Holinite Village resided in the western most part of the land right next to a dense wall of the hollowed woods and the unpredictable currents of a temperamental sea. Along the north were the high peaks of the treacherous mountains, but the residents never feared the elements nor what lurked in the dark. They made their offerings to the gods that protected them and celebrated the good in their lives. Some of what they believed were legends of old, passed down from generations of grandmothers to mothers to daughters and so on until the stories were thought to have sprung from the most fertile of imaginations.
And some of what they believed was real.
Sitting cross-legged atop her thatched roof, the witch of the wood, Rubina, shook the three blessed bones in her faded brown leather bag and peered inside with a frown.
The answer was still the same.
With a groan, because despite her youthful appearance, three hundred years could take a toll on an old gal, Rubina stood and opened her magical sight to see the three young women at the beginning of the path that led through the forest, knotted and twisted with birch and oak, to the cottage that had been her home ever since she'd returned all those years ago.
The witch never ventured to the town for what she needed was always there in her cottage, and though the villagers came to see her, few dared come more than once in their life. Her kind of magic was best hidden away behind silly spells to entice her neighbors and never scare them for if they guessed the real extent of her magic, they would be terrified.
These three women, with their gold spun hair and their obvious love for one another, were different, and different, in Rubina's opinion, did not always mean good.
Even from far away, the witch could see the satchels the women carried, containing objects that would strip them to their souls, hummed with power. They themselves would not know the immense magic within the items they'd chosen. At least, not until it was too late.
Idly, she wondered if they would regret their decisions. Most of them did.
True offerings to the gods. It was rare, and despite her disappointments in the past, her fingers tingled with hope. Maybe, at long last, she would finally have what she wanted.
A way to be set free.
Next to her, a husky disembodied voice chuckled faintly. "An offering to lead them to their true loves at All Hallows' Eve. It is our favorite time of year." Despite the words, the voice dripped with contempt.
A twinge of emotion settled in her. After two hundred and seventy years, she would have thought to be used to it, but the clawing feeling inside her was always the same. "You ask a steep price," she murmured, unable to let the ill feeling go.
"For love, no price is too steep. After all this time, we should know that," he said with a wisp of a smile as he materialized in a purple haze. His body was still faint as he and his two brothers were unable to touch anything in this realm. "And you should know that we did not name the price. We merely play our parts, as do you. You seem, on edge, my sweet little witch. What is bothering you?"
"This year will not be like the rest."
"Is that a hope or a fear?"
Afraid of what her face might reveal, she turned from him. The truth was that she didn't know how she felt, she only knew that one of the pretty faces currently walking toward her house was about to take the first step into a journey that could break her.
It had broken all the others.
For she belonged to him.
"She is not like the others. She may soothe his soul, or she make bring damnation to us all."
***
Cecily gripped her black cloth satchel tightly in her hand and had to remind herself that there was no need to look in it again. She hadn't forgotten to put her object inside. Three different times that morning she'd looked, and all three times, the dried up husk of what had once been the most beautiful pink flower was nestled at the bottom.
There was no weight to reassure her, and she was nervous, so as usual, she was second-guessing herself again and again.
It was a sad object. Not because it had died. All living things died, but it was sad because she'd kept it for years. The very first flower a lad had brought her, presented to her on a sunny day by the lake. He'd told her that he'd chosen it because it was the exact shade of pink as her lips.
That was three years ago, and the lad had since then wed another and proudly fathered two children. Cecily was happy for him, for the flower didn't represent what she'd felt for him.
No, it represented the first moment her heart had fluttered and yearned for love.
Since then, there had been no love. No suitors. No more flowers. The only time she'd ridden a cock had been after she'd buried her parents, and she'd been so desperate to feel anything other than horrid isolation that she'd let a handsome face woo her away from the night.
It had been a miserable experience.
Sandwiched between Althena and Pryanna because they were always so protective of her, she tried to hide her hope as they skipped merrily down the path and laughed as though they were out to pick flowers. For them, this was a silly endeavor, only done to bring a smile to Cecily's face because they feared she was plagued by melancholy.
