Page 29 of Wallflower Witch
“Did you really think you could get away with this? We cannot use our powers for evil, brother! The humans will hunt us down and destroy us if we do.”
I look around, confused. I can hear a male and a female voice arguing, though I don’t recognize them. The night breeze ruffles my hair, and with a start, I realize I’m sitting in the field in the middle of all the houses.
“That’s exactly why we need to do this now. We can fight back, stop them from taking our land, end the persecution of our kind. Our coven is strong. We have the power to back us up if everyone works together.”
It’s dark out, with a red glow in the sky like the night I first felt the call to come find Spells Hollow. I get to my feet and brush away dirt and grass, carefully making my way to the nearest house, where the yelling is coming from. It takes me a few moments to recognize that this gorgeous house is the run-down O’Byrne home that I’ve become used to. Even when I saw the past before, its glory was overshadowed by the horrors of all the deaths.
“And then what? We don’t murder people. If we start, there will never be an end to it. More and more humans would come to hunt us down. That’s why we’ve always run away; they cannot know we exist.”
On silent feet, I slip up to the front window and peer in, watching two twins argue in the lantern light. I remember the words of Nan from earlier and bite back a gasp. The twins from the story! Where the brother sacrificed his sister and eventually sided with the evil witch who cursed the town.
My lips twist into a sneer as I glare daggers at the man who took part in creating this terrible tragedy. He is pacing, looking wild and crazed, while she is sitting upright in a chair, her back as stiff as a board and mouth as thin as a hair. Neither looks particularly happy.
I find myself holding my breath, my nerves flaring with every step he takes. He keeps shooting fearful glances toward the door, and I think back to the story. Could this be the night he betrays his sister to save his own skin? Why then is he trying to convince her to attack the humans first?
“You’ve always been too self-righteous for your own good, sister. The humans don’t care if we would never hurt them. They fear us and desire our power for themselves. You’ve seen it, just as I have. They will not listen to reason or believe our truth. We must strike first if we wish to survive.”
“I am sorry, brother, but I will not turn away from goodness just because you are afraid. We came here to find a sanctuary not start a war. We have always survived when humans forced us out before. This time will be no different if it comes to that.”
He looks down, an almost pained expression on his face before it hardens into a rage. “It’s too late. I wish you would have listened to me, but then, I never really thought you would. You’ve always been so certain you alone know what’s best for everyone. Sadly, that won’t be the case this time.”
He walks to the door and steps out, his twin following slowly behind, her eyebrows squishing together as she goes to lay a hand on his shoulder. Her voice is trembling as she blurts out, “what do you mean? What have you done?”
“What you forced me to do.” He turns to face her. “You brought this upon yourself. Just remember that as you take your last breath. But don’t worry, I convinced the coven to go to the forest for a ritual. They shouldn’t have to die for your failure. At least, not if they’re willing to make a better choice.” Then, before she can react, he points at his sister and shouts at the top of his lungs, “Witch! She’s a witch! She’s trying to curse me!”
In a flash, a dozen rough men are surrounding her, herding her toward a waiting wagon. The air is thick with jeers and the stench of tar, and torches crackle from every which direction. My lungs seize from panic, or perhaps from the smoke that’s filling the square. I want to scream, to cry, to tear the men apart before they can hurt her. But I’m scared to step forward into the midst of the crowd.
The firelight glints off of pitchforks as they back her against the wagon. One grizzled man shoves a rag between her lips and a cheer echoes around us while they fall on her, her knees banging against the hickory planks as they throw her into the wagon and bind her limbs past their limits along the wagon’s frame.
Tears stream down the woman’s face, yet she never gives up her composure. Her body is bound in such a way to keep her immobilized, ensuring that she can’t weave spells out of the very air or utter some out of her gagged lips. She doesn’t cower from them, nor fight or beg for mercy. She lays there with a quiet dignity that even the witch hunters can’t ignore, their jeers turning into uncomfortable whispers as she calmly awaits her fate.
All the while, her brother stalks around the wagon, egging the humans on to save his own hide. Who would ever suspect a man could be a witch, too?
The wagon team begins to move, carrying my ancestor away to wherever they’re taking her. There’s talk amongst the men about lighting the wagon on fire once they get there, and my stomach rolls. If I jumped up, if I ran over to the wagon and cut her loose, or reasoned with these men, could I stop everything that happens? Can I stop all those miserable deaths? The dark, cursed energy that covers this town?
I steady myself. I have to try. Even if this is just a dream, I can’t just sit back and do nothing. I push myself to my feet, and suddenly I’m elsewhere in the forest, in a place I’ve never seen before. In front of me is the wagon, alone, and burning.
I gag. My knees buckle, and I bend over, emptying the contents of my stomach as I picture the regal woman tied in the inferno, a woman who stoically stood by her principles even in the face of death, betrayed by her own brother.
“No!” The word bursts out from somewhere deep inside of me, a primal, desperate cry for release from the horrid wrongness of this monstrous act.
“Do not fret, child. There was nothing you could do.”
I gasp, hearing her voice right next to me. I look up, and she’s there, covered in soot, yet looking…peaceful. Like she hasn’t just been burned alive.
“The past is set in stone and cannot be changed, no matter how much you wish it. The future is full of endless chances yet to come. Trust in yourself, be true to your emotions, and let your instincts find the way.”
She smiles, gently cupping my cheek as a warm wind seems to circle around us, relaxing my body until my eyes can barely stay open. A magic befitting the founder of the O’Byrnes.
“Look into your heart, Morrigan. You will find the answers have been there all along.”
***
When I come to, I’m lying on a blanket in the rundown living room of my ancestors’ home, three men and four ghosts peering down at me with varying levels of worry on their faces. This time I’m not cold; the warmth from the woman is still wrapping around me.
“How long was I out this time?” I rasp as I push myself to a sitting position, my mouth dry and my head pounding. Quoth squawks as he flaps a few steps away, having been on my stomach until I moved.
“Only thirty minutes. How are you feeling?” Patrick asks. He puts his hand behind my back, helping me stay upright.