Walking the Bridge

Inella had rested her brood. The next objective was Fa’tal. The easiest way to get to Fa’tal from Baz is to take the massive bridge that connected them. Inella gave a warm, passionate speech, then the women were set marching- carrying things to varying degrees. Many things had been left behind. Some of the women had decided to stay behind and facilitate in Baz. Unlike Zoboru, the citizens were unharmed. They were confused and scared. The citizens of Baz did not fully understand what was happening. Shocked! A shared trauma for many people. Those rare few who didn’t know anyone who died in the fight isolated themselves. In their loneliness they did not feel guilt, but they were not free of pain. Moira and Adda walked together. It was cute. They made each other laugh. Lyndross was not walking with June. It was nothing personal. Lyndross didn’t think her feelings had changed at all. Instead of walking with June, Lyndross was walking with Dorian. Dorian was a transgender man that Lyndross had found one day in the countryside beaten within an inch of their life. Lyndross took Dorian back to Leired.

Dorian was practicing elemental magic and druidism. Attending lessons for the two different brands of magic was rarely an issue. Dremeira held druid lessons at odd times in the night. Dremeira’s lessons rarely intersected with June’s strict schedule.

Lyndross asked Dorian a question that they were not paying attention to, so Lyndross repeated herself. “How was the battle for you?”

“It was a little stressful. I was fighting some soldiers and one of them fell on top of me. I was stuck under him for what felt like a longer time than it actually was. The armor was so heavy that it was crushing me- making it hard to breathe.” Dorian said.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Lyndross said in an unusually sweet tone.

“I can’t complain too much. I’m alive after all.” Dorian said with an initiated laugh.

“Right. Hard to argue with that.” Lyndross responded.

“What about you? How was the fight on your end?” Dorian asked.

“It was intense. I watched June use her dragon spell. Did you see the spell? It was magnificent.” Lyndross was smiling just thinking about it. Smiling and thinking about June. ‘Hmm. That’s unusual behavior’ Lyndross thought to herself as she waited for a response. She never held a lover for more than a moon’s cycle.

“Yes, it was hard to miss.” Both of them laughed. The breeze picked up, as if adding to the laughter. Coniferous trees were more common on the coast that the witches had come from, but this far inland it was mostly deciduous trees. Leaves floated with uneven holes eaten in them by caterpillars.

All of the soldiers and wizards who would have been protecting Fa’tal had died fighting to defend Baz. When Inella arrived in Fa’tal there was a pitiful gesture of political surrender waiting. The king and queen of Fa’tal stood outside the walls of Fa’tal with a cabinet of advisors. They wore their finest clothes. Gold tassels, gold buttons, gold, gold, gold. Inella scoffed at the decadence.

“Great witch, Inella. We are here to say goodbye to our city, as we are sure you will take it.” The king said. His neck was long, his lip was quivering. His wife beside him cowered in the pocket of his shoulder, anxious about the numerous spells that could be cast upon her. The representatives of Fa’tal did a roundabout shuffle and then displayed their palms open and outward. The group was smiling worriedly. Counting the seconds until desire, Inella began to wonder if this group was meant to stall her. Her patience was growing thin.

“Enough of this.” Inella said. She walked forward and manifested a sword under the chin of the king and killed him, then turned to the queen and grabbed a wrist with a free hand. “The rest of you are free to go. The only ones that have to die are the king and queen.” Inella did not let the queen of Fa’tal say any last words. Her death was just as swift as her husband’s had been. The cabinet of assorted officials scattered, fleeing back into the city at the first opportunity. None of them could use magic, so Inella didn’t consider them a threat.

Inella was surprised by the lights within the city. It did not take the witches long to figure out that a festival was going on in Fa’tal. A festival of lights. The energy was incredible. People were walking around in masks that mimicked insects. Many of the masks were lightning bug themed. Vendors stood on the edges of the streets; thick were wooden carts piled high with knicknacks. There were pastries with yellow frosting. A man with a thick mustache hobbled down the street, smiling with his scant teeth. He whistled a tune.

