of her, returning her his own paternal scowl.
“Well and good. Goodnight. I’ll be out in the den if any of you need anything.” Olruggio was almost out the door until Tetia called out to him.
“Master Olly!”
Growling under his breath, being so close to freedom, he turned to acknowledge her. “Eh?”
Tetia looked away bashfully, “Could you… Maybe… Tell us a bedtime story?”
“What?!” Olruggio didn't know how to respond to her request. He’s not these kids' teacher, and he was certainly not their father.
Richeh casually pulled out her quire and drew a pyreball spell and placed it in the center of them all. “It will be like we are actually around a campfire in the woods.”
“I can't say no, can I?” Olruggio pleaded. All four gave him the same blank stares they gave him earlier, which was their collective answer. Damnit, Qifrey. You truly do spoil these apprentices of yours, he thought to himself. With an annoyed puff, he sat on the floor in the circle the girls formed.
“I don't really have any stories,” Olruggio said, rubbing both his eyes and stretching the skin down of his bottom lids.
“How about a story about a beautiful maiden, who falls in love with a dashing prince, and they save the kingdom from evil. Those are my favorite!” Tetia daydreamingly suggested.
“Boring,” Richeh muttered.
Olruggio was hit by a burst of exhaustion, feeling dizzy. All he wanted to do was go to sleep now. He doesn't see how Qifrey does it everyday. Getting increasingly irritable, he came up with a story haphazardly, “Ok, ok. Once upon a time, there was a prince and princess. They lived happily ever after in their castle. The end. Now go to bed.”
“Wha! Master Olly! You didn't even try!” Tetia complained.
“I want a scary story next,” Richeh requested.
“You're jokin’, right? You girls are all here because the storm scared you.”
“Coco woke me up,” Agott quickly corrected. “I’m not scared at all… It's just… The wind is incredibly strong… It wouldn't have been safe to be on the second floor.”
“I don't know how I feel about a scary story…” Coco hesitantly said. She gave the senior witch a curious glance, “Master Olly, how old is the atelier?”
Olruggio started to think back, “Not sure. It was abandoned when me and Qifrey found it as young lads. We came back and fixed it up to make it our home when we were grown.”
Tetia hid part of her face in her blanket, “Is the atelier haunted?”
A spark lit in Olruggio’s mind, if he wasn't going to be allowed to leave until he gave them a proper story, he might as well have some fun with it then.
“Well… No, I shouldn't say anything. Mr. Qifrey wouldn't want me to have you all afraid living here,” Olruggio was, of course, lying. He dramatically looked away from them, peeking in the corner of his vision to watch their reaction.
The wind from the storm blew harsher, stampeding across the roof. It did not phase them. All the girls’ attention was on him, and they leaned in with eyes brimming full of curiosity at what he meant. He got them.
“Ah, look at me opening my big mouth,” Olruggio pretended to rub the back of his neck nervously, acting as if he said something he wasn’t supposed to. “You all are bound to find out eventually, but I need you to promise me you won't tell yer teacher you heard it from me.” Each of the fledgling witches nodded a yes simultaneously.
“It’s not that I have personally experienced many strange occurrences, but there are stories from locals nearby about this place. Some stories going back before even the Pact. One involving a witch who once resided here…
‘The timing of her life changes depending on who you ask, but it was most certainly well before me and Qifrey’s time. She would do her diligence as a witch in nearby villages. For a time her work was cherished by the villagers, bringing much beauty and relief to their lives. A ‘Spring Witch’ she was adorned, known for her beautiful gardens, one of her major contributions to the world around her, using her magic to paint vibrancy and life everywhere she went. Eventually she caught the eye and heart of a merchant sailor. The two ended up falling in love, but their love would be short-lived.
‘When autumn came he sailed out to never return. The young witch flew off in a desperate search for him, using a strand of his hair in her guidance orb. She did find his vessel only to discover it was invaded by trespassers. Bandits had overtaken him and his crew, slaughtering them and leaving their charred corpses below decks to rot.
‘The only remains the bereaved witch could salvage from him was his heart. In an act of despair, she cast a strong spell conjuring a wrathful storm to drown the ship with her lover’s murderers. It was said the spell was so powerful it forever changed the sky and sea, causing the tempests of the fall to become cruel and sorrowful as she was on that very day — akin to the rainstorm we are blanketed in now.
‘She returned home, retreating in her grief. She could no longer see the beauty that once compelled her to her magic. Her gardens, the surrounding landscape, no longer flourished and slowly wilted away. She embraced death, becoming known as the ‘Witch of Ruin.’
‘It was said that she attempted to bring her beloved back by burying his heart somewhere in the ground here, using seals that were even inconceivable and taboo for the days before the Pact. It was believed that few of her experiments did prove somewhat successful, having grown a soulless husk in many attempts, each time something less human than the last.
‘Villagers nearby would try to check in on the lonely witch and were greeted by inhuman howls of something unnatural with the loud beating of a heart the closer they approached the cottage, scaring them away before they even made it to the door.
‘No one knows what happened to her in her later years. She vanished, and this place stood desolate and lifeless. Some say during this time of the year, when the veil between the living and dead is thin, she will appear during a storm and you could hear the endless drumming beat of a heart.
