Smokewell nodded and stopped licking her paw. The cat raised her head and called out for Lily. "Get over here with your hexonomicon!"

Footsteps rang out the next moment. The girl came out with the thick leather tome held under her arm. "Here, ma'am!" She was dressed in a blouse and skirt. Her auburn hair were tied up in a bun and she was wearing leather gloves that gave off a faint whiff of chemicals.

The cat pointed the girl into a chair next to mine. Lily settled down and gave me a smile and looked at Smokewell, eyes brimming with eagerness and curiosity.

"How many years have you been learning under me now?" Smokewell said, sitting upright on the mantle.

Lily tapped her chin with a finger. "You took me in when I was thirteen. So, it's been four years.”

Old Elsa became Smokewell's apprentice when she was eleven. "I’ve been with you for six years," I said.

Smokewell hummed. "By the time I was around your age, I was already flying the broom," she said.

"Wouldn't that mean, you haven't taught us well?" Lily said uncertainly.

"Shut up," Smokewell said. "My achievement isn't anything to brag about. Just because I could fly when I was young, it didn't mean I was the best witch in my coven."

"You were a part of a coven?" Lily asked in wonder.

"Only a temporary member." Smokewell nodded. "The hag that taught me rushed me through everything. I was a fast learner so she didn't care to let me explore or experiment with anything. She was too eager to sign me up with a coven and be done with me."

"Um, why was she so impatient?" I asked.

"Because covens offer a scouting fee for bringing in pre-trained witches." Smokewell scoffed.

Lily's jaw went slack in surprise. "She sold you off to the coven?"

"More or less." The cat shrugged. "Actually, I was quite relieved to be rid of her. I was almost happy to become a part of a bigger group. A group of witches who knew how to use their skills in the real world. They were professionals. And I was excited. But they turned out to be a real bunch of freaks."

"What did they do?" Lily asked.

Smokewell was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, "Because a coven isn't a place where talented witches come together to test the limits of their witchcraft or even make some money." Her face turned grave. "It was just a big mountain, where the ones at the top kept themselves busy by keeping everyone else at the bottom. If you were good with your skills they worked you like a horse until your limbs were ready to fall off and your throat was dry from chanting spells."

"Why did they do that?" I asked.

"Influence," the cat said, "This was forty years ago when the covens were still quite small and trying to make a name for themselves. The only way to do that was to sell expensive potions to noblewomen–stuff that cured infertility and other diseases. And of course, cleansing accursed lands. Once they gained the favor and confidence of nobles, they functioned much like stray dogs who scared away other strays from invading their territory. Once they had claimed an area for themselves, they spread their influence over to the commoners, selling things and doing jobs for them. I joined a coven in those earlier, much more hectic days. Since they made me work so much for so long, it was hard to not become a witchcraft scholar by the time I was seventeen."

"I'm sorry, you had to go through that," Lily said in a gentle tone.

"Did you just keep slaving away for them?" I said.

The cat nodded. "For seven years. Then my talent really began to shine and get the attention of those at the top. They were about to promote me."

Lily and I were both leaning in now. "You became a top dog at the coven?" I asked.

"No. I ran away," Smokewell said, staring at the wall.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Lily's jaw went slack again. "But why?"

"Because I discovered what it was they did to you in order to make you ascend further," Smokewell said.

I rolled my lips nervously and asked the cat what it was that she had discovered. No words came from her for an entire minute.

"I never told you how potential witches develop malice, did I?" the cat asked.

Lily and I shook our heads.

"This is just more speculation on the part of scholars. But malice comes from children being exposed to something malign in their environment," she said.

"I thought children were just born with malice at random," Lily said.

