ZABA

One day, I woke up. On that day, I met the Witch.

I had woken up in the midst of green moss, surrounded by millions of trees.

My first memory is of sitting down, and of the moss clinging to my arms.

I did not know where I was. Nor did I recall falling asleep.

The leaves of the trees were a deep, lush green, with trunks adorned by vines that seemed to glow and shimmer in the dim light of early evening. I forced my little legs to stand on their own and took a look at what had been my ‘bed’: from it sprouted the remainder of the forest floor, covered with a soft blanket of glowing mushrooms and flowers, emitting a gentle pale blue glow that seemed to illuminate the path ahead.

My legs trembled in response to my efforts, and so, I leaned against a tree.

So many sounds.

Maybe it was the rustling of fallen leaves, sounding too much like whispers. Or the snap of a twig that made me recoil.

I could not stay.

Therefore, me and my leather shoes would have to follow the glowing path.

I walked for what seemed to be an eternity, and with a quick pace out of caution. I could not trust this hypnotic, dream-like place, no matter how much it calmed my senses, and made me wish to stop and explore more than ever.

At last, the path gave way onto a clearing surrounding a small cabin.

It was old and worn, built in a sad, beige coloured stone, contrasting against the colourful and warm jungle.

I smiled.

It was lovely.

ACT I.

I dusted my dress off and fixed my bangs as best I could – I could not look unkept in front of the owners! – what if they were the rulers of this forest? What would they think of me?

My face, I could not check, but I wiped my cheeks the best I could against the back of my hands. Joining my heels together and stretching my hand to the top of the door, I knocked thrice.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

What if they had seen my sorry state through the window and did not want to let me in? Oh, no, was I to spend the remainder of my days alone, in the middle of the trees and away from a warm blanket?

A bird came to sit on the porch, interrupting my thoughts.

It had feathers dark as the night, and a long, pointy beak somewhere between yellow and orange. It stared at me, and hopped a little closer to where I was.

I leaned down, closing in the distance between our noses.

❝Hello, mister! ❞, I greeted – ❝Is this your home? ❞

It made an eerie, intricate cackle in response.

I covered my mouth to giggle, as to not frighten it.

A loud, piercing sound filled my ears, and both me and my new friend turned our faces towards the source. However, before my eyes could even adjust, the bird flapped its wings and took flight, and I reacted by stepping back and covering my eyes.

As I shook my head and lowered my arms, a voice beckoned closer.

❝And what do we have here? Are you lost, Child? ❞

The bird neatly landed on a woman’s shoulder, and she raised her left hand to its beak. She had long black hair that extended down to her back, framing her smooth, unlined tanned complexion. She stared at me with a slightly furrow brow and droopy eyes, but her kind smile betrayed her aura of mystery.

I was fascinated to the point where I did not know what to say.

She let out a laugh and lifted her skirt up to her ankles so that she could walk towards me. With every step, a soft tinkle followed – for her head was covered by a witch’s hat made of a soft, black fabric, and a sturdy brim. It was held against her jaw by a lace of the same colour, tied up in a neat bow by the neck. And most curious of it is, not only was it adorned with two majestic deer horns, but said horns had various metals strings, decorated with various figures such as stars and moons, crashing against each other constantly at every movement of hers.

When she got to the steps in front of the porch, she lowered herself in front of me, and held her hat with one hand, resting the other on her lap:

❝This is my home, Child. And my pet’s too. ❞

Now that she was close, I could notice that despite her tender smile, she had a weariness to her – with deep, black eyes that bore no light, and dark circles underneath them. She looked worn out, away from the youthful glow a woman of her age should have.

Maybe it was just late. And maybe she was just tired.

❝Miss, I am terribly sorry! ❞, I blurted, and immediately lifted my hand to my mouth, and lowered my tone, ❝I really did not mean to intrude! I’ll leave right away! ❞

❝Nonsense, Child, it is alright. You were merely wandering and wondering. There is no harm in such. ❞

I held my hands behind my back and fiddled with my feet out of embarrassment. The woman placed her free hand on my left arm and asked:

❝Why are you here, Child? Did you come alone? ❞

I replied with a nod. The woman furrowed her brows further and let go of her hat, so that she could hold both my hands with care.

❝I am the Witch of the Wilds. And I am the only girl in this forest. You must be far, far away from home. ❞

❝I’m cold and hungry, Miss. I woke up in a bed of moss and I think I am hurt as well… ❞

She lifted herself slowly and opened the door with a key. As she gestured to the inside of the Cabin, she hushed with a soft voice:

❝Come inside for a cup of tea and some rest. The Moon has risen, and it is no time for little girls to wander alone. ❞

I did no more than thank her.

I could feel my heart pounding as I entered the cabin. It was filled to the brim with strange objects, and vials of every colour possible and imaginable were messily arranged on shelves and tables.

The Witch stood across what seemed to be a kitchen counter and filled a kittle with water – she then placed it on top of an old stove. She flicked her wrist, and the flame underneath the kettle came to life. She turned to me and leaned against the counter:

❝What sort of tea do you enjoy, Child? Herbs? Fruits? ❞

❝Oh, I love fruit! ❞

❝Is that so? Any preference? ❞, she extended her hand to reach the tips of my hair, and fiddled with them, ❝Perhaps a blueberry blend? To match your unique coloration. ❞

I shied-away from her touch and curled my hair between my fingers – ❝It’s messy, I’m sorry. I must have lost my braids whilst sleeping. ❞

She smiled and began to select the ingredients for the tea. She plucked a few leaves from a plant that hung from the ceiling, and opened a jar filled with blueberries. She carefully measured the perfect amount for the blend, and continued to chat with me whilst working:

❝Dark brown hair with blue ends – how quaint. Did you dye it yourself? ❞

❝N-no, I did not. Mother helped. ❞

The Witch suddenly stopped stirring.

