Chapter Eighteen

“Lannie, you seem off today. Is everything alright?”

I started, nearly jumping out of my seat in the lesson room. A textbook scattered to the floor, bringing several writing utensils down with it. I glared at Clarice. “What?”

“You’re giving that brooch a death glare, Lannie.”

I blinked. First at Clarice, then at the pendant that was gripped in my hand. “Sorry.” I pinned it back on my blouse and gave a flimsy smirk to Clarice. “You may continue.”

“I’m done,” she told me, an aggravated edge to her voice. “I’ve been trying to tell you that.”

“Oh, okay.” I picked up the fallen supplies and stuffed them into my messenger bag. “Then you can go now.”

“Really? No homework? You really must be sick today.”

I rolled my eyes as I gathered the last of my things together. “Just go.”

With reluctance and a suspicious look, Clarice took her leave, promising to check up on me later in the day.

I sighed and glared at the nearest thing to me. In this case, it was the Sylph Queen’s portrait on the fireplace mantel. She was so full of knowing that it maddened me. “What are you looking at?” I was so agitated and angry and full of synonymous words that meant nothing to me.

But I felt guilty, too. I felt that my mother—somehow, some way—had done something to protect me. She had worried so much about me getting this “curse” that she became sick. Was I the reason she got sick? Mother said herself that she would do anything in her power to save me, even if it meant sacrificing her own life. Had she done something prior to her death in order to save me?

I didn’t want to think about it anymore.

I trailed my fingers across the mantel of the fireplace. The Sylph Queen looked down at me with that firm, commanding look about her elegant face. Her dark brown hair fell in waves across her shoulders and her pointed ears were barely visible. There was a brownish gold hue to her eyes, but I couldn’t pinpoint the exact color. I still had yet to figure out why such a painting was in this castle. Maybe the king had an affinity for beautiful paintings…of beautiful nymph queens. Seeing as he was married, that struck me as odd. I shook my head and exited the room. Foolish thoughts like that didn’t belong in my mind.

The activity of the castle was unusually high-strung today. It was because of the ball. Or the “Grand Ball,” as some would call it. I scoffed at the name. There was nothing grand about the ball, except that it was a grand waste of materials and supplies that were better used on the city itself.

I exited the castle with little trouble, but something continued to irk my thoughts. The pendant pinned to my blouse was something more, it seemed, than just a simple piece of jewelry. It was no coincidence that I had fallen asleep while holding it, or that it was glowing when I awoke. My mother had purchased it from the magic shop where a witch lived.

And I knew exactly where the shop was.

I drew the cowl of my cloak tighter over my face as I turned down a dark alley in the city square, directly across from the tavern. With cracked yellow stone, the magic shop appeared nondescript at first, but a closer look revealed jars of heinous objects displayed for sale in the window. I opened the wooden door, signaling the telltale welcoming ding of the bell. Inside was a mess of shelves and hanging talismans. It was quite tidy for a magic shop, but nothing compared to the cleanliness of my own home.

A clerical desk sat near the end of the shop, as brown and unassuming as everything else in the room. I touched my pendant for courage and approached the desk. On the oak surface, a bowl of partially eaten food indicated that someone had recently been here. I looked around for a bell, but the desk was empty, save for a small bottle lying lopsided on the top. Where was the witch?

“Hello, I—”

The bottle lying on the desk took the words from my mouth. A tiny creature, barely reaching the height of two of my fingers, was lying on its side and clutching its throat, as if it were suffocating in the jar. I reached over and righted the jar, making the creature slide to the bottom. It appeared to be a small human, dressed in scarlet rags, with long dark hair and tiny amber eyes…

It was the witch! I would recognize that crimson apparel anywhere. But how did she get inside the bottle?

The little creature crumpled to her knees and pointed to the lid of the jar. I took the container in my hands and twisted the lid, but it wouldn’t budge. I tried once again—harder this time. The lid came off with a pop! and a fearsome wind escaped the glass container, causing me to release my hold on the jar. It shattered into several pieces, but the broken glass was not what frightened me. When the wind ceased, I saw a woman in a scarlet gown and cape standing before me. Her amber eyes were furious as she looked at me with a scowl on her elegant features. She crossed her arms aggressively over her scarlet bodice. “Don’t you think you could’ve had a tighter hold on that jar, deary?”