Her two closest friends were like that. Always ready to do whatever it took to bring her joy, and even if she didn't want to admit it to them, she was so lonely for a companionship that they could not provide.
People visited the witch of the wood for various reasons. Medicine to cure their loved ones. Curses to bring their enemies to their knees. Elixirs to make the nights more pleasurable.
But a spell to lure in one's true love was rumored to be powerful dark magic. It could only be cast the day before All Hallows' Eve and required a personal symbol of one's truest desire.
And a piece of their soul.
They'd giggled about it as children. When they were older, their school mates would whisper about their trips to the witch although nothing ever came of it. One of their schoolmates had gone three times to the witch, and she was still unwed. Cecily didn't know why this would be different, but she desperately needed to believe that something about her life was about to change.
"I heard that Margeurite was the last to visit her," Pryanna said, her dark eyes flashing merrily. They were all blonde, which was one of the reasons that they had bonded as children. The three blondes in the village, but that is where their similarities ended. Pryanna was tall and willowy with the bluest of eyes and hints of silver. Althena was tall and curvy with eyes so dark they were almost black, and Cecily was nearly half a foot shorter, curvy from all the sweet cakes, and eyes of green.
"After she married the drunkard?" Althena laughed. "I would too. Perhaps that's how she came to be fucking his brother!"
Cecily gasped. Althena knew all the good gossip. "Really?"
"And good on her." Althena winked. "I can tell you that he has a talented tongue."
They dissolved into laughter, lightening the mood until the walk brought them to the unassuming cottage. Nobody except the witch lived in the woods for it sometimes took on peculiar properties as the trees tended to move about as though they were not rooted to the ground. Still, the trees never bothered the clearing where the small cottage stood. Perhaps the witch and the woods had a understanding.
Perhaps the witch was the one ordering the trees about.
Privately, Cecily always wondered why the witch didn't have a grander home. The eldest in the village whispered that Rubina hadn't aged since they were children, but that couldn't be right. Rubina looked barely older than her own twenty-two years.
Stopping short of the stones that led to the door, they stared up a the cottage. "Do you really think she consorts with the demons?" Cecily asked hoarsely as she clutched her satchel. Perhaps they were making a terrible mistake.
"There must be some perks to being a vessel of the gods." Despite her teasing, there was a hitch in Althena's voice.
"Indeed," a sweet voice chuckled. "Although I'm afraid that nights of pleasure with the demons are not one of the perks."
The three women whipped their heads around at the sound of the new voice. Rubina had surprised them from coming around the corner and was watching them with some amusement as her fingers trailed up and down the handle of a broom.
That was standing upright on its own.
"Mistress," Cecily, Althena, and Pryanna said in unison as they curtsied in respect. Although she rarely went into town, the witch was revered by all. No one would dare tread on her property without the utmost respect.
She was tall and slender with hair so light it glinted like the dewy web of a spider and as wild and untamed as the sea. Her eyes were pearls of grey and her skin always so translucent and creamy as though it had never been touched by the sun. She was a strange beauty, but there was no mistaking the power that emanated from her.
This was not a woman to cross lightly.
Today, she looked just as pleased with the sunshine and warmth of the day as they were, and she smiled pleasantly at them. "Please, call me Rubina."
"We apologize if we have caught you in the middle of your chores."
Rubina glanced at the broom in her hand and snapped her fingers. It immediately fell against the house. "I was just sweeping my roof. I'm done now and am completely at your disposal." With that, she waved her hand in the air, and the front door opened. "After you."
Cecily swallowed hard. Of course Rubina had magic. That was never in question, but to see it manifested before their very eyes! Her pulse quickened. Perhaps the All Hallows' Eve ritual could work after all.
They walked in with some trepidation. There was no point in turning back now.
Inside, she glanced around nervously. She'd never been in the witch's home, and despite the whispered rumors, it all looked so pleasantly ordinary. There were no frogs hopping around on the floor or furniture floating in the air. Just a scratched and dulled wooden table and several chairs pulled up to it. There wasn't even a spell book or a cauldron.
It made Cecily no more at ease as the witch walked around them, appraising them, with a strange glint in her eyes. An aura of light seemed to circle her fingers as she danced them in the air while she moved