‘No one dared step foot on this soil, believing it to be cursed…
‘… No one besides two young bumbling dolts who found this place and used it as their personal refuge from the Great Hall. Me and Qifrey had no idea about the history until after we decided to put our roots in the ground here as adults. A local farmer called us both fools for taking up residence. Like I said, though, I have never experienced anything too odd. A few strange noises here and there, but I take it to be jus’ the wind. So, I wouldn't worry yer own hearts about a ghost wandering around. I’ve never seen the sort.” He knew very well they would. They were all bug-eyed and awestruck; his job was done.
Olruggio let out an honest, but exaggerated, yawn. “On that note, it's past my bedtime,” he blithely slapped both his hands on his aching knees as he got up. “Sweet dreams.”
None of them objected to his departure this go-round. As he left the room, he could hear the apprentice witches whispering amongst themselves. He could no longer hold back a mischievous snicker as he laid out his bed linen on the floor in front of the hearth.
Checking on Qifrey one more time, he noticed Brushbuddy acting strange around him on the couch near his face. The creature was hectically nudging at him and kneading the sleeping witch’s cheeks.
“Hey, hey. Stop that,” Olruggio whispered as quietly as he could to the critter, picking it up by the nape of its neck. “What has gotten into you, you little chimney sweep?”
Making incoherent chirps, it tried to explain itself with no success. Olruggio walked back over and flung it through the open crack of his bedroom door. Before it could run back out the door and into the den, Richeh slammed herself on it, squeezing it in a tight hug, not allowing it to go anywhere. Brushbuddy gave up on escaping and accepted it wasn't going anywhere else for a while.
The one time I get Qifrey to catch some good sleep this whole atelier decides to burst into a bunch of hullabaloo, Olruggio stewed. Nonetheless, Qifrey was unusually still. He was in the exact position he was in when Olruggio left to start on chores. He typically tosses and turns constantly in his sleep and never stays on one side for too long.
To be safe, Olruggio walked over to make sure he was still breathing. He was — peacefully and steady. Next, he made sure he wasn't coming down with a fever. He placed the back of his hand gently on his friend’s forehead — no such.
Feeling relieved, he sat on the floor and leaned against the couch next to Qifrey. Knowing he wasn't going to hear anything he was going to say, Olruggio still quietly spoke to him. “Heh, you were definitely exhausted. Proof it will eventually catch up with you, catch up with us…. We need to provide better examples for ‘em girls, they notice everything and mimic what they see. Had to get onto Agott who was trying to pull an all-nighter a moment ago…” Olruggio stopped to think about how much more that sounded like him than Qifrey. “Ok, that one is probably my fault… More importantly, you need to take care of yer’self. They all look up to you. They need you… I need you…”
Olruggio ran his hand down his face and glanced over at his best friend, his moon in a starry night sky. “Look at me getting all sentimental. The funny part is, you ain't hearing a damn word I'm saying, too.”
The tired, old witch sighed as he got up and finally went to go to sleep himself on his scrapped together bed for the night. Even though he was sleeping on the hard floor, camping out next to Qifrey would most likely give him the best sleep he has had since their youth.
Before drifting off, the inner voice far in the back of Olruggio’s mind shrilled in the deep. None of this was right. He needed to ask Qifrey something. There was danger, but once more he shook the thought away. He was too fatigued to react to his worries. He would try to remember just what it was and speak with him tomorrow. For now, they both needed the repose.
II.
Both eyes trying to adjust to the dark room, Coco wasn't entirely sure what time it was when she awoke. Judging from the somber look outside the window on the top balcony of Master Olly’s shop, it was still nightfall. The rain continued to heavily pummel the roof of the atelier. Rumbles of thunder could be heard off in the distance.
Her mouth felt like sandpaper, so she decided to make the brave venture to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As she rose from her sheets on the floor, she grabbed a nearby floatglow lantern and tiptoed around the other sleeping witches.
The hallway outside Master Olly’s chamber had a foreboding, stale air; the walls on both sides painted as black as inside an inkwell. She could see at the very end the contrasting, faint light of the hearth still burning but the journey to reach it felt longer than usual. Gripping the handle to her lantern tight, she fastly paced herself down the corridor and finally reached her destination. The whole way she felt as if something unseen would grab her and pull her into an endless abyss.
When she made it to the other side her heart jumped at a horrifying yowl of some unknown creature, soon after realizing it was just Master Olly’s snoring, who was sloppily sprawled out on the ground in front of the hearth. Master Qifrey was blissfully slumbering through the other elder witch’s incredibly loud roaring and wheezing.
After holding her breath for what felt like forever, she let out a sigh of relief. See, nothing to be afraid of. Master Olly said he has never seen a ghost here, Coco tried to reassure herself while timidly laughing at Master Olly’s snoring.
Switching her footsteps to a now slow and quiet pace, she made it to the kitchen. It was even more dark than it was in the hallway. She raised the lantern to the window only to see her reflection in the void. Unable to see anything else outside, the sound of the relentless rain and the branches scraping the window in the storm’s gale were the only signs of what dwelled out in the night.
Coco felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, she hurriedly set the lantern down on the counter and grabbed her glass and filled it with water. Turning around to quickly drink from her glass, she found herself facing the stairs leading to her and the other students’ room. At the same time another abrupt flare of light covered her surroundings and then she saw it.
Standing at the top of the stairs, there was a blackened silhouette of what looked to be a woman with a large and overflowing brimmed cap. After the lightning subsided, Coco’s eyes, finally being adjusted to the dark, could still make out the outline of the figure etched in the darkness. Under its hat, she could see a pale, translucent glow of what was the bottom half of its face that was not covered by the brim of its cap. Yet, it did not look like a human face but rather that of a porcelain doll.
