“That’s…that’s ghastly.”

  “Indeed.” Ignatius said. “Those who were there say they saw the kids running away and they were wearing witchly garbs.”

  “I never thought witches were capable of such things. I’ve always seen you as the type to get along with everyone.”

  “That would be anyone’s disposition toward us if we’re given a chance but some time long ago that wasn’t the case. Either they were framed because somebody lied or at some point a witch lost their mind and committed such an atrocity. No one can really say. There’s nothing that can be done now, it’s old history.”

  “Such a terrible thing for a dozen people to be burned to death. Was there a reckoning for the act?”

  “Don’t you know? That event was the catalyst for what became the Dark Harvest.”

  “The Dark Harvest.” Hoxley said sadly “The time when man and witch became mortal enemies.”

  “Truly. Relations had always been uneasy because humans found our ways to be strange but we’ve never strived for anything other than a peaceful coexistence. After the fire, the region of humans formed to exact revenge. They amassed quickly, quietly and in the early morning after the pumpkin festival in the heart of autumn they came with arrows knocked and loosed a whirlwind of bolts cutting down entire generations of witches. The battle lasted for days, the population of witches decimated to almost nothing. Survivors abandoned their homes and fled to the east to find a new settlement. With few provisions, many witches starved to death that harsh winter. The few that survived to live another year named that settlement Spellvale.”

  “That’s an incredibly sad story.” Hoxley said, wiping away the mist that had gathered in the corner.

  “True. Those events cast a prejudice that still stands today. We cannot prevent it, but we can diminish it if we commit ourselves to being the best incarnation of ourselves. If we extend kindness first before anything else, the people of all lands may one day take us at face value.”

  “That’s very profound.” Said Hoxley

  “What other choice do we have?”

  “What became of the old lands? I’ve been warned to stay away from it, that it’s cursed.”

  “Oldvale? It’s not cursed or forbidden.” Ignatius said. “However, there’s nothing there. I went there as a child to appease my curiosity but found nothing but ruins and shadows that hang on the markers of mass graves built into the sides of hills. Some witches went back to bury remains. The land was burnt and has since been left to be barren. It is a sorrowful place that should be forgotten. I cannot think that anyone should spend time there if they didn’t have to.”

  “I imagine it was beautiful once.” She said, trying to offer some solace

  “The stories passed down say it was something to behold. Accounts say there was magic in the air in ways we cannot fathom. But back then, our tribe had a singular person to rule us, a designated voice that was no higher or lower than the next witch to guide us with wisdom and heart. We don’t have that anymore. No one is declared higher or lower but our visions remain scattered. Perhaps that’s the reason we’ve never regrown. The last leader of the witches died during the dark harvest. However, there was a singular witch, a scion that guided people to safety during that battle.

  “Who was it?”

  “Do you remember the song that Siouxsie sang upon the mountain?”

  “The song of the lightning witch? It was so beautiful.”

  “Yes, that was her. Legends say she was a nobody who rose from our ranks and led people to safety in their darkest hour. When she’d managed to lead the eventual survivors away, she vanished never to be seen or heard from again. Such is the legend.”

  “That’s amazing. Will she return?”

  “There is no prophecy to say she will.” She said with a twinge of disappointment. Just then, Robert came whizzing back through the trees on his broom, stopping short of striking his brother before dismounting. The others gathered round to hear what he had to say.

  “The village of Woodford is just over this hill, big brother. I couldn’t get too close but I from what I was looking at there don’t seem to be any king’s men posted on the roads leading in or out of the village.”

  “Then we should send an element in to scout surroundings and possibly even purchase rations.” said Ignatius. “Hoxley? What do you think?”

  “The least conspicuous of us should go;” she said, looking around the group. “I would stick out like a sore thumb and everyone is looking for the prince. Robert could go, but he’d need to remove his scarf and cap to look less suspicious.”

  “That’s not going to happen.” Robert said sternly.

  “Then that leaves Morell and I. His clothes are plain enough and if I remove my cloak and hat then I may appear…less odd.”

  “Perhaps that would be best.” She agreed.

  “You want me to go into town?” Morell asked. “Is it safe for us to do so?”

