True to her word, the Tome of Witchcraft lay burdened with all kinds of spells, jinxes, hexes, and curses. Pages upon pages of weathered yellow bore ancient inks that were inscribed in languages few knew.

To others, it would appear as incomprehensible gibberish and warping images that’d madden the mind, but to Autumn, it was as clear as if she had written it herself. Carefully leafing through the yellowed pages, Autumn searched for spells that might add her to her new career. Although she hadn’t mastered it yet, the only spell she knew was Jinx of Fear.

Of course, this didn’t include her recipe for healing cream or totem and anti-hex crafts.

She had briefly looked at the repair charm, but hadn’t had time to learn it. Perhaps now was that time.

A bulk of the earlier pages comprised spells that overlapped with her jinx, but favored other means of delivery. For example, the spell Touch of Terror had the same effect as her Jinx of Fear, only that she was required to touch her target as its name implied. If she was confined to close quarters, they’d be handy, but she felt it wasn’t wise to narrow her abilities this early on.

Fearful Sound was the same only with a shout instead.

As she flicked past the pages to near the middle of the tome, the swirling symbols beat upon Autumn’s mind. Hastily she retreated from the more advanced magics, her psyche not ready for such potent spellcraft. Flicking back, Autumn eventually found three spells she thought would be useful and round-out her repertoire.

Looking up, she met the glowing orange eyes of Nethlia. While it was ultimately her choice what spells to learn, Nethlia held a wealth of expertise in the adventuring field and it’d be foolish not to consult with her about them.

Clearing her throat, Autumn broke her gaze away from Nethlia’s as pink dusted her cheeks.

“U-umm…I was wondering if y-you’d…I mean, would you l-like to…I have some spells I’d like to learn and if it’s ok, can you give me some advice?”

Nethlia blinked down at the stammering witch hidden behind her tattered hat.

“Sure? I don’t know a lot about spells, but I’ll give it a go.”

“Me too! Me too!” Saphielle interjected.

Autumn took a breath to calm herself and listed off three spells to her awaiting audience.

“The first one is called Aversion. It conjures magical barriers to briefly deflect blows or missiles. The second is Mind Whisper, which would allow me to send quick messages towards a target I can see. And finally, the third is a spell called Delay Death. The tome says it’ll allow me to stabilize someone on the verge of death for a short time. It doesn’t heal, just…delays things.”

Nethlia was silent as she took in the information provided to her.

“I’d recommend learning Aversion first over Delay Death.” she held up a hand to stall Autumn’s question, “While it is definitely handy to have, right now you need ways to stay alive first. Anything else would be no good if you die before you can cast them.”

Autumn nodded silently as she placed a strip of fabric in place of a bookmark on the page.

“Did you have any other options?” Nethlia asked.

“Yeah, Touch of Terror and Fearful Sound as attack spells, but they are too similar to what I already have to be worth it. Beside them: a repair charm, a plague hex, an illusion spell, and a cleaning spell that looked good.”

“I’d advise against trying any plague magic within the city or even the barony, even if you can contain it. I’m pretty sure that one’s on the banned magics list somewhere.”

Autumn nodded. To be perfectly honest, she was more tempted by the cleaning spell: Dirt Dismay. The feeling of being covered in sweat, dirt, and blood was one she could hardly forget, but she agreed with Nethlia’s advice.

“Do you need anything to learn them? I know Wizards and their like tend to go through a lot of magical paper and ink,” Nethlia asked.

“I just need time to learn them and to gather some magic to power them.”

Saphielle leaned forward in curiosity.

“How’d you go about collecting magic?”

Autumn bit her lip in hesitation.

“Well, I could either head to places that are full of fearful people, but I’d feel that’d be rather dangerous right now or I could make some deals or pacts with people.”

The word pact lingered in the air like a promise, a desire, and a warning.

It was no ordinary agreement. It was bound by magic. Whomsoever agrees to the conditions would be obligated by magic itself to carry out their end of the bargain or risk wrath untold. Few would willingly agree to such an arrangement unless they were either confident in their terms or desperate enough to risk it.

A Pact could be comprised of anything: memories, senses, or even one’s lifespan or potential. They were the hag’s bargain or the deals with the devil. Not something to take lightly.

“If you need power, you can make a pact with me.”

Stolen novel; please report.

Autumn whipped her head over to Nethlia. She stared back with a look of utter trust that rocked Autumn to her core. She had only known this woman for less than a week and she seemed so sure that Autumn wouldn’t fuck her over.

Autumn’s ears burned under that fiery gaze.

“This is powerful magic, far beyond what I’m comfortable with. What if I mess up?”

She had too few friends to maim with wayward bargains.

“Alright, so just a normal deal then. You need fear, right? You can take mine.”

“Yours? I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

Nethlia gave Autumn a sad grin.

“I’m afraid of a lot of things, more than you could know.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. If she wanted, Autumn could use her powers to see, but it didn’t feel right to do so at this moment.

“Umm…I don’t know what to trade for. What would you even want?”

Before Nethlia could answer, a cough from the side interrupted them. Turning to the side, Saphielle looked like she had something to say.

