—☾—

Maya had her fair share of how to deal with her upset stomach over the years. When going to sleep, Maya would lie down on her left side—since that was where her stomach was. As a child and teen, she had to find ways to ease it before the pain got too much.

And it was one of the easier ones to do while trying to endure it.

Right now wasn’t possible, as Maya sat upright. She forced herself to take deep breaths while resting her head against the bark of a firm tree—or so she hoped it was one, repressing the idea of what else it might be.

“Drink,” commanded the Völva, holding a wooden bowl before Maya’s face.

Her face scrunched up. The contents were pink and smelled unlike anything Maya knew. She knew if she drank that, she would definitely throw up.

“Drink,” the Völva hissed, “or I swear I’ll force it down your throat.”

Maya shook her head, traumatised enough in her childhood, drinking whatever stomach medicine her parents forced on her. She refused to drink whatever the witch concocted.

Though she didn’t have much choice in that matter—a Draugr forced her mouth open, clenching her jaw at the sides.

“Shtop, I’ll do it mhyshelf!” With an upset grumbling, Maya tried to drink it in one go, hoping it would suffice, but it was too viscous—like syrup.

It barely moved down her throat, and the taste disgusted her the longer it took her to finish it. With every passing second the liquid remained in her throat, it burned away the lining of her mouth. She threw away the bowl and stuck out her tongue when she swallowed the last bits.

“That was horrible, yuck…” Maya coughed. “I regret everything.”

“You should,” spoke the Völva. Maya finally heard her voice—her true voice—without the strange dark undertone she projected into her mind.

With a wave of her hand, green mist swirled over the witch’s fingers and mixed with the ground. The hue changed to orange, and trunks from a nearby tree grew out of the earth and contorted, forming two seats opposite to one another with an old trunk in between as a coffee table.

The Draugr placed the Völva down on a chair. Her hand hovered over the trunk, and out of the misty green swirl came forth two wooden cups and a steaming kettle from the Victorian Era—Maya recognised it from an old kettle her mother inherited from Maya’s great-grandmother.

An expensive-looking little thing—and very easy to break, Maya once found out.

The witch reached for the small pouch slung around her hip and produced some ginger and lemon out of it. She sliced the lemon, cut the ginger into tiny pieces, and boiled them with some leaves.

“Tea, drink, it will help.” She poured Maya a cup and took a sip. Seeing how Maya was still hesitant, the witch repeated with a motion of her hand. “Drink.”

“I’m not a fan of ginger tea. Besides, I just drank that vile—”

“Drink,” hissed the witch before her voice relaxed, though her wicked grin remained, “or the Valkyrie will get her feathers plucked.”

Maya grumbled, and the Völva motioned with her head at the cup. Reluctantly, Maya took a sip, drinking it bit by bit for an agonising five minutes before the witch spoke again.

“How’s the stomach?” she asked, picking up her cup by the lip with her fingers.

“Aside from the fact you threatened my friend? Better… what was in the other drink?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Ah… fair enough, I don’t.”

“Smart decision.” The Völva took another gulp and exhaled audibly as she visibly relaxed. “The job of a Völva involves nastier things than one can stomach in a lifetime.” She blinked. “Sorry, no pun intended.”

“Coward.” Maya gave her a grave expression. “Intend your puns.”

“Great… you’re this kind of person,” the witch groaned and craned back her head, annoyed. “I’ve got a friend who does that all the time. I’d turn her into a rabbit if I didn’t like her. Don’t you dare make any puns or jokes, you hear me?”

“Or what?” Maya attempted a jesting grin. It fell short on the witch’s mad one.

“Or I’ll pluck your Valkyrie’s wings.”

“You already threatened me with that,” said Maya, unimpressed. “Besides, she has no wings. I believe you know that.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“I do, ergh,” dismissed the Völva, thinking about something more wicked. “Then I’ll strip her naked. You don’t want that, do you?”

Maya’s eyes went wide. The Völva believed she had struck a core—until she saw Maya silently taking a sip from her tea and averted her gaze.

“Great… she’d actually like that.” The witch sipped on her tea, trying to come up with yet another alternative.

“You won’t hurt Val, will you?” Maya asked, and the witch noticed genuine fear in her voice. She could use that.

“Afraid I’ll do something to your girlfriend?” she asked with a glint.

Maya silently nodded. The Völva felt bad now.

“Geez, so she is your girlfriend?”

“Is that important?” Maya asked, deflated.

“It should be. Why would she drag you out to this dangerous place if you felt unwell?”

