“Outsiders seem to have found Cyewen. Possibly members of the clergy, but I have no way of knowing what denomination they might belong to,” Maisha said in a low voice once she and Henry escaped to a secluded place. She stroked Ua’s head as she spoke, the green snake draped contentedly across her shoulders.

“Wh-what?! But I-I did everything-”

“No, it’s not your fault. Fate is simply a difficult thing to control. I must have missed something… but no matter, we can only move forward now.”

Henry nodded in solemn agreement at Maisha’s words, though still somehow felt like he could have done better.

“Are you still leaving in five days?”

“What? Oh, y-yes. Early Monday morning.”

Maisha rubbed her forehead, her expression growing increasingly fatigued.

“Though if you n-need me to s-s-stay, I can!” Henry quickly added. “L-Like you said before, y-y-y-you can always g-get me there with magic. No n-need for me to tr-travel for so long by boat!”

Maisha shook her head.

“No, I will manage,” Maisha said with a smile. Henry’s heart panged with worry.

“Don’t o-overestimate yourself for th-the sake of others, Maisha,” Henry said with sincerity, “You have a g-gentle heart, and can never s-stand both-thering others. But if you n-need my help, y-y-you can always ask.”

A gentle heart, huh?

Maisha let out a puff of laughter, feeling that this kid was starting to sound like Songbai.

“Scolding your elders now, hm?” Maisha teased. Henry held up his hands innocently, his face turning red.

“N-n-no! Th-that was not my int-tention!”

Maisha smiled. “Well you may not have time to do much before you must leave, but help me come up with a plan. What have the clergymen from the East been up to?”

“Ah! B-before that, let me give y-you a m-message from Takkon. Recently th-the residents of Atsgili have n-n-noticed an increase in outsiders around their borders. They’re worried that…”

Maisha attentively listened to Henry ramble on about the goings on of the East and the South. Any information, no matter how insignificant it seemed, could increase the accuracy of her predictions. And accurate predictions were essential if she was to bend the future to her will.

Several hours later, Maisha parted ways with Henry and Ua, though only after covering them from head to toe in every protective spell she could remember. They were about to leave on a terribly long trip, after all.

Stepping into Cyewen, Maisha looked up into the night sky and let her smile fade.

Henry thought the world of her. He thought she had some great master plan to make the world a better place. He didn’t bat an eye when she told him she had adopted two little girls for the sake of giving them better lives- no, it seemed more like something he expected to happen. He didn’t care that she was a woman. He didn’t care that she was African. He didn’t care that she was a witch. He treated her with respect. He believed in her.

If he ever finds out about the true nature of my plans… that I’m only using him as a means to an end…

Maisha rubbed the space between her brows as she walked through the brisk night. Her head had begun to throb.

No, I can never let him find out. If I lose Henry, I really… I really will be alone in this world.

*

Maisha sat on the floor of her room surrounded by a clutter of prophetic tools. Used teacups that she had stolen and preserved, sprawling maps of the stars and their change in relative position through time, detailed sketches of the palms of some of the key players in her life, drawings of recent cloud formations of note, all lay before her. And of course, her crystal ball sat on her left and her tarot cards lay splayed out before her.

She needed very little mana to analyze the sketches, teacups, maps and whatnot- she had already used divination magic on them, they were simple recordings of past readings now. But using the tarot cards and crystal ball seemed to take more from her every time. She would need to be careful going forward. Mana was like the lifeblood of a witch- if depleted, there would be consequences. The headaches, muscle pain, and fatigue she could all handle. But she could not afford to pass out again. Maisha took a steadying breath and began sifting through the information before her.

She saw doom, she saw luck, she saw prosperity, she saw death. If she saw something notable in the tea leaves or the palm readings, she would look for its cause in her crystal ball. And from there she would diligently search through probable outcomes, scribbling down notes in her journal every now and again, or sketching the images seen in her crystal. She scoured through her dream journal, going through her premonitions over and over again until she could recite the words on the pages by heart.

She looked through the notebook she used to calculate probabilities, gathering a vague impression of the likelihood of certain outcomes. Much of the work had already been done- she had made extensive notes over the years and was meticulous about keeping up with the probabilities attached to her predictions.

And once she had refreshed her mind to a satisfactory degree, Maisha began scheming up fates of her own. Outcomes she wanted. Outcomes she had been working towards. Outcomes that her survival depended upon. And from there, she worked backwards. Starting with a fate close to what she wanted, going through the events leading up to it, tweaking them until she found the desired effect, going backward and then forwards again to peer into other potential outcomes or unforeseen consequences.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Maisha slipped a hand under her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose, sipping on a now lukewarm ginger and chamomile tea. Her head had begun pounding hours ago, the stuffy pain only worsening as the minutes ticked by. She shouldn’t keep working. Not without more mana. But to get more mana…

Maisha slowly got up, fighting against blurry vision as the blood rushed from her head, and picked her way through the clutter to the bed. Kneeling on the straw mattress, Maisha rustled over to the wall above the headboard. Removing a wooden slat, she uncovered a small, hollow pocket in the wall containing a single stone. The smooth, pale grey stone had a somewhat flat shape, and a hole that bored straight through it, large enough for Maisha’s index finger to pass through.

A hagstone.

There were several types of hagstones, each with their own set of capabilities. Maisha had created this one, for instance, to be able to see through illusion magic. Whether someone tried to tamper with her dreams, or trap her within a witch’s labyrinth, this hagstone could guide her through.

But more importantly, all hagstones had a unique capability- they could be used to transfer the mana of one witch to another without the loss of any mana.

Maisha slipped the little stone into her pocket and made her way upstairs.