She turned quickly after dropping the mixture onto the kettle, walked across the room, and pulled out a checkered red blanket, wrapping it on my shoulders. She then pointed at a tall bench and gestured for me to sit on it.

❝Forgive me, ❞ she apologized, ❝I do not feel the cold, and thus I had forgotten about your early request. ❞

I answered with a smile. How kind of her.

The black-haired woman returned to her task, and as she poured the liquid into two matching teacups, her bird companion flew back to the counter, watching intently.

It chirped at me.

I could not hide my curiosity any longer and asked if it was a Raven.

She cackled, with a heartly laughter and explained that it was neither a Raven, nor a Crow:

❝A Blackbird. The beak is orange, my dear. Ravens and Crows have black beaks. ❞ the woman then pushed the small cup towards me: ❝Drink this, Child. It will help you feel better.❞

I blew onto the warm cup and held it with both hands.

We sat there for a while, quietly drinking. The Witch did not sit at the counter with me, but rather at the edge of her window, forever staring into the outside.

I took the time to become familiar with the Cabin.

It seemed like this ‘kitchen’ took up the whole bottom floor, with wooden stairs at the far end of it. It had many cabinets, and many, many plants – whether on the floor, ceiling, on the tables, or even growing out of the cabinets. Unlit candles of all shapes and sizes were spread out as well. As for the tables – there were at least three: one with books stacked on top of it, another with round stains from mugs and cups, and a larger one that was next to the door, filled with pots, plants and gardening supplies.

On this third table there was also an object that did not match the rest of the decoration – a singular porcelain vase, in traditional white and blue, with a delicate shape and intricate design. The vase was tall and elegant, with a narrow neck that flared gently towards the base. The surface was covered in a smooth, glossy glaze that caught the light from the window and shimmered, in such a way that only ice on a sunny day could do. But what truly drew me towards it were the butterflies that adorned it – they were engraved in exquisite detail, with each graceful wing captured perfectly. Some were in full flight, and others sat in branches or flowers.

❝Have you taken a liking to this room, Child? ❞

I almost jumped in my seat.

How embarrassing! I was caught staring whilst a guest!

❝I’m so sorry! ❞ I blurted, my cheeks growing hot – was it the tea, or was it my embarrassment? ❝It is alright. You have never been here before; it is only natural. ❞

The Witch left the brim of the window and sat in front of me. Her hand reached for her Blackbird, and it let her finger stroke it’s head – it closed its eyes in pleasure.

Would it be ok to ask questions? Perhaps it would be rude… but the Witch seemed so sweet! And everything seemed so wonderful – all these plants, this cabin, this tea, this bird…! And that, that—

❝You’ve been gawking at my vase for a while, dear. ❞

My eyes widened. She noticed! – I’m such a sour guest, I should be ashamed! She was kind enough to care for me, and I have done nothing but intrude…!

And as the woman gave me an endearing look, her eyes answered all my preying doubts: ❝It is an antique. Do you know what that is? ❞

❝I don’t, no…❞

❝How old are you, Child? A decade, perhaps? ❞ I nodded. ❝Well, an antique is something that has lived more than hundred times your life. It is quite valuable due to its age and quality – and I am not surprised you are drawn to it. ❞

❝How so? Is it… ❞

❝Yes, Child. It is magical. ❞

I covered my open mouth with my hand: ❝So you truly are a Witch! ❞

❝Well, but of course— ❞

❝And the fire on the stove was really your magical hand? It wasn’t a trick? ❞

She lifted her right hand and snaped her fingers. A small flame sprouted from her index finger as if it were a candle. The Witch closed her hand with a flourish, and the fire was gone.

❝Miss Witch! ❞ I exclaimed, ❝You’re amazing! ❞

❝I’m most thankful, sweetness. ❞ the woman smiled with closed eyes, and as she opened them, the smile gave place to a strange, serious expression, ❝But do not call me ‘Miss’. My title is ‘Witch’. Please address me as such. ❞

I clasped my hands and smiled with all my heart: ❝No problem, M—Witch! Oh, this is most wonderful! Can you do something else? Please, please, please? ❞

The Witch of the Wilds shook her head, and her face softened once again: ❝I already have. Were you not hurt before, Child? ❞

Hurt?

Oh! Yes, I was hurt!

But the—

❝…the pain is gone after the tea! ❞

She nodded in response. I examined all my limbs for the bruises I previously had.

❝My knees are no longer scrapped! ❞, I clapped out of joy, and the bird reacted fearfully, jumping to his mistress’s shoulder, ❝Oh, this is most wonderful! Thank you, so much! ❞

The woman stood up and coddle the bird, and moved to the cabinet from which she removed the blanket: ❝It is no trouble, really. However, there is something I would like for you to do as… repayment. ❞

The cabinet made a sharp wooden sound as she opened a drawer and searched for something on it. I gave one last look at the vase (for she was not watching me), and turned to the Witch: ❝What is it, Mi—Witch? ❞

She gave the bird something, and it flew to the counter, dropping it as it lowered. It seemed to be an old and worn pack of cards, with silver engravings on it, forming shapes and symbols I did not know.

