Felix was finishing up the old clock as he heard the knock on his workshop door. He snatched up some goggles and put them on to obscure his eyes. He then quickly polished the glass of the 13 hour clock face, and checked the Sol-Cycle dial, all 7 colors showed clearly, with the needle pointing to yellow. This Sol-Cycle had been fantastic! Ever since the spirit incident last Azyrm-pad, he'd gotten so much done and hadn't seen a single spirit. That had never happened before. Felix whistled a jaunty tune as he went over and threw open the door to see the elderly Mrs. Tolecnal waiting.
“Hello Mrs. Tolecnal, you're right on time. I'm just doing a bit of touching up and then it's ready for you.” Felix’s grin was as bright as the Solshard itself. Mrs. Tolecnal shifted uncomfortably, her yellow eyes sifting through what she could see of the workshop.
“Yes, yes, hello.” She said, now inspecting the young craftsman, eyes lingering on the goggles. Felix, oblivious, invited the customer inside and guided her to the couch. He then zipped over to his workbench before returning with the clock and placing it on the small coffee table in front of the old woman.
“All that's left to do is to set the time and wind it up. Would you like to do the honors?” Felix asked excitedly. Mrs. Tolecnal sniffed dismissively in response, inspecting the work.
“So what was wrong with it?” She asked. Felix, wind slowly draining from his sails, began fiddling with a small screwdriver he'd retrieved from his belt.
“Oh, you know, old clock like this, a tension wire needed tightening and a few of the gears in the matrix were sticking. Needed to be greased up or else they'd start rusting.” It wasn't entirely false, Felix had indeed worked on those issues, but the tension wire had been cut, not loose, and those gears had been fused in the same way that the end of his favorite wrench had become a permanent fixture on his workshop floor. But he never bothered his customer's with the weird details. As necessary as some spirits are to life in Stirling, most, if not all spirits were troublemakers and pests, and people generally hated being reminded of their existence. Not so easy around here though. Felix lived in the small farming village known as Lunalumos, where the fields were deathly quiet, they needed to be. Woe to anyone who disturbed the serenity of the fields.
“So just age, hm?” Mrs. Tolecnal asked, suspiciously eyeing the clock, then shifting her gaze back to Felix's goggles. “Nothing else?” Felix was starting to get uncomfortable now.
“Like what?” Felix asked, the idle fidgeting of his hands became more erratic, so as subtly as he could, Felix slipped his hands into his pockets.
“Like spirits.” Mrs. Tolecnal accused.
“Spirits?” Felix chuckled nervously, “Why would the spirits be messing with an old clock, they like to stay in the fields, right?”
“I'm an old woman. I've seen many things; The Solshard’s light cease for an entire Sol-Cycle; The red cloaked who fight spirits and perform unnatural feats of speed and strength; …Violet eyes…” She trailed off, never breaking eye contact. She rose, reaching into her handbag.
“Is your mother home?”
Felix backpedaled into his workbench, she began to approach.
“Ma'am you're making me uncomfortable,” He quivered, working his way to the door “You need to leave.”
“Take off the goggles boy, I know what you are.” Mrs. Tolecnal demanded, her voice as sweet as acid.
“I'll deliver your clock tomorrow, free of charge,” Felix bargained, making it to the door and began fumbling with the knob.
“I've had my suspicions about you ever since that wench of a mother of yours moved the both of you back here.” She crooned. The fear in Felix was quickly bubbling and boiling into anger. This was his workshop, what right did she have to come in here and intimidate him.
“Don’t you DARE call my mother a wench!” He screamed, hand firmly on the doorknob now.
“They aren't always invisible, spirits, I saw it making a mess of that old clock and knew I could trick you into revealing who you really are.” Mrs. Tolecnal cackled, “Where did you hide it, Witch? Did you add it to your collection?” She was within arm's reach now and revealed from her handbag, a smaller bag on a decently long rope. This new bag was held closed with and was embroidered by a silver string that formed a symbol Felix had never seen before.
“Get out!” Felix wrenched open the door, grabbed the old woman's arm, and yanked her out the door. Before he could get her all the way out, she flicked her wrist and began spinning the bag by its rope. The rope wrapped around Felix's arm, and just as he pushed her out, the bag smacked into his arm. A sensation of pain like he'd never felt before flared up his arm and throughout the rest of his body. The old croon cackled and willingly walked out as Felix screamed and dropped to the floor. It felt like someone was pressing a white hot dagger into each of the backs of his eyes.