To Inella it seemed like the people of Fa’tal had no clue about what was going on outside the city. It was true.

There were green vines that had crawled over a trellis. Red, yellow, green, orange, blue, and purple lights were kept in bulbs, tied to long wires, and hung up above the streets. The bulbs were the work of the magicians of Fa’tal. The same wizards who had died in Baz. Their magic lit up the entire city, outlasting them, they left behind a legacy they would never know. A permanently burning effigy. Though, when the festival was over, the lights would be tucked away. The street had uncracked peanuts scattered over the tomato paste colored tiles. Children walked along, bending down to pick up a peanut and crack it open. They put the empty shells into sewn pockets and scarves. Inella laughed out loud when she turned around to see Calaime, Dremeira, and Moira picking up peanuts to eat from the ground. They had no pockets so they put the shells above their ears and in Dremeira’s hair. It was a bird’s nest.

The houses had painted happy pictures of laughing animals, of light beams, of stars and delicious foods. One house was a pasta dish, the next house was completely covered in more stars than the universe. The next house after that had a dog smiling.

Music was playing on stringed guitars, banjos, small drums, horns, and bells. Most of the bells were played out of cadence by children. The environment was the definition of revelry. Walking into an intersection of streets, the women could see a fountain had been painted into the likeness of an elephant. Popcorn was shooting out of the trunk. Children stood foot deep in the still water catching the popcorn in buckets, baskets, and nets so that it did not fall in the water. Green, white, and yellow paper streamers overlapped the four stone arches that made up the vestibule for each of the four respective streets. A crowd of people chanted “Yigh, yigh, yigh, yigh, yigh, yigh…” while a pig chased its tail in a circle. One of the streets was converted into a racing lane. Wooden planks set the boundaries. Coins were then rolled down the slope of the street in the grooves between the tomato paste tiles. The children cried when a parent pulled them away from the fake gambling. A screaming, crying, mess of a child who had bet all his fake paper money on the first coin, when the second coin had won. In another street was a tired donkey wearing a rainbow blanket over each side. Two children stood behind the donkey waiting to shovel. Their dark, long hair gleamed in silver bands under the permanent lights that celebrated the city.

Inella turned left by the elephant fountain and walked down a road with no spectacle. The houses painted on this row had an octopus, a sheep, a rainbow swirl, two laughing children holding hands, and a tree with a swing on it, the sun was out. The upcoming fountain was a goat, and instead of water, the fountain was filled with wine. People used slanted wooden cups to scoop themselves out sips of the dark red depository. Inella did not have a cup, but she approached the fountain all the same. She used a spell of air to funnel wine up into her mouth.

“Mmm.” Inella said with her lips closed. Inside her mouth her cheeks sloshed the wine back and forth before swallowing it all. This was the first time Inella was getting drunk in years. She was always too focused on her goals. In this harmless, mirthful city, Inella allowed herself to relax. She let her shoulders and her hair down, her jaw unclenched, her eyes crinkled in tired, drunken relief.

“Wow, do I need this.” Lyndross said as she procured wine for herself from the fountain. Calaime, Nehaynosh, Dousza, Koa, and Kota all laughed at Lyndross’s comment. June was nowhere to be seen as Lyndross looked back at her friends. ‘She must have gone down a different street.’ Lyndross thought to herself. Lyndross desperately wanted to find June. The wine in her system put a buzzing bee inside each of her lips. A stable, fuzzy sting, a pleasant thing. Lyndross became swirly in the head, loose in the limbs, and incapable of thinking any thought other than her premier: how badly she desired to kiss June.

“Talk about a lightweight.” Inella said to Nehaynosh, who laughed in turn. They both watched Lyndross walk off, seemingly fixated on making a kissy face with her pursing, un-pursing, pursing again lips. She was like a wobbly machine searching for June. “Will you have some wine with me?” Inella asked Nehaynosh.