  “Safer for the group as a whole, I think.” said the witch. “Drop your pack but keep your mace. Do you have a way to stow it so that it’s not in your hand? The gesture could come across as threatening.” Morell looked at the weapon in his hand before looking at his belt or pockets for a way to stow it without looking ridiculous. “Here, let me help.” Ignatius reached under his cloak and felt around under neath the material before a nearly inaudible snap could be heard. His hand emerged with a short black belt with a buckle made entirely of smooth glossy leather. When he held his hand out Morell offered up the mace that had a small ring cast into the bottom of the handle. Ignatius looped the belt upon itself before looping it though the ring in the bottom of the mace. Once through the opening, he ratcheted the leather band taut so the at the buckle was not only cinched but bound in place by the weight of the weapon. Seeing it secured, he handed the item back to Morell, still hanging by its new lanyard. Morell eyed it curiously for a moment before putting one arm through the lanyard so that it could hang from his shoulder like a pack strap. Satisfied with the result, he gave a pleasant smile at not having to constantly carry it.

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  “I like it.” he said. “Thank you, Ignatius.”

  “You’re very welcome, Morell.” Ignatius replied as he removed his cloak and hat. What emerged from beneath the black cloak that was dark enough to swallow all light around it was the tall, lean frame of an angular but toned body. When he pulled the hat away and handed it to his sister, Ignatius long silver locks blew wild in the wind. The hair swayed lazy and light on the breeze until he produced a black ribbon from within a pants pocket and tied it into a tail behind his head. His shirt underneath was white and long sleeved with buttons up the front and opened at the neck to reveal sharp collarbones held tight against the flesh. “The rest of you stay here.”

  “What if there’s trouble?” asked Siouxsie.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. But in the event that it does, I have my witchle.” All nodded they understood. “Come Morell, let us find supplies and perhaps even some beds for the night if we’re lucky.” With that, the pair set off down the hill. At the bottom they approached and followed a well-worn path.

  “How goes your study of mushrooms?” Asked Ignatius.

  “Not well at all. With all the excitement, I’ve barely had tome time to make more than a few pages of notes in my tome. I did however find a cluster of edibles.” He dug into his large pocket and pulled one out to offer it to the witch.

  “No thank you Morell, I cannot eat mushrooms. They’re like poison to me. I tried to eat them when I was younger and it almost killed me.”

  “My apologies.”

  “No apologies needed. But thank you for your offering. Perhaps the others will enjoy them.” More than once Morell craned his neck to take in the height of the witch.

  “You’re very tall.” He remarked.

  “Yes, but none of it is my fault.”

  “I see you and Hoxley talking a lot. I can tell by the way you look at her that you fancy her.”

  “Ha! You have a keen eye, my friend!” Ignatius said, reaching down to playfully ruffle the boy’s hair. “Yes, I suppose I do fancy the faun Hoxley. I find her mind to be exquisite. She is friendly and mindful, direct but kind, and if I may say so, she’s a skillful fighter. Any of these traits are desirable but combined I cannot help my eye is drawn to her. Speaking of skilled fighters, for someone of your age you showed great fortitude to rush those monsters.”

  “I did not feel I had a choice.” Morell thought aloud. “If I did not fight, the others would be in danger. I want to protect them. I want to protect Siouxsie.”

  “Ha!” The witch laughed again. “Speaking of fancy, I can’t help but notice your eye is drawn to my sister.”

  “I think she’s magical.” The boy’s face lit up as he described her. “She can tell jokes, she sings beautifully. She’s always eager to greet the day with a smile no matter how bad things are.”

  “As opposed to her twin who is something of a grumblebutt.” said Ignatius

  “I don’t fancy her brother.” Morell pondered. “He’s like a shadow that light never falls upon. He has a sharp tongue and is brooding.”

  “Yes, I’ll concede that’s an accurate description of Robert. But you must understand that where Siouxsie goes, Robert is always to follow. They’re opposite sides of the coin those two.”

  “I wish Robert were more like Siouxsie.”

  “There was a time when the two were almost indistinguishable.” Ignatius told him “Many years ago when the two were much younger, Robert was as merry as his twin.”

  “What happened?” asked Morell. “What could change a boy so? It has something to do with his clothes, doesn’t it? The reason he stays hidden in layers of black and wouldn’t bathe with the rest of us. Even when he’s standing next to me, I can barely see his eyes beneath the low brim of his hat.”

  “You’re the clever one, aren’t you?” said Ignatius as they walked. “Yes, all your observations are correct.”

  “Then what, Ignatius? Tell me what you know. If I’m ever to share Siouxsie’s company then I need to understand Robert and why he is the way he is.” Ignatius’ face contorted with discomfort.