Malina had a plan. She always had a plan these days, of course, but this was a good one. Fool-proof. Entirely perfect and well calculated. A 100% chance of success. The bags under her eyes and her wild, frizzy hair were a testament to that.

There was just one little variable she had to add that was making her on edge. And it spoke slowly, almost seductively.

“Is that the one?”

The grinning shadow at her side asked, a slim finger pointing from the stacked boxes they were hiding behind. Malina nodded, holding the group of teenagers in her sight.

“Yes. Gustan.”

The girl narrowed her eyes at one of the boys, a young Cheshire flirting with one of the girls as she pretended not to respond with a grin as wide as the sea on her face. Her hand closed even tighter on the small bag she was carrying.

At her side, the looming shadow edged his face closer to her cheek, staring at her profile.

“And what is it you wish of me, young mistress?”

Malina opened her mouth to answer, barely feeling the cold breath of the demon she had called, when her jaw locked. She turned to face him with the same narrowed eyes, and his smile grew wider, like the cat that ate the bird.

She clicked her tongue.

“Good try, Nin. Good try. And I wish for nothing of you – but I do have an order.”

The demon retreated for now, checking his nails. The act didn’t faze Malina.

“Hmm. Pity. What is it that you command?”

“I need you to get me a piece of him for the hex.”

The demon stopped for a second, turning his head towards Malina. Though the mask he wore hid his eyes, she was certain Nintrakilous was staring at her through the metal.

“In broad daylight? Gods – how bold you have grown, Malina.”

Nin edged closer once more, allowing the shadows he donned to disperse and revealing the gray skin of his lower face and a smile of pointed teeth. His forked tongue slithered out like a snake’s, turning every ‘s’ he spoke into a hiss.

“Would the skin of his face suffice?”

The girl jerked away, realizing her mistake. She spoke before Nin moved.

“Something not deadly.”

“A hand then. Understood–”

“No. No! Not a hand, not his face. A lock of hair will be enough.”

The demon’s grin lost a sliver of its edge – then a second passed and it reverted back to its usual length, a bit more of the pointed teeth appearing. Nintrakilous disappeared before Malina could feel the shiver going down her spine, turning into a moving shadow ambling for his victim.

Malina dragged a hand down her face and groaned.

***

“Really, Nin. Really?”

“You ordered a lock of hair. I have delivered.”

They were running away now, leaving Gustan to cry in front of his girlfriend as blood dripped down his arm. Malina held the “hair” Nintrakilous had brought at arm’s length.

“I wanted it from his head. Not his armpit!”

The demon chuckled, melting into the darkness, and Malina swallowed the scream of frustration that bubbled up her throat. She should have heeded Rivia’s warning and not called for the fiend.

As they traversed the streets, the rising night coloring the world in shades of purple and dark blue, a whisper traveled up towards her ears.

“So… why are you out for that poor boy?”

Malina looked right, her shadow extending against the wall of the alley and decorated with the floating grin of Nintrakilous. She scoffed.

“He’s not ‘poor’ anything. They all deserve it.”

Nin’s grin widened as she continued to walk, slower now, dodging the puddles left behind by the early afternoon rain. They were about to reach the hideout, and though the means had been brutal at the end, Malina had yet to regret what she was going to do.

“Spoken like a true witch.”

That made her stop. She raised an eyebrow at the demon.

“Not a Muse?”

“Ha. Your ancestors would have cursed him on the day of the slight. Not waited and planned like you did. Ah, what great days of Chaos those were.”

The demon sighed longingly, manipulating her shadow to raise an arm towards his chest like some forlorn lady waiting for her knightley husband. Malina scoffed at the scene.

“I’ll make sure to do better next time.”

“Do ensure that.”

She rolled her eyes, palming the keys on her belt. The little rundown house she had found at the outskirts of the city, inside one of the poorer districts of Pleariss, had served as her base of operations ever since they moved here.

Though the mansion they used was diametrically opposed in… everything when it came to this little corner, there was just something about a small, abandoned house far from the eyes of the Coven that filled Malina with longing. The fact it was nestled so far from the main streets she had to walk through dirt pathways and public latrines was just the cherry on top.