❝A Tarot reading, Child. ❞ the Witch explained, ❝All I wish in repayment is a look into your Future. ❞

The Witch sat across from me, took out the cards and began shuffling her deck. I stared in awe: ❝I don’t know what that is. ❞

The woman cut the deck and spread the cards, and finally, shut her eyes. She opened them with force, and a hint of a glossy, blue glow bathed them. Candles lit with soft flames across the room, making up for the absence of light due to nightfall.

I felt my stomach in knots and let the blanket fall from my shoulders.

I was nervous.

So nervous.

I did not understand what was going on.

The Witch of the Wilds, and her mystical glowing eyes, offered me a warm smile and asked me to pick a card.

And so, I did.

My first card had a cloaked figure, who stood in front of three spilled cups – they also had two cups standing behind them, and both were still full.

I couldn’t help but to furrow my brows.

❝Alright, come close. ❞, the Witch whispered as she extended her palm for me to place the card, ❝Let me show you everything I know. ❞

She took one good look at it and placed the card on the centre of the circle with a dejected face. ❝What is it? ❞, I murmured, ❝Is it bad? ❞

❝It is your Past. The Five of Cups. ❞, the woman responded, ❝It represent loss, grief or even disappointment… It leads me to believe you have experienced deep pain and sadness. ❞

My heart ached.

❝Grief…? What is grief…? ❞, I mumbled under my breath, ❝And what sadness? I feel happy. I am here. ❞

The raven-haired woman removed her hat and placed it on the edge of the counter. She had a third eye drawn neatly with black paint on her forehead, much like a tattoo, that glowed softly with the same intensity as her new blue eyes.

❝Grief is sorrow, unhappiness. It comes to you when you lose something you hold dear. As for you… perhaps you feel happy now, but considering this is your Past... perhaps you did not feel happy before. ❞

I shook my head in confusion. I did not understand.

The Witch kept insisting on this.

❝Tell me, Child. Why did you come here? ❞

I closed my eyes and tried to think.

But the more I tried, the less I was certain.

I had no memory of arriving. Or of leaving.

In fact,

I had no memory at all.

I felt something warm dripping through my cheeks, and a cold hand wiping them away.

Her blue eyes, all three of them, stared at me from below, for she had come to where I sat and lowered herself to coddle me.

❝We will speak of this later, alright? For now, let us see what your Present has in store. ❞ I nodded.

She stroked my arms lovingly and kissed my hands before returning to her seat.

The Witch asked me to take another card.

I wiped my tears away, dried my hands on the hem of my skirt, and obeyed.

XVII. Seventeen.

The card depicted a brown-haired girl, pouring water from two jugs: one into a river, and the other onto the ground. Above her shone t—

❝The Star. ❞, the Witch peeped, as I turned the card to face her, ❝A mysterious but joyful present. ❞ ❝Does… does this mean I will have to carry water with me…? ❞, I inquired, forcing a smile.

The Witch giggled and responded: ❝This card is often seen as a symbol of hope and inspiration and suggests that the subject, which is you, is currently experiencing a moment of peace and optimism. The Star tells you that the present is a time of mystery and hope. ❞

I tilted my head to the side in confusion. The Witch lightly touched my cheek to get me to look at her. ❝It means you are on the right path, Child. ❞

I smiled, genuinely this time. Perhaps it was not so bad.

❝And now, a Third? ❞

❝A third. ❞, the woman said with a smile, ❝For your Future. ❞

Two cards laid in the centre of the circle now.

I let my hand guide me to the third.

XVI. Sixteen.

A tower being struck by lightning, with people falling from it.

It scared me. So, I dropped it on the table.

The Witch looked entranced by it. But said nothing.

I tried to read the letters on it.

T

T-O

T-O-W

T-O-W-E

T-O-W-E-R

TOWER.

❝The To… wer. The Tower? ❞, I questioned.

She who was in front of me took a deep breath, and spoke in a raspy, low voice.

❝A symbol of sudden chaos and destruction. A dangerous time in your future is coming, full of unexpected trials and tribulations. ❞

I held my breath.

❝It… is also my birth card. ❞

Danger. Danger?

No, no, no—

❝Miss Witch… am I in trouble? ❞

The Witch got up and opened a drawer near the stove. She took a slender box from it, and removed a brown… stick? from it, and took it near a flame. A rich smell came from it almost immediately.

❝Miss? Miss Witch? ❞

She handed the stick to the Blackbird, which took it on its claws and began to fly in circles. The woman then approached the counter and cleaned up the deck of cards:

❝I told you to just call me ‘Witch’. ❞ she blurted, still in her raspy voice, ❝And do not worry, Child. As long as I am here, none may hurt you. ❞

I left the bench, and picked up the fallen red blanket, wrapping myself in it again. The Witch turned to me after putting the Tarot Deck back in its drawer.

❝How about we go to sleep, hm? ❞, the woman hushed, offering me her hand. I took it, holding it close. Her eyes had returned to the usual black, and the mark on her forehead no longer glowed, ❝I have an extra bedroom ready for any guest that may come. My feathered friend can keep you company if you so wish. ❞

The Witch raised her arm and whistled softly, and the Blackbird came to rest on her index finger. It chirped happily, and expertly lifted the remainder of the brown ‘stick’ to its beak.