*

Morg sat in the crook of a pine tree, trying to make sense of the book on her lap. Some of the passages sort of made sense when Songbai was with her to explain them, but when Morg read on her own, the words on the page may as well have been written in a foreign language. Morg flicked off an ant crawling up her arm. Xisa seemed able to read her books without any trouble at all, even though one of them was twice as thick as the one Morg held in her hands. And Morg couldn’t even get through a single passage without her head spinning.

Were Xisa’s books just easier to comprehend? Or was Xisa secretly a genius?

Or… maybe I’m just an idiot…

Morg snapped the book shut with a frustrated huff and hopped off of the tree.

I wonder what Xisa is up to… she thought as she meandered back towards the house.

“Ahh!” Came a short, high pitched scream. Morg nearly dropped her book in surprise.

Was… was that Xisa?!

Morg anxiously ran in the direction of the noise, the sounds of voices steadily growing louder.

“让！我！走！(Let! Go! Of! Me!)”

“Ahaha mais je ne veux pas! (Ahaha but I don’t want to!)”

Without hesitation, Morg chucked the book in her hands at the honey-skinned boy holding Xisa captive.

“Ow!” Suhail cried when it hit him square on the forehead.

“HA!” Xisa gloated, running to hide behind Morg.

Morg looked at Xisa’s flushed face with wide eyes. Her friend’s eyes twinkled with life and a small grin colored her usually placid expression. When had she ever shown such an expression in front of Morg? And what’s more… hadn’t she just… spoken to this boy? When she had hardly ever even spoken to Morg, her best friend?

Morg grumpily turned back to the boy, studying him up and down. Just who was this guy?!

Seeing Morg, Suhail’s already cheery expression brightened even more. He took out a pendant from his pocket and hung it around his neck next to an identical looking one.

“Haha!” he laughed triumphantly, “I thought to bring all my translation pendants this time! Though now I only have one left, so you better be interesting!” he cried haughtily, fiddling with the small braid buried in his hair. Morg stared at him as if he had grown a second head.

This time? What does that mean?? Why can I understand him? Does he know Xisa? What the heck is a translation pendant? Where did he come from, is he a resident of Cyewen?

As the slew of questions momentarily overwhelmed Morg’s brain, Suhail slunk up to the girls and grabbed them both by the wrist.

“Now come with me, I have something exciting to show you!”

Morg snatched her hand out of his grasp and tried to push him away from Xisa, but the slippery boy managed to evade her palms while still maintaining his grip on her friend’s wrist.

“Let go of my sister!” Morg shouted, grabbing onto his wrist and attempting to wrench him away from her friend.

“Hey, you can talk!” Suhail exclaimed with delight. Morg furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Of course I can talk… why wouldn’t I be able to talk?”

“Well your sister can’t talk,” Suhail stated matter-of-factly.

“She can talk, she probably just doesn’t want to talk to you,” Morg spat out, scowling at the fact that Xisa actually had, indeed, spoken to the boy earlier.

“Haha, I bet she doesn’t wanna talk to you either!” Suhail grinned. Xisa’s eyes widened and she shook her head avidly from behind Morg.

“Shut! UP!” Morg yelled as she threw a fist out, attempting to land a hit on Suhail’s face. Laughing, he easily dodged out of the way and maneuvered his hands so that he was the one grabbing Morg’s wrist. Seething, Morg thrust her body forward and headbutted the boy with all her might.

“Oww~” Suhail whined, rubbing his head with one hand while still holding Xisa captive with the other.

“Don’t touch my sister,” Morg snapped, snatching Xisa’s wrist from his grasp. Xisa frowned and rubbed her sore arm. Suhail glanced from Xisa to Morg to Morg’s protective stance in front of her friend.

“Ohh~? But you don’t look like sisters at all,” Suhail observed. Morg’s scowl deepened.

“You don’t have to be related by blood to be sisters!” Morg said defensively, “We’re just as close as any sisters are, anyways! Closer I bet! We’ve been best friends for almost a whole year now!”

Though she had very little idea of what Morg was saying, Xisa nodded along in agreement. Morg was clearly in the middle of a battle of words with Suhail, and Xisa could understand the infuriating nonsense coming out of Suhail’s mouth. So naturally she had to show her support for Morg in any way possible.

Suhail’s expression twitched.

“Does that mean… I could be your sister, too?” he asked, playfully reaching for the girls’ wrists again.

“Xisa is my sister!” Morg asserted darkly, blocking Suhail’s hand before he could grab Xisa again. Suhail’s pale eyes flashed from behind his half-moon glasses.

“Someone can have multiple sisters~ and I think I want Xisa to be my sister too~ why can’t we all be siblings?” Suhail whined, twisting around Morg and reaching for Xisa. This time, however, instead of merely grabbing her by the wrist and attempting to drag her around places, Suhail wrapped her in a hug. Xisa sighed, resigned to her fate. There was no winning against this boy.

“Get off of her!” Morg cried in exasperation, attempting in vain to wrestle her way between the two of them. “What, do you have a crush on her or something?!” she tried to tease, searching for any weakness. Suhail hummed thoughtfully.

“Ummm~ I don’t think I get crushes on girls.”

Xisa looked at Suhail curiously.

“What? How can you not get crushes on girls?” Morg cried incredulously between punches, “Doesn’t everyone get crushes on girls?”

Xisa squinted at Morg.

Suhail’s mischievous expression turned into something more inquisitive.

“Do they?” he said musingly. “Do you also get crushes on- ow!”

Morg smirked at having finally landed a punch on his head.

“Well either way,” Suhail announced as he dodged Morg’s next attack, “I don’t get crushes on girls!”

“Then let go of Xisa!”

“I don’t wanna~ Frog-girl is my friend~ Right, frog-girl?”

Xisa let out a long sigh.