“I'm old but I've still got it.” The hag congratulated herself. “You're marked now, they'll be coming for you, just as they came for all of your kind.” Felix pried open his tear-filled eyes to inspect his arm. A burn mark, a shape just like the bag that was still wrapped around his arm. A brand.
“What did I ever do to you, you old hag!” Felix cried, his goggles were filling up with so many tears he could barely see.
“What a ridiculous question.” Mrs. Tolecnal scoffed, shuffling away. “It's not about what you've done, but what you could do. Keep the clock, Witch, it'll help you count down the last seconds you have in these caves.” And with that, she was gone.
There were others in the street. Watching.
Felix squirmed back inside and slammed the door, then sat up as best he could and leaned on it to keep it closed. Painfully, Felix reached up and locked the door, then just sat there, cradling his arm.
Felix knew pain; He'd been tormented by spirits since he was a baby. But this pain, this brand, was worse than all of them put together. How could he be a Witch? Witches were monsters from campfire stories who could bend spirits to their will. Those who tormented the Tidal caverns long ago, before the Inquisition had been founded. If they had existed at all, they should be extinct by now.
There was a knock on the door. Felix flinched awake. When had he fallen asleep? This was a terrible time to sleep. The knock came again.
Could it be Mom? No. She has a key. She would have gone through the house. Is it Mrs. Tolecnal again? His eyes found the silver embroidered bag where it was still wrapped around his arm. Let's see how she likes it. Felix thought bitterly. Careful not to touch the bag, he removed the rope and moved to look up under the curtains that covered the door’s window.
It was a muscular woman with emerald green hair. She had scars and burns covering her face, and was wearing dark glasses and an obsidian black cloak that obscured the rest of her form.
“Are you Felix Magwhy?” She called through the door.
“Who's asking?” Felix ducked out of the curtain and backed away.
“A friend, if you let me in. A teacher, if you hear me out. An enemy, if you ignore my request.” She said, calm, calculated, cold. Felix hesitated. That sounded like a threat if he'd ever heard one.
“I'd hurry up if I were you, the towns abuzz about the little Witch mechanic, how long do you think it'd take for an Inquisitor to hear.” Her words tap danced on the fear centers of Felix's brain.
“I'm not a Witch!” He shouted, not sure who he was trying to convince more, her, or himself.
“Of course you aren't.” The woman cooed. “Not yet, and yet there's a chance you'll never be.”
“What do you mean?” Felix felt around for something heavy and found the remains of his wrench that he'd gone through three saws and a hammer to remove from the floor. He hefted it, but the branded arm could barely grip the heavy lunk of metal.
“Let me in, boy.”
Felix felt the cord of the silver embroidered bag. She thinks I could be a Witch, and talks about being a teacher to me. If this hurt me, could it hurt her the same way? He thought as he gave the bag an experimental swing. It was worth a shot if she got violent like Mrs. Tolecnal. He hid the bag in his tool belt, just within reach.
“Alright, I'm going to unlock the door,” He announced.
“No need,” a black obsidian spike reached under the door, and rose like a sentient shadow till it found the door knob. With a ker-chink, the door unlocked and swung open, revealing the witch.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Click click click,
She strode in on crimson high heels that had no heels, giving her the impression of walking on her tiptoes through a puddle of blood. Felix's mind reeled, red was the color of the inquisition, and she was no inquisitor. The door closed and locked behind her as she made her way over to the couch. She sat down without hesitation, as if it was her house and Felix was the uninvited guest. The woman inspected the workshop, giving Mrs. Tolecnal’s clock a critical eye. That same shadowy tendril emerged from the woman's obsidian black cloak, no, it was her cloak. It retrieved the clock, holding it aloft in front of her face without the woman lifting a finger. Then the tendril developed several fingers of its own and began setting and winding the clock before placing it back on the coffee table and disappearing back into the rest of the cloak.
“It's good craftsmanship, you don't have any spirits to assist you?”
“N-no… ma’am.” Felix cringed.
“Seems introductions are in order Mr. Magwhy, my name is Doctor Oswin,” she introduced.
“Just call me Felix.”
“Very well. I assume you have questions, proceed.”
“How do you know my name?” He asked, clutching his brand nervously.
“A scared Gremlin pointed me this way, and I…persuaded one of your neighbors to tell me about you. I'm guessing you've noticed the lack of spirits recently.” She explained in a way that was so matter of fact, Felix almost thought she was talking about something less serious, like the weather.
