Five minutes later, the two of them sat by the riverbank. Venza held two warm orders of 'baker's secret' while the other girl used magic to clean the mud off of her. It seemed to gather itself out of her dress before dropping to the ground.

When she was done (and Venza had reminded her to wash her hands), Venza handed her one of the two pieces of 'baker's secret' and nearly bit into hers before she stopped and thought to ask, "Why is it called ‘baker's secret?’"

On the outside, it just looked like a normal piece of elongated bread to her. She assumed the 'secret' was whatever was inside, but looking at it she had no way to tell.

"Because it has a secret," the girl quipped unhelpfully, biting into her own piece.

"That secret being?" Venza asked, taking that as a sign that the bread was safe to eat. Her mouth filled with a creamy, sweet taste she decided she rather liked.

"A secret."

Venza rolled her eyes. "What's your name?"

The girl hesitated, then shrugged. "Aiela Durrell."

"And you don't live here?"

"They were picking on me because I'm someone who lives in the village that they see every day," Aiela drawled, rolling her eyes. "Of course I'm not from here."

"Point taken," Venza conceded. "But why didn't you fight back? You could've scared them off easy."

A long, deep sigh answered her before the girl's words did.

"Oma says I shouldn't do anything to antagonize the settlers," Aiela answered. "The wilderness will have them soon enough. Personally, I don't agree but Oma knows best."

"Oma?" Venza repeated. "As in grandmother?"

Aiela nodded.

"You two live nearby?"

Another nod.

"Just the two of you?"

"Yes. You have a lot of questions."

Venza thought about that. She was right. "Do you have any for me? Only fair I answer a few, too."

"What was that strange phrase you said?" Aiela asked.

"What strange phrase?"

"The one about you being my shield," Aiela clarified. "Are those your family's words, or something?"

Venza bit her lip. They were her father's battle cry whenever he leapt to the aid of their citizens, but it was a little embarrassing to admit for some reason. "O-oh, that. That was- That was nothing. Anyway, is your grandmother home?"

The girl seemed unsatisfied with her answer, but didn't press. "Should be."

Venza considered. Despite Aiela's odd demeanor, it was obvious the girl was intelligent. Something was very wrong here. Their convoy wasn't due to leave Rentley for a few more hours, so she had time. "Take me to her."

Aiela's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"I think I need to have a word with her," Venza said. "She shouldn't be teaching you to tolerate bullies."

The brown-haired girl snorted. "I'm not tolerating them. They're just beneath me."

"So, you didn't care at all about them dumping mud on you?" Venza asked. "And that's totally not why you threatened to swarm them with mosquitoes."

Aiela stood silent, eating the rest of her secret bread before answering. "Understood. I will guide you to Oma."

"It's fine," Venza said, giving Aiela a reassuring smile. "We're just having a small chat."

"Come on, then." The smaller girl started walking, not towards the settlement but away from it and into the wilderness.

"You're not afraid of being attacked out here?" Venza asked. The girl seemed completely unperturbed by the wilderness around them.

"No."

"You can't be that powerful," Venza countered.

"It's not my power that keeps me safe."

"Fine. Keep your secrets."

They walked in silence for roughly ten seconds before Aiela spoke up again.

"It uses the previous day's unsold bread as filling, mixed with eggs, milk, and sugar."

"What?"

"That's the baker's secret."

"Is that safe?" Venza asked.

"Yes," Aiela answered, actually shooting her a questioning look. "Not everyone can afford fresh ingredients every day. This method allows the baker to make use of the scraps instead of just throwing it all away. Just don't let it sit in your house for long after purchase."

"I knew that!" Venza protested, though she did feel embarrassed about asking. Father always told her to think of the common people and their circumstances, but it was easy to forget when you weren't one of them.

"Really?" Aiela asked. "Isn't your father ruler of Rantori?"

"It's called Rentley," Venza corrected. "And well, I suppose he is, but he's not the emperor. Father reaches out to the people often."

"No, it's Rantori," Aiela insisted. "Rentley is what your people called it after the original inhabitants died out. Oma told me so."

Venza frowned. She'd never read that in a history book. She considered simply insisting she was right, but this girl seemed unusually sharp. "Who were the original inhabitants?"

"The elves," the girl said simply.

"Elves are a myth," Venza said.

"No, they're history," Aiela said. "As in deceased. All of them."

"If they're dead, where are the graves? The ruins of their cities?"

"Look around you," Aiela answered. "They've been reborn as the forest, because even in death they cannot find peace."

"I've heard this before," Venza rebutted. "The Four Gods slew them for attempting to usurp their power. It's just a myth. It's why people can't raise the dead or control the animals," Venza's eyes widened a fraction. "Like you were doing with those mosquitoes."

"Just because almost no one was alive to see something happen doesn't mean it didn't happen." Aiela responded evenly. "And you've got it wrong. You are allowed to control animals, it's just that you can't."

Venza scoffed. "Those insects would like to have a word, if they could talk." She paused. “They can’t talk, right?”

Aiela paused, then answered. "My magic can only control creatures with no backbone, like bugs and worms. And no, they cannot talk."

"What makes them different?"

Aiela shrugged. "I don't know everything, little lordling. Perhaps they're beneath the gods' notice? Either way, I'd appreciate if you didn't bring this up with the Temple of the Four. I'd rather not be branded a heretic."

Venza blinked. That was the most emotion she'd gotten out of the girl in the time they'd been together.

Venza raised her hands in a placating gesture. "I wasn't going to tell, I swear. I don't think it's right, what they do to people, going behind the Emperor's back and all."

"He can rot, too," Aiela said plainly.

Venza held her tongue. The Emperor was a good friend of her father's, but she didn't think this girl of all people would say such a thing without due cause.

"We're here," Aiela spoke. They'd come upon the bottom of a cliff, covered in thick vines.

"Is there an illusion or-"

Aiela rolled her eyes and parted the vines with her hands to reveal a well-hidden tunnel with light visible at the end of it. "You can still turn back."

"You really don't want me to talk to your grandmother?" Venza questioned.

Aiela stared at her blankly. "I cannot accurately predict what would happen if you two met, but it would likely not end well for you."

Venza shook her head. "You are strange."

Aiela shrugged. "Says the girl who's trying to meet Oma."

Aiela led the way through the narrow tunnel. It didn't take long before it spat them out the other side: an isolated space that housed a single, stone hut. Smoke blew from its chimney, though somehow disappeared long before it got high enough to give away the hut's existence. Magic, it seemed. In truth, the very place they were in had a feeling of unnaturalness to it. Why was there a tunnel within a cliff face that just so happened to lead to a place perfectly sized for the one hut?

A tiny garden surrounded the hovel, but she'd never seen the kinds of plants it had before. A corner had different-colored mushrooms that ranged from puny to taller than Venza was. Another sported crystal-like flowers that seemed to move ever so slightly whenever Venza turned away from them.

"I'll go first," Aiela declared. "Let her know I brought someone home. Well, she knows that already, I'm sure, but whether you're friend or foe is up to what I say."

Venza bit her lip as Aiela left her alone in the garden, trying to project an air of indifference. What had she gotten herself into?

Seconds felt like hours as she waited for the other girl to come back out. After a moment of internal debate, she'd decided to keep her eyes on the crystal flower, just in case it could move.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

The door to the hut finally opened and Aiela beckoned her to come in.

She wasn't sure she felt any relief getting away from the strange flower. The inside of the hut Aiela shared with her grandmother was dark to the point Venza could hardly make anything out. How did they see in there?

The door remained open behind her, allowing some light to enter, but it was almost as if the very sunlight refused to come inside. She could make out Aiela to her left, waiting silently, and in front of Venza, right smack in the middle of the hut, was a figure who was either seated or very short. She couldn't see anything of its features.

"The girl tells me you wanted a word," the figure spoke. Her voice was high-pitched, creaking, like a door opening in the middle of the night. Suddenly, Venza could make out one new detail: something glittered in the faint light: sharp, bright points right where she thought the figure's mouth should be. "Speak, then."

Venza swallowed, hoped it hadn't been as loud as she thought it was, and said, "You're Aiela's grandmother, I take it?"

The sharp points glittered again. "For all intents and purposes."

"Did you know your granddaughter's being bullied by the children in Rent- Rantori?" Venza asked, correcting herself at the end. She wasn't sure she believed Aiela's tale, but she was in someone else's house. Best to be diplomatic.

Something seemed to change in the figure's posture, though Venza could see so little she couldn't have been sure. "Girl, is this true?"

A moment's hesitation, and then Aiela spoke. "Yes, Oma."

"Tell me their names."

"That won't be necessary, Oma," Aiela said, her calmness giving way somewhat to urgency. "They're only children."

"I said tell me their names, girl."

Venza, following her gut, interrupted. "She dealt with the problem."