Coco wanted to run but her legs became stiff. She wanted to scream for her mentors in the other room, but her mouth was dry and voice strangled. She stood petrified at the sight, but she felt no fear. Instead, she felt sorrow.
She thought about her mom. She thought about Tartah, about Euini, about Custas, about the father she never knew, for all those her magic could save but could not. She was overwhelmed with grief. Tears streamed down her eyes, but she could not look away from the embodiment of all her anguish that stood before her.
Stillness.
The sound of the rain halted. All she could hear was the deafening beating of a heart. Two hearts in one. It shared her remorse, unspoken. The entity carefully turned its head, slowly raising its hand in an unnatural manner, looking as though the bones of its arm broke over and over again as it moved it upward, making a horrific sound like the cracking of tree bark. It pointed toward where Master Qifrey and Master Olly were asleep.
A warning.
Coco wanted to move, she wanted so badly to run to the next room and wake the adults. Despite all her urgency, her whole body felt as though it was sinking in quicksand. Something terrible was happening, and yet again she found herself powerless to help. She made another attempt to scream but she could only muster a meek whimper.
THUMP…
THUMP…
THUMP!
The pulsating heart grew louder and louder, completely drowning out everything around her. Tears continued to run down the young witch’s face. She was a rabbit caught in an inescapable snare where the dread of what’s to come felt eternal.
But, the sound of the heart did what she thought would never happen, it stopped. Lightning struck again. Once the light disappeared, the entity was gone. She could hear the room again: the rain and wind, the branches of the tree outside now furiously banging against the window.
The feeling in her limbs returned. Before she could regain herself fully—
CRASH!
The glass in her hand slipped out and shattered on the ground. Despite the cuts she bore on her feet, she continued to stand where she was in a state of shock as her floatglow lamp dimmed and the darkness of the room enveloped her.
III.
He dreamt about his childhood, the more happy parts at least. The parts he wished he could have enjoyed and all the kindness he so desperately wanted to return. He dreamt about his best friend as the two of them constructed a new ruse, a new adventure. Now in front of him was a consoling flame and his beloved companion. The face of his friend was concealed in the dark, but he knew his warmth too well. The warmth of his radiant star. He tried to reach over but the figure stopped him, placing the comforting flame in his hand. It did not burn. Without being asked, he hugged it close to his chest and promised to cherish it, for it was his dearest friend’s heart, his love.
If only he could…
But hope was what it hungered for most…
It started with a searing pain in the socket of where his right eye should have been, followed by the horrid snap of the parasitic tree as it violently coiled its appendages out of its host’s body. Convulsing from the agony, Qifrey rolled off the couch and onto the ground, tightly clasping his face with both hands. Inside he felt it sprigs gnash against his organs, causing him to spit up bile mixed with woodcruor.
Not like this… Olly… the girls… they can't see me… His thoughts were splintered, not entirely lucid, but he knew all too well what was happening.
Qifrey tried to crawl into the shadows, away from the light and warmth of the hearth. His already wrenched shoulder stung as the tendrils of the Silverwood festered down his body.
“Qifrey,” an alerted Olruggio cried out. “QIFREY! Speak to me?!”
No, no, no, no… I can’t do it again… Qifrey panicked, still trying to crawl away, so his friend would not see the tree blossoming.
With a quaking voice that did not sound like his own, Qifrey keened, “What did you do, Olly?”
“What are you talking about?” Olruggio was horrified by his partner’s frenzy. “Damnit, Qifrey! Yer acting like a madman!”
Qifrey could sense Olruggio reaching out for him from behind. If only Olruggio knew how much he wanted to give in to his tender embrace and let his roots overtake them both.
What a selfish desire…
I mustn’t…
I will not break my promise…
Right as Olruggio placed his hand on him, Qifrey shoved him away, pushing him onto the ground. In the same possessed voice, he hissed, “Do not touch me!”
With his one good eye, he looked back at his friend and through his blurry vision he could still read the pain his words inflicted written on his only star’s face. Despite it all, Olruggio continued to hold out his hand for him. He did not say anything.
The Silverwood was no longer satisfied. It retreated back into the depths of Qifrey’s misery. His body was once more his own. Gasping for air, still shaking and head throbbing from the episode, he completely collapsed on the floor.
Recomposing himself, his voice becoming something he could recognize, he whimpered, “Olly—”
Before he could say anything else, a giant cloud plunged at them out of nowhere, engulfing them both.
“MASTERS!” It was Tetia and her cloud spell. She landed on Qifrey with her hands wrapped around his neck. “ARE YOU OK?! I thought the ghost got you.”
“We heard screaming. We came ready to save you,” Richeh coolly said as she popped her head in the cloud with two tiny crystal ribbons ready to use as her personal dual-weapons.
“You are both acting like children! How many times do I need to tell you all that there are no ghosts?!” Agott could be heard chastising the other two outside the cloud.
Qifrey’s stomach churned knowing they heard him. He put on his warm facade that he had become so accustomed to use to mask his own fears. With a forced smile, he gently tried to comfort the girls.
“Ghosts? Where in the world did you all come to think there are ghosts here?”
Olruggio let out a dry cough and looked away blushing when Qifrey glanced his way.
