LOVE OF A QUISLING- A Blazing Inferno

"The assignment will be due by next month. You may come to see me if you have any other questions. Good day, class," Mr. Declan says before exiting the class. Only then does everyone pack up and leave. His reputation as the most handsome teacher in Manville High is the only reason the students didn't leave immediately the alarm signaling the end of lessons sounded. Being hot surely has its perks.

Lia bolts out of the class as fast as her legs can carry her. It doesn't help that she has to squeeze through tightly locked arms and sweaty bodies. "Ow! What a bitch!" exclaims a brunette with freckles. Lia doesn't bother apologizing; she abandoned such courtesies a long time ago. Besides, staying back to say sorry would only make her later than she already is.

"I don't even know why I chose this school in the first place," she huffs as she walks out of the close her school is situated in, irritated by the smell of sweat on her. Her senses may be weaker than that of a normal witch, but they're still quite sharp. At least they're sharp enough to detect the number of humans whose sweat has touched her clothes, and that isn't comforting, to say the least.

"I think the same thing from time to time too," Sandara says, slightly scaring her as she whirls around so fast that she almost suffers a whiplash. "Aunt! Would you stop appearing so randomly? It'll be hard to explain how you suddenly appeared out of thin air to anyone who comes by. I keep telling you to exercise caution, but you never listen..." "Oh shush, dear. I've lived among mortals long before you were even born. I should be the adviser, not you. Besides, if a certain person had shown up on time, I wouldn't have come looking for anyone," Sandara replies, cutting her short.

"I couldn't leave while the teacher was still in class. It's not like I own the school or anything," Lia responds with as much sass as she can muster. She is no match for her aunt though. "Of course, you do, silly. You could tell the principal to vacate his office for you and he would do so without a word of complaint. What's a mere teacher compared to that?" "He's the hottest teacher in school," Lia argues. "So? Don't tell me you're crushing on him or something." "I'm not." "Then what's the problem with leaving the class if he doesn't want to stop teaching? I've always told you that a sophisticated, private high school is the right choice for you. But no, you'd rather settle for that shitty shack, all because you want to prove a point. A point that isn't worth all this stress."

Lia wants to argue but thinks better of it. Until she can match her aunt's acerbic tongue, she's better off quiet. If there is one thing witches are famous for apart from their unparalleled control of magic, it's their haughtiness. Sandara says it's an acquired trait, but Lia finds that hard to believe. She has never seen any witch who isn't naturally arrogant- it practically runs in the blood.

Upon reaching the point where the road diverges into two paths, the duo momentarily stop. "Go now, witchling. Don't take too long," Sandara squeezes Lia's shoulders a little too tight for her liking and then vanishes. Lia walks straight ahead into a portal made by her aunt for her use alone. The unassuming passer-by would simply think she took the path on the right and made a sharp turn.

As soon as Lia appears on the other side, she rushes to a makeshift room and changes into her mining gear. Armed with her magical drill and a sack that looked like it had seen better days, despite being relatively new, she exits the makeshift room and heads for her mining site. Her trusty magiconet- a device for sensing objects imbued with magic- hangs loosely around her neck. Those who don't know better would assume it is a camera.

After walking for a mile, she arrives at the point where she previously stopped searching. She placed a marker there to indicate the end of her search, so it is easy for her to continue. Using her magiconet, she tries to locate anything that hints towards magic. All she requires is a clue in the form of a blue light for her to bring out her tools and commence excavation.

The next three hours are spent scanning the earth's surface and various caves for magical clues. Like several days before this, she is unable to find any more pternē. Pternē are magical devices, used by ancient, pure-blooded witches to store minuscule amounts of magic. Undeterred by her poor luck, she keeps searching until it is well past dusk, something she realizes upon making her way out of a particularly deep cave. "How time flies," she muses, as she heads back to change.

She goes home to find her aunt fast asleep on one of the sofas in the living room. Her heart melts at this. Even though Sandara would never openly admit it, she loves her niece dearly. Lia takes only three steps when she hears her aunt whisper into her ears. "Why are you late?" "I got caught up scanning a really deep cave and lost track of time. I'm sorry." "Not as sorry as you would've been had things gone awry, I assure you. Why do you have a wristwatch if you won't use it?"

Lia doesn't apologize. Not because she isn't sorry, but because she knows that it will only make matters worse. Upsetting an already worried Sandara is not something she would ever consider doing. Not if she can help it. "I'm feeling quite merciful today, but you won't be so lucky next time. Go wash up and come down for supper. If you found any pternē, though I'm sure you didn't, leave it in my study."