The door swung open with a long creak, threatening to fall off the hinges any day now. Malina would have worried, if only the warning hadn’t been the same for the past two years. Regardless, she entered the single room shack with a successful grin on her face, locking the door behind her.

With an enchanted stone, the young girl lit the candles already inside, the flames sending light across her features. She sighed, taking in the surprisingly clean arrangements of the shack. A single bed, along with a chair and a small table made up the furniture of the place. The notes glued to the wall and the red chalk circles drawn on the floorboards ensured that even if anyone looked past the blinds, they’d know magic was done here. And that they should stay away.

As Malina let her bag fall onto the mattress and kneeled before the ritual circles with the chunk of hair in hand, Nintrakilous took the opportunity to leave her shadow and inspect the place.

“Quite the impressive arrangement you have made for yourself, young mistress. A quaint little cave of…”

The demon sniffed the air.

“... not-yet-curses. Tests? Oh, you’ve been practicing magic, haven’t you?”

Malina raised her head to look at the demon, her purple eyes shining.

“I needed to learn. I can’t be some fairytale maiden, Nin – I want to help the Coven as well. I know our mistakes.”

The fiend hummed non-commitaly, his languid figure, half-clad in armor and bearing that metal mask over his eyes serving less as a source of dread and more like a familiar grumpy cat – one that had seen you grow up but would still make a diabolic deal with you if they could. Nintrakilous sat with crossed legs on her chair, only stopping to dust the seat with a gloved hand, his grin managing to convey faint disgust at the dire space.

“You won't get admonishments from me about that, Malina. A true Muse does as she wills. Though you are aware there’s a reason for the Coven’s choices, correct?”

The girl swallowed a sudden lump, and nodded. She bit her lower lip for a second, and answered.

“If they told me what they were I'd follow the rules.”

Nin's grin widened as if he heard something much more amusing.

“You have yet to answer my question. What have they done to deserve your fledgling wrath, child?”

The girl placed the hair on the inner circle, ensuring the pentagram’s legs each had one of the ingredients she needed. Malina checked the book on her lap – an aged tome she had gotten from the mansion's library – and found no difference from the drawings, even with her exhaustion.

Her eyes traveled back to the demon as he leaned forwards to inspect her work. She relented.

“They saw me resurrect something.”

The fiend gasped, a hand not enough to hide the proud edge his grin had gained. His chuckle was deep and malicious.

“My, my. Unleashing undead horrors upon the world at such a young age. How quickly they grow.”

Malina shot the idea down like an expert archer.

“It was not an undead monster or anything like that. Gods, Nin. It was… just a mouse.”

He leaned forward, tilted face surprisingly close to her own as his neck elongated. She heard that chuckle of his on every word.

“Ah. Ah. Is plague and pestilence your preferred means then?”

“Stop playing, Nin. Enough. Do you want to know or not?”

The demon settled back on his chair, fingers intertwined over his lap, and hummed.

“I'm curious, yes. Elucidate me, little necromancer.”

She shrugged the title off, sighing as she closed the book. Now came the incantations – and those were her own, as Malina had learned. Before that, however, she engaged in honesty.

“It was wounded, somehow. Clawed and bitten. I think it was a cat that did it – played around, bit it ‘till it bled, then just left it there after the fun was over. But… the way it cried, Nin. I heard it from a street away. Just these whimpers of pain, burning, calling, and no one seemed to care.”

Malina saw it all again, the memory unfolding with her tale. Walking down a side street, close to some small businesses, and hearing the cries from one of the tumorous alleys that branched from it. The piercing sound that rasped against her ears, like nails on glass, and yet no one seemed to move for it.

No one was willing to help.

The girl shook her head, choosing to close her eyes and focus on her words, lest she lose herself on the remembrance.