“Of course.” Nehaynosh motioned. “I’m not the type that needs to be asked twice.” Nehyanosh made a bowl of air and scooped a serving of the fountain’s bounty. The two women went for a stroll in the opposite direction Lyndross had gone. Lyndross back tracked her way towards the entrance through the great maze of a city. Inella and Nehaynosh strolled by two more streets of painted houses and found a place to sit. There was a dainty cafe. It had black metal rivulets, twisting designs, intricate patterns. The brown paint of the cafe was covered arabesque only by the flawless black metal. The chairs in front of the cafe had wooden cork feet, boxy designs, and faded red seat cushions. Two women already sat chatting, steam from their drinks drifted up into their ignorant faces.

Inella went inside first with Nehaynosh just a step behind. The person working behind the glass counter was a man with dark black skin, a gold nose ring, and blue gloves on his hand. From uncrushed to poured out, the stages of coffee were on display. “Hello. Let me know when you are ready to order.” The man said in a deep voice, patient and kind.

“I’ll have the festival special.” Inella had not read what the special was, but she was not upset when she got coffee with cinnamon in it.

“It will help you stay up all night and celebrate.” The working man said. He moved quickly, pivoting between machines masterfully. “What would you like?” The man asked politely. Nehaynosh got a regular coffee. Once it was ready, the two women walked back outside to the seating. The man working said, “goodbye” as they turned and left. “Goodbye” Inella and Nehaynosh replied as they opened the glass door with the sleek black frame.

“How are you feeling about the self-reanimation spell?” Nehyanosh asked once the two were sitting down at one of the curvy tables.

“Honestly, I’m feeling good about it. It is almost an exact replica of the regular reanimation spell, with just a few differences. Once I can reanimate myself, the rest of the witches will not have to fight anymore. I’ll be able to do it all by myself. Kotsi has been a great help in this learning process.”

“Yes, it will be good for you. You will sleep better, not having to think about all the dangers that could potentially come to the brood.” Nehaynosh sipped her drink after she finished her comment.

“How are you? I know that the recent events have not been easy for you.” Inella interlocked her fingers together under her chin and stared forward intently, curiously.

“My back is sore.” Nehaynosh rubbed her humped back in several places tenderly. “But that is not something I can control. What I can control is my outlook. I’m trying to be positive about everything as it comes at me. You know that you and I are truly close to our dream. It’s been a spectacle everyday since we left the caves, but we almost have reached our dream.”

“To cleanse the land of its misogyny, bigotry, hatred, to reorder society so that women have the same opportunities as men. Yes… It is so close I can taste it.” Inella and Nehyanosh continued to chat the night away, drinking slowly. They took little sips, because the initial heat was retained for a sustained time. Meanwhile, Lyndross had backtracked her way to the street with the donkey. She turned down, then onto another street, taking a left on a hunch.

Lyndross caught sight of June at a vendor’s shack. The shack was selling masks. The woman who was working the shack had warts all over her face. June exchanged a finger’s pinch of coins for a glittering ladybug mask. “Thank you.” June said, and turned to see Lyndross. “Oh, hello there.” June said with half a note of surprise.

“Lucky me to have tracked you down before you put that mask on. Would have been a great spot harder to find you with your face covered. Hello.” Lyndross propped her arm out on the beige stone wall near her swaggeringly.

“What?! Are you saying you couldn’t have tracked me down by smelling me out?” June joked.

“Oh, come on. Give yourself a little credit. You don’t smell that bad.” Lyndross bantered back.

“I’m terribly afraid that I cannot reply in kind.” June plugged her nose, scrunched her eyebrows, imitated a noxious smell. June put on her mask. Lyndross was very intent about looking through the eye holes and making eye contact. June felt a hot thrush flap down her throat and burn in her chest over her heart (emotionally of course). June almost choked on nothing; she was so stirred. The only thing June could think to say was, “Lyndross, you simply have to buy yourself a mask.”

“How shall I match my lady? Will I match her in visage? Or could I balance her colors out? What will you have?” Lyndross spoke her questions hurriedly, in a cheeky, courteous fashion.

