Hattie's look was drastically different after the oldest witches gave her increased magic powers. Her looks changed from black hair, green eyes and a smile to bumps, grey-orange skin, black eyes and purple hair. Because of her striking appearance, Hattie must use her magic to conceal her true form and walk among others without causing a commotion. Despite this, Hattie continued to use her powers for good and became well known for her incredible abilities. Nissa admired her friend’s strength and resilience, and their friendship only grew stronger with time.
Nissa’s abilities were a gift from the sirens; she had a talent for captivating anyone, regardless of gender. They blessed her with impeccable beauty and had an effortless way of persuading anyone to do her bidding, even those she feasted upon.
Hattie gazed at Nissa with a look of hopelessness in her eyes. “I need you to speak to Trevilto and get the complete story. If he had any involvement in Mistral’s death, then I need you to do what you do best,” she said.
Nissa met her gaze and asked, “You want to be present?”
“Yes, in my true form. I want to see all the fear in his eyes if I’m right,” Hattie replied.
Nissa needed a plausible backstory to make her meeting with Trevilto seem organic and without suspicion. She wrote a short book and have it displayed in his shop. With a flash of her smile and a bat of her eyes, she knew she could capture Trevil’s attention. Nissa mused to herself that slimmers were the easiest to capture. Like Jasion, with their fake human facade, they were nothing more than slime.
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The act of writing had proven quicker than Nissa had expected. While she wasn’t certain how a fellow siren might receive it, she found her work possessed a unique and eerie allure. Despite her efforts to craft something human, it bore a detached quality, akin to a ghost story. Nissa had little experience with humans, except for the occasional feeding excursion, when her hunger became too great to bear.
There were only a few humans here and there, and they didn’t taste very good. However, the essence of the poems was the acceptance that people only exist when they are created through others. Nissa realized she had been blocking something important, something that tied the series of stories together. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but she knew it had to be there.
Hattie walked up behind Nissa. “You play the part beautifully,” she said.
Nissa smiled. “It’s good of you to say so.”
“It’s been seven months, you know,” Hattie continued. “All this time, I’ve had to use my power to cover this. I want to do good. I want to help everyone. I wish I could have helped Mistral.”
Nissa looked at her. Hattie had removed her cloak, revealing her true form. Purple strings hung from her hair, and her eyes were big and completely black.
As she looked around the room, Hattie’s mind drifted back to her childhood memories of running through the apple orchard under the big moon with her friend. Her fingers fidgeted with the frayed edges of the napkin, a subtle reminder of the craftsmanship that defined everything about witchcraft. With each passing moment, she felt as though her tinkering with the play had taken on a life of its own, as if the play itself was a manifestation of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Hattie read what Nissa had written, and she saw images beneath the lines. They were like pictures that her imagination alone couldn’t quite create. She wondered if she could conjure up the emotions and feelings described in the words. Hattie knew she had the power to create anything she wanted, but she also knew that true human emotion was something that could never be replicated or understood by a siren. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of longing for the experiences that only mortals could understand.
Hattie pondered over the words that Nissa had written, trying to discern what held them together. Was it the rhythm of the speech or the accumulation of minor details in the setting that created a cohesive piece? As she softened the edges of a line, she wondered if it was the best she could do or if it betrayed a lack of understanding of the person who had spoken those words. She realized that this was the question she should have asked herself before offering her services, especially with all the training she had received.