“You've been watching me all Sol-Cycle?” Felix asked, horrified, reaching slowly for the silver bag.
“Almost. I couldn't have known how powerful you were, it could have been a trap. I had to verify my options before I proceeded. Then I saw your debacle with the old woman, and I thought: ‘There’s no way a practiced Witch would leave a witness like that. He must be a novice.’ So I decided to introduce myself.” She smiled. It wasn't a warm smile. Not like his mother's. It was the smile of someone who'd heard a smile could be calming and reassuring, but had no idea that you have to try to be calming and reassuring while smiling, otherwise the smile has the opposite of the intended effect.
“Did you kill her?” Felix asked, hoping for one answer and dreading another, but for the life of him, couldn't figure out which was which. Oswin laughed in response.
“No, she's your problem, not mine, we aren't even technically allies yet. She branded you, yes?” Felix nodded, revealing the burn. “Nasty.” She wrinkled her nose as if she could smell the burning flesh from where she sat. “Stay away from iron, salt, and especially silver, or else you might start looking like this.” She gestured to the scars on her face and hands.
“If we aren't allies, then why are you here?” Felix asked. Oswin sat and thought for a moment to find the right words. “Think of this as good sportsmanship, a peace conference if you will. We witches are a rare breed, but most of the time, when we meet unexpectedly, expect a fight with many casualties. Keep that thought in mind. I'm a reasonable woman, I'm fine with giving up the chance to sneak attack as long as the person I'm warning has absolutely no chance of harming me.”
“What makes you think I'm a Witch?” Felix asked, then quickly added, “Other than the Gremlin. What's a Gremlin?”
“I'll answer the second question first. It's a type of spirit known for reaching into machines and fusing pieces together so it breaks. I believe you're quite familiar with these considering your profession.” As Oswin explained, Felix remembered the spirit he'd dealt with last Sol-Cycle. They were the most common spirit he ran into. It happened so often in fact, that he wasn't sure if it was a group of them, or just one who'd decided to make Felix's life a playground of agony.
“As for your first question, take off your goggles.” Oswin said, reaching for her own glasses. Felix's eyes widened as Oswin's cold Violet stare met his still obscured eyes. He quickly removed his goggles, and then there they were. Two witches.
“They say your mother has brown eyes, but that you always cover yours. It's understandable. Witchcraft is hereditary, but it's so rare because it often skips a generation or two. You must have an ancestor who had it, otherwise you wouldn't get it.”
“My great-grandmother…” Felix whispered, understanding now.
“Impressive generational gap, but that'll do it.” She mused.
“Wh-what are spirits?” Felix asked. Oswin paused, then said,
“I've answered enough questions, it's time you answered mine. I've need for a new Witch. I can train you, feed you and protect you if you join my coven. Will you join me?”
“My mother-” Felix started.
“Can't defend you from the Inquisition.”
“And you can?”
“I have friends in high places, so quite easily.”
Felix paused before his next question.
“Will I see her again?”
“Align yourself with me and I can guarantee you will.”
“If I don't?” Felix asked, and with a cold smirk almost mirroring Oswin's, added “just verifying my options before proceeding.” Oswin returned the expression with one at least 50° colder.
“I could kill you here and now, or leave you to be hunted by Inquisitors. I can't guarantee which death will be quicker; the Inquisitors want information, want to end your bloodline by killing you and anyone you could possibly be related to. Meanwhile I…” She paused, stroking the obsidian black cloak as if it were a cat. It began slipping away from her shoulders and coalesced in her palm, taking the shape of a warped and almost life-like guillotine. “I have a Wraith to feed. Quite useful spirits they are,” It began almost dancing on her palm. Its suspension boards flapping like wings, and its rope and blade, that seemed to act like a neck and head respectively, wrapped around and nuzzled Oswin's arm affectionately. The blade cut her slightly and Oswin didn't even react. She continued to stare into Felix's eyes like she was trying to melt his brain by aiming through his retinas.
“They can take any shape you like and in return, all they need to feed on is pain. The perfect torture device, don't you think?”
Felix swallowed hard.
“Good to know… h-has it been feeding well already?” Felix tried to ask conversationally.
“Oh yes, it has quite enjoyed the pain of your burn. It was actually what notified me what was happening to you. This little glutton-” she grabbed the Wraith off her arm and crushed it forcefully into the shape of a sphere. “-almost flew off without me to get a better taste.”
“Any chance it's full?” Felix asked hopefully.
“Oh no, spirits don't get full, they just get bigger and more powerful.” She lounged, folding and morphing the wraith like clay, “Now. What is your answer? Come with me, or die a gruesome death.”