“Don’t be a copycat. Get a different one.” June twisted her ladybug mask around to make the wings flap. Lyndross had quite liked the look of the dragonfly masks she had seen, so she bought an emerald colored dragonfly mask. Putting the mask on, Lyndross linked arms with June.

“Which path shall my lady take?” Lyndross pointed at the forking streets. Her finger did not linger long on the option that led to the donkey.

“Uhm, first of all, I want to explore, so let’s not go back the way we already came. Hopefully there is wine elsewhere in the city for free.” June said the second sentence more to herself than she had said the first. “And are you going to keep calling me ‘my lady?’” June laughed awkwardly.

“If that is what my lady desires.” Lyndross made a sweeping bow. “It shall be as my lady desires.”

June laughed again, this time louder. “Okay, great. You can stop calling me ‘my lady,’ then. Call me what you were calling me the other night.”

“Naughty, naughty. I will oblige. Anything for you, my-”

Koa walked through the glowing streets of Fa’tal with Kotsi. The two of them were relatively new friends. They had a lot in common, however. They were both nice, genuine people. They also were both dark skinned women who wore their hair naturally. The two had sour lemon punches in hand, and had stopped in an alley to watch a juggler throw pins in a circle. Kotsi was asking Koa questions about what it was like living with the other witches.

“-so, yeah.” Koa finished imperfectly.

“And do the dark skin girls get teased for their hair?” Kotsi asked. Kotsi ran her fingers through her hair.

“No, everyone is really nice for the most part. And understanding. Many of us have been through horrible struggles in life, but who hasn’t as a woman?” Koa said. Her lips puckered when she took a sip of her lemonade.

“But there are forms of colorism present, surely?” Kotsi asked.

“Well it isn’t perfect. I can admit that. Some of the white girls will say passive aggressive things, or complain in an unpleasant way. One time I was outside and a white girl said: “Koa, you’re so lucky that you can’t get sunburnt. If I stay out here too long I’ll be red as sand.” Just because it was sunny out. I was just standing outside doing nothing. And I know that the wealthy elite across the land created colorism in order to divide the working class; to have a lever for us to fight ourselves on. The royalty of this land knows that if the people are busy fighting themselves they cannot muster enough strength and unity to form revolution. So as much as these white girls don’t mean to hurt my feelings when they say things like that, it’s a product of the system either way. We are all infected by the extensive prejudices that are entangled in the land. The racist rhetoric we are made to endure, simply because of our skin tones, is entrenched in everyone through collective experience. The witches from the caves are all nice enough, though. There are some hermits amongst us, and they certainly won’t bother you. We try to, as a coven, create a community that is free of oppressive axes, in verbage and elsewhere. But, there are still flaws and issues within our coven. Things that need to be learned. But those issues are being made to wait until all this war is over.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“If this war ever is over.” Kotsi said with an exasperated sigh. Since its conception, war has never been over so why would it ever be?

“Yes, I do hope that we all can survive this war. I have already lost too many friends.” Koa looked as if she were entranced by a memory the way her eyes glimmered absently.

“It will be worth it in the end, no matter the cost. To free women from the violence and control of a society that is improperly run by men. Men who see no issue in hitting us, cussing at us, treating us like an item or a pet.”

“Yes, it will be worth it. If it means that future generations of women are allowed the same opportunities to flourish as men have had since-” Koa said.

“Since forever?” Kotsi finished. The two women burst out in laughter. The juggler wiped away forehead sweat as they switched from pins to machetes.

“Oh my, this is a more dangerous juggle, let's get away from this potential accident.” Koa said. Koa walked away, leading Kotsi, who was taking a long drink from her lemonade- a drink that would surprise her brain with a freeze.

Back at the coffee shop Inella and Nehaynosh had been talking for such a time that both their drinks were long finished. Addimar appeared out of thin air and stood between the two women at the table they were seated at.

“Hello, Inella. Nehaynosh.” Addimar nodded at both women to acknowledge them. “Inella, I just wanted to stop by to tell you that I have something I need to take care of in Hokurr. I will be leaving your party. I’m sure that once you are down in Hokurr I will be ready to resume your training. Until then, we must part ways.”