“Yes, there are ghosts here! Now it's a search and rescue for Coco! She wasn't in the room with us when we woke. The Witch of Ruin could have snatched her away! We need to save her!” Tetia said with determination.
“Master Olly made it all up. Coco’s fine. She probably just went to the restroom or got some water,” Agott confidently stated, trying too hard to act older than she was. She marched her way into the kitchen, “I’ll go look for her.”
Qifrey chuckled, “It looks like Mr. Olly showed off his incredible imagination. I have never heard of such a thing as the Witch of—”
“Coco! What's wrong?!” Agott hollered from the other room. Alarming both elder witches, Qifery jolted out of the den with Olruggio following right behind him.
“Don't move! You’ll cut yourself again,” Agott was trying to sweep up the shattered glass around Coco’s feet. The young witch had her face covered in both hands, sobbing.
“Coco?” Qifrey ran over and picked her up off the ground. She buried her face into his aching shoulder and continued to weep. He set her down on the kitchen table. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head in a way that could be interpreted as a yes or no.
Thankfully the cuts on top of her feet were just a few small scratches rather than deep gashes. He checked her soles and was relieved to see that she did not step on any of the broken glass.
“Here, I’ll go grab some tranquileaf and bandages,” Olruggio quickly dashed out to retrieve the supplies needed.
After collecting all the shattered glass, Agott grabbed a damp rag and handed it to her mentor. “Thank you, Agott,” Qifrey said softly.
Agott stood where she was and watched to see if she could be of more help. He could see she was worried. Though she could be impassive, she had her own way of expressing that she cared for those around her, especially Coco. There was a beautiful bond slowly forming between the two, one all too familiar to Qifrey. He knew too well how hard it was to remain a frigid soul in the face of relentless kindness.
“Me and Mr. Olruggio will bandage her up. Could you check on the other two in the den, please?”
Agott snapped her eyes away from Coco and up at Qifrey, “Er— yes sir.” She made her way to the small set of stairs leading up into the next room but not before turning around to glance over at Coco one more time. Half of her face was illuminated by the tepid light from the fire burning in the other room, while the other half was enshrouded by a coolish shadow. She then turned around and rejoined the other two in front of the hearth.
“What happened, Coco?” Qifrey patiently asked as he began to carefully clean her wounds with the rag.
“I'm so sorry… Master Qifrey…” was all she barely mustered out as she tried to wipe the tears off her face.
Qifrey was caught off guard by her apology. “You haven't done anything to apologize for.”
“I… couldn’t help…” She was hyperventilating through her words. “You and Master Olly were in trouble and… and… I did nothing.”
“Coco…”
His heart sunk further into dread; she, too, heard his fit. They cannot know. He needed to find a way out of any suspicion fast. He needed an explanation. A good lie. Hardly any time had passed since he last wiped Olruggio’s mind, and every time he erased his friend’s memories — if only just a small piece of it — a part of himself seemed to chip away along with it. He especially did not have the heart to commit the same sinful act upon these children. Their memories now are most precious and should never be stolen from them, even the ones that are painful.
“I should be the one apologizing to you,” making an attempt to soothe her. “I must have had a bad nightmare and fell off the couch, startling myself and everyone else it seems.”
“I saw her though,” Coco sniffled.
“Saw who?”
“The Witch of Ruin… she had a brimmed cap…”
A brimmed cap… Qifrey’s heart raced.
Are they trying to make contact with her here at my atelier now?
Was it because I tampered with their twinned bottle that they knew where to find her?
Maybe Beldaruit should have taken her in…
No… She is the closest lead I’ve ever had to finding them…
But…
His thoughts were clouded with conflicting thoughts and emotions. He was wearied by his unending pursuit, his chasing of the apparitions from a long lost past, selfishly putting those around him in harm's way. All he wanted was his agency without being haunted by the clutches of the Silverwood.
Olruggio reentered the room with the first aid she needed, keeping Qifrey from pressing Coco further about what she saw.
“Oi, Coco. I'm sorry about all this. There are no ghouls or spirits of abominable witches roaming this atelier. It was jus’ a silly ghost story I made up for fun. I was jus’ tryin’ to spook you girls and got a bit carried away,” Olruggio clearly felt guilty for contributing to the night’s commotion. Carrying that responsibility, Olruggio applied the herb on her scratches and placed the bandages over them.
With what she saw seemingly a figment of her imagination spurred by Olruggio’s tale, Qifrey tried to shake away his thoughts of it being an actual breach by the Brims and their ilk.
“I wouldn't have brought students here if it were haunted. I promise you this atelier is safe, Coco,” placing his mask back on, Qifrey attempted a disarming smile. Moving her gaze upward she gave him the same look she gave him when he went to save her at the Tower of Tomes. The look that she wanted to believe him with all her heart that everything was in fact okay but ultimately did not. Her doleful eyes searched her mentor’s face, slowly peeling a new layer off of Qifrey’s cunningness.
“There we go. All patch’d up!” Olruggio said as he finished and brushed both palms of his hands together.
Both Qifrey and Coco broke their gaze away from the other as Olruggio picked up Coco. “Let's get you back with the others. It looks like we'll all be sleeping out in the den tonight.” His demeanor took a stark turn from the tired, old grump earlier to fatherly benignity.
“I’ll make us some biscuits and tea since we are all awake” Qifrey lightheartedly offered.
