Unwanted Chapter One

The golden blade trembles in my hand, a result of its magic or my magic or my own shaking, or maybe all three. I close my hand on it, effectively smothering the metal's glint and in the process, cutting my palm. I suck in a gasp, staring at the red leaking from my hand.

Just then a boy walks by and takes one look at the red spreading along the lines on my hand. His eyes widen to the size of saucers and he hurries off, much faster, toward the horizon.

"Great job, Constance," I mutter to myself, biting off each syllable. "'Keep it quiet. No one needs know.' Now it'll be all over the town that the witch is nearby."

It wasn't like I'd ever hurt anybody, in the past or future, but the blood probably drew the boy's eyes to my knife. And then my necklace, because everyone always found the necklace sooner or later.

It had been a gift from my mom, before she passed, leaving my father bitter and angry, but very rich. She had loved the old things; the ones that maybe weren't the most expensive, but that had meaning behind them. The necklace had been her final gift to me, a simple, stone crescent moon on a leather strip.

She had always dodged around telling me its story.

But now the necklace is a part of what marks me as...me, I suppose. It is easily recognizable to the public, if only for the fact that I'm obviously far from being a peasant, and yet still wearing the dingy necklace.

My father's maids produce a new, ornate dress every other day, it seems. The one I'm wearing today has plenty of ruffles, including one near my neck, made from a beautiful light teal, floral-patterned fabric. The main dress is a rusty red color, with a skirt split through the middle in the colors of the gown's ruffles, red covering my legs in a dark contrast. The sleeves are two dainty strips of the same red silk that makes up the rest of my dress, draped along my arms. An ornate pearl contraption is draped over my deep red hair, the clean white cross contrasting quite interestingly with how the red is kinking and twisting, kudos to the rain.

I don't care. My heart is pounding in my chest, feeling like maybe it will explode at any given moment, leaving yet another of my messes for someone to pick up. I close my green eyes, searching frantically for some form of peace, or even just composure, as a single teardrop slips from my eye, joining the rainwater as it slips down my face.

I'm not welcome here.

Witches are something to be feared, even if they have grown up beside you for years and years.

That's what we are taught. Witches are to be burned.

And in a trial, there is nothing to say I have no magic. Because this rain is all my fault. The havoc that seems to constantly follow me is my fault.

It's all my fault.

I clutch the necklace desperately. I'm falling, and it hurts, because I'm spiraling into a place of no return. And there is no soft ground to catch me.

I'll just keep falling until I learn to fly.

2: Chapter 2: Green

Unwanted Chapter Two

 

I jump at a flicker of movement beside me. The village is completely deserted, but suddenly, standing in front of me is a dark wolf.

His fur shimmers like a mirage, and I can see right through him to the stones below. He opens his mouth, barks once, and I look up from the pavement into those gorgeous brown eyes.

"What's wrong, Stance?" His voice is strong, but kind and wise. I know most would've been surprised by a misty, talking wolf, but Ranulf has been with me my whole life. I know him better than I know myself, often.

            I open my mouth to speak back, a spark of anger igniting in my chest, when a snowy white owl comes soaring toward us from behind a nearby shop. He hoots at me, feathers shifting and transparent as Ranulf’s.

I decide to talk anyway. "Where have you two been? You just left me! When I needed you most," I added quietly, more to myself than the animals.

The owl hops off my shoulder and lands on Ranulf's head. He hoots again. "We did not leave you, Princess."

            "Yes, you did!" I protest. "And stop calling me that! I'm not a princess, I'm a witch. The difference is rather large." The slamming of doors comes from around the block. "See?" I add in a whimper.

"Let Terric finish," Ranulf woofs soothingly. "We, in fact, did not leave you. You left us, Stance."

"No I—I did not," I protest desperately. I could not have left them. The two animals are my guides. I love them. They ground me to reality, help me face the world.

"Princess, you did indeed. We cannot appear to you unless you make a subconscious request. It is a part of your magic." Terric's voice is low and calming.

"I…I…" I swallow. "I am sorry."

"It is okay, Stance. We both know how hard it is for you to control. Do not apologize, and now you know how to summon us."

I close my eyes, desperately keeping tears at bay, and laughing to help the effort. "You are going to make me cry."

"Ah, do not do that, Princess," Terric opens his wings and launches himself upward to land back on my shoulder, affectionately rubbing his head against my neck. Despite their translucent appearance, both wolf and owl are very solid, a fact I realized very early on. "You shan't cry before the big trial."

His attempt at a joke just makes the lump in my throat grow. "The trial…"

Ranulf nudges my leg. "I know. But it will be okay, Stance."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Okay."

And I slowly trudge to the courtroom, just across the center of the village. Ranulf leads me, because I know that I would not move on my own. It feels like every eye in the village peers through its window at me as I pass, even if I cannot see the villagers themselves.

Terric hops from foot to foot nervously, careful not to scratch me with his talons. Maybe he wasn't a huge owl, but I had learned early that those things hurt. A lot.

I realize that my feet have stopped moving, my nose so close to the door that the wood catches my quick breathing and throws it right back at me. I take a deep breath, feeling the hot and shaky propel back in my face.

Ranulf glances at me and nudges the door open to a crack in a gentle reminder. I press my own palm to the door like a sleepwalker, slowly pushing inward. A crisscrossed stain is left in the shape of my handprint before I even realize that I had used my still-wet, injured hand.

It could not possibly hurt as much as walking into this room does.

The first eyes to meet my own are, of course, green, and startlingly similar to my own. My father is a stony wall, unreadable even as his daughter walks to her certain doom, possibly at his hands. I want to curl up and cry right then.