“It wasn’t even hidden. It didn’t have the strength for it. Just… a small thing, struggling to live, left in a pool of shadow from the buildings. I tried to give it something, a dose of a potion, but…”

Her voice cracked and Malina had to swallow to stem the flinch. The sound of the mouse’s cries echoing still. Nintrakilous watched with rapt attention as the little witch told her tale, tongue licking his teeth.

“Indeed, an awfully ironic thing are these potions of yours. They always seem to not be quite enough when the time of need comes to be. So, what did you do?”

He teased with the question, resting his chin on his hands, and Malina opened her eyes to glare at him. She saw both the memory and the demon’s grinning face, her eyes firm like incoming twilight.

“I put it out of its misery.”

The demon giggled like a young girl, his body shaking as he covered his mouth with one languid hand. Nintrakilous’s face never moved away from her, perfectly stable as his mirth rose and died down. Malina held the stare she felt from underneath the mask.

“Bravo, little imp! Ah, but the apple really doesn’t fall far. Did you, perhaps, weep after slaughtering the critter?”

His sadistic smile took a teasing note, but Malina only shook her head. The tale was reaching its end, so the girl pulled a small sheet of paper from her pocket and straightened it on the floor. Her incantations glinted in black ink.

“No. I told you. I brought it back. No more suffering, no more pain – and a new chance to be something else. Whatever it so wishes. That was when they found me, Gustan and the others.”

“Hm? And what did they do? Necromancy is not very well seen among the cities.”

That was an euphemism if Malina had ever heard one. Necromancers were actively hunted in some of the Free Cities, and other places tolerated them only within very rigid and very clear legal boundaries. Pleariss was one of the more lax places this side of the continent, and yet…

“They threw stones at me. Called me a defiler, a devil – as if they have ever stopped to learn what those are! Ignorants, the whole lot of them. So I will make them see. I will make them know what I can really do.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The words rasped out of her throat, barely concealed rage turning them into a snarl. Malina was ready once more – she would show them what a witch could really do, what a Muse truly was, even if she was found… and all of it in one fell swoop.

The pentagram shone with the magic she bled on top of it, leaving her large Core through her fingertips and coating the ritual with a thin film of mana. From beside her, Nintrakilous looked at the young caster and hummed.

“Oh, child. If only you knew. But where is that friend of yours? The bond might be your first one, but it can still be improved if you so wish.”

Once more, Nin shot her a predatory grin – and Malina paused on her tracks. The girl refused to face him, and the demon’s tongue tasted fear in the air. Fear, uncertainty and regret.

Nin’s grin shrinked a sliver.

“What did you do wrong?”

Malina held her tongue for as long as she could, but the truth bubbled out of her throat like warm bile – itching to be said after days she spent reminiscing her actions. Her words were a whisper.

“There’s no bond.”

“Hm? What did you say?”

She licked her lips, building her courage. Malina felt her connection to the ritual dwindle as cold sweat pooled on her back.

“There is no bond.”

Nintrakilous seemed to freeze, his body perfectly still as the demon tensed like a viper ready to strike. Malina felt the consequences of her plans pour over her like a stormcloud.

Slowly, the fiend uncoiled itself, his voice distorting like a thousand whispers shouted from a mile away – and the kneeling girl saw a Count of Hell flare.

“Are you telling me that you have created an undead beyond your control? Are you implying, perhaps, that you filled a body with power enough to sustain itself without a Core?”

Malina gulped and Nin’s smile twitched like a mirage.

“Impossible. Impossible. You are prodigious but you are not that good. Unless…”

She kept herself very quiet, trying to turn into a figment of the demon’s imagination. The constant feeling of being watched from beneath the metal mask did not make Malina feel confident.

Nintrakilous’s face almost glued itself to her own as he held her shoulders.

“How much power did you put into it?”

Malina curled herself inwards and mumbled a response after a moment.

“Everything.”

“Please tell me my ears deceive me, Malina.”

“It just kept pulling, alright? I didn’t know when it was enough. It kept sucking and sucking and my crystal was full so I just–”

For the first time in years, Nintrakilous exploded. His throat bulged like a frog’s, tongue triplicating in size as he sibilated at her face.