“Sounds good. You might want to get yer glasses before. I set them on top of yer paperwork,” Olruggio recommended as he lugged Coco to the other room with a persistent hurt hidden within his voice.
Qifrey felt the bridge of his nose and realized his spectacles had not been on this whole time. He watched his friend and student ascend the stairs at a distance and noticed their hazy, almost gaseous forms. A cruel memento of his ailing vision. Coming in behind Olruggio to get his specs, he was able to find them exactly where he said they would be. After placing them back on, he noticed on the floor next to the couch one of Olruggio’s snugstones. It must have tumbled off the couch with him, which meant—
Picking up the stone, he felt sick. It was still warm to the touch. Such a kind act he could never accept, tainted by his condition. He felt indignation towards his friend for sneaking the blasted stone, but the feeling did not last long. The short-lived bitterness dissolved into remorse, because he knew it was only the fault of the blissful ignorance he had inflicted upon Olruggio time and time again to hide his secret.
Olruggio was finishing up helping the girls get situated in the den while also trying to put out the fire he started with Tetia and Richeh over his tale. Qifrey pocketed the stone and returned to the kitchen.
As he pulled out the kettle to start his brew, he thought fairy grass marktea slips would be perfect for the occasion since tensions have been high throughout the night. It would definitely help calm everyone's nerves — everyone except his own. His hands were still trembling, causing him to nearly spill the hot water in the kettle on himself.
“You need help,” Olruggio quietly reentered the room, his arms crossed.
“I'm fi—”
“That was a statement, Qifrey. Not a question,” he was firm in his tone but not angry. Qifrey knew he was concerned and wouldn't let what happened earlier just sit.
“I saw you lose dexterity in both yer hands jus’ now. Give me the kettle. I’ll finish the tea. You go grab the ingredients for ‘em biscuits and start mixing ‘em together.”
Qifrey decided not to argue and did just what Olruggio told him to do. Silence fell between the two men as they went through their usual motions of late-night cooking, something that typically would have brought both of them joy. Unfortunately on this night, it would not bring as much. Neither of them knew what to say: One searched for the right words and the other braced themself for those very words yet spoken.
“That was one hell of a night terror you must have had,” Olruggio decided to say.
“I suppose. I wasn't entirely awake when I fell off the couch, and I can't even remember the dream I had… for the better it seems,” Qifrey lied. “I apologize for scaring everyone.” Mixing the dough with his good arm, he tried his hardest to avoid eye contact.
“It looks like we all got spooked tonight,” Olruggio quietly snickered.
It wasn't a convincing laugh. To his relief, Qifrey knew his friend was attempting to alleviate the mood and move past what had happened. Qifrey allowed himself to let his guard down a little more.
“The ‘Witch of Ruin’... really, Olly?” Qifrey playfully poked at his story.
Olruggio allowed himself an honest laugh, “I know, right?! Pretty catchy, huh?”
“Very much,” Qifrey softly laughed in return. “But you will be in charge of trying to make them sleep in their rooms for the next few nights. I wish you all the luck.”
“Oof. I guess I'm going to have to get used to sleeping on the floor then.” Both men chuckled simultaneously. Olruggio walked over and grabbed the mixing bowl from Qifrey, trading Qifrey’s cup of tea for it. “I’ll finish this up.”
Qifrey did not put up a fight and sat at the kitchen table, pondering over his cup of fairy grass tea. Though a dangerous feeling to have, he allowed himself another morsel of solace in the fact that Olruggio did not seem interested in pressuring him to talk about anything he did not wish to speak of. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Olruggio’s snugstone. He knew his friend made it for him originally, like all the spells he makes that come from the heart and his burning desire to help those around him.
If only I could bask in his warmth, Qifrey mourned to himself.
“I found this near the couch,” Qifrey set the stone on the table. “You made sure I wouldn't lose it this time,” he forced a stiff smile.
Olruggio’s cheeks turned rouge, “Yeah, but some good it did. I was hoping it would help you get a full, restful night's sleep finally.”
“Why would you say that? Your stone was not to blame for my nightmare.” Another pleasant lie. “It's a wonderful invention, Olly.”
“You really think so?” Olruggio timidly asked. He continued to keep his eyes focused on placing the biscuit dough on the baking sheet.
Qifrey got up from his seat and rested against the kitchen table next to Olruggio, reexamining the stone, tracing his fingers over the sigil. “Of course! It's like a spectral flame from a cozy campsite fire, trapped inside a single stone.”
With a sudden halt, the inventor witch nearly dropped the mixing bowl, throwing it on the table. Eyes wide with joy, he turned to Qifrey with a big smile across his face and gave him a tight hug around his neck.
“Qifrey! You genius! I could kiss you right now!” Olruggio jubilantly exclaimed, now face-to-face with his friend, his hands on both shoulders. The unexpected embrace sent shockwaves throughout Qifrey’s whole body, a feeling both uneasy and pleasurable.
“Ow,” Qifrey squeaked as his shoulders tensed, reminding Olruggio of his prior injuries and his disposition to touch.
“Aye, sorry,” Olruggio apologized, moving a few steps back.
“No, it's quite alright. I just don't know what I did to earn that.”
“You gave me the answer I’ve been looking for on how to make my ‘Phantasmal Fireball’ work!” Olruggio said, giving him a full-teeth smile. “The solution was here the entire time. If I can transfer the flame into a stone, or maybe a gem of some sort, then I wouldn't have to worry about folks takin’ for granted the dangers of fire.”
