“So what do we do?”

I think for a moment alongside everyone else. If we tell a sensible adult as Ebony said, Masy’s point was also valid. We have nearly no way of truly confirming who is and isn’t using inuriagi, and truthfully, I am not sure if they could do all-to-much about it.

If we report it to the Conclium De Malficus, there is the smallest, most likely to be unlikely chance that we were wrong, and we could be punished or defamed. Even if we are right, however, Iren had a fair point in that we can not simply walk away. While human children tend to leave the home around 16-18 years of age, witch children stay as long as possible, until they start another family or find another job, and even then it is not uncommon for the household to stay shared. If we just disappear without notice, they could get worried and come looking for us, for one reason or another. If we came up with an excuse, it could be shot down, and while we have more ownership of ourselves than human children, there are laws against miners traveling alone. That then brings us back to the topic of not knowing whom we can trust.

I sigh.

“What if we just… told them to stop?” Masy offers half-heartedly.

Wey snorts, replying: “Yea, and they’ll just happily quit it. ‘Sorry, our bad, thanks for telling us!’” he mocks.

She huffs, crossing her arms.

“How about we reconvene another day with more ideas. They say sleep helps the mind think, and I feel that we may get in trouble if we delay any further.” I say, out of ideas and unreasonably scared that someone is lurking, hearing them, watching them.

“Your worried about getting in trouble for being late when-!” Ebony pauses, and thinks.

“Fine. I guess we shouldn’t let them know that we are onto them.” This statement makes me think of the boy, but I brush it off since it was a year ago.

Iren’s faint shape rustles on the ground for a moment, groping blindly for something. When she stands up, a stick it attached to her arm, and she starts back towards the village. The rest of us follow her, and she leads us around unseen holes and rocks in our path until we reach the thinner parts of the forest. She tosses the stick aside as I say a quick goodbye to the dense trees behind for their shelter and we continue on under the moonlight. At the edge of the forest, we separate; Iren, Masy, and Wey going together southwest, Ebony and I northwest.

Suddenly remembering my mothers words, I turn frantically to Ebony. “How will I see you guys?”

She remembers as well, and shrugs. “It’s a small village, its hard to completely avoid someone here.” She smirks. “You know, I don’t think your mother said anything about not seeing Iren… We’ll figure it out, don’t worry.” She reaches as though to pat my shoulder, then thinks better of it.

I nod, still unsure, but I wave her goodbye as she continues on towards her house and I turn to mine.

And I am terrified of what will happen, as that chilling wrongness settles quietly over me, overtaking the gentle green scents of pine and lavender.

I open the door again to those slightly humid scents, slip through, and quietly click the door shut. Starting each step with the balls of my feet, I creep past the silent and dark kitchen, past my mothers room that doubles as a storeroom, and finally deflate onto my bed.

Too much

It’s all too much.

I had seen the shape of my mother in her bed and had prayed to all the sprites and spirits that she had not seen me. To talk to her at this moment could very well be the death of me.

Sighing, I drag myself off of my bed, slip into my nightwear, and immediately crawl back beneath the soft warmth.

Curled against the wall, I review everything that just happened.

It does not feel true. It feels like tomorrow I will wake up and we will go learn magic and…

And Silver will come back in less than a year and everything will be back to normal.

It feels so idiotic saying that now.

I curl up even harder, my legs compressing my chest more and more, the pressure bringing a small comfort to it all.

Why is everything changing so much?

Why did he have to leave, and for so long?

Why did we have to stop going to the tree and learning magic?

As much as I appreciate and like my new companions, all I want right now is Silver. He never made me feel out of place, he always seemed to know what I meant, we as good as grew up together.

His band, too, made me feel more comfortable. With them, I was something else, making it feel more okay to not be as socially adept as everyone else seemed to be. Lory and Jacob are excessively sweet, always doing things for everyone else, and everyone caries the similar intrigue for magic that I do. Surprisingly, as well, Tom has an affinity for charms. I had taught them all how to make basic charms for protection and luck before they left, and I could tell that Tom's was especially potent, almost as much as a witches, which is uncommon amongst humans.

I miss them all so much.

And yet, for some unexplainable reason, I feel a growing dread as the day gets closer.

“Come on Evikana!” a man with green eyes and iridescent green hair stands in front of me, arms outstretched, waiting.

I giggle, walking a few steps more before catching a glimpse of a bright white flower with red spreading out of a line of white in the middle of each petal like wings. It was beneath a fern. I change trajectory and run towards it. As I pick it, I suddenly feel such anguish rush through me, and tears start to streak down my face as I run, crying, to the man covered in green.

“Its alright” he coons, almost laughing. He plucks the flower gently out of my hands and crouches down.

“You know,” he says, setting the flower down and cupping my round face, excitement in his eyes, “I think you have a deep affinity for plants. Just like me, but with plants like your mother! You don’t have to try so hard to connect with them, and that means that you are wonderful powerfully!” He ruffles my short hair.

“I don’t like it.” I sniff in a high pitched voice. I don’t remember the last time I heard such a sound come from my mouth. I must be young.

He laughs and says, “I don’t think they like being torn apart ether. You have to ask permission.” He picks up the flower. “Of course, amaryllis flowers are always so dramatic.” He says with a smile.

A distant yell echoes through the woods, and his smile falters.

Wiping my face, he takes a small cube of sugar out of his vest pocket and presents it to me, motioning to keep quiet. He swings my onto his shoulders and walks back towards the village, where the noise had come from. I brush my hands against the leaves above me as I suck on the sugar, happy to have finally understood why the plants I touch always give me different feeling, and why none of the other kids seemed to be able to understand.

The adults, though, they always looked at me with slight jealousy.

The man sets me down in front of my cottage with a… sad face?

Why is he sad?

My mother swoops me into her arms and glares as the man. He nods, waves to me, picks up the bags that my mother set at his feet, and walks away.

Into the shining brightness of the setting sun.

I jolt awake.

The light seers my eyes and I hide underneath the covers for a moment, partly because of the brightness and partly because I do not wish to deal with the future.

The changes.

After a minute or two, I uncover my face and take a deep breath.

I walk over to my wash basin and gently scrub my skin before donning my usual yