The cauldron in the front yard was as black as coal, as deep as the Seven Seas, and so terribly round that a scoop from it could feed their entire neighbourhood.

It evidently boiled and roared, frantically bubbling and spilling over the just as grim sides so that Arlena literally felt the scorching heat just by looking out of the soiled window.

The sugary aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg, luckily for her, also breezed into her glum room and purified the damp air of death.

She was not fond of spices, though. She liked her meals bland and, well, scent-free. Honestly, she didn’t mind the taste of spices, it was the smell that she couldn’t stand.

Celeste said she must be sensitive to smells since she was born as a sorceress. But she wasn’t so sure of that. Nonetheless, she was hell-bent on fighting off the urge to throw up every couple of seconds.

It shouldn’t be too hard to grasp that the boiling poison only became stronger the longer it simmered.

Celeste was no sorceress by any means, but when she was a young woman, her late grandfather taught her how to make powerful poisons and cast basic spells. It took them several weeks to gather all the rare ingredients and items required in the nearby woods.

They didn’t intend to hurt Nash, though. Sure, the poison would cause him a lot of discomfort and even render him immobile, to some extent, agreeably, but it wouldn’t kill him. That was their plan, at least.

She rocked back and forth as the sun, in a mad race against itself, burned her skin and bathed the entire vicinity in dazzling colours, while she could barely stand still and was jumpy.

How ironic, she thought, and chewed on her lips as hard as she could. Right then, her rosy cheeks lost all colour. Icy chills shot up and down her spine in time to a familiar but faraway din, and she pressed the tip of her nose against the glass in a trance while holding her breath.

The sound of what had now become a trotting horse grew louder, and Nash soon appeared on the arched road leading to the yard, where the howling wind raged cruelly and crippled her thoughts. His piercing blue eyes could split a stone in half with a single glance.

In the blink of an eye, she jerked and stumbled, losing her footing and plummeting to the hard, insect-infested ground.

She was worried sick and as white as a sheet. Did he possibly know? Hesitantly, she dragged herself back up and returned to the bitterly cold window.

Nash had dismounted already and was tying the brown horse to a nearby pine tree. He was numbed with booze.

She gulped and took a stumbling, edgy step forward while her eyes shifted from Nash to her poor mum standing next to the seething cauldron.

Celeste was shaking beyond control; her head hung low as usual, and she could not face her human husband. Arlena lost focus. Bag and baggage. She could swear – yes, she could swear that, right then and there, through the glass, she could hear Celeste’s hammering heartbeat.

Nash pushed the gate open and pranced extravagantly towards the wide-open front door, where Enis used to come running and greet him as it always did and, as it should today as well, but could not for… obvious reasons.

As soon as this thought crossed her mind, Arlena knew everything was over. All hell was about to break loose.

Celeste looked her in the eyes and they both, unwittingly, held their breaths. Nash didn’t look at her mum. She didn’t exist. He made a beeline for the door and waited for the dog to welcome him home.

The children playing beyond the fence noticed the sudden silence and watched with curiosity at what was going on.

It was then that Nash cast a sidelong glance at Celeste, but it was fraught with detest rather than love. Her mum said something Arlena couldn’t decipher through the thick glass. Whatever it was, Nash was not pleased to hear it.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Not long after, her heart stopped. Nash tossed Celeste aside so that the bubbling ladle of poison in her trembling, slender hands hit the ground. Fear seized her body at the thought of what lay ahead.

But her mum wasn’t the type to give up that easily. He was about to enter their hut when her mum humped up with unprecedented speed, clung to his legs like a child, and pleaded with him to take just one sip.

Arlena was on the fence about going downstairs or staying in her room until a deafening clamour decided for her.

She stormed out of the doorway without knowing what was happening outside. Her mum needed her help!

She froze just inches from the doorframe. Nash had flung the cauldron and caused the poisoned soup to ooze up from the grass like acid. It devoured everything in its path, leaving death and devastation in its wake.

Her mum lay on the ground with her free hand tightly hugging her forearm, writhing in pain as the soup burned her flesh and etched itself into her bare skin.

Nash, on the other hand, stood motionless and looked straight beyond her as though she were invisible and unworthy of his attention – neither she nor her mum, that is. She curled her fists and shook blood and thunder, boiling over with rage, hopping mad, and seeing red.

Her colourless, pallid cheeks turned bright red in a heartbeat. It was now or never, she thought, allowing hatred and anger to consume her thoughts. It was them or him!

She didn’t know what had happened, or rather, what was happening in her mind. She went from standing still to moving at full tilt. It was a huge mistake.

She sprung forward with inhuman speed – how she managed that was beyond her – and she threw herself at him while whispering the most powerful spells she knew.

Celeste shouted at her to stop, begging her to let Nash go before it was too late to make amends. But Arlena heard nothing but the wicked spells that came out of her mouth.

Their neighbours gathered around the fence with terrified eyes all the while, some rushed down the winding road to call the guards.

Even so, Arlena didn’t care. She bewitched him with all her might, to the point where he lost all senses and became as white as a ghost. His bloodshot, teary eyes grew wider with each passing second before they finally rolled out of his sockets.

They both fell to the side. The terribly wicked spells grew even more intense, taking the shape of a raven that flapped around them both like a monstrous critter.

The grisly bird turned its beak towards Nash and pierced a hole right through him. Nash screamed and passed out. But then again, who wouldn’t? He wasn’t dead yet, though, thanks to none other than her brave mum.

She sort of wished Celeste wouldn’t have interfered. Things could’ve been much worse. Celeste defied all odds to get to her feet and yanked her away at the eleventh hour.

Her mum slammed the front door shut and locked it tight as the commotion outside the fence grew louder and louder and the cries for help reached them through the permeable walls. Celeste frowned as she dragged her into the drab kitchen – not because she was upset with her or anything.

Her mum was in a lot of pain. But Celeste remained silent and uttered nothing at all; she didn’t accuse her of what had happened to Nash. Instead, she fetched a knife from the drawer.

Everything happened so quickly. She could do nothing but ogle as her chestnut-brown hair, wisp by wisp, fell between her legs. She fixed her absent gaze on the floor, her thoughts as quiet as the calm before a storm.

Celeste jolted her back to reality then. Her bitterly cold but gentle hands tightened around her shoulders as if she wanted to console her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

She blinked beside herself and vacantly eyed her mum. It was as if she, like Nash, had lost all senses and become as numb as the dead in their dismal crypts.

None of this was supposed to happen. But it did. It was too late to turn back the clock. With their cover blown, they had only one thing left to do. Why, then, did she sob so hysterically and make a fool out of herself?

Celeste fixed her dim gaze on the sole kitchen window that was big enough for Arlena to fit through. But she didn’t move (or rather, couldn’t move) until a guard, or more specifically, one of Nash’s friends, banged on the door and shouted at them to open it.

Her heart pounded louder and harder than ever against her chest. Unsure of what to do, she gulped for the umpteenth time and then shifted her gaze to her gangling mum, who was urging her to hurry.

The villagers were going to hang Celeste. She had not any doubt. Her mum’s ice-cold corpse would be displaced for all to see and ridicule.

She shook her head with these thoughts in mind, unable to flee and abandon her mum to the people of Gartâr – the nemesis she swore to exact revenge on.

Celeste pushed her through the tiny window against her will, and Arlena clung to the window frame and fought back as if her life depended on it, bawling like a cry-baby to no avail.

“Arlena, my child, you’re stronger than you think. Until Jewarta is ours again, remember and never forgive. Do you hear me? There, my sweet child, now go. Arlena, go!”

And she did. She left her mum behind and ventured into the unfamiliar.

This was her fate. Tears welled up in her bloodshot and sombre eyes, and she knew. She would never see her mum in flesh and bone again.