While he watched Olruggio enthusiastically talk about his epiphany, Qifrey couldn't help but allow his heart to indulge in delight. He always admired his friend’s passion for their art, he loved peering into his royal blue eyes as they sparked with inspiration. For a fleeting moment, he gave himself permission to completely let go of his ward, joining in the ecstasy of his friend’s happiness. He leaned in, with one hand cusped on Olruggio’s right cheek, and kissed him.
Letting the kiss linger as long as his body would allow it, he savored the sweet and sour taste of the willowgrape wine that remained on his friend's lips from earlier. Olruggio’s lips were warm and soft as he always imagined them to be, and Qifrey relished in the feeling of the hairs on his goatee tickling his own upper lip. It was the type of forbidden touch he had always wanted, from the only person he had always wanted it from. The other witch moved a few steps forward, pressing his whole body closer against Qifrey’s as their lips stayed interlocked.
They finally broke their kiss while keeping their foreheads against the other, catching their breath. The hand that was on Olruggio’s cheek slowly caressed down his arm until Qifrey found his dearest star’s hand, intertwining their fingers.
Breathing heavily as he gently rubbed his forehead against Qifrey’s, Olruggio whispered, “Well, what did I do to earn that?”
“Being here,” Qifrey quietly responded with a shaky voice.
“Qifrey, I’ve wanted this so much. But… I'm yer Watchful Eye. If they found out our relationship is even more compromised beyond just being childhood friends…”
“I know, Olly.” Qifrey removed his hand and backed away. Everything around him felt colder and darker than it did before. A new sharp headache formed, making the room nauseously spin. He knew he had pushed the limit of his affection.
“I just wanted you to know how much I lo—” he stopped and quickly backstepped his words. “I want you to know how much I appreciate you; even though I don’t, or can't, always express that to you.”
“A part of me has always known, Qifrey. I wouldn't be next to you now if I truly felt any different,” Olruggio reassured him.
Both men had known each other for so long that they knew how to communicate indirectly and could read each other well. For that same reason was why Olruggio had figured out Qifrey’s secret innumerable times, and the same reason he had wiped his memory just as many. Qifrey always feared the inevitable next time, and that time finally being where their bond would be lost forever, losing his only connection he felt with the living. It would be a worse fate than death.
Damn you, Olly. He cursed the child his friend once was that made him promise to keep this charade to stay alive — if his state could even be considered being alive.
Another loud crack of thunder rattled the atelier, and they could hear the girls' hysterical screams in the other room as Tetia’s cloud spell became larger, spilling out into the kitchen. Though their voices were muffled inside the cloud, they could still hear Agott fussing at them. This time both elder witches were not startled. They both stood there and snickered at the scene.
Olruggio tilted over to Qifrey and whispered mischievousness, “You know? We could still have some fun. Do you remember that time ol’ Beldaruit used one of his smoke illusions to make it look like a shade lurked in the Great Hall past midnight?”
“Yes,” Qifrey rolled his eyes at the mention of his former master; still being irritated at him for trying to poach Coco as an apprentice and telling her things about his past he was not ready for her to know. “It was one of many contingency plans he made to keep us from sneaking out of the Great Hall in the middle of the night.”
Qifrey turned his head towards Olruggio with a smirk, “If I recall, you were the only one of us terrified of it. And, not to brag, I figured out what it was fairly quickly. It was you ‘protecting’ me from it that kept us cooped up in our rooms for a few nights.”
“Yeah, yeah, ‘Mr. Gallantry,’” Olruggio snorted with a laugh. “I remember you finally getting sick of it and jus’ walking right on through it, going yer merry way. I know Beldy was amused playing around with us back then, too.”
“I prefer not to walk in the footsteps of my former mentor and impose the same nonsense on my students.”
“Ey, Qifrey. What happened to your sense of whimsy?”
Qifrey flashed Olruggio a disapproving glare and grabbed the cooking sheet of biscuits to go into the preheated wood-burning oven. Naturally in a witch’s atelier, such as this one, there was a prepared magic sigil within the oven that would have the treats ready in a matter of minutes.
“Alright,” Olruggio threw his hands in the air in defeat. “No more fun for tonight, I suppose,” he teasingly pouted as he went to place everyone's tea on a tray to transport. Qifrey acted like he didn't hear him while he watched the biscuits to make sure they didn't burn.
“I’m going to take the tea and get the den ready,” Olruggio said as he exited the kitchen. He stopped at the small staircase and hollered into the next room. “Oi, Pigtails! Get rid of this cloud! I can't get in!”
“Ok, Master Olly,” Tetia hollered back from what sounded afar. The lint particles that made up the cloud dissipated as she called back the spell, granting the old witch entrance.
“I got you all some tea and Mr. Qifrey is about to bring some fresh biscuits to go with it.”
Qifrey could hear excited chatter of his apprentices from the den at Olruggio’s announcement of late night snacks, which made it hard for him to suppress the warm feeling it gave him. He did not lie to Olruggio that night on the hill. He was happy here; or, more accurately, he could be happy here if not for—
He could feel the faint presence of the Silverwood as it stirred again, feeding on his sense of home. The vicious truth was his life at the atelier was an euphoric trance within a waking nightmare. They didn't just take his eye, his past, they took his peace. There were many days like this very night that Qifrey contemplated dropping everything and submerging the entirety of Thristas until the water buried every last Brimmed Cap and their damned silverwoods. Maybe then he will finally know what peace feels like.
A burnt smell entered his nostrils and broke him from his wrathful reverie. The biscuits were starting to turn dark brown on the edges. He pulled them out just in time before they were too overdone to eat. With bated breath he gathered himself to face everyone.
Olruggio was sitting on the floor laughing with the girls telling them humorous stories about his and Qifrey’s adventures in their youth. He looked up and waved over for Qifrey to join them. As Qifrey walked over, he felt himself stepping on something slimy. He looked down and noticed the small amount of woodcruor soot he spat out earlier, another needless reminder of the Silverwood’s constant dominion over his life.
“Oh? It looks like some tea must have spilled on the floor,” Qifrey attempted to be subtle. Though his calm demeanor did not show it on the outside, his heart was pounding from the anxiety of finding any trace of his ailment that could lead to them asking questions. He laid the basket of biscuits in the center of everyone. The girls happily grabbed a portion the moment the basket hit the ground.
“Thank you, Master Qifrey! Thank you, Master Olly!” They all said at once with their mouths full.
To his relief, it did not seem as though any of them noticed it. Qifrey gave them a weighted smile in response and swiftly turned around to clean up the spot with a spare handkerchief he had stashed in his pocket. Afterwards, he found his place on the floor with everyone else.
Coco grabbed the basket of goods and happily offered some to Qifrey. Her mouth was still stuffed with her last bite, seemingly back to her beaming self. Hopefully, what worried her before no longer did, he prayed to himself. Like her mentor though, she was also well-versed in concealing her own trepidations.
Tetia looked towards both of the adult witches and asked, “So you've never actually experienced anything strange happen here?”
Olruggio glinted over at his partner to see what he would say. The other witch met his gaze with a tea cup held up to his mouth to cover his grin.
“Well,” Qifrey set his cup down. “There was that one time... Don't you remember, Olly?”
Olruggio’s entire face lit up with boyish excitement from Qifrey’s cue. “Oh, right. How could I have forgotten!”
All the girls, Brushbuddy, and even an amused Qifrey, were enthralled by Master Olly’s new tale. However, this time the old witch made sure to make this spirit a kind one that protected the atelier and its inhabitants.
IV.
The light from the hearth was beginning to fade, and the atelier’s Watchful Eye soundly slept next to it with four little witches piled on top of him, peacefully sleeping alongside.
Qifrey sat awake on the sofa, trying his hardest to stay busy. He made sure to not finish the fairy grass tea from earlier and to swap it out with the stronger thornbark to ensure he wouldn't fall into another unwanted slumber. He tried to read in the dimmed light, which was almost impossible due to his failing sight. An attempt that caused a painful strain to form in this teacher's one good eye. It was a sign to call it for now on reviewing the girls’ drafts.
As he quietly set his work down to get up, he took a moment to look at everyone else. The tangled emotions flooding him were overwhelming with unyielding endearment mixed with an unwanted resentment towards those he cared for the most. He envied what he could not have but they could. Hastily, he left the room before either tide of emotion consumed him, both equally ruinous.
Discarding the tea cup in the kitchen basin, he turned his attention to the stairs leading up to the girls’ room. Another round of heavy rain started to downpour outside, sounding as though tiny daggers were stabbing into the atelier’s structure.
The horrid sound of being trapped…
What Coco may have seen, or may not, still scratched at Qifrey’s embedded curiosity. He peered into the darkness on the top floor. An ominous sensation of something strangely familiar compelled him to investigate the area. It was a chill from an absent cold wind that rattled his bones, softly prickling at his skin with anticipation of something unknown.
If it was one of them…
He lit the lamp Coco had left on the counter and traversed up the staircase with desperation in each step he took. Starting with the girls’ chambers, he checked for anything out of the ordinary, especially in Coco’s quarters. Nothing. Next he checked his own room. Still no sign of anything out of place. He stood at the top of the stairs, standing in a shadow of dismay. Truthfully, he was relieved that they weren't coming for Coco at a place of supposed safety, but he still had to to find them. Any crumb that could lead him to these illusive thieves in the night. Anything that would help him reclaim what he never had.
He was so exhausted. Finding a seat on the top step, he rested his head on his knees and listened to the rain. Maybe he never left that coffin. Maybe he is still buried somewhere within the forest of death. He felt a lone tendril slither down his right wrist. Moving his head back to see what it was, he was greeted by a baby sprout peeking out of his sleeve. He did not fight it this time. Holding his hand against the dying light illuminating downstairs from the hearth, he admired it as it slowly coiled around his index finger.
It wasn't always painful, when the Silverwood would flare up, that is. Only when he fought tooth and nail against the tree’s cradle was when the excruciating pain would come. As a mother trying to gently soothe the stirring seed in the warmth of her womb, it almost lovingly wanted its host to accept its gift of everlasting rest. A death in exchange for birth.
Since coming back to his atelier, he thought he would have plenty to keep him stressed. Being severely injured, forced to be boarded up at medical spire under the sea for a period, his former mentor causing Coco to run off to attempt the Librarian’s Trial prematurely, and having erased his dear friend’s mind again, these were all the dreadful fail-safes he needed to keep the parasite at bay. However, he found himself back at his atelier, now more at home than ever before. It was what both he and the Silverwood desired the most but only one could have.