“Until then, then.” Inella said. It made Nehaynosh do a snorty laugh. Across the street a brown tree with black and white rings shuffled its green, oval, sharp leaves. It was guided by the wind to do this. Inella and Nehaynosh decided to tour more of the city. They got up without needing to say anything.

Moira and Adda were walking by a similar tree. The ghostly, flaky white bark peeling off by an unrelated, unconnected wind. The two women were far away from where Inella and Nehaynosh had just left. Several, several streets over. A shiny bronze cast of a bull was being painted with lipstick by rambunctious children who had a breath of beans and spiced rices. There stood ten skinny trees with branches too afraid to reach out, they sloped up the tree tight to the trunk. Whispy, knuckly branches the shape of curved umbrella sticks. The trees were seven and a half feet tall, lined up in columns of two, rows of five. Cement formed a curb around the pungent bark, odious spikes. Just a protective layer for deep, gnarly roots. Moira dragged Adda forward past the bull street and the tree street and dove westward into a concession street. Moira bought a clutch of sugared nuts, dried fruit, and a lamb skewer. Adda sat down at a wooden table with built-in benches. Moira put one foot up on the opposite bench and winked at Adda through the skewer and fistful of dates/cranberries/pear halves. Adda winked back quickly, laughing simultaneously. Moira threw the greasy skewer to the side dramatically. It landed in a trash can with two clinks. The two of them laughed mirthfully. Moira flicked the pouch of nuts down onto the table and shared her hands for holding the dried fruit. Adda took loose spoonfuls of her red stew.

“How is it?” Moira asked.

“It is quite good. Flavorful to no end.” Adda spoke.

“I’m happy with what I got.” The two of them observed a moment of silent eating. The sky was dark and filled with stars. Wind worked subtly in the plaza. Adda scratched just below her hip; it momentarily wrinkled her shirt’s edge. The fabric bent over itself and pushed up, and then naturally returned once Adda moved her hand away. The two women were silently competing to see who could give the other the most sultry look. And then, with the food eaten, the two popped closer (over the table) to kiss. Turning around the table on opposite sides, both women worked towards the garbage can. Adda was a step slower in moving. She had to get up from sitting. Moira dumped her trash and saw what was around a corner past all the food vendors. It made her proclaim, “Adda, this is what we must do next and I will hear no arguments on the subject!” Which confused Adda for a waiting second because she hadn’t seen what was around the corner.

A pre-modern photobooth. The way that it worked? An artist would use currents of wind coming out of little tubes to draw in several colors of sand. One color at a time, the artist would blow the sand into a mathematical silhouette. Once all the necessary colors were added the sand would be superheated against a flat surface. The sand picture would then be covered on both sides by adhesive glass. A majority of the sand used in this process is then recycled. This vendor took up ¾ of the street. The last quarter of the street was a vendor selling picture frames. Adda stepped past the last food stand before the street and saw it all. Before having a moment to take it in, Moira was tugging at Adda’s shirtsleeve, drawing her forward.

“Hello, ma’am. We would like our portrait together.” Moira smiled at the artist who was working at the photo station. The artist was wearing an orange cloth cap that her curly black hair spilled out of on all sides except the front. “How much does it cost per picture?”

The artist smiled and said, “It’s on the house for the young couple. The frame you will need to pay for anyways. Save your money for that.”

Adda and Moira turned to look at each other. It was one of those cute moments when two people who know each other well talk with their eyes and not their words. They were both elated- they felt lucky. The two hustled into the tape marked box in front of the sand. STAND HERE.

So, the two of them stood. Hurriedly smoothing away wrinkles in cloth, then smiling for the duration of the sand work. The muscles in the cheeks began to sore at the end, but the two endured.