I was at a loss for words, confounded by her beauty. Witches were supposed to be hideous creatures, weren’t they? When I had visited her shop earlier, the witch’s scarlet cloak had concealed her features. But now… I shook my head violently, trying to dispel the enchantment she had cast on me. It was magic, nothing more. Her long dark locks and beaming amber eyes were surely the cause of an illusion.

She made a tsk-tsk-tsk sound, and with one flick of her finger, sent the broken glass sliding into a neat pile behind the shop counter. “Thank you for freeing me from that jar,” the witch said, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her— Saints above! She had pointed ears. Whatever this witch was, she wasn’t human. “Creatures these days just don’t know when to stop with the curses,” she muttered.

“Curses?” I asked rather timidly, because I was all too aware of the fact that this woman could turn me into a grotesque lump of coal if she so desired.

Her eyes narrowed, and her amber gaze locked on me. “How did you understand that?”

“Excuse me?”

“What I just said. About curses.”

Was there a problem? “Er… Because you’re speaking my language.”

The witch laughed—a melodious laugh that struck a familiar cord within me. “No I’m not, deary.” The witch paused, sniffing the air. She stepped closer to me, and I retreated back. Her lip curled into a smirk. “Ah, that explains it. You’re here again?” She tipped her head as she studied me with a confused look. “No… Goodness! How age demands so much of a woman. I can’t even recall your bloody name.”

I had no doubt she was confusing me with my mother. I unclipped the pendant from my blouse and held it out for the witch to examine. “My name is Lannie Brackenbury. My mother was Helena Brackenbury. Several years ago, she—”

“Was?” The witch’s expression turned fierce. “You can’t possibly mean she died off on us?”

I clenched the trinket in my hands. How dare she speak of Mother that way? Died off was putting it far too lightly. I composed my demeanor. I needed to stay calm because I needed this information. “She is gone, yes,” I said from behind clenched teeth. “But I need to know what this pin is for. She bought it from your shop.”

The witch didn’t seem to hear my words. “Blast it all! And here I was hoping for the best from that woman.” She wandered off and started muttering unintelligible words to herself.

“Please,” I said, following her into the back of the shop, which was as rundown and dark as the entrance foyer, “I need your help. She bought this pendant from you. What does it do?”

The witch whirled on me, suddenly furious. “I’ve never seen that pin before, and I have no obligation to help you, so get out!” She ushered me back out to the front. “Don’t ever come back again, girl!”

Before she could push me out of the shop, I planted a firm foot in front of the wooden door to prevent her from opening it. “This piece of jewelry caused me to have a dream—”

She glared daggers at my booted foot. “There are plenty of memory holding artifacts. Dreams are dreams, deary. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

I groaned. “Listen!” Apparently, only firmness would get her attention. “In the dream, my mother had this pendant.” I held it in front of the witch’s face for emphasis. “My mother didn’t want her ‘curse’ to pass to me. She would do anything in her power to protect me. Please. What is this for? And do you know what she meant by a curse?”

The witch stopped suddenly. She backed up, releasing the hold on my arm. “Curse?” she scoffed. Despite her haughtiness, the woman looked hesitant. She glanced around, almost as if she were afraid of something. The witch seemed to make a decision because she nodded. “Ah… Now I remember. She never liked her abilities.” The witch frowned, first at me, then at her fingernails as she studied them. “I suppose I could tell you, but what can you do for me?”

I lowered my arms to my side, my hope falling with them. I had nothing of value to offer the witch, except… “How much?” I asked, fishing the coin purse from my bag.

“No, I don’t find money to be appropriate for this task.”

I looked at her in exasperation. “I have nothing but money, lady. What else do you want?”

“Your soul.”

I felt the warmth drain from my face. “Are—”

The witch burst into a fit of laughter at that point. I stared at her, dumbstruck, as she wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh goodness. Your face! That gets me every time. Oh…” She chuckled—probably at how I was clenching my fists and glaring at her—and continued, “I will tell you, just as long as you give me information.”