Watching the branch continue to spread and wrap in between his fingers, it affectionately grasped his entire hand, reminding him of Olruggio’s calloused but soft grip. He remembered his friend’s snugstone in his pocket, which he pulled out and hugged it against his empty right eye socket. The tiny branches seeped through his closed lid and reached for the stone’s heat. Together, he and the Silverwood revered the stone's benevolence. A precious gift from their beloved.
A tear flowed down his one human eye as he began to reminisce…
The selfish reason he took on these apprentices to begin with was with the intent of bringing upon himself the constant worry and stress being a teacher, he foolishly believed, would bring. Instead, it had brought him the exact opposite — fulfillment, a reluctant happiness.
There was Agott. His first student, his first test to see if this plan would work. At the start, she was the perfect proof of concept. Stern and headstrong, she was certain of her path but darted recklessly toward adulthood. Having to stop her time after time, slow her down, encourage her to draw for herself instead of just by the books. These daunting routines served its purpose well… for a spell.
Then it all changed, she started to change. She began to listen to his advice. She began to grow. She taught him to also not rush life, and that it could be safe to lay his own shield down from time to time.
Sweet Tetia was the next student he took in. Her jubilant heart was always in the right place. She was far from a model pupil for an ordinary mentor, but the ideal one for him and his condition. She floated with her head in the clouds, which made getting her to pay attention to any of his lessons and to study a challenging task. He learned to teach her ways to stay focused. Taught himself an alternative way to teach her through sharing his love of cooking with her. Always creating spells to bring happiness to others and waiting on their validation for permission to feel joy in her craft, he tried to also show her that it was okay to rely on herself and how her own magic made her feel before all else.
She, too, then grew. And she taught him in return to have patience for others.
Next was the rebellious Richeh. She was the one he and Olruggio decided to take in together. They stumbled upon her on a quick trip to the Great Hall. Completely distraught, she was in the midst of hiding from her teacher at the time. She had laceration all over her drawing hand from being hit constantly by a switch; her crime being to draw what she loved. He remembered he and Olruggio sharing sharp words with her then master, trying to convince him to let them take her in under their wing, which he continued to refuse while simultaneously saying disparaging things about her. Olruggio pulled that poor excuse of a teacher aside and said something to him privately, which led to the man changing his mind swiftly and allowing them to take Richeh back to their atelier. She then told them about her brother and learned the horrific truth that she was not the only victim of that tutor's ire. They reported him to Beldaruit who stripped the elder witch of his teaching privileges with haste. Her brave voice was the sword that liberated her peers from the hands of their abuser. In the beginning, he promised his newest student she could draw whatever she wanted. It was the promise he had to softly bend so she could grow her wings to fly.
And, like a phoenix, that was just what she did. She taught him to be gentle, and showed him the teacher he wanted to be.
Then…
There was Coco. His final student. The accident. A kindred soul who also knew firsthand the horrors magic was capable of. In spite of it, she never allowed her fear to tarnish her passion and determination. Straight and true. His original reasoning for taking her in, like all the others, was a selfish one. Not only that, but she was a means to an end, a loose piece in the giant puzzle in his hunt for the Brimmed Caps. It sickened him that was his first intent for taking her in, knowing well she too lost something dear to forbidden magic, her mother. Their paths unexpectedly converged, both seeking what was stolen from them, deeply connected by their own tragedies. Unlike his other students, he found himself learning more from her than he could ever teach her.
And she continued to amaze him with each new day. Her bravery in the face of cataclysm. She was a bright beacon of light during the longest of starless nights — the embodiment of hope. He wanted so desperately to be able to believe in…
He drowsily moved his gaze away from the Silverwood on his hand to the illuminating light on the bottom floor.
‘Qifrey, I need you to not look away from the pyreball until I get back. I'm going to the Tower of Tombs to figure out how to save you! Please, don't give up!’ A familiar boy’s voice cried to him as his shadow ran off in a distant memory, leaving him alone in the arms of the Silverwood.
Don't give up…
Qifrey snapped out of his daze and fleeted back up on his feet. The rain outside was now torrential.
I promise, Olly. I won't give up. On you, the girls… on myself, he steadfastly thought to himself. In response to his sudden resolve, the Silverwood’s vines fiercely clutched his wrist, demandingly squeezing it, cutting off the blood circulation from his drawing hand to arm. He felt the ripening seed in his socket viciously swarm to his rejection of its tranquility.
Hope… though dangerous and far, he will not give up on the day he could sincerely embrace its glow. Like the dimming light of Olruggio’s pyreball on the day of their own personal pact, he will not stop seeking that faintly lit star over the horizon. He will not allow the Silverwood to claim it in his stead.
Qifrey ran down the stairs, out the door, and into the stormy night. Using his sylph shoes, he flew himself above the ground. Drenching himself in the rain, he took out Olruggio’s snugstone and threw it down a hill near his atelier, near his home. There will be a day he will be able to hold his dearest friend tight and return all the endless kindness he had always given him.
Looking up to the sky, he allowed the hard droplets to peddle against his face. The Silverwood relented its grip and returned to dormancy.
Against the cold rain, he could feel the warm streams of tears flow down his face as he began to sob, accompanied by an unrepressed mirth. He recalled what Olruggio said earlier in the night: That it would be the day that his apprentices would have driven him to insanity when he intentionally flew into a rainstorm such as this. A statement that wasn’t without its merit.
Indeed, it would be all of their boundless love that will one day happily drive him mad.