“Yes?” Autumn asked.

“I don’t mean to tell you how to do your witchery. Is that the word, anyway I think you’re going about this the wrong way.”

Autumn frowned.

“Wrong how?”

“You’re thinking about this like you’re a merchant, buying fear with whatever you have on hand. A witch sounds more like a courtesan.”

Autumn was taken aback. She tried not to take offense given it was Saphielle’s profession, but it was rather hard to do so.

“Can you explain further?”

“Right, so you’re like, providing a service, right?” Saphielle asked, “People come here so they can relax and get rid of their anxiety, whether that’s through sex or just company. It’s the same premise just minus the sex part. Heck, I’d bet you’d even be able to talk the madam into offering your services in the House.”

“Huh.”

Autumn hadn’t thought about it that way before. She supposed it made sense. Speaking from experience, nobody wanted to be afraid all the time. However, that still left the problem of what to trade for only in reverse.

“So I could pay you to take away my fear?” Nethlia asked.

“I guess so, but it kind of feels anticlimactic. I kinda wanted my first time to be special.”

Autumn blushed as she realized what that sounded like. While it was hard to tell with the ruby skin, Autumn could swear that Nethlia’s cheeks darkened.

“Oh, ho ho~ you want it special, do you? This calls for my expertise. We even have a potion that can give you a—”

“That’s enough out of you.”

Nethlia seized Saphielle before she could finish her sentence. Her cheeks were definitely dark now. Vainly the elf struggled against bulging biceps, her mouth covered by a large palm.

Hiding under her hat, Autumn felt as if she had been lit on fire.

Gazing shyly up at the behemoth demoness, she had an idea.

“How about modeling?”

Nethlia and Saphielle stilled.

“Modeling?” They asked at the same time. Saphielle’s words came out muffled.

Autumn nervously swallowed at the attention.

“There is an art gallery downstairs, and I was thinking…I wouldn’t mind p-painting…you?”

Autumn’s words trailed off into a question as she wilted in place.

The idea had been rattling around in her mind ever since she had gotten her emotional sense. Forever artists have been trying to capture a soul in their art. She’d be a liar if she said she was different. She wanted this more than even magic, to create something that no other could.

However, Nethlia just looked confused.

“You want to paint me? But I’m not…you know…beautiful or anything.”

Autumn took in the towering adonis-like form, scars criss-crossed her exposed flesh like tales unspoken. She cast over the sharp features and the playful curls of hair between the majestic horns. It also reminded her of the vision she had seen of Nethlia’s emotions and soul and couldn’t help but say.

“You don’t see what I see.”

A subtle quietness enveloped the hall.

“Do you two need me to leave?” Saphielle asked as she broke free of a slackened grip.

Blushing, the two broke from their trances. Nethlia once again locked Saphielle’s cheeky mouth with one hand before turning back to Autumn.

“Ok, I’ll model for you then.” Nethlia shyly said.

Nethlia stretched out her larger calloused hand towards Autumn’s, engulfing it. As they struck the deal, Autumn drew forth the creeping bundle of fear nestled deep within Nethlia’s heart.

Nightmares of loss and failure.

An exhale left her lungs that she had been holding onto for so long.

As Autumn drew her hand free, a squirming worm of the blackest purple struggled between pinched fingers. It bucked and writhed, seeking freedom. Unwilling to let it return, Autumn pulled it up and under her hat where it melted into the rest to await use.

Once again, her hat felt heavy, as if a mountain lay within, but Autumn could bear it.

Another feeling rose inside of the deal struck. Not bound by the magic of the world, but her craft. Like a nudge, a reminder that she had worked unfinished. There was no time frame nor criteria besides what she had stated, but she could feel that she could pluck at it to see it done.

“Shall we be away, then?” Autumn asked.

Nethlia flashed an unburdened grin at Autumn, free of fear.

“Certainly. After you.”

The art studio of the House of Blooms was a well-curated mess. Across the clean walls of this well-lit room were paintings that either clients or the courtesans themselves had painted. Some displayed aesthetically pleasing nudes in soft shades, while others depicted scenes or objects in vibrant colors. Soft lights of floating arcane orbs illuminated the space and could be repositioned at will. Wayward paints had filled in the meandering lines of cracks and crevices upon the polished stone floor, giving it a rainbow of color.

Stored at the back of the room were numerous props and furniture alongside large amounts of blank canvases atop wooden easels. A table that was covered in dry paints, either spilled or painted deliberately, housed a vast collection of powdered colors and dyes. Various brushes had been cleaned recently and lay in a line; flat, rounded, bristled, tapered, thick, and thin, there was a brush for everything.

Autumn marveled at the brushes, feeling the horsehair. They were dark, akin to those nightmares she had seen before.

Deep within her bones, she knew she wanted a set.

Turning around, Autumn took in her model. The towering barbarian looked out of place within the artist’s arena, shifting from side to side with nerves. This would be a first for the warrior, Autumn mussed. This world was far unlike Earth, where cameras were ubiquitous. She didn’t even know if this world had mirrors beyond the polished bronze she’d found.

Cracking her neck to the side, Autumn grinned beneath her witch’s hat.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”