“Here you go.” The artist smiled and handed them her work. Adda and Moira looked at the image with admiration. Sweetly smiling towards each other, they both said thank you and walked to the man selling picture frames. He had a sharp nose and low, worrying eyes. Pasty skin and a pair of silver wire glasses. He stood like a judge in the center of his wares. Surrounded on all sides by five walls painted robin’s egg blue. The walls were hung evenly by the portraits. There were both sleek and rugged designs. And for every design it had to come in at least 7 different colors. Was it a neon green? A silver? Black? Brown? A rustic red wooden frame that came weather-worn? A black frame that was metal and fashioned to look like a bramble tangle? There were pastel pinks, yellows, blues, greens. Moira most liked a white frame that had strong edges and straight lines. Adda liked a frame that was purple, with a full moon in the upper left corner. The moon waxed downwards and waned to the right. Adda forgot about it though. Moira was already grabbing the white frame down and rocking it in her arms excitedly. The gleaming look in Moira’s eyes was enough of a sell for Adda, Moira didn’t even need to say a word. It was obvious.

“That will be fifty pieces.” The man said in a flat tone.

“Sheesh.” Adda put the money on the table and the two women left.

How Inella and Nehaynosh found the fish didn’t matter. They just wanted to look at it. It was in the exact center of Fa’tal. The middle which all roads lead to or left from. In the center of the center was a sandstone monolith. On top of the monolith was a statue of a fish. It was fashioned out of gold, and its scales flowed around wildly. The mouth was open, the eyes were wide. It had whiskers which were bent as if in a current of water.

“Wow.” Inella said. “I don’t remember hearing anything about this. I visited Fa’tal with my father many times, but I never knew there was something so beautiful in the city.”

“I am just as stunned as you, Inella.” Nehaynosh remarked. “I’m truly taken away by the level of craftsmanship this must have required.” By this time it was late in the night. Many of the women were getting tired. Everyone had adventured somewhere in the city to have fun. Inella thought it was time to reconvene. She wanted everyone to see the statue. Inella said what was necessary to Nehaynosh and the two worked their magic to communicate to the rest of the witches.

It took close to an hour for the last wandering women to enter the square in the middle of the city. Many came in holding hands. They all gave at least the bat of an eye towards the statue. They talked with each other. Many women acted as if they hadn’t seen a friend who had been wandering in a different part of the city in years, when it had only been hours. Hugging each other in lift ups and turns. Lyndross went to find Dorian and ask him how his time had been.

“Dorian! Hey!” Lyndross took her mask off and waved as she navigated through the tightly clumped women. Dorian turned his head and saw Lyndross coming closer.

“Lyndross! It’s good to see you. I couldn’t tell it was you with that mask on.” Dorian and Lyndross laughed as she closed the distance. Dorian stood still, shifting his weight back and forth between his legs and slouching a little. “So what have you done in Fa’tal?” Dorian asked.

“Well I caught up with June right as she was buying a mask. So naturally I bought a mask as well. After that June and I walked around and eventually found a street filled with small but heavy ceramic balls. June told me she knew what game it was. I personally was not even thinking that it was a game. I just thought it was an art installation of a bunch of little spheres. But no. You roll the balls on a carpet and try to get as many on without colliding. We played that game for a long time and then turned down the street to watch a paper artist work. We were third in line, so we watched her make a peacock and then a red building. When it got to June she said she wanted flowers. I had her make me a phoenix. Orange, red, and yellow. All my favorite colors. What about you? What did you do?”

“I walked around and marveled at all the brilliant house artwork. I managed not to spend any money besides a coin for a cob of corn when I got hungry. I wish I could have visited Fa’tal before. This festival is so wonderful.”

“Yes, it is. And I imagine Inella will keep it intact even after she conquers the whole continent.” Lyndross said.

“She had better!” Dorian said, and Lyndross and him both laughed. Unbeknownst to everyone in the square a woman from another world was about to introduce herself.