“Like what?” My patience was running thin with this devious magic user.

“Oh, I don’t know…” The smile that spread across her soft features hinted only a ghost of friendliness. “Maybe information from the castle?”

She wanted me to be a spy! My hand flew to the doorknob; I was ready to leave at any minute. “How do you know I work at the castle?”

“You came in with that young lady a few weeks ago,” she reminded me, that coarse smile still on her lips.

I slapped my forehead. Of course. It was after I agreed to take Clarice out of the castle. The witch had shown us an adolescent griffin and Clarice had wanted to buy it—even though it was illegal for her to own one without a license.

“So?” The witch folded her hands, fingering the golden bracelets around her wrist. “What’ll it be?”

I couldn’t believe I was doing this. If Titus saw me right now, what would he think? Wait! Why was I thinking about him? He had nothing to do with this. I needed information about myself and my mother. “What sort of information do you want?”

The witch’s eyebrows drew together in thought, then suddenly shot up as if an idea struck her. The smile on her face turned into a large grin, revealing pointed white teeth. “Information about the prince. Like what he’s doing now, what he looks like. Things like that.”

I gaped at her. Why on earth would she want information about Titus? “W—why?”

“Well…” The witch rubbed her hands together; for the first time, she looked embarrassed, but for all I knew, it could have been a facade. “My sister is a fan of the prince, and…” She chuckled with a goofy, strange smile on her face. Her demeanor was beginning to alarm me. “I promised her a long time ago that I’d give her paintings of him and a talisman that holds information about what he likes and such. She fawns over him. And besides, I made a promise.”

I just stared at her. I could do two things at that moment:

A) Bolt out of the shop to escape her lunacy

or B) Tell her what her sister wanted to know about Titus and get information about my mother.

Believe it or not, I was leaning towards option A. The mortification I would face if Titus found out about this would—without a doubt—fill two canyons of embarrassment and self-loathing.

The witch saw my indecision, and quickly added, “I’m an artist. I only need what he looks like and other minuscule details, Lilly.”

“It’s Lannie,” I corrected her.

“Right. Sorry. I’m Mayra, by the way.” She grinned charmingly. In her long scarlet dress and silk cloak, any man would weep over her appearance.

I sighed as I mulled over my options. Magic could never be trusted—and nor could witches. But I needed the information that this woman possessed. Philippa had tried to tell me something, but was interrupted before she could get the words out. I had a feeling that Mayra’s information had to do with what Philippa would have told me. I turned to Mayra and grasped my mother’s pendant tightly in my hand. “Fine.”

Mayra’s grin could have covered oceans, but with her pointed fangs, she reminded me of a ravenous shark.

                                                ————————

Mayra poured two cups of tea and sat down across from me in the small lounge. We were in the back of the shop; it looked as if she lived here. The strong mixed scent of too many candles clogged my nose—a smart tactic if you were hiding something particularly smelly in the back of your shop. Like a dead body, for instance.

I wouldn’t put it past her.

Mayra sipped her tea silently, eyeing me with her beautiful amber eyes. “So. Who goes first? Me or you?” Before I could answer, she smiled. “Since you are my guest, I should go first.”

What a spontaneous creature. She was worse than Clarice. I set my tea down pointedly. I was not going to drink something that a witch had given me.

“I suppose you know of the Rift Wars already,” she said. I nodded in response, and she continued, “Then I will start with the Elementals—”

“I already know about them,” I interjected, recalling what Natz had told me. “Protectors of the natural resources of Etheia, right?”

Mayra folded her hands in her lap and pursed her lips. “You interrupt me again, and I will personally see to it that you spend your life with only one working ear.”

I gulped. Could she really do that?

“Now then. Where was I? Ah, yes. The Elementals. Capricious little creatures, they were. Their disappearance offset the balance of this world. Now,” she said, giving me a firm look, “you don’t know the theories behind their disappearance, right?”