❝The incense is almost done burning, anyhow. We can sleep safe and sound, dear. ❞ I nodded: ❝Thank you, Witch. I can sleep alone – I think your friend would prefer to be next to you. ❞ She smiled and led me to the top floor.

My eyes were heavy, and I realized how much I wanted to sleep as soon as I laid eyes on the bed. The Witch, however, insisted that I changed into something she handed me; she called it a ‘short nightgown’, and exited the room for me to be at ease.

The gown went down to my feet, far too large for someone like me. The fabric was soft, and I nestled my body in between the bed sheets.

The Witch came shortly after and made sure I was comfortable. She assured me I had nothing to fear nor worry, and that tomorrow we’d spend time together.

I answered that I knew, and that I was happy.

She smiled.

And I fell asleep.

ACT II.

I had been staying with the Witch for a few weeks.

We had gotten used to one another. She even mended my dress and taught me how to braid my hair. She had been trying to help me regain my memories, but progress was little to none.

❝Focus now! ❞ the Witch scolded, voice unwavering, ❝You spoke of a Mother. She helped you dye your hair. Focus on that memory. Why do you remember it? What does she look like? ❞

My eyes were closed, and the earthly smell of incense filled my lungs.

I took a deep breath.

And plunged my head into the ice-cold water.

Memories. My Mother. My blue eyes. Her blue eyes. My brown hair. Her brown hair. Mother. Eyes. Hair. Love. Love. Love. Love.

A hand tugged my head out of the water and forced me to breathe again.

The Witch stood, her hair wet as well, and held my fringe out of my head.

❝Slow down, Child. Are you alright? You started to yell and almost drowned. ❞

I shivered in reply. She held me on her lap and embraced me closely and whispered: ❝Let’s count colours, honey. Shall we? It’s going to be okay. Count colours with me, come on. ❞

I nodded and tried my hardest.

❝One blue mushroom. ❞

The Witch patted my head and ushered me to keep going.

❝Two… two purple flowers. ❞, I whispered, ❝I see three—no, four red berries on a bush. ❞ ❝Where, Child? Point them to me. ❞

And I did my best to point my trembling finger towards it.

She held my hand and embraced me harder.

❝Very good. You did great, Child. I am so glad. ❞

❝But I… could not remember. ❞

She whispered that it was okay. She did it thrice before asking me what is. I lied and responded that it was okay.

It was not. I could not remember.

I was nothing but a Child with no memories. No home, and no perspective to ever return.

We went home afterwards.

We only talked once on the way back.

❝I want to keep trying, Witch. ❞

She sighed: ❝My sweet, simple Child. This is not going to work. In fact, I’ve told you so but you... ❞ she paused, as if she already knew she was going to regret her following words, ❝…you just cried. ❞

I stomped my feet and stood still. The Witch noticed, adjusted her hat, and turned to me.

❝Come on. Let us go. Do not mind my wicked words, let’s just get out of this place and get you some rest. ❞

I closed my eyes and breathed again. And then, I resumed walking by her side.

She entered with no words, and I sat on the counter. As we had done dozens of times by now. The Blackbird came to nestle between my fingers, and I stroked his head twice.

❝Tea, Child? ❞

I nodded accordingly. The Witch began her routine.

I got up from the bench to do mine – my task was to water the plants. The Witch thought watering the plants with water from the Dreampool would make me more connected to it, and to the flora of the Wilds as well.

The porcelain vase was still there.

I couldn’t explain why, but it drew me closer and closer.

I had never touched it before – how did porcelain even feel?

Was that a little bit of dirt? Perhaps from the plants. My hand was wet. Maybe if I just—

The vase began to spin and tremble, as if it was victim to its own earthquake. The Witch lifted her head from her task, and quickly pushed me back.

❝What is going on? ❞, I cried, ❝Is it my fault? ❞

❝Give her space! ❞, scoffed the Witch, ❝She is quite the dramatic one! ❞

Slowly, the ceramic material of the vase began to shift and flow, much like molten lava. The shape became more and more humanoid, and hands made of porcelain searched for the edge of the table, looking for support for pushing further away from the urn, as if someone was escaping from it. As the humanoid pushed through, more parts of its body were revealed: head, chest, navel, and legs.

Finally, there stood before us a young woman, who, with a final shove from her arms, freed herself from her vase, and fell onto the floor with a thud.

Her face and body were still made of porcelain, white and decorated with beautiful blue engravings. But just as she opened her mouth, the ceramic material that surrounded her cracked and fell from her face and limbs, revealing dark skin with pale patches. Her hair remained just as blue as her eyes, flowing down her back in waves, and her body was now covered with a long dress that matched the vase perfectly.

She stood up, cracked her neck, and smiled at us, eyes glinting with mischief: ❝Hello, ❞, she gleamed, voice melodical, ❝I have been waiting for this for so long. ❞

The Witch groaned: ❝Why now? Why do you always pick the worst moments? ❞ I was in too much shock to even utter a single word.

❝Awn, I can bid thee did miss me! ❞, the girl cheered, ❝And I simply had to meet our new mate. ❞

She turned around and swept the cracks of her ‘old skin’ under the table, much to the displeasure of the Witch, who made sure she was aware of it. In her back, long butterfly wings were drawn in black and blue ink.