She imagined Aiela's grandmother blinking at her in surprise, because she certainly couldn't see it. "What?"

"She used a spell I don't recognize to scare the bullies off," Venza clarified.

There was a shift again, Venza could tell, though she couldn't say what exactly changed in the old woman's demeanor.

"I just used Swarm," Aiela said nonchalantly. "Sent a few bugs at them. Nothing extreme."

Silence, and then the old woman broke into high-pitched cackling that sent shivers down Venza's spine. When the old lady finally calmed down, she said, "Ah, I wish I'd seen it."

"I thought you said I shouldn't get the villagers riled up?" Aiela questioned.

"No," the old woman drawled. "I said if they do anything to you, let them be, tell me about it, and I'll take care of it."

"They were only children," Aiela said, repeating what she'd said to Venza.

"So are we," Venza answered before turning to the old woman. "And that's why I wanted to talk to you. You shouldn't be teaching Aiela to just take it."

The old figure spat. "As if I of all people would preach pacifism." When Venza seemed not to understand, she added, "It means shutting up and taking it."

"I- I know what it means!" Venza hastily replied, though she was lying. She'd never heard the word in her life. She wasn't entirely sure she believed that was what it meant, either.

The old woman huffed. "So you've got something to say about how I raise my granddaughter, do you? How old are you?"

"I'm almost ten," Venza answered.

"Child, I've been around longer than you can trace your family tree back, and you think you can lecture me? Me?"

"You keep saying that, but I have no idea who you are," Venza snapped. She couldn't help it. This old lady was being rude.

The old woman cackled. "Well, that explains a lot, doesn't it?" She made a thoughtful sound. "You're an amusing one, I'll give you that. I'll tell you what: Let me read your fortune."

Venza's brows furrowed. "My fortune?"

"Yes, girl. Are you deaf?"

"No, but why would I-"

"Just allow it," Aiela said. "It will be easier."

Venza shot the other girl a questioning look and then shrugged. What harm would it do? "What do I have to-"

"Here," the old woman said, and a small, burlap sack floated out of the darkness. The string that held it shut quickly untied itself before her eyes. "Blow into the bag."

Venza gave it a skeptical look. She couldn't quite see what was inside, but she did as asked, blowing air into the bag as if putting out a candle.

On cue, the bag turned itself upside down, and a handful of small animal bones clattered to the wooden floor. The old woman made no apparent move to get them.

"I see, I see," the old woman said, mostly to herself. "Interesting."

"What?" Venza asked. "What is it?"

There was the glimmer again, which Venza now understood meant the old woman was smiling. "Why should I tell you?"

"It's my fortune."

"And it's my reading."

"What was the point, then?" she asked, losing her patience.

"Nobody ever knows what the point is," the old lady answered. She made another thoughtful sound. "But now I see why you're here."

"What?"

"If you're so against how I raise my granddaughter, you take her."

Venza blinked, sure she was mishearing. "Excuse me?"

"Take her with you," the old woman repeated. "To live in your manor. You teach her how to behave since I'm clearly no good at it. Maybe with you, she'll grow a backbone!"

The old woman cackled.

"Wait," Venza said. "You can't be serious!"

"But I am," the old woman said. "Girl, go with this child. Learn how to be a proper lady."

"Why?" Aiela protested.

"I see something in her," the old woman answered simply. "And you could learn a thing or two. You listen to me far too easily."

Aiela looked about to protest, but then said, "Yes, Oma."

"See what I mean?" the old woman asked.

Venza whirled on Aiela. "Are you seriously okay with that?"

Aiela shrugged. "If Oma says so, I'll do it. She knows best."

"I'm nine!" Venza protested. "I can't raise someone my age!"

"So? You have a mother, don't you? Make her do it," the old woman drawled. "Or if she's too sick, I'm sure one of your servants will."

Venza froze. "How do you know my mother's ill?"

Again, the glimmer, the smile that hid in the shadows. "I just read your fortune, child. Or are you telling me you're not Venza, only Heir of House Greyfield, daughter of Lucius and Nora? Are you not the very same Venza who dreams to take her father’s place as that fool of an emperor Harway’s attack dog someday?"

"But I never-" Venza stopped. "Am I supposed to believe you're a Witch, too?"

The old woman scoffed and seemed to direct her statement at Aiela. "Is that what you've been telling her, Girl? Bah. You've barely scratched the surface. You’ll need to do a lot more than send mosquitoes at children before you’re a proper Witch."

"I never said I was a good witch, Oma," Aiela answered innocently.