“I—”

“That was a rhetorical question that did not need an answer,” Mayra growled, making me flinch. The intimidating aura this woman kept sending out was unbearable. “There are a few theories that you should be aware of. First theory is that the Elementals were scared off due to the mass amount of death. It’s understandable, but doesn’t make sense. They would stay and protect Etheia, wouldn’t they?” She crossed her legs and held up a finger. “I’ve been debating this for years, Lilly—”

Some emotion close to fear stopped me from correcting her verbally, so I coughed.

Heedless of my discomfort, she continued, “—but I haven’t come to any viable conclusions. The second theory is that the Elementals’ power had run out during the Rift Wars, so they disappeared entirely. It’s plausible.” Mayra shrugged. “And the third theory…” She took a deep breath. “You owe me big for telling you this.”

I didn’t say anything, mainly because I didn’t understand what any of this had to do with me.

“The third is that Therin, the one who started the Rift Wars in the first place, took the power of the Elementals, and used that power in the war.”

I rubbed my knees nervously. Therin was a Drakain—a powerful half-man, half-serpent creature—that had raised an army against the humans. He wanted to overthrow mankind so that the magical creatures of Etheia would be “free” from our dominion. I didn’t feel sympathy for him, but I understood his actions. The magical creatures were encroached upon to the point where Therin could bear it no longer.

“He was incredibly strong during the war,” Mayra mused, “so it’s possible that he stole the Elementals’ power. But it’s just a theory. Anywho…”

“Didn’t the Elementals disappear after the war?” I inquired, now entirely nonplussed as to why she was telling me this information. "It would be impossible for him to steal their power—he was imprisoned after the war."

Her mouth formed a large “o” as she held up her finger. I slapped my forehead. This was hopeless. She knew nothing! And anything she did know was founded on mere theories—untested and unfounded theories, at that.

“Now don’t go thinking I know nothing, deary.” Mayra stood and refilled her teacup with a kettle from the kitchen near the lounge. “I’m telling you this because of what you are. You need to understand the vast implication that Therin and the Elementals had on this world.” The witch seated herself down again, spreading her hands on her scarlet skirt. “The balance of the world was disrupted by the disappearance of the Elementals. They were the only entities holding Etheia’s natural welfare in order.”

My patience was running thin. She better tell me something—

“Many years after the Elementals disappeared and the wars ended, something strange happened,” she said. “Several reports of beings communicating with both humans and magical creatures showed up. They were called Harbingers.”

Harbingers. That name again. It was the same name that the naiad had called me when I was trying to save Nezira. “Is that what I am, then?”

Mayra nodded. “It’s what Helena was, too. But she wouldn’t accept it. Even though I gave her that pendant to seal it for her…” The witch trailed off and stared off into the distance. “These Harbingers supposedly had the intentions of creating a better world after the Rift Wars. And indeed, they did create a better world with their uncanny peacemaking abilities.” Mayra’s tone changed at this point, making me wonder if she was hiding something. “I can’t tell you what powers they possessed.” She sipped her tea and sighed. “But I can tell you that they were able to bridge the rift between humans and magical creatures and create peace. For a time, that is.”

“But why did my mother see it as a curse?”

“Because,” Mayra said, her tone turning grave, “as a Harbinger, you have an obligation to save this world, Lannie.” She saw the look of utter, indescribable horror that had planted itself on my face. “Let me explain,” she added quickly. “After a time of these strange beings making the world a better place, they vanished into history. And the world was finally thrown into the chaos you see today.”

“And?” I gripped the seat of the silk lounge as if it were a lifeline to reality—and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was true. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

Mayra frowned at me. “You, and the other three beings like you, are the only ones who can communicate with both humans and magical creatures. Harbingers are universal communicators and are understood by all,” she said. “The Rift Wars arose from misunderstandings; you can bridge that gap—that rift—between us and free the magical creatures from slavery.”

“No. I can’t.” I stood abruptly. This was nonsensical! “That’s what King Gavin is supposed to be doing,” I said. “And that doesn’t solve the fact that the world’s balance is still disrupted!”

“Actually, it does—”

“I’m leaving,” I told her, donning my cloak. I would have none of this—of her lies. I headed out the door of the shop. “Goodbye, Mayra.”

“You’re