I tugged at the Witch’s sleeve and asked: ❝Who is this? ❞

❝I, ❞ retorted the girl, turning around with a flourish, ❝am the Porcelain Vase. Has’t thee not been paying attention, girl? ❞

❝She’s a Demon. ❞ explained the Witch, ❝A Spirit that inhabits beloved objects. Do not worry, you did not release her – she comes out whenever she fancies. ❞

I took a step forward and wondered: ❝Shall we call you Miss Vase? ❞

She laughed, echoing with a perfect pitch: ❝The Beldams over there refers to me as ‘Demon’. Thee, Child, may call me however thee wish. …but not ‘Miss Vase’. ❞

I looked at the Witch, whose sour expression highly contrasted against the Spirit’s amused one. ❝How… how about ‘Butterfly’? Those are the decorations on your dress, and on your Vase, Miss. ❞

The Spirit clasped her hands together, her porcelain gauntlets, rings and bracelets clashing with a light sound: ❝Butterfly…! I enjoy it. A worthy name for a lady like myself. ❞

❝Butterfly, Demon, Vase; You will still clean up after your own mess. ❞ hissed the Witch, who had reached towards a closet and threw a broom at the blue-haired woman. She caught it, and stuck her blue tongue out in defiance, but did not complain about the labour.

I was still most curious. And did not know where to turn for answers.

The Witch got back to her brew, but not before holding my shoulders and whispering that the third girl was not bad, just awfully annoying.

It was enough for me to approach her.

❝Hello, Miss Butterfly. ❞

❝Child! ❞, she greeted, a large smile plastered on her face. Upon closer inspection, I could tell she was not fully human – the blue of her eyes was far too large, and she had no black pupils. She had white discolorations on various parts of her skin, such as around her left eye and across her neck. Her blue hair had very thin white streaks, and the top part of it was done in a traditional way, with four hoops in total. And her lips… The Witch wore blue lipstick, but her true colour was the same as mine – pink. The Butterfly had blue tint on both her lips and her cheeks. – ❝Has’t thee come to help me? ❞

I gave her a heartfelt smile and a giggle: ❝Not quite! I came to ask about you. ❞

She leaned against the broom, with her left hand, and placed her right on her waist: ❝Well, ask away! ❞

❝The Witch called you an Antique. Does that mean you are an old lady? ❞

Her expression cracked. On the other side of the room, the Witch dropped her spoon, and it filled the place with the sound of falling metal.

❝No! ❞, barked the Butterfly, as the Witch did her best to suppress her laughter, ❝I am an Immortal! I age not. ❞

❝Then why do you speak like an old lady? ❞

The Witch could not hold it any longer and let her raspy cackle out. She held on to the counter and hid her face between her arms. The Butterfly was not pleased, and lashed out against her:

❝Oh, as if thou art young! Little Beldams likes to hide her real age behind elixirs and potions! ❞

The Butterfly rushed to the Witch’s side and began to shake her with a smile and continued to make fun of her. The Witch shooed her away, telling her to get back to cleaning.

I chatted with the Butterfly for the whole afternoon while we took care of the cabin. She had a fondness for dusting, for she hated when her Masters and Mistresses did not do such. I, for one, was simply happy to hear about her tales.

❝Has’t thee and the Beldams become thick as thieves? ❞ the Butterfly asked, as we were sweeping the front porch, away from the Witch, ❝My lady is quite antagonistic with guests. ❞

❝I think so, ❞, I answered quietly, ❝I like her a lot, and she has been helping me regain my memories. No luck so far but— ❞

❝How so? My lady is a wish granting Beldams, after all. ❞

I stopped sweeping.

❝Wish granting? Don’t you just mean Witch? ❞

❝Witch granting Beldams do not exist! That would be a Witch granting Witch! ❞

I tilted my head, and the Butterfly stopped sweeping as well, in order to face me. ❝The lady grants wishes. Has the Beldams not offered thee a wish yet? ❞

A voice boomed from the other side of the door: ❝No ❞, the Witch announced, opening the door in a flash, ❝I have not. ❞

I looked at her in despair and confusion: ❝Miss— ❞

❝Quiet. ❞, she cut, ❝I have not offered such, because I want you to use it wisely, Child. I want you to regain your memories so that you may choose accordingly. Not by pressure or interference from another. ❞

Her sombre gaze fell upon the Butterfly, who smirked and bowed in response. The Witch of the Wilds then turned to me, and furrowed her brows in pity: ❝Do you understand, Child? ❞

❝And what if I wish for my memories…? Will you grant me such? ❞

❝Of course, Child. ❞, she replied softly, ❝If that is what you desire, I will grant it. I apologize for not being truthful – but what if you wish for your memories and realize you want to return home? Then I can no longer help. That is why. ❞

I nodded and wiped my face against my sleeves. A cold pair of arms enveloped me, and the Butterfly’s blue hair fell upon my shoulders:

❝Poor, little thing. And us girls were having such a valorous time! And I have gone and ruined it. ❞ ❝It’s alright, ❞, I responded, ❝you meant no harm, Miss Butterfly. ❞

❝I will… leave you to it. ❞, the Witch muttered, as she slipped back into the cabin, ❝I apologize once more. I hope you can understand. ❞

She closed it as lightly as she could, and I leaned into the Butterfly’s touch.

I felt safe with her.

❝Do not mind my lady. She is a cruel mistress. The worst I have had. ❞

She let go of me, and sat on the porch, broom forgotten somewhere nearby. She tapped the empty space next to her, as an invitation for me to sit as well.

And I did.