In a dimly lit cave, far away from mortal lands, sits the Witch Council. Nine women, all wearing cloaks imbued with the purest of magical essences, form a wide circle around their leader, the High Witch. With their hoods on, they levitate while sitting and continue to stare at their leader as she conducts a ritual. Utmost silence reigns in this cave, punctuated by the High Witch's occasional muttering.

The moment she concludes the ritual, a feeling of overwhelming calm and serenity pervades the already quiet atmosphere. All the witches present take of their hoods at this point, for the biennial meeting of the Witch Council has begun.

"Niam khawv koob, foom koob hmoov rau nws cov menyuam nrog lub zog, twsj hwm thiab hais kom ua. Raws li nws tau pib, yog tam sim no thiab puas yuav yog ," all chant before opening their eyes.

With the necessary protocol out of the way, each witch gives a report of the status of their respective jurisdiction. Hearing that everything is alright, the High Witch says nothing, but a ghost of a smile is seen on her face. However, she soon resumes her original stoic expression. "If only she could spare half a smile for her flesh and blood, I bet the witchling's heart would burst out of sheer excitement," Sandara muses inwardly, noticing the nearly imperceptible glow on the High Witch's face at learning that all is well with the witches. Few things could escape the keen eyes of the Jade Witch after all.

"Two of the rogue witches living at Morsgrove reported sightings of the demons." The Silver Witch of the North pauses for effect. The mention of the demons throws the council into a frenzy, and shouts of "Impossible!" and "How dare they?" rend the air. The High Witch stares at her sister as if to say, "Tell them to keep quiet". Sandara just rolls her eyes and snorts- she will do no such thing.

When the High Witch realizes that Sandara will not interfere, she steps in to restore calm to the atmosphere. The sound of the crack of a whip as it hits the table is heard. Everyone goes silent at this.

"Now that we have finally gotten a grip of ourselves instead of behaving like rambunctious teenagers, the meeting can proceed. When did this happen, Deidre?"

"Two fortnights ago."

"And why am I only hearing of it now?"

"I did not consider a matter to trouble you with. Besides the testimony of two rogue witches, one of whom died soon after, there have been no other reports. Several rounds of the investigation by the Gloved witches in my jurisdiction proved that there are no signs of demonic activity. Thus, their claims, however credible they seem, remain mere rumors due to lack of substantial proof," Deidre, the Silver Witch of the North, replies.

Still, the High Witch is not convinced. Demons are known to be extremely cunning and sly. Taking chances is not something the witches can afford to do. Anything that poses a threat to their hard-earned peace must be eradicated without hesitation. However, Deidre's words make it difficult for her to act. There seems to be nothing else she can do, and demanding to conduct a personal search is tantamount to questioning the witch's efficiency.

However, Sandara rescues her from that quandary by further questioning Deidre. "What about the other witness?" "She's not in the right frame of mind to answer any questions at all. The Enforcers found traces of deviant magic on her cloak, staff and glabella. Her soul is too weak to withstand any external force, so we cannot perform soul search to ascertain the validity of her claim. The most likely conclusion is that her insanity and damaged soul are side effects of the deviant magic she practiced."

"Which is?" the High Witch prods. "Necromancy."

Witches have control over magic, true, but there are still other branches of magic they do not practise. This is not due to a dearth of capability, but because of its adverse effects.

Nothing is free. Everything you desire is yours, provided you are willing to pay the price. The Law of Exchange is a fundamental law that every witch is taught as soon as they reach the age of comprehension- it is ingrained into their subconscious. Thus, extreme caution is exercised by all witches in the study and practice of magic, to ensure that they are not inadvertently destroying themselves.

Some branches of magic like necromancy, clairvoyance, and chronokinesis are referred to as deviant magic, as the price required to wield such power is by no means small. Apart from a few witches who are blessed with such gifts during their awakening, most witches do not bother to delve into it at all. These forms of magic slowly but surely strip away the lifeforce of the user and leave behind varying degrees of injury to the soul each time they are used.

Those who are chosen have it easier due to their massive lifeforce and extremely balanced soul, buffering the side effects faced. Even then, it is quite rare for deviant witches to practice such magic in an indiscriminate manner. Every magic has its price, no doubt, but the consequences of deviant magic far outweigh its benefits.

"How are you sure that her injuries and insanity are caused by necromancy?" "What else would vitiate a witch's soul to the point of near extinction? A demon's kiss?"

Sandara's eyes widen, but she quickly manages to keep herself in check. The kiss of a high-ranking demon can indeed deal such damage without leaving any traces. "But they never come out from the depths of Hell unless things are at the very worst. Even then, they might choose not to, damning the consequences," she reasons, trying to convince herself. Still, there is a nagging feeling that Deidre's sarcastic words may be on point. She shudders to think what would befall them if it turns out to be true.

