Autumn was a witch.
Well, she’d taken her first step along the path, at the very least. A small sliver of fear curled beneath the ratty leather hat perched upon her head. It felt heavier as she felt lighter.
When she’d released her hold on the emotion and locked it away from herself, it was like a spring within her chest had lost its tension. She could breathe a little easier. Her heart beat a little less wild. The burden of panic was just a little lesser than it’d been a moment ago.
It was only thanks to the older witch’s warning, and a titanic effort on Autumn’s part, that she didn’t continue and stuff the rest of that burdensome emotion into her hat. Would it be so bad to be free of fear? To not have to shy away from every spook and slight? To be normal for once?
Her traitorous mind replayed scene after scene of her life like a grim showreel. Every terrible event, every moment of soul-crushing fear played itself out before her mind’s eye.
No, she needed to be afraid, even if only just a little bit. It’d kept her alive. Kept her running.
Eager to distract herself, Autumn turned back to the book and read on.
Now, presumably if you’re reading this, that means you have successfully extracted some emotion from yourself and stored it away, even if only a small amount. Congratulations! Now, you must use it for something, else it’d be a wasted effort otherwise.
The first thing you’ll learn is Hexes.
A hex is the most common form of practical witchcraft. They can be as simple as a tripping spell, or as lethal as a killing curse. So, before you learn to cast one, it’s best if you learn to protect yourself from them. To do this, you will want to make an anti-hex charm.
Remember, other witches will likely be your biggest threat. I have made a few enemies in my time that’ve sadly survived despite my best efforts, and they might turn their ire upon you if they discover that you are my apprentice, even if remotely and/or posthumously.
Autumn could’ve set fire to the book with the heat of her glare. Below the warning was a step-by-step recipe for making an anti-hex charm.
Anti-hex Charm
Step 1:
First place three intact chicken bones into an equal-sided triangle no larger than an inch long on either side.
Step 2:
Twine them together at the intersections with a dead man’s hair, (a dead woman’s works fine.) Brunette hair works best, but never use ginger!
Step 3:
Encase the charm in beeswax to seal it.
Step 4:
Infuse the sealed charm with emotion, (something related to defense works best.)
Step 5:
Finally, place the charm upon your body. It can be placed on a belt or in a pocket so long as it is on your person.
Now, remember, these are single-use charms. It’ll snap as soon as a hex strikes you, taking your place. So you might wish to wear multiple.
After reading through the recipe twice, Autumn searched through the racks of jars before her for the listed components to make an anti-hex charm. It didn’t take her long to find them. Even with her wounded hand hampering her efforts, she was able to lay out the chicken bones into a triangle on the workdesk and twine them together with deadman’s hair.
The beeswax was harder to use, and the sensation of phantom fingers caused her to waste some, but she was able to succeed after a while. She finished the construction of the charm having only snapped a few of the thin bird bones.
Reaching into her hat, she pulled free the tiny sliver of fear she’d collected, and poured it into the charm on the workbench. She focused on granting it the protection she desired. Like a purple jelly, it oozed into the wax-coated bones. And, with a subtle flash, the charm was done.
Autumn slumped back into her creaking chair. The work had tired her out. Her fingers throbbed with pain that she direly wished to massage away. However, she resisted, not wanting to worsen the wound.
Tears sprouted at the corners of her eyes as she waited for the pain to settle. When it had, she turned back to the tome, skimming through its pages of recipes, searching for something to aid her. She halted her search on a particular page.
Healing Balm
A simple herbal recipe that any young witch should learn. It is a basic herbal remedy infused with magic. Sells well. It can heal light wounds, cuts, bruises, abrasions, and muscle fatigue.
While not as powerful as a healing potion, it is cheaper to make, and doesn’t require any advanced equipment. The healing cream can be made almost anywhere as its ingredients are rather abundant, (at least they were as of writing this.)
Positive emotions are required to create it.
Below you’ll find my personal recipe that I’ve refined over many years.
Step 1:
Finely ground together two dried eel leaves and five dandelion flowers, (no stems).
Step 2:
Add wrath leech juice until the mixture is covered fully.
Step 3:
Mix until you have a smooth mixture, (add more wrath leech juice if necessary).
Step 4:
Add arrowroot flour, mixing until you have a creamy consistency.
Step 5:
Infuse the mixture with a positive emotion, (love, care, happiness, etc.)
Looking to the shelves of bottled ingredients, Autumn brushed the dust off their labels and tried to match the contents with the illustrated pictures. She found most of what she needed thanks to that. She laid out the various jars before her as she searched for a mortar and pestle to grind up the leaves and dried flowers.
Eel leaves looked like their namesakes, long and thin, while dandelions were the same bright coloration of her own world. Wrath leaches, on the other hand, were a bright, disgusting orange. Thankfully, the sealed jar had kept their juices from evaporating.