❝Why do you stay with her, then? ❞

The Butterfly shrugged and flashed me a smile: ❝I like her. My lady is a mystery, and a disgrace, all wrapped up in black lace. ❞

I asked her to tell me more about them. She laughed.

❝She’ll hear us, Child. Art thee sure? ❞, I hid my face in response, and mulled it over once more. Before I could retort, she began.

❝I did belong to a previous guest. The gentleman had been my Master before her. ❞ I hushed my tone to a whisper, and asked: ❝But you said she did not like guests…? ❞ The Butterfly shook her head.

❝My Mistress adores her guests. She does not enjoy having them. ❞

She faced me, and must have noticed my puzzled expression, for she then changed her approach:

❝What doth thee know of her past? What does my lady know of yours? ❞

I pondered, and answered in a low whisper: ❝Nothing… ❞

❝Nothing. ❞, she repeated, ❝Nothing means thou art free of past bonds, past pain, and past mistakes. It means you can be with one another without truly knowing naught. Thee sees her only as what thee can see, not what you know. Thee may know the lady enjoys camomile tea; thee may know she resents me, but thee know not why that is. ❞

I said nothing.

She breathed deeply and continued.

❝Thou art the first to arrive with no memories. Some were truly lost, and some came looking for a wish. And the Beldams nurtured all of them. And the more they spent time with her, the more they knew her. And the lady knew them. ❞

❝I am the first with no memories…? ❞, I inquired. She nodded and continued: ❝It means she does not feel the burden of sharing. Therefore, the lady is free to enjoy your presence as herself. ❞

❝I don’t understand, Miss… ❞

❝Are thee not afraid of what you might find about yourself in those memories, Child? Of what thee might discover about thy heart? Thy past? ❞

I did not reply.

And thus, she continued.

❝If the Beldams was in thy position, the lady would be terrified. And the more she would discover, the more disgusted she would feel. And that is why my lady detests sharing it with her guests. ❞

❝But you shared parts of your past with me, Miss! ❞, I whispered, hand half covering my mouth to muffle the sound, ❝Sharing is not a bad thing! ❞

She nodded, with a sad smile: ❝Very good, Child. To truly connect with someone, we must be willing to show them all parts of ourselves - the valorous and the wicked. It takes courage and vulnerability to let someone in, and to connect. But first, one must be at peace with themselves, and accept the parts one is ashamed of as well. Both me and the Beldams know this. But only one has truly faced herself. ❞

❝So, when the Witch opened her heart to her guests, she— ❞

❝Was overcome with regret and hurt herself. My lady was not ready. And perhaps she never will be. ❞

The Butterfly took my hand and held it tenderly: ❝To be vulnerable and true is the first step into being loved and loving. But not everyone is ready to be such. And it ends up hurting both themselves and the other. ❞

❝…And your previous Master…? Was he hurt? ❞

❝They were close. He forgave her. But the lady was not well. My lady claimed for freedom, and lashed out, from a place of anguish and regret. So, he made his wish. And the Beldams was free once more – free from him. I was what was left behind. ❞

A slow clap came from behind us. The Witch stood on the open door.

❝Quite the show, Demon. However, you have left out the most important part – I long for freedom, for these connections have done nothing but hurt me. Caring and living with another, dedicating our limited time in this realm is arduous and ungrateful. If you live for others, you cannot live for yourself. ❞

The Butterfly jolted up and held onto her dress as she faced the Witch:

❝How dare thee say such! To be loved and to love is one of the greatest things one can do! Especially mortal beings such as yourself! ❞

❝Easy for an Immortal like you to say, ❞, the Witch hissed back, ❝But how about being known? To be forever bound to another by your darkest secrets and most disgusting features? I do not wish to be perceived as such. ❞

❝If we want the rewards of being loved, we have to submit ourselves to horrifying ordeal of being know. ❞, the Butterfly pleaded, ❝Thee simply cannot accept yourself, and thus cannot accept others, or that others may accept thee. ❞

A dark expression took over the Witch’s face, and she almost snared in response: ❝You are nothing but a piece of decoration that was lucky enough to develop a spirit. You will live forever, and thus you live unafraid of being hurt or making mistakes, for you will always have another day. Our lives are not limitless. I do not wish to live mine in pain. ❞

❝Our lives? ❞, retorted the Butterfly.

❝Mine, and hers. ❞, scoffed the Witch, as she pointed at me.

Silence fell.

The Witch dusted her clothes off, and unclenched her fists, revealing a glowing, round stone.

Not a stone, no.

A compass.

❝The thing about your new friend, Child, ❞ she spat; although her expression was one of apathy, her tone of voice revealed her true, distasteful feelings, ❝is that she only comes out when something draws near. ❞

I stood up, and tried to seem strong: ❝What is it? Can I help? ❞

❝You most certainly can, Child. ❞, although she referred to me, the Butterfly did not break eye contact with the Witch as she spoke, ❝My presence means the Wilds beg for a Ritual. And all three of us – Beldams, Spirit, and Guest – might not but take part. ❞

❝I don’t understand, ❞, I cried, ❝I don’t understand any of this! You never told me about any Ritual, nor Wishes, nor Spirits! Not a single thing about other guests, either! ❞

❝I’m sorry, Child, forgive me. I truly am sorry. I never thought it would be so soon and I was enjoying my time with you and— ❞

❝No! This is all wrong! I know nothing about you! ❞

I took a step back, filled with anguish and despair. The Butterfly noticed and stepped towards me as well: ❝Settle down, Child. Nothing can be resolved like this. Think about thy heart, thy feelings for the Beldams. How grateful thou art to have met— ❞

But it was too late. And I had already set my mind on what I would do.