The rest interpret her shudder as a sign of disgust for the demons and they burst into raucous laughter. "Do you all think this is funny? There is a possible threat to the peace we currently enjoy and you can still cackle like old hags?" Sandara asks, stupefied at their actions.

"Don't insult our intelligence, Sandra," Herschey, the Silver Witch of the West remarks. Sandara simply rolls her eyes at the witch's intentional mispronunciation of her name. She is too smart to be drawn in by such taunts.

"Pray tell me, o shrew, how I insulted your intelligence," she responds, looking the witch in the eye. "Why, you!" Herschey exclaims, rising up in anger. "Remember that attacking a fellow council member is expressly forbidden," Evanora, the Silver Witch of the East chips in. "But she provoked me first!" "She did not attack you, Witch of the West. Restrain yourself and maintain some semblance of decorum, at least." "This isn't fair." Herschey's voice is full of grievances, especially as she notices Sandara chuckling. However, she doesn't do anything.

All the witches in the Witch council are at least three centuries old. However, none are as old as Evanora. Her exact age is unknown, but the High Witch knows that she is quite old. This is because her mother called Evanora 'master' while she was alive, and her mother was over a thousand years old. The witch does not try to prove her seniority, but every member of the council respects her. Her words, few and far in-between, are never disregarded.

"I would advise everyone to be alert. Maybe we do not have substantive proof of the demons' incursion. Perhaps it is simply a false alarm; the hallucinations of a dying witch can be a very tricky thing. Still, let us not relax or lose guard. We must keep preparing for the inevitable, as they will surely return, even if it is not now. In the absence of any other issue, I raise a motion for the adjournment of this meeting."

"That tradition is old news now, if you must know. Nowadays, no one cares for a motion. They simply say 'That's all then. Bye peeps' and swagger out of the venue like they own half the street," Sandara says, as she approaches the High Witch minutes after the meeting ends. "Are you sure that's what they say, or have you been around teenagers for too long?"

"You can't blame me, sister. I practically live amongst them."

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing. Can't I talk to my lovely sister?"

"Now I'm sure you really want something. I'm only your lovely sister when you want to get something from me. Most of the time, I'm an old hag, a stuck-up bitch, a buzzing fly, a withered vessel..."

"Aw, come on! I only called you a withered vessel one time!"

"Really?" the High Witch raises an eyebrow. "Why do I remember you telling a particular someone to not be bothered by the unintelligible whisperings of a withered vessel the other day?"

"You were spying on us! That's a violation of privacy, you know. I feel so naked now."

"Puh-lease! I bathed you for three decades, and I've seen you nude plenty of times after that."

The Jade Witch blushes, with the tips of her ears turning a bright red. She immediately changes the subject.

"Since you can so conveniently spy on us, why don't you just drop by to say hello to her? She misses you a lot, you know."

"I can't and you know why. If that's what you came to ask me for, you might as well give up. I won't change my mind."

The High Witch walks away, but the next words from Sandara make her pause. "I thought really hard about the question you asked me, and I realized that it took me so long to answer because I chose to be bound by the limits of normal convention. I don't have to choose between my family and my duty because my family is my duty. Why choose one when I can have both?"

The High Witch doesn't reply, but the slight trembling of her shoulders show how affected she is by that answer. She takes a moment to get herself together, squares her shoulders and says "It's easier said than done. Goodbye, sister."

With that, she vanishes.

"You've done your best, child. There's nothing more you can do for her." Evanora's wiry voice sounds in Sandara's ears, but it brings no relief. "C-c-can't she see what she's doing to the poor girl? Doesn't she feel anything for her?"

"Witches are not one for filial piety or emotional attachment; powerful witches see their offspring as tools for even more power. But I know that Estelle Vane is not one of them. The love she has for that child is greater than you can ever imagine."

"Then why doesn't she show her? Why doesn't she tell her? Why do I have to be the one consoling her? Why?" Sandara is nothing like the strong witch she was moments ago. Now, she sounds like a lost, miserable girl.

"We must not let our emotions get the better of us, child."

"I'm not a child!"

"You are a child as far as I'm concerned. You will always be a child to me. Now, if you're done throwing tantrums, there are more pressing issues at hand, like the probable attack of demons."

"You thought of it too? Why didn't you say anything in the meeting? You understand what is at stake here. We stand to lose everything."

"I have my reasons, but you can be assured that I do not wish for the destruction of our kind."

"Then why did you..."

Evanora cuts her short. "Time can make the sharpest of blades blunt, and prolonged peace can turn the most powerful witches into silly women. The cycle of peace is nearing its end; war is imminent, whether I speak out or not."