"But no," the old woman answered, turning back to Venza. "I am not a Witch. I am the Witch."

Venza felt overwhelmed by the sudden resurgence of a memory. There was a story for children about an evil hag who'd lived a thousand years, stealing away naughty children who didn't listen to their parents. "Oma as in grandmother?"

The twinkling somehow seemed to grow brighter without actually illuminating the room. "Took you long enough. I suppose, yes, I am her grandmother, of sorts, but Oma is also the first half of what most people call me. Do you know the second, child?"

This was bad. Really bad. Venza forced herself not to look behind her to see if the door was still open. It must have been since the shack hadn’t gone entirely dark. "Surely, you couldn't be. She's a myth. A fable. A story to scare away children."

She vaguely remembered herself saying the same thing about elves.

"And yet I didn't seem to scare you away," the Witch said. "Why is that, Venza of House Greyfield?"

Because she didn't know, obviously. Still, she couldn't just say that. "I've studied magic. It doesn't scare me like it would the common folk."

"Of that, I am aware," the Witch drawled. "You have astounding affinity for one your age, and yet you seem to look down on magic. Why is that?”

Venza’s mouth opened, then closed. Did she look down on magic? “It’s a useful tool, but magic isn’t everything,” she answered.

“Isn’t it?” the Witch asked. “Because I also know your ability to do magic is blocked. I could even tell you why. Do you dislike magic because it’s something people expect you to do that you can’t? Wouldn’t it be so much easier to take your father’s place as Lord Marshall if you could hurl fire from your fingertips? Annihilate armies with a thought?"

Venza swallowed. The crone had literally read her like a book. "No magic is that powerful."

“Ignorant,” the old woman muttered. “Just because you haven’t seen it doesn’t mean it does not exist. Your own mother was known as the Phoenix of Odolenia in her prime.”

Her mother? Surely, no. Nora Greyfield could barely do magic anymore, at least not without lapsing into illness. “You said my magic was blocked? And you could tell me why?”

"Yes, but I won't," the Witch said. "So, child, do you know who I am now?"

Venza bit her lip. Her skin crawled as she forced the words out of her mouth. "You're Oma Mala, the most powerful Witch who ever lived."

"People have called me less flattering things, I suppose," Oma Mala answered.

"What did you mean?" Venza asked.

"What do you mean by 'what did I mean?'"

"When you said you saw something," Venza added. "You seem to know more about me than most people do."

Again, the faint glimmer in the dark. Were those her teeth? "You have the potential for greatness," Oma Mala answered. “But right now you’re just an impulsive child chasing a near-impossible dream.”

Venza blinked. "Will- will I succeed my father?"

"The future is not set in stone," Oma Mala said, sounding bored. "Now then, I think you were leaving."

"Wait! I-"

"Leave," Oma Mala's voice was deep, warning. Venza felt a push against her mind, and found her body moving on its own.

"R-right, well, it was lovely meeting you," Venza said. Wait until her father heard about this.

----------------------------------------

A short walk through the woods later, and Venza found herself rather perplexed, indeed. She could not remember how to get back to Oma Mala's hut, or even what the old woman had sounded like.

All she could remember was that she was supposed to get someone to take Aiela in, and that she'd met Oma Mala somewhere in the forest. And that Oma Mala, greatest of all Witches, who'd lived longer than the Odolenian Empire, had told her:

"You have the potential for greatness."

The rest was a blur. She most definitely could not lead her father and his men to the witch's lair. Walking beside her was Aiela with a simple leather bag Venza hadn’t even seen her take slung on her shoulder. It looked too small to fit much of her belongings.

"Don't beat yourself up," Aiela commented, seeing Venza's apparent misery. "She has that effect on people."

"You could guide us," Venza suggested.

"And sell out my grandmother?" Aiela asked, looking like she'd been asked to jump off a cliff. “Besides, you have what? Maybe a hundred men? She’d wipe them out with a single spell.”

Venza would have argued again that no magic was that powerful and her father was unbeatable, but she did remember the part about how her mother could supposedly do the same, and Oma Mala was leagues above her. "Is she really your grandmother?"

"For all intents and purposes," Aiela echoed the old witch's response.

Venza rolled her eyes and grinned. "Whatever you s-"

A scream from further ahead interrupted her. The two of them shared a look before Venza ran towards the direction it came from. "Come on!"

"What? What are you going to do when you get there?!" Aiela yelled, but Venza was already moving. “You’re just a kid with no magic!”