My urges, my instincts, my emotions begged me to do only one thing.

To run.

And so, I did.

As far as I could.

But I did not know the Wilds.

I did not know the paths.

I stepped on every mushroom that got on my way and ran from every sound that filled my ear. I only knew one place besides the cabin.

And so, I ran into it by chance.

Perhaps it was fate.

Perhaps it was human.

But I ran into the Dreampool.

It was a mystical realm, air thick with humidity and the intense smell of lavender. The pool was filled with shimmering waters that reflected the stars above, and various floating rocks formed a perfect circle. I fell to my knees due to shortage of breath and felt a whisper near my ear.

I was not alone.

Spirits, ghostly figures approached me. Some asked me if I was alright, and others welcomed me.

A white, foggy snake slithered close to me and spoke: ❝Come bathe, Child. Step into the waters. You will feel refreshed. ❞

I nodded and pushed myself into the waters.

Cold.

So, so cold.

It entered my nose and lingered in my throat, making me gasp for air.

I dove and came up, and stood beneath the circle of rocks.

The spirits took their places, each resting on a different rock. A sloth spirit hung from its platform and approached my nose:

❝Child, ❞ it claimed, ❝Take a back seat, or play pharaoh. Dance with us and shake your bones. ❞

My eyes felt heavy.

And my throat closed.

I could no longer think.

❝Dance, Child. Shake your bones. ❞

I dragged my feet through the water.

I could not think.

❝Shake your bones. ❞

I moved my arms aimlessly.

I could not think.

❝Your bones. ❞

I moved.

❝Your bones. ❞

I moved.

❝Now sing, Child. Repeat. ❞

❝Lion. Valefar. ❞

And I repeated.

❝Cat. Baal. ❞

And I repeated.

❝Sloth. Amon. ❞

And I repeated.

❝Snake. Paimon. ❞

And I—

❝CEASE THIS! ❞

A sound. An explosion perhaps. Heat. And the earthly smell of incense.

I opened my eyes.

The Spirits were no longer animals, but grotesque figures.

There were no longer signs of the sloth, snake, lion, or cat. All that was left was five other monsters, each one hungrier than the other; the animals' playful demeanour shifted, becoming more predatory and sinister. Their eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, and their bodies began to warp and contort. The Witch had told me the Dreampool was a dangerous corner of the Wilds, where the line between illusion and reality blurred and twisted.

And I had fallen into its trap.

Something pushed me against the waters, and the remaining monsters dived too. I struggled to keep my head afloat, and something nestled against my legs, pulling me under.

❝Hold on! ❞, the Witch’s voice pleaded, as she wrapped her arm around my neck, pulling from underneath the water. As my head came up and I began to breathe, I could see what was hurting me – a terrifying mix between a crocodile and an octopus, with tentacles sprouting from its sides. The tentacles tugged at my leg, and its jaw unhinged as if to swallow me whole.

The Witch pierced her sword right between his teeth, straight towards it’s insides. She let go of me and took the blade out quickly, for the creature had to close its mouth out of pain. She then held the weapon with both hands and stabbed it right though it’s head. The creature turned to dust.

Another pair of arms grabbed me, as the Witch plunged herself into another battle, setting her sword on fire. A melodic voice called for me and hushed me:

❝Hello, Child. My task is to bring thee home safely. ❞

❝Miss Butterfly? Where— ❞

The Spirit pushed me away from her, dodging something at the right moment. A gigantic leg, which ended in a sharp, barbed tip, separated us. I looked up, and towering over us was a giant crab, whose shell was covered in million eyes. The Butterfly ran through the water and grabbed my arm, pushing me to run.

❝Wait! ❞, I begged, ❝The Witch! ❞

But it was of no use. The Butterfly was far stronger and pulled me out of the waters. I could only look back and see her amid those unknown horrors.

From the ground, sprouted a beast with the body of a scorpion, but the head of a carnivorous plant. Its razor-sharp pincers snapped at us, and the Butterfly tried to hide me behind her. But it was far too fast, and its tail lashed at me, knocking me against the ground.

And I fell unconscious.

ACT III.

I did not know how long I had slept.

I stirred, feeling groggy and disoriented. I opened my eyes to find myself in my bed, in my dimly lit room. Slowly, all my memories came flooding back – the fight, the beasts, the danger, and the fear.

I pushed myself out of bed.

I had to check on them.

Where were they?

How did we return?

…Did they return?

As I wobbled to my door and opened it, the Blackbird flew through it. It landed on my shoulder and trembled on it. I gave it my hand, but it did not want to leave my shoulder.

Strange.

This bird had never been on my shoulder before.

I forced myself to go down the stairs and stumbled onto the kitchen.

The Witch stood there, calmly stirring her tea kettle. She had a bandaged arm and wore her signature hat.

She was alone.

❝I see you’ve awakened, ❞, she said, ❝Would you like to drink something? ❞

Her voice.

Her voice lacked emotion, lacked empathy.

And when she turned around….

Her dark circles were as deep as the sea.

❝Are you alright, Miss? ❞, I muttered, ❝What happened? ❞

Her empty smile fell, and a terrifying energy took over.

❝I told you. I don’t like to be called ‘Miss’. ❞

I took a step back out of fear and apologized. Her frail smile returned.