Autumn poured the leaves and dry flowers in the mortar. She laboriously ground them up into a fine mixture, with only minor difficulty. Next she poured the mixture into a small, palm-sized lacquered wooden tub she’d found, before adding the wrath juice, mixing until it reached the creamy consistency prescribed.
The last thing she needed to add was joy.
She chose this emotion as it was fresh in her mind. The joy of creation flowed through her, having just learned magic and put it into practice. While she was primarily an athlete, she also enjoyed sketching and painting when the mood struck her.
Reaching for that small nugget of joy, she pulled at it and it rushed to fulfill her needs. Unlike fear, which she’d needed to coerce to do her bidding, Autumn needed to instead hold joy back from emptying itself into her desires. It was far too eager to be used.
Joy poured into the mixture in her hands, and, with another quick flash, the magic was complete.
Autumn slumped back, drained. With the joy leaving her, she was left mostly with just pain and fear burdening her heart. The tears she’d held back until now spilled freely from her eyes. She sobbed into her knees as she sat upon the aged chair.
She understood the warning the old witch had left for her now. Without joy, she doubted she’d ever create anything ever again.
When her sobbing finally ceased, and after she’d wiped the lingering tears from her face, Autumn snatched up the jar of healing balm and set about tending to her wounds. Her feet were first. If she wanted to get home, or just escape the fey lying in wait outside, then she needed to be able to move.
The bandages cladding her feet were practically glued together with dried blood. She peeled them away slowly, painfully tearing at her scabbed feet, and they bleed sluggishly once more, staining the floor below. Autumn tossed the ruined bandages away and delicately applied the salve to the soles of her feet.
A stinging, yet soothing, chill radiated out from where she applied the healing cream. Taking another cleanish strip of cloth from her pile of rags, Autumn bound her feet up once more. She then slipped into a pair of old woolen socks to further protect herself from the cold and injury.
What she had left of the paste, she applied to the ends of her burnt fingers before wrapping them too in fresh bandages. She winced as her wound stung a moment.
Now that she’d secured herself some protection and healing, Autumn wanted a means of offense. She turned back to the book, flipping through the early pages until she found something that fit the bill, so to speak.
Basic Jinx
Jinxes are the bread and butter of any witch’s offensive arsenal, (if you’ll forgive the phrasing.) While not as deadly as hexes, or long-lasting as curses, a jinx is both faster to cast and less draining on willpower. Furthermore, a jinx can change its effects according to the emotion supplied to cast it. Thus, a jinx is tailored to the witch who casts it.
A wand works best to cast a jinx. While a staff or talisman will work fine, I’ve found a wand is far easier to point and have your spells go where you wish them to go. A spare wand of mine should be in my hut, likely on or near my workbench where I shall leave this tome.
Luckily for her, it didn’t take Autumn all that long to find the wand. It was where the old witch had said it was, lying innocently amongst the jars of esoteric items. She’d mistaken it as a gnarled stirring stick earlier whilst rummaging for the ingredients for the healing balm.
It was eleven inches long and bent like a weathered finger. The color of the wood was unlike anything she’d seen before, like an iron stick carved with a wood grain. Taking it in hand, she wrapped her fingers around the handle, marveling at the lightness of it.
Autumn pointed the wand at the far wall and gathered a modicum of fear to cast her jinx like the book had described. A bright bolt of violet light sprang from the tip and soared across the space, splashing harmlessly across the far wall.
Magic! Real magic!
Biting back a squeal of excitement, she leveled her wand toward the wall once more and let fly another bolt. The Jinx of Fear emerged once more, zipping towards the far wall. It struck true, although slightly off from where she’d been aiming.
For the next few hours, the burgeoning witch lost herself in practice. She sent bolt after zipping bolt sailing toward the far wall, working to tighten her accuracy and grow accustomed to casting her jinx as fast as she could. After all, her life could, and mostly would, depend on it.
When she wasn’t slashing her wand through the air like an idiot, she worked painstakingly to harvest as much raw fear to fill her pool of malefic magic as she could. Fear fell away from her in violet streams, surrendering itself to her total domination. By the time her eyes grew heavy and her stomach growled for sustenance, her hat felt mountainous upon her head.
Autumn felt lighter than she’d ever been.
Yawning, she snacked on the last of her scavenged food, and turned her attention toward her situation. She couldn’t stay here indefinitely. Not only did she lack food and water, but she had the creeping thought that the ancient protections shielding this place wouldn’t hold the fey back forever.
However, she needed time to heal. And even with the healing balm, she suspected that it’d take a few days to work its literal magic. The human body could go three days without water and three weeks without food. Saying that, she needed all the energy she could get if she wanted to outrun the Wild Hunt again.
Luckily, there was an ample supply of food outside in the garden and presumably a well nearby. She just needed to get to it.
