This is a work of FICTION, made by and for adults. The following chapter includes depictions of trauma and unintentional suicide. Reader discretion is advised.
Suddenly, the world turned completely black while the air became still. Elva simply stood there, eyes closed; her hands trembled as they clasped each other while her knees began to buckle. Finally, her legs failed then Elva fell to her knees on a soft floor, where she slowly pried her eyes open. She darted her head around, expecting to see the candles on the altar or around the cottage. But she was left in complete darkness, save for an odd, red glow off on the far side of the cabin.
“What…what happened?” she eventually asked herself uneasily, unsure if she wanted to know.
No sooner had the words left her lips did Elva hear a low growl followed by a burst of wind blowing past her on each side; following the air, she saw the faint glow of beautiful purple and pink puffs of light. Her heart felt gripped by an unseen force that halted her life. Her lip trembled as Elva clutched her chest; her eyes were wide open, though too afraid to glance at what had just passed her shoulders. ‘I-is… is this how… I die?’
In a sudden flash of light, the room became illuminated in a warm, bright glow. Elva recoiled, shutting her eyes and raising her hands to block the remaining light.
“What’s this?” she heard the voice of a woman call softly. “A lost kitten seems to have stumbled into my home. And to my bedside, no less.” Something about the sweet voice seemed to sing to Elva.
‘Be…bedside?’ Finally, Elva willed her eyes open, though it took longer for her to lower her fingers. Before her was a large bed, she assumed, laid with shimmering, crimson sheets. Confused, Elva couldn’t help but look around and confirm that there was a bed in front of her while she knelt on a lush and intricately detailed rug.
Elva looked to the side as her hands fell and saw that the red glow she had seen before came from under the golden curtains that covered a large window. A blood-red light bled through the tiny gaps, somehow reddening the scarlet of the walls and the reddened wood that trimmed the floor.
Suddenly, Elva heard a deep yawn, drawing her gaze to the bed before her and the woman lying upon it. For a moment, Elva could hardly tell where the red tones of the room ended and where she began. All Elva could see at first was her crimson hair, laying haphazardly across the bed in gentle waves down to—what she assumed to be—her knees. Under the dense draping of hair, her skin shone in a dull red with subtle tones of brown and gray, covered sparsely by a slim, pinkish robe of plush fabric.
Elva soon noticed the woman’s arm was moving, rubbing her eyes as if weary from a long slumber. Her otherwise bewitching face grimaced for a moment before the woman squinted her eye open to reveal the shimmering ruby orb that was her iris. Her arm fell and their gazes met as the woman opened her eyes. Elva looked away shyly as the woman looked at her intently, soon becoming lost in the red locks that fell around her chest.
‘That’s… ah,’ Elva thought as her cheeks began to flush.
“Kitten!” the woman finally snapped with a scowl. Elva flinched at the exclamation, pulling her arms to her side and closing her eyes in a grimace. “Good, the kitten can hear me,” the woman stated, somewhat less annoyed, though Elva was too afraid to open her eyes again. “Now, what is this kitten doing in my home so early in the morning?”
“Uhm,” Elva finally peeked her eyes open to see the woman looking at her sternly. ‘The morning? Your home?’ she thought to herself as she looked around again; it was clear Elva was no longer in her cottage, but as to where she was, Elva had no clue. Unsure of how to answer, she could only ask a question herself. “Kitten?” she inquired, still stuck on her new nickname.
The woman closed her eyes and let out a light sigh before continuing. “Good, the kitten can speak,” she said in a calm voice as she opened her eyes again. “Now, could you tell me what happened before you came here, kitten?”
“Came here? Uh, well, I,” Elva began to fidget, trying to remember the events that led her to this woman’s bedside. “I’m not sure. I was trying to summon an incubus in my cottage when,” she paused for a moment as the memories started to return. “All of a sudden… I ended up here. I just,” Elva paused again, feeling her throat choke and tears well in her eyes. “I just… wanted to feel safe.”
For a moment the woman didn’t respond, though her piercing gaze hardly abated. Elva felt herself begin to sweat and tremble. ‘I… oh, Brigit,’ her lips trembled too much for her to speak aloud. ‘How– did this go so wrong?’ Elva clenched her eyes shut and clasped her hands together, too nervous to maintain eye contact with the beautifully dangerous woman. ‘She’s going to kill me.’
The woman quickly released a deep and exaggerated sigh; Elva heard her shift on the bed before she eventually replied, “Relax, kitten. I’m not going to kill you. I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
Elva’s arms continued to tremble at her sides. ‘Somehow… that’s not comforting,’ she thought as she slowly opened her left eye. Finally, Elva noticed the soft expression the woman now carried as her head lay almost playfully on the bed, resting gently on her crossed arms.
“So,” she finally asked Elva as she tilted her head to the right, “what brought about this kitten’s need to summon an incubus?” Her tone was calm, though her eyes were almost cold, almost sad.
“Uh, well,” Elva’s hands fidgeted as they shifted into her lap. “I…I need help. The hunters,” her breath caught in her throat. Elva clenched the skirt of her dress as she tried not to remember the glow of the torches closing in on the cabin, “They’re so close to my home and I-I know they’ll find me now.”
“Why would they hunt you, kitten?” the woman interjected before Elva could continue, her expression unchanged.
“Eh? Why?” Her question caught Elva off guard; the answer seemed so obvious. “W-well, I’m a witch. Ever since I was born, I’ve lived in hiding because witches are being… hunted.”
“So it’s been since long before you were born, little kitten,” the woman replied somberly. Her eyes were sullen now, as if something about her story was personal. “Did you have a coven, kitten?” she inquired as she tilted her head to the other side; her somber look had lessened somewhat. “A mentor, surely.”
‘Mentor.’ After a pause, Elva lowered her gaze then raised her left hand to her chest, gently clutching at her heart as she remembered the only family she ever knew. “Móra,” she finally replied with a quivering voice. “My grandmother. The hunters found her,” Elva’s throat caught again, “us… ten summers past. There…there was never anyone else.” Something about admitting that hurt. ‘I’m… alone,’ her thoughts echoed what her heart had felt all these years as a tear began to form in her eye.
With another deep sigh, the woman finally replied. “I’m going to be blunt with you, kitten, and this will come as quite a shock.” She raised her head and propped herself up on her elbows, exposing the cleavage in her robe. “You don’t need to worry about the hunters or being alone again. You’re already dead.”
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