“You are sssuposssed to ssstop when the bond isss formed!”

“But I wanted it to be free!”

She managed to free herself from his hands and get up, stepping away from the demon. On his feet, Nintrakilous loomed over Malina with almost double her height, his back curved uncomfortably under the low roof. The demon seemed to sigh, then freeze, before shrinking down to his usual size.

“Right. Indeed. You are a witch. You wanted it to be free, so it is. You aren’t a necromancer. If it has no Core then you needed it to sustain itself somehow, you know that… but it had to fit.”

Malina was all but ready to bolt, ready to try her luck on the streets than face whatever punishment she would get when Nin told the Coven of what she had done. She really shouldn’t have invited him.

Before she took a step away, the demon plunged a finger on her shadow, holding her in place – and Malina felt the tendrils of cold darkness coil around her ankles.

“What. Did. You. Choose?”

He asked pointedly, without give – and she shivered.

“N-nothing much.”

“Malina. I swear to the Gods I will have you clean Gizmo’s shit for the next year if you are not very, very honest with me.”

“It just felt appropriate, alright! I didn’t know it would take hold so quickly – no one ever taught me about that!”

“Because you are a child! You should play with other children, curse them to baldness, tame a bat, not explore uncharted necromancy!”

“I’m fifteen!”

She shouted, both of them glaring at each other. Nintrakilous edged away, taking a deep inhale through his teeth. The air whistled when it passed in-between the tight spaces left by his pointy grin.

“I will ask again. You know you have done something wrong and, as your Guardian, I must ensure you don’t bring unwanted attention to yourself. Or to the Coven. Now, what did you choose? Flesh? Blood? Carrion?”

The girl bit her lip so hard her teeth almost met, quickly evaluating the chances of biting her own tongue off before Nin could intervene. She resigned herself to her fate after she realized Rivia would just sew it back in place.

“I… I asked what it wanted–”

“Oh, Gods. She gave it sentience as well.”

“--And it wanted revenge.”

The demon sighed, giving up.

“The words, Malina. Be clear.”

The witch licked her lips, tasting blood on them.

“Cats. I chose cats.”

The world seemed to hold its breath at the revelation. Maybe it was just the quiet night of this little dirty corner of town, but not a sound could be heard as Malina watched Nin breathe. She had to make sure she was breathing at all.

Meanwhile, Nintrakilous, demon-extraordinaire, master of loose instructions, great explorer of languages and Serpent Tongue of the Seventh Hell… chuckled. The demon connected dots the little witch had not thought of and, after so long, he wanted for nothing but to flee from the Coven’s incoming wrath.

In an instant, Nintrakilous remembered what mortal race made up most of the population in Pleariss.

“Ha. Haha. Fuck.”

***

The doors to the mansion opened with one long swing, reinforced oak almost gliding above the stone floor of the main hall as Nintrakilous and Malina entered.

Well, he did. Malina wasn’t in a position to enter anything being carried as she was. The demon had put her over his shoulder after she tried to… uh… perform a strategic retreat from the fate awaiting for her. She was still trying to kick him when the first voice came from the first floor.

Feminine and mature, like an actress from Weningrad’s theaters, her words flowed like ambrosia down the air – and made Malina go very, very still.

“And what is it that you bring, Nin? A wayward daughter that finally returns home?”

Malina yelped as she was thrown to the ground. Nintrakilous kneeled, head lowered, and the woman slithered down the stairs, her lower body shaped like a long, giant red serpent – contrasting beautifully with her caramel skin.

She stopped close to Malina, looking down at her as the girl glared with those violet eyes of hers. Silently, Lissandra offered a hand – and the young witch refused the help.

Malina did not like the way Lissandra looked at her after that, or how Nin's grin took on a confused edge at her actions. Still, even after the Lamia retracted her hand, she smiled.

“And look at you, Mal. We were worried after your prolonged absence. Poor Charlie could barely sleep after you left for so long, she says you swore to read her a story.”

“I’m sorry.”

Malina mumbled. The Lamia shook her head, patting the girl’s shoulders.