❝You, my little mince, found the Ritual without me. Without preparation. And you fell for the Demons’ tricks. ❞

❝Speaking of Demons, ❞, I mumbled, as I peeked into the rest of the room, ❝Where is… ❞ ❝Where is who? ❞, the Witch replied sharply, ❝There has never been anyone here except us, Child. ❞ ❝Witch, please. ❞, I begged, stepping further into the room, ❝The Butterfly, our— ❞

And there it was.

The porcelain vase.

Smashed to pieces.

I lifted my head from the floor to where the Witch stood.

She leaned against the counter, much like she had done on my first day, and smiled. But her smile did not reach her cold, black eyes.

❝On your first day, you pulled the Tower. Do you remember, Child? ❞

❝Yes, I— ❞

❝The Tower, as I said, is my birth card. I hold it close to me. ❞, she continued, completely oblivious to my discomfort, ❝It represents destruction, but destruction to begin anew. ❞

The Blackbird nestled against my neck, still trembling.

The candles lit once more, not with red, soft light, but with a ghostly blue flame. The Witch drew circles with her finger on the counter.

❝It’s freedom. ❞, she explained, ❝Freedom from which holds you back. ❞

❝What about the— ❞

❝Have your memories returned, Child? Mine have. ❞

My eyes widened.

❝It’s true. It seemed like our friend was stopping me from tapping into my early years. Said I had to look into myself and face it with time and care. That I had to heal my inner Child. ❞

I froze out of fear. Somehow, deep in my heart, I knew. Knew why she understood me. Why she cared for me. Why I trusted her since the very beginning.

❝But alas, ❞, she cackled, ❝she was my heart. My companion. She made me weak. Pulled me back. ❞

❝You don’t mean— ❞

❝Now it makes sense. Why am I trapped here. Why I cannot leave. These are the woods I got lost in as a Child. ❞

❝And you, dearest, aren’t even real. ❞

I was backed against the table where the remains of the vase stood. My legs trembled, and I was filled to the brim with cold sweat.

I cried from the bottom of my lungs: ❝But I am real! ❞

❝Silly girl. No, you aren’t! You are me. I am you. I am bound to you forever. The mistakes you did left me stranded here, away from my true life. You are a test to my freedom, and to my own strength. ❞

❝I love you, Child. Make no mistake. I loved her too. Which is why both must go. ❞ ❝I don’t understand! If I am you, why won’t you care for me, instead of hurting me?! ❞

She cackled, and the sound of metal against the floor tiles rang in my ears. She came towards me in a slow pace, head swinging and a twisted smile.

❝The Outer Gods have shown me the truth. They plunged their teeth into my arm and enlightened me. You are nothing but a test. If I don’t do this, you will replace me, and the cycle will begin anew. ❞

I slid against the door. Tears fell.

❝No! Don’t do this! Accept me, love me, stay with me, and we can be together forever in the Wilds! I would never, EVER hurt you! ❞

I cowered under her, and she unlocked the door behind me.

I laid in the floor on my back, somewhere between the inside and outside of the Cabin.

The Witch’s hat fell, and her grim face stared at me from the top, through the strands of black hair: ❝Because I love you, I will let you run. ❞

I did not react, paralyzed, and confused.

The haunting sight of a woman yelled at me to run, and I came to my senses and went.

The Blackbird sunk its talons in me as I began to run and took flight in front of me. I followed it.

The Wilds were endless, and in the midst of my tears, I could not see much. I fell dozens of times, each one becoming more and more bruised than before.

Her voice chased me, the sound of steps and rustling from a mad woman.

Her shrieks told me a tale of love, hatred, and freedom. And how she wished to be free. How I was a Star Child, and she nothing but a Tower waiting to be destroyed. How the pain of past, the chains of past stopped her from moving forward. But she would be free now.

And I love her. I want her to be free.

So, I stop.

And decide to do the bravest thing and be vulnerable.

❝WITCH! ❞, I yell, deep from inside my lungs, ❝I’m here! Come and kill me! ❞

I whistle, just like she had done, and call for the Blackbird. It rests on my index finger. Soon, the sound of leaves being cut reaches where I am.

And I stand on the other side.

❝Have you given up, Child? I did not know we were quitters. ❞

❝I love you, Witch. I don’t care how awful things became, or how terribly they went. I don’t care about any of that. I forgive you. ❞

She laughs.

❝You WHAT? ❞

❝I forgive you. ❞

She shakes her head, blowing a few strands out of the way. She no longer grins with bloodlust, instead giving way to a serious expression.

❝I forgive everything you ever did. I forgive everything you ever lived. Every lie you told, every mistake you made, and everyone you pushed away out of fear. ❞

❝If you cannot live with me to be free, then kill me. But you will kill me with the knowledge that you are forgiven, and that I love you. No matter what happens. I am you. You are me. ❞

She drops the sword.

And falls to the ground.

She turns her face towards the heavens.

Her eyes become blue once more. The mark on her forehead does too.

And the Blackbird flies to her once more.

I too go to her.

And embrace her.

She weeps.

❝My heart! ❞, cries the Witch of the Wilds, ❝I killed our heart! ❞

❝I know. I forgive you. ❞

And I weep too.

We stay together, in a bed of moss, surrounded by glowing mushrooms and flowers, bathed in a ghostly blue light, and in tears.

❝I wish for the Butterfly, our heart, to return. Please, grant my wish, Witch of the Wilds. ❞

But I can feel her reaching for her sword once more.

And I let her.