Autumn cautiously tested her healing feet on the stone floor below her chair, letting out a wince at the sharp pain the effort caused her. It was far more bearable than before. After quickly shuffling over to her bed, she sat down and grabbed the worn leather boots, carefully easing them onto her sock-clad feet before tightening them up and tying off the laces. They didn’t fit perfectly, but they were good enough.
As she was tying her laces, Autumn spotted a leather belt lying discarded under the bed. Pulling it out, she saw it had an iron knife and small leather pouch tucked on the side. Opening it revealed a handful of clinking coins. A quick count showed a lonely gold coin, twelve silver, and thirty-two copper coins inside.
She didn’t have a clue if that was a lot or not even enough to buy a loaf of bread. However that didn’t stop her from secreting the coinage into the hidden pockets of her robe.
Testing the edge of the knife against a rag showed that it retained a decent edge despite how long it’d been left idle. The weapon brought Autumn a sense of reassurance that she was rather thin on, even if she didn’t know how to use it besides stabbing someone with the pointy end.
Autumn strapped the belt around her waist under her robe, securing her tunic to her body.
Curious to see if she’d missed anything else beneath the bed, she lowered herself down to the dusty floor and peered beneath it. Other than a collection of dust bunnies, there was a deflated canvas pack with thick leather straps and heavy iron buckles lying in the shadows. Autumn quickly retrieved it. It’d be perfect to help her secure fruit from the garden, and carry her things when she intended to leave.
Coughing away the floor dust, Autumn sprang to her feet and crept over to the windows facing the gardens. If she was lucky, she could open one enough to slip out unseen by the fey watching the front door.
Perhaps her attempts at stealth were futile, but it was better than tempting fate.
The window complained at her attempts to open it, but her persistence and hunger won out in the end, and she cracked it open enough to slip out. Autumn grunted as she fell into the long grass, feeling the wounds on her feet tear open. Looking up, she found herself in the overgrown garden.
Strange, wild fruits hung heavy upon their vines and tree branches, shimmering with vibrant colors across every spectrum of the rainbow. Orange banana-like fruits swayed beside petal-like, see-through oranges and spiky gourds resting on the ground that smelled like blueberries. There were hanging fruits shaped like ice-crystals, berries that glowed, and beets that had the texture of flesh.
Autumn swallowed her saliva.
Given that the fruits had been once tended to by a witch, and presumably eaten by her as well, Autumn was assuming they were safe to eat. She’d already eaten dried versions of some of them already, so if consuming them cursed her with some fey magic, then it was already too late.
Before she scrambled over to pick the fruits and stuff them into her pack, she peeked around the corner of the cottage toward the front where she’d seen the fey riders last.
An icy chill ran down her spine at what she saw.
More fey had gathered while she’d slept. Clad in bones and hides of their hunts, not all being from animals, the host had grown twice over. Tents sprawled outside the clearing’s protection while magnificent stags with towering ten-point antlers chewed on the overgrown grasses beside them. Hunters patrolled the encampment or watched the front of the witch’s hut with focused eyes.
Thankfully, it didn’t appear that they’d spotted Autumn’s excursion.
What was more concerning was that they were testing the rusted iron and charms keeping them at bay. As she watched, a fey steadily pushed their authority against the charms, resulting in the bird bones fraying and snapping while the iron rusted even more. With a resounding snap, one of the charms broke and the protection grew a little weaker.
Time was running out.
The question was – how long could it hold out?
Autumn watched their progress as the fey turned their attention toward another swaying charm. Judging by the speed and effort it took to break, she estimated she had a few days left before they broke the protective enchantment completely. By then, she needed to be gone.
Turning away, she silently wandered over to the garden and picked a variety of fruit to last her a few days, filling up her pack. Afterwards, she searched around the house, eventually finding an old covered well around the back.
By the time Autumn returned inside with a wineskin full of well water, which she fully intended to boil with the handful of sticks she’d also collected, she was utterly exhausted, burning with a raging fever, and ravenously hungry. Spilling her bounty out onto the table, she dug in with relish.
Glittering juice spilled over her lips as she bit into the translucent flesh of the petal-like fruit, quickly filling her mouth with the taste of mint and ice. Biting into the orange-colored bananas flooded her tongue with the taste of sour raspberries while the beats tasted like red meat.
Not the greatest combination in the world, but Autumn was too hungry to care.
Reluctantly, she placed the rest aside for the next few days after eating enough to settle her stomach.
After boiling the water she’d collected, and pouring it back into her cleaned wineskin, Autumn retreated to her bed with a slaked throat and heavy eyes. She tiredly removed her boots and blood-soaked socks, wincing at the pain, before sliding back under the covers, lulled to sleep by a metronome of breaking charms.
Darkness claimed her quickly.