But Ranulf nudges me on, shooting hostile looks and the occasional quiet growl at the rows of judges surrounding me. Terric hoots softly from my shoulder, scanning the room by quickly turning his head all the way around, invoking that strange owlish ability.

The judge at the end of the room calls for order, and every whisper dies away, words lingering just quiet enough to be indistinguishable in my mind. I can imagine what they are saying, though, without too much difficulty.

"Witch."

That's what I am, right? Then why does the word feel so wrong coming from the judges' mouths? The one at the end of the hallway glares down at me, made huge by his hidden pedestal. I think I could melt into a murky puddle of Constance.

"Constance Bennett, you—" he pauses for a moment, obviously taken aback. "Your name is Bennett?"

I glance back at my dad reflexively. "Yes, sir."

The judge follows my quick search and finds my dad as well. "Bennett. You did not tell us this was your daughter." Grumbling from around the room.

"No, sir, I did not. I did not know she was coming." My dad can lie flawlessly when he needs to or wants to. The judge is seemingly convinced.

"Constance Bennett. Daughter of Bennett. The Blessed Daughter. What is the meaning of this, Mr. Bennett?"

My dad opens his mouth to speak, but the hairy judge cuts him off. "Not you. I wish to hear the young lady speak."

I swallow hard. "Oh. I..." I search desperately for something to say, anything. My name has always been a bit of a mystery. Bennett. Blessed. They are one and the same, but I have certainly never felt blessed. I grasped at that train of thought. "I...have been blessed greatly!"

"How so?" The judge is obviously skeptical, and not hiding it at all.

"I think you should finish your opening sentence first, with all due respect." I curtsy a little, diving headfirst into my act. Careful, Constance. Do not get too cocky.

Ranulf woofs gently at me in approval, not daring to speak in front of so many. He understands how much harm it would do for my case, and I am glad for that, and for him at my side.

The judge glares at me, which is not good at all. The act is supposed to make him like me, so I can go. But if he decides to hate me...

"Constance Bennett, you are hereby charged with witchcraft. What say you?"

"I would like to hear the evidence against me." I swallow again, shoving a puffy strand of ragged hair behind an ear.

The judge glares fiercely at me. "The two glowing animals beside you."

I wince. Right. They are still here...Suddenly I am a bit less thankful for their presence.

"And the blood stain on your hand. And that necklace is said to be an object of power."

I freeze. The necklace? An object of power? "That—that is ridiculous!"

At least they have not noticed the blade. I close my eyes for a moment, searching for composure that is not coming. Everything inside of me is churning with panic.

"Easy, Princess," Terric coos into my ear, quiet enough for only me to hear. I take in deep breaths, desperately fighting the rising tide that is my fear, swelling up inside me. I cannot lose control now. Not here.

When I feel composed enough to speak, I open my mouth. Wait, what was I supposed to say here? Only a terrible, empty blankness meets me.

I make a sound halfway between a sob and a gasp, startling at least half of the edgy judges.

The judge looks around, then back at me, ever so slowly. "Do you protest the charge?"

"No, I...I do not." I stare at the ground, fighting tears in one final effort. I am trembling. This is terrifying. I am going to be burned.

My breaths come quicker until I am finding it difficult to take in oxygen. Terric and Ranulf are a step ahead of even me, know what is happening, as usual. I gasp a final time and crumple to the ground. The faces of the shifting judges blur in my vision. The face of my father, green eyes seeming to glow.

And then everything goes black.

3: Chapter 3: Judgement Day

Unwanted Chapter Three

Judgement Day

 

It must be only minutes later that I wake to a wolf's nose, frantically nudging me, and an owl's incessant hooting in my ear. I make a noise somewhere between a whimper and a groan, and both step back.

I sit up groggily, vision still swirling and my dad's glowing green eyes burned into my mind so harshly that I think they will never go away. The judges are still frozen, completely shocked at my faint. I am not entirely sure why at first. With such a terrifying charge as this, they should not be surprised. It is then that I realize that my dress is sprawled across the floor. I smooth it down, cheeks flushing red.

Ranulf lets me lean on him to stand up when I feel ready, and once I am up, I do not remove my hand. There is something comforting about that dark fur, and the even darker mask across his face.

"Thank you," I breathe to both animals as Terric hops onto my shoulder.

He answers for Ranulf, for there is less chance that the judges would hear the owl than the wolf, whom several are still watching cautiously. "We stand by you, Princess. You will not be burned today."

A tear leaks from my eye and slips down my face, joining the raindrops still damp on my dress. My mahogany-colored hair is sticking out in some places, somehow even more knotted and crazily curly than before.

The judge on front calls out, and I feel my heart sink straight to my chest.

"All who rule guilty, say I." That’s all. Not “are you okay?” or anything kind or remotely helpful. I gulp a breath, forcing the air into my body.

            I's resonate from around the room. I watch in slow motion as slowly, a dozen or more hands rise. I do not even try to count them. It is enough.

But now a certain man with my own green eyes meets my terrified gaze. Slowly, he raises his hand. His lips part with the "I."

"No," I gasp. "No, no no no." I had not expected to be ruled innocent, but my own father voting against me sets off a tight pain on my chest like no other.

The golden blade hidden in the folds of my dress suddenly seems quite interesting. My hands itch to take it out and use its power.

But Ranulf and Terric had warned me against this. The blade's power comes with a price. I was not sure what exactly that meant, then or now, but the two animals had said that it was a price I did not want to pay. And I trust them like no one else.

"Then. Constance Bennett, you are hereby sentenced to a proper witch's death. Save yourself from the flames if you can."