“And how in Hel’s name did you bypass my barriers!?” she wanted to add.

“The thing is, I didn’t tell her.”

The witch’s eyes glinted with curiosity under the hood. “Why? Tell me.”

“I don’t want to–”

“I’ll strip your girlfriend naked and won’t let you watch.”

“You’re evil!”

—✷—

Maya fumbled nervously with her fingers, watching how the witch poured them another set of ginger tea as she tried to interrogate Maya about her private life.

And the worst thing about it all? She didn’t know where Val had been taken to—and the ginger tea was actually helping her with her stomach ache.

Maya smacked her lips and rubbed the side of her stomach. She had to admit that the witch’s remedy was helping, albeit it tasted horribly—were it not for the tea to wash it down.

“How long will you keep me waiting?” asked the Völva, cupping her tea with her long, ashen-painted fingers. “Tell me about your problem.”

“Must I?” grimaced Maya. “I’m not fond of talking about it.”

“Yes,” replied the Völva evilly and lounged back. “You two are in my clutches. Better start talking, or your girl. Gets. It.” she emphasised each word with an evil chuckle.

Maya grumbled and stared at her honey-coloured tea and counted the small leaves swimming in them, hating every second of this. The impatient tapping of the witch’s fingers reminded Maya that she couldn’t stall for it.

“I have an eating disorder,” confessed Maya, which took the witch by surprise and made her sit up properly. “Not the kind where I don’t eat, quite the opposite. I have an unstoppable urge to eat, no matter how full I get. It’s triggered a lot when I am under a certain amount of stress. It’s harrowing.”

The Völva pulled her hood further over her face as she listened to Maya’s problem. She didn’t expect to strike a nerve like that.

“I have had it since childhood, and controlling it is a nightmare. Dieting can make it worse and trigger it as well. School and University only made it worse. I’m already weighing more than I’d like and honestly feel disgusted in my own skin. I still compulsively buy snacks, I can’t cook to control my calorie intake, and Val’s cooking is just- I CAN’T DESCRIBE IT!”

Maya took another gulp of the tea, trying to calm down her stomach from the excitement of talking about Val and her agitation about her disorder.

“I have an unpleasant history of food and cooking, but Val’s cooking makes me feel comfortable, warm, and welcome. It’s good, too good, and she always looks so happy about it. I just can’t say no to seconds when she asks if I want more. Do you know how that feels? I can’t tell her to stop cooking for me because I like her cooking, and I like her.

“Today I had a sudden episode when I was sitting on my paper and she wasn’t back home as she promised. When I was done with my project, I’d finished the entire pantry. I felt bloated and just wanted to throw up on how sick and disgusted I felt.”

Maya finished her tea, trying to calm herself as she felt her hands jitter and stomach churn painfully.

“When she came back home, she made us sandwiches as an apology before we got into this mess! I like her—a lot. I don’t want her to feel disgusted with me when she finds out about my problem or sees me gaining weight, which fluctuates. She seems so happy when she cooks; I think it helps her recover. I don’t know what to do or how to tell her. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Honestly? No,” said the Völva, sipped on her tea and momentarily turned away from Maya. She shook her head and put down her tea. “I’m sorry I made you tell me all this. It was not right of me.”

“It wasn’t,” affirmed Maya with a shudder. “Outside of my family, I’ve only ever told this thing to two other people. My best friend, Austin, and my pen pal, Fey. Haven’t heard from her for a while, though.” Maya paused and shook her head awake. “Anyway; I don’t appreciate what you did, but… it did make me feel better talking about it… So thanks for that, I guess?”

The Völva craned her back again and pushed out her chest—flustering Maya a little considering the bare middle line of her clothes. However, the witch didn’t do it consciously for any ulterior motive. She looked away to hide her shame over something else. “You can go,” she eventually said. “You should go.”

Maya blinked, dumbfounded. “You’re letting us go?” She didn’t expect the evil witch would simply let them go after Maya shared about her eating disorder. “Maybe it was good for something in my life,” she thought.

They were in too deep; Maya knew it. Maya was just a mortal, and Val was still not fully recovered. There was no way they could stand up against a witch and her undead army.

It was a saving grace. They shouldn’t have come in the first place, even if it was important for Val to recover her divinity.

“You,” said the witch in a deep voice, letting out a misty green breath with her eyes glowing menacingly in toxic green. “I’m letting you go, not the Valkyrie. Leave her behind. That’s all I’ll concede to you. The Valkyrie stays, or else you’ll die with her.”