“Don’t apologize to me. Thank me, instead. We had to stop Charlie from sending Gizmo after you – and that wouldn’t go well in any way or form.”

Her loud gulp made Lissandra smile, Malina’s eyes turning wide at the idea of the Coven’s Familiar grabbing her in the middle of the night only to fulfill her promise.

“W-where are the others?”

“Hm? Ah, Rivia is currently out with Stella, something about the Order’s hounds. I do believe Kassia is training somewhere – and Charlie has found some great joy in a new ingredient we bought her. Better to keep her distracted, right?”

Malina nodded eagerly, holding her own arms. The Lamia smiled before turning around towards one of the open rooms, a communal space near a hearth where Lissandra could rest atop her favorite seat – a large, circular sofa filled with golden pillows. She never looked back, but the duo knew better than to not follow.

Nin took position on the floor once more, kneeling like a vassal knight while one of the servant Imps pulled a chair for Malina. She thanked the little demon, which scurried back into the shadows with his long, floppy hat trailing behind like a tail.

The witch focused back on Lissandra, balling her fists as she readied herself. An arched eyebrow was all she got from the Lamia before she turned towards Nin for answers.

“So. What has our little witch done for you to bring her in… such a state, Nintrakilous?”

The demon licked his lips.

“We have a problem in our hands, Mistress.”

And so, Nin told Lissandra all of the story while Malina listened – a third-party doomed to be judged by none other than the Siren of Skamendi herself. The Lamia heard the tale with a soft expression, taking it in like a weather report instead of the grave news of whatever it was that Malina had created.

At the end, as Nin explained their swift confrontation in the shack, Malina had already resigned herself to have her privileges revoked and her magic sealed until her Awakening came.

So it was a surprise when Lissandra cut the demon off.

“I have heard enough, Nin.”

“But, Mistress, the attention–”

“--Is ours to be concerned with. Relax. Something like this was doomed to happen either way. A Muse is bound to her whimsical desires like no other.”

Malina blinked at that, raising her head – and saw Lissandra’s orange eyes watching her like a hawk through the corners of her sight. Slowly, she turned towards the girl, eyes stable in their glare, and smiled.

“Your mistakes are ones a hundred other Muses have made before, Mal. A thousand, in fact. To disregard consequence in the face of one’s desire is the most quintessential aspect of ours. We all learn to reign it in, to some degree or another, but I’m proud to hear you did what you wanted. Not us or anyone else.”

Malina’s jaw slackened, and she shook her head to ensure what she heard was right.

“Wait. Waitwaitwait. You’re proud? I thought you were going to–”

“Seal your Core? Ha. Please, Mal, we had no illusions that you would willingly stay away from magic. The moment we discovered how great of a… vessel you had, we knew there would be no stopping you. Gods know we were certain about it enough to hide the more dangerous tomes from the library.”

Malina stood with her jaw open as Lissandra revealed surprise after another. Quickly, the girl opened her Bag of Holding and pulled the book she had borrowed from the mansion, opening on the page where the 6th Circle Ritual she planned on using was carefully drawn.

She presented it to the Lamia like a great revelation, eyes wide and platinum hair standing in all the wrong places after being brought here. Opening her mouth to speak, Lissandra cut her cleanly, softly, and the witch did not appreciate her snicker.

“What’s the title of that one?”

The Lamia asked, a perfect eyebrow raised. Malina turned her tired eyes to the cover.

“Twenty-Five Curses To Cast On Your Enemies: Beginner’s Edition.”

Lissandra seemed to be stifling her laughter, holding it at bay with all her might, which made her next question sound more like a croak than proper words.

“And the author?”

Malina’s eyes traveled down – then she closed them tightly, opened them again, and felt her blood rise as her cheeks began to burn. Nintrakilous was the one to read it outloud.

“Sandra… Likassia. Wait. Oh.”

The Lamia could no longer contain her laughter, and cackled loudly enough to sting one’s ears, a sliver of power bleeding onto the sound. Malina asked the only question possible.

“How many of them are… fake?”