Yoseline’s First Visit

Yoseline opened a hole in the fabric of reality. In that hole was the brightness of the celestial. It was through that hole that she stepped and landed in Panatea, in Fa’tal. With her first foot on the soil of another planet, Yoseline had only one thought in her head. ‘I must find him. I must kill him.’ She was thinking about Addimar. Yoseline and Addimar were the leveraged weight at the end of each side of the spectrum. They were day versus night, right versus wrong, love versus hate, weak versus strong. Yoseline was Mexican-American, a first generation immigrant. Her skin was dark and tan, smooth and clear of blemishes. Her nose was a sharp falcon’s beak. Her eyes were roasted almonds. Her black hair was cut cleanly beneath her shoulders. Her voice was a raspberry held between finger and thumb, crushing slowly into reduced juices and fleshy pearls. It was smooth and sweet. Yoseline was tall and solid as an oak. Her smile was a gift of chocolate, bright white teeth as straight as wire fences. She did not smile now, though. Now, she hunted.

The eve was orange and light was fading. Yoseline walked with the hood of her dark-grey robe up. She walked under bridges slick with unsightly slimes, bridges worn from use. She walked by cobbled alleys that led to apothecaries, money lenders, bakers, and residents. She could feel magic nearby. Magic was what she was looking for, so her ears perked up, her nostrils flared, and her eyes moved from side to side in deliberate searching. Yoseline stood still and analyzed everything that she could. She tucked the new information into a manila envelope and set it in one of the back corners of her mind on a thick filing cabinet.

“Can I help you find something?” A sweet old lady sat in a wicker chair, rocking and smoking a cob pipe.

“Perhaps you can. I am looking for a man who practices magic. His name is Addimar. He is old and white, and his eyes are a piercing blue. Very scary eyes to see on a stranger, or an enemy. He is a man who is likely hiding. Have you seen him?”

The sweet old lady contemplated for a long second, but eventually shook her head no. “Afraid I haven’t, lass. Wish I had. Based on what you’ve told me though, maybe it’s for the best that I haven’t seen him.” She shrugged and filled a clay ginger pot with a single purple wisteria. She tucked the soil around the base of the stem like a loving mother tucks a child in bed.

Yoseline passed by rows upon rows of partially busy streets. There seemed to be a festival that the children were running towards, but all of the older adults that Yoseline saw seemed hesitant to leave the spaces they loitered. There was a festival of lights going on. Big paper lanterns were hung in the square, and children danced around with scented candles. It was a happy time for many. There was a ring of fire kept in a circular divot dug into the ground. Everyone over the age of 30 was not allowed in the circle. It was a dance of the young. A celebration of the light and joy of youth. It was absolutely none of Yoseline’s concern, so she was not bothered to ask about it. With her keen observational skills and brilliant intuition, Yoseline put together most of the story of Fa’tal’s “Electrutio” festival without asking anyways.

Yoseline hurried around a corner and saw a large group of women (Inella and the other witches). The women stood in a forward shuffling cluster, each conversing with a unique parcel of women. They were friendly cliques in a unified nucleus. The women who were young enough to have gotten inside the ring of fire were leaving it now. Yoseline was near the group of women when she saw their reformation. The girls/younger women melded into a group of older women as naturally as two hands could lace their fingers together. The rare crown of gray hair standing still and proud, a rapids-causing rock in the middle of a rushing river. The old women who had been previously lax and slouching now stood straight, changing their posture to greet the returned festival goers. Yoseline was smart enough to stay put, saving herself from the difficulty of trying to navigate the knit of reunioned women.

As Yoseline stood patiently waiting for the convergence of women to fully form, she began to hear intriguing whispers. The women before Yoseline were talking about magic, and that piqued her interest. Now that Yoseline had the opportunity to walk around the settled women, she contemplated if she even wanted to. Yoseline was curious. ‘Is magic the same on this world as it was on mine?’ she thought to herself.

The cobble streets were a weather-faded, beige sandstone in this ward. Yoseline cast a spell to bring sandstone up in the form of walls that blocked all the exits to the alley where the women stood. The stones rose slowly; dust shook off their blocking seams. The magic prevented the pre-existing walls from being visibly marked, but a solid grating sound was still produced. The walls warped and shuddered, flickering on the vestibule of reality. The witches looked around bewildered at the trap, but Yoseline only meant for the walls to provide privacy.