"Children were born with the potential of a malice. But a child has to undergo certain conditions for the potential to get activated and form a malice. At least that's what the theorists have speculated." The cat shrugged. "There are multiple factors that might influence the formation of a malice. A tortured upbringing, early exposure to witchcraft or entering a contract with a supernatural entity. But getting back to the promotion--" the cat paused, casting a deadpan look at the wall. "They make you undergo a ritual in order to help you climb up the echelons. One that is supposed to put you in close contact with a demi-god," Smokewell said. "They call it the Rite of Ascendance. They make you a slave to a demi-god who grants you power and knowledge if you can sate the demi-god’s hunger."

"What do they eat?" Lily asked.

"Malice," Smokewell said.

Silence descended over the room. Then Lily spoke up again. "Malice can be eaten?"

I frowned. “Wouldn't their hunger drain the witch empty?”

Smokewell raised a paw and said, “One question at a time.” Then she looked at Lily. "Malice can only be devoured by divine entities, especially the Ravenous Ones. They keep devouring your malice and bestow you with ‘blessings’ that allow you to get better at witchcraft and keep your place at the top of a mountain at whatever coven you were slaving away at." Then she looked at me. “You'll never run out of malice. Witches always have just enough malice sufficient for their current level of witchcraft.”

“Then what do these demi-god’s blessings do to a witch?” I asked.

“To put it briefly, they make you greedy.” The cat licked at her paw again. “But the blessing can do many things for your malice and your skills. They make your progress easier and faster. For example, if Elsa makes a bond with a demi-god, then her intelligence would be boosted several times. Which in turn would make it easier for her to carry out rituals that she finds difficult. So she can start to tackle more complex rituals. Or if Lily got hurt in a fight then she won't have to wait for her malice to heal her before casting another spell. If all of that sounds like something you want handed to you, then congratulations, the Ravenous One has managed to make you greedy too.”

Then Lily suddenly gasped. “Did you bond with a Ravenous One then?!”

Smokewell laughed dryly. “Not even over my dead body.”

“Then why are you so greedy?” Lily said with a genuinely puzzled look.

Smokewell wasn't amused. “I'm only greedy for money. But I don't need any hungry gods to make me a better witch.” Then she sighed. “Anyway, I ditched the coven when I learnt that's how witches at the top became strong.”

Lily raised her hand. “Call me weird but that sounded like…well, not such a bad deal.”

“If you like staying at the top of a mountain, then yes. It's a good deal. But that wasn't the reason why I became a witch,” Smokewell said. “Truth is, mortals are the saddest creatures in any plane of existence. Not only are they the weakest but their lives are also awfully short. They spend half their time trying to understand the world they live in and the other half trying to conform to the rules of that world. That was the thing that I hated the most about being a human. Just when things were getting good I had to kick the bucket.” The cat rolled her eyes.

“But, you did it to protect us, didn't you?” Lily said. “That's what you said that night at Asmod's place.”

The cat looked away with an air of what seemed to be arrogance but there was also a touch of shyness. “Don't make me repeat that stuff,” she said.

I held back a little smile. Smokewell looked at us again after a minute. “However, I didn't tell you all that just because I was feeling nostalgic,” she said. “I wanted to ask you, do you want to climb the witchcraft echelons?”

“We have a choice?” I asked.

“Yes,” the cat said. “We aren't part of any covens so you don't have to worry about bonding with any starving gods.”

“Wait, we can become better witches without doing all that?” I said.

“Of course, how do you think I became the Great Alana Smokewell?” the cat scoffed.

“If there's another way then why do the covens insist upon their method?” Lily asked, scratching her chin.

“Because it's easy and cheap and lets them maintain their hierarchy within the coven,” Smokewell said. “My method is longer but it lets you live your life along the way. But because I am a good teacher I'm going to ask you what none of those covens ask their initiates or apprentices.” The cat's red eyes settled upon us intently. “Do you want to keep learning?”

“Yes,” Lily and I said in unison.

“I want to get better.” Lily nodded obstinately.

“Me too,” I said.

“Very well, then,” Smokewell said. “Let's start with assessing your current echelons first.”