Lissandra waved a hand, clearing the tears from her eyes with the other.

“I don’t know for certain. Maybe… a dozen, two dozens. Trust me, we spent weeks laughing when we came up with the idea. Though I’m certain some of Charlie’s fake ideas would work out if you were as… creative as her. Gods know she could cast a curse with a rock and some spit alone.”

Nintrakilous was laughing now, a high-pitched sound like steam from a teapot, his grin wide as he looked at Malina. The girl struggled to untangle her tongue, looking wide eyed at her book, trying to fully comprehend what was going on through the veil of drowsiness that had been woven after days of non-sleep. She felt tears pinprick her eyes, and sniffed.

“So – it wouldn’t work?”

She asked, dejectedly, and Lissandra swallowed her laughter. The Lamia’s tongue tasted the air like a snake’s, and her face morphed into one of concern. She left her seat with open arms, taking Malina into a hug.

“Oh, Mal. Don’t be sad. I know it stings but we couldn’t possibly let you have access to our more dangerous spells.”

“But I thought you trusted me.”

“And we do. We do. Really. But… we know young Muses, child. And you were still willing to cast a Sixth Circle spell in the middle of the city, fake or not.”

Lissandra drove the point in with a smile, and Malina felt her cheeks darken once more. Failure. The girl had her head down when the Lamia let her go from the hug, raising Malina’s face with the tip of a long nail before taking her place back on the seat.

“Now, this little undead friend of yours can be a bit of a problem indeed. Usually when such things happen we tend to exterminate them – but, considering your desires, there is another way we can solve this little problem. Before it grows too large, of course.”

“I still don’t get why it’s such a big deal. I mean, it is just a mouse. Undead or not, how bad can it be?”

“Well, when it comes to that, Nintrakilous was correct. You can rise by the way, Nin. The attention it would bring to you and to us could be a bother – especially to Rivia’s plans.”

That made Malina’s blood run cold.

“But don’t fret too much, love. There’s a reason why I said we can fix this without murdering your little friend. All we need to do is catch it before it is too late – and before it eats all the Cheshires in town, of course.”

“Wait, that could happen?”

Nintrakilous whispered from the side as Lissandra shot her a pitying look.

“That’s why I tell you to be careful with your words.”

“Nin is right. Cats really was an awful choice to make – which is one of the reasons why we don’t make self-sustainable undead right out of the bat. You should have begun with a simple zombie.”

“That’s what I told her.”

Malina crossed her arms. Being reprimanded from both sides stung, especially when coming from a part of the Coven – but she fought hard not to pout.

“I would have known better if you had taught me.”

“Ah, we had our reasons for that. But since you’ve already delved into the machinations of the arcane, there’s no reason why you can’t learn the basics now. At least in a little necromancy. It never hurt anyone to know how to raise the dead.”

Nintrakilous showed more teeth at the commentary.

“Only their enemies, mistress.”

“Bah. The dead can’t complain.”

Malina interrupted their laughter, her hands shaking a bit in… anticipation?

“Wait – does that mean you’ll…?”

She couldn’t even utter the words, so baffling they were after being denied for so long – but Lissandra shot her a wink that had the girl floating with hope.

“C’mon, Mal. The night looks beautiful for a stroll – and perfectly well-suited to teach young girls how to perform the most blasphemous of resurrections.”

Lissandra left her seat, ruffling Malina’s hair with one hand as the duo was left behind, frozen in place. For some reason, the witch heard Nintrakilous gulp – and the demon’s voice sounded strained as he asked the moving Lamia, precious mirth suddenly absent.

“Are you… planning on leaving the mansion, mistress?”

“But of course, Nin. The witching hour approaches and Chaos calls for their daughters. Can’t you feel it in the air? I wouldn’t be a Dark Muse if I didn’t heed its wish.”

The baffled demon didn’t know how to respond as Lissandra stopped at the doorsill and smiled at Malina, her head gesturing to the outside.

“You coming, Mal?”

The girl giggled, and it sounded like the beginning of a cackle to Nintrakilous’s ears.