“Whoever is casting this spell, I will admit that it is impressive, but it is not funny!” Inella said with a firm, omnipresent tone. The women around her snapped to attention at the sound of her voice. Yoseline perked up, happy with having identified the leader of the large group of women she observed from so close.

“It was none of your brood, I’m afraid. It was me who cast this spell.” Yoseline turned around to point at one of the walls she had created. Her clothes swayed loosely as she turned.

Inella glared at Yoseline, sizing her up with her chilly blue eyes. The feeling of being impressed that Inella had felt moments ago was rapidly transforming into a wary fear. ‘If she can do that, what else can she do?’ Inella silently asked herself. ‘She must be powerful if she is not afraid of how outnumbered she is.’ Inella let the awkward silence of the moment grow outwards as she contemplated what she wanted to say, but before she came to anything solid, Yoseline spoke.

“My name is Yoseline. I am not from your planet, but I am very much like you.” Yoseline was speaking directly to Inella. “I am similar to all of you. We all are women here, all practitioners of magic, to whatever degree that might be. I am on your planet because I am hunting down an interplanetary fugitive: a man who has committed such unspeakable crimes that I will not even let him stand for a trial. When I find him, and I am sure that I will, his execution will be swift.”

“You come from the world where the women practice magic, and the men are outlawed from practicing magic, yes?” Inella asked Yoseline, recalling what Addimar had told her of Earth.

“I come from Earth, if that is the planet you speak of. Men were not banned from practicing magic on my planet, however.” Yoseline answered the question with an irresistible calmness. She tousled her hair with itching fingers, but used magic to straighten it back into form. “But the man I am looking for, Addimar, blew Earth to pieces.”

“Earth, yes. That is what Addimar told me his home planet was called, yes. Addimar is my teacher. You? I don’t know you at all. Why should I trust your word over his?” Inella did not look away from Yoseline, though many of her brood were looking at her attentively. Inella could feel the eyes upon her, as they often were. Naturally it would make her flush, make her hot in the blood, but she kept her composure; kept her gaze level.

“That is an interesting question. I will admit that it is not a question I was prepared for. I figured that Addimar would be hiding on this planet, the villainous, terrorist, fascist that he is.” Yoseline took a brief moment to think critically about her answer. “Apart from our bond of womanhood, I have another reason. I can show you what he did to our planet.” Inella looked at Yoseline skeptically, which provoked Yoseline to add: “if you’ll allow me to show you.” Inella gave a stark nod, her black hair unruffled.

Yoseline conjured an illusionary spell, a large screen of lights like a television showed an image of Earth sitting there slowly rotating, green and blue. The screen blurred as the image zoomed in on Addimar and Yoseline meeting for the first time at a college. Then the image fast forwarded to Addimar doing vile things like joining terrorist cells. From what Inella saw she knew that it was simply untrue that men were not allowed to practice magic. Addimar had lied to her. The men that Addimar was associating himself with through a majority of the scenes that played on the screen were all practicing magic together. The images grew faster until Addimar cast a ginormous spell that blew up Earth. The water evaporated. Debris hurtled into the cold emptiness of space, the pieces of a former world. The explosion was massive, red and orange. Smoke curled around itself and dissipated outwards. There was nothing inhabitable left by the end of it; there was nothing left at all. The image froze with scattered pieces of the world haunted by the afterimage of violent light. Yoseline waited a dramatic moment and then asked a question with only one word.

“Well?” She moved nothing but her lips. Yoseline’s eyes were not blinking, her neck and head were pointing straight at Inella.

“If this is true then Addimar has lied to me.” Inella chewed on her lower lip. “I cannot be sure that it is true, however.”

“What you all just watched was a representation of my living memory. It is a simple spell that allows you to project your internal memories externally. I can teach it to you, and you can use it on Addimar. He and I will share many of the same memories, including this last frame here.” Yoseline pointed out at the multicolored catastrophe that still captivated the other women’s attention. What a grim image. Inella knew that she believed this woman, but she would give Addimar a chance to plead innocent.