Phillip had been bandaged up by Amethyst and now sat reclined in a rocking chair by the far-off corner of the living room. Although his wounds made him look rather miserable, he still held a wide grin on his face. Gianna couldn’t help but smile in his direction whenever he spoke or cracked a joke.

“How do you two know each other?” Gianna found herself asking Amethyst and Opal.

“What? Us two?” Opal asked, pointing at Amethyst and her. “Well, we met when Amethyst joined our coven. You see Amethyst here used to be farmers wife. As for myself, I have always lived in this forest. My mother was a witch, and her mother before her was a witch. We slowly became friends and from there decided to live together.”

“How long have you two been friends then?”

The two witches got awkward at this question. Opal began shifting in her seat while Amethyst moved towards their kitchen. Picking up a pan and scrubbing it absentmindedly Amethyst began. “We have been partners for many years… 43 to be exact.”

“Oh wow! That’s a long time! What about your husband Amethyst? Why don’t you live with him?” Just as Gianna asked, she regretted the question. The two appeared dreadfully awkward now. Opal’s face seemed to grow darker.

“That old fucker?! I wouldn’t let him within a mile of my Amethyst. He died of a heart attack a couple years back. Good riddance!”

“Oh.” Was all Gianna could muster. She now understood. My Amethyst. The words rang in her head. Not wanting to make things awkward, she quickly turned to Margery. “We should think of heading out.”

Marg and Gianna did not stay long, only the length of time to see Phillip somewhat cleaned up and well.

“You’re welcome to visit us anytime Giovanna; it was wonderful to have you!” Amethyst expressed with an endearing smile.

Opal raised her eyebrow at her partner and shook her head. “You’re doing that on purpose you old coot.” She then nodded in Gianna’s direction. “Don’t mind her, she likes to mess with all of us. Rather annoying actually.”

Amethyst pinched the middle of Opal’s arm, causing the carpenter witch to let out a yelp.

Gianna smiled lightly at the sight and nodded back. “Thank you. It was unfortunate that we met under such events. I am happy to make you acquaintance though.”

Opal let out a snicker and hurled herself at Gianna, pulling her into a burly hug. “What’s with that frosty response! Come on, bring it in!”

“Oh!” Was the only thing Gianna could utter before she was enveloped into Opal’s arms. After the hug she stepped back, rather shy.

“Cut it out, you’re gonna scare her away with your big meaty frame!” Marg yelled out jokingly, nudging Opal in the arm.

“Who are you calling big and meaty toffee-nose?” Opal said with a chuckle. “Make sure you get her there safely you hear me. She’s one of the few non-magical people I can tolerate.”

Marg’s eyebrow raised slightly as she reached for the door handle. Turning it slightly she let out a bit of brisk evening air. Her eyes were bright with determination and confidence. Tilting her head slightly in Gianna’s direction, she beckoned woman to follow her. “How could she not be? No fool would cross Death.”

***

The two now were walking in silence. Around them the forest was lively, birds chirping as the evening turned to dusk. Brisk night air swirled around them, covering them in a frigid blanket. The silence was all too abrupt and completely contrasted with the lively household of Amethyst and Opal. In her ventures into the real world who would have thought Gianna’s first acquaintances would be that of witches.

Marg was yet again trailing in front of her. In hushed words the witch seemed to be gossiping with the snail on her shoulder. Either that or having a heated debate. If Gianna hadn’t already witnessed strange things that day she would have passed out from the shock. But now, in the lively forest of Vales, she was somewhat calmed by the hushed whispers seeping from Margery’s lips. Feeling rather bold she interrupted the witches little ritual.

“Why… is it that you’re not a man?” Gianna silently cursed herself with the awkward question. What a wretched way to start a conversation, she thought.

Marg inclined her head in Gianna’s direction and let out a brief chuckle. “What an odd question,” she bluntly said, not changing her walking pace. “What do you mean?”

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Well, I guess all the stories describe you as a man wearing all black and wielding a scythe. You’re nothing like the tales that are written about you.”

The witch now turned to Gianna. “I have a question to ask you now.” Her hand brushed against a tree. Side stepping, she now began leaning on it. “Would you and those who told these stories would have believed them if, let’s say, someone like me ended up being the image of Death.”

Gianna thought about it for a second. It would make a silly story rather than a scary one. She reflected. Who wouldn’t laugh at a woman claiming to be Death carrying around a little snail on her shoulder. Before she could respond Marg continued with her answer.

“Of course they wouldn’t… so why not make up a tale and spread it around like wildfire. It keeps my identity even more shrouded in mystery don’t you think?”