“I-I think the answer is obvious.”
“As do I.”
“Can I say goodbye to my mom before we leave?”
“Of course. You have at most an hour till the local branch of the Inquisition is on your doorstep. I'll give you 20 minutes starting now.”
“Will she be safe while I'm gone?”
“I promise nothing, but if she is smart, she will stay alive.” Oswin asserted, then pulled out a flat black box. Felix recognized it as an Inquisitor's communicator, but something was different. The coiled antenna was significantly shorter and it looked like the chassis of the communicator had been hastily cut open, then clumsily glued back together. Oswin spoke into the box: “Bring her in.”
The side door to the kitchen opened and quickly closed, but not before a feminine figure had been pushed through. She had her hands tied and a bag over her head. Felix's blood boiled, he forgot the pain in his arm and ran over to the woman. Removing the bag, his suspicions were confirmed. Heidi’s expression flashed from fear to wrath, her mouth gagged with a handkerchief, then her eyes focused on the face of her son, and melted into an expression of relief yet worry. Felix spun on Oswin, his own wrath reforged.
“YOU B-” he shouted, but Oswin cut him off.
“Insurance, in case you didn't want to comply,” Her cold glare quenching Felix's fires of rebellion. “You should be grateful I tracked her down so quickly for you. 19 minutes.”
Felix hesitated, his mother rested her hands on his shoulder and, after a moment, he stuffed his anger into a closet for later. Felix turned back to Heidi, a new set of emotions overtaking him.
“Mom…” Felix croaked, tears began streaming down his face as he removed the handkerchief.
“I know,” Heidi hushed him gently, fussing over his clothes and hair like she was preparing him for school. She managed to keep a mask of joy and pride as she looked over him, only slipping into uncharacteristic hatred when she located the brand on his inner forearm. She knew exactly what that symbol meant. Heidi looked back to Felix's face, quickly abolishing any negative feelings from her features, she took a breath and smiled.
“It sounds like we won't be seeing each other for a while, my Lucky Charm. She will teach you to be strong, learn what you can. You are smart, brave and kind. Remember that.” She said, then shooting a glare at Oswin, added, “Just because she will be your teacher, doesn't mean you have to become her.” Oswin smirked in response, but the expression was bankrupt of any actual mirth.
“What about you?” Felix forced through trembling lips, “The Inquisition will hunt you too.”
“Don't worry about me, I have a friend who runs a bakery.” She smiled as she whispered, “he's a little more understanding than most in his old age. I'll hide till the black hour, then make a run for it through the fields-”
“But the spirits-” Felix interrupted, but Heidi quickly cut back in.
“-those ones are unique among their brethren, they’ll only attack if I make too much noise.” They fell silent, both of their eyes fell on the clock that still sat on the coffee table. Three hours till the midday black hour.
Heidi wrapped her arms protectively around Felix and held him close in a loving embrace. Felix returned the gesture and for a time they just stood there. No words were spoken. No words were needed. Mother and son simply enjoyed their last moments together for what they both knew would be a very long time.
“Two minutes.” Oswin warned quietly. “Mrs. Magwhy, you should find your hiding place.”
Felix only hugged his mother tighter, burying his face into her shoulder to hide his silent tears. He barely came up to her chin now. Heidi kissed the top of his head and began whispering a familiar lullaby.
Crystal and stone surround you,
Light your path and shroud you,
The Shard of the Day is your beacon,
Follow the light to your home.
Violet and Violent may haunt you,
Hide in the salt and the stone,
The Knights of Red will come find you,
And guide you on your way home…
“I love you Mom.” Felix choked back a sob. Heidi faltered in her song, cleared her throat, and with a shaky breath, responded,
“I love you too, my Lucky Charm.”
Felix slowly extracted himself from Heidi's arms and turned to the Witch, who curiously had left the couch and was intensely inspecting Felix's workbench, her back turned to them. Slowly, she turned to face them, an intricately gilded pocket watch in hand, which she quickly snapped closed and pocketed.
“Good,” Oswin said, snapping her fingers. The kitchen door opened again and Felix flinched as he heard his mother dragged out of the room and the door slam. Oswin's Wraith returned to cloak form with a flourish of obsidian black energy as she strode to the door and paused for a moment. “It's quite lucrative for a witch to have a non-witchcraft hobby. Bring any tools you can carry, then come to the carriage quickly, the town is growing restless.” And with that, Felix was alone.