The woman frowned a little at this. “Then how do people respond when you… when you help them to the spiritual world?”

Marg pushed herself off the tree and began walking again. As she did so she moved sticks and branches out of Gianna’s path. “Well, they usually regard me as some angel.” Marg snorted with this statement. “Sometimes begging, but always relieved to see me. To have someone dripping with good looks care for you while you’re clinging on to your last breath. Who wouldn’t let their guard down and become vulnerable?” The witch said the last sentence in a playful manner. Gianna rolled her eyes at Margery’s confidence. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Marg was now looking at Gianna with a grin.

Gianna averted her eyes, feeling a blush creeping onto her face. “Whatever.”

A chuckle reverberated out of Margery’s throat. “Relax, I’m joking. Anything else your curious about dear Gianna?”

Gianna could tell Marg was now teasing her. Shrugging it off she began her second question. “How did you grow up with Phillip then if Death is immortal or whatever? What about your father? Why would you leave if your gifts benefitted the kingdom?”

“Hmmm…. Well, that’s more than one question.” Marg seemed to take a while to respond. As the two walked through the dense forest she finally replied. “I guess I’ll start from the beginning. See, my father has immense skills in clairvoyance. His gifts are renowned across my home kingdom. He had five sons and me, but the only one to receive his gifts was me. Frustrated, he barred me from practicing. You see, women are not allowed to be prophets, let alone step foot in religious temples. So, I was stuck.” The witch paused briefly, letting out a sigh. “As I grew so did my magical abilities. When I was 16, I had already surpassed my father in skills. He knew this and had told me it was dark magic that had latched onto me. That once I was cleansed, I would be able to rid myself of such malevolence.” Marg seemed to be straining now, her eyebrows creased. “He tried to cleanse me but was unsuccessful. In his frustration he threatened to sell me to a powerful seer in a neighboring town. In my fear I fled. During that time, I remember voices calling to me, beckoning me to the forest of Vales. That’s when I came across Amethyst and Opal’s coven. They had been to ones calling me.” The witch stopped in her place and looked to Gianna. “Do you know how a leader of a coven of witches is chosen?”

Gianna scrunched her face. Her lessons seemed so far away and distant at that moment. She was afraid that if she said anything Marg would prove it to be wrong yet again, so she settled for a “No.”

“In covens, a high priestess is appointed when the previous grows too old and weak. The newer priestesses drain the powers of the older ones, sapping their very life force itself. The same goes for me. Eventually I will have someone succeed me and take my power, causing me to grow weaker, and weaker until the day I lie with dust itself. See, technically I am not immortal.”

“That means…” Gianna was a bit taken-aback. “That the next Grimm will drain you of your powers. That sounds barbaric.”

“But it is the life I crafted. I am aware of my curse Gianna. I am the one who must live with it, am I not?” Marg seemed a little sad after saying this. Attempting to smile she continued with her tale. “They were calling out to me so that I could guide their previous priestess to the other side. Much to their dismay they were not expecting a runaway teen to be the one they summoned.”

The two seemed to fall into silence for a brief second. As the air between them seemed to lighten Gianna pressed further. “Did you ever get to meet the other Grimm? The other one who came before you?”

Marg was staring up at the sky now, her eyebrows still creased. She was frowning. “No.”

“Then does that mean that the previous Grimm wasn’t led to the spiritual world. What if their spirit is still roaming around?” Gianna seemed to be nervous now, so much so that she didn’t realize that she was tugging on Marg’s sleeve.

“Impossible. I felt their spiritual power cease the moment I reached my full magical abilities.”

“Then…” Color seemed to drain from her face. If the previous Grimm had not been guided to the spiritual realm, where did they go?

Marg patted the top of Gianna’s head at that moment. Letting out a laugh she briefly guided her fingers through the woman hair. “Why look so sad. It’s not that serious. Besides, I’m sure the previous Grimm didn’t need my help to get to the other side.”

The two reached to other side of the forest of Vales. The stars were glimmering in the night sky. As they breached the opening of the forest, the wind picked up. It was through that wind that whispers began to surround them. Whipping around, Gianna could hear the whispers getting louder, penetrating her ear.

“Turn back.”

“You’ve reached a house of a murderer.”

“Turn back, I say.”

“You’ve come to a wrong path.”

“If you enter here, you will never leave.”

Shivers crawled up her arms, goose bumps up her back. She whipped her head in Marg’s direction and the two made eye contact. Both wide eyed they studied their surroundings. Gianna was about to move forward before a voice came close to her ear. She thought she had imagined her hair blowing slightly as the shrill whisper warned her again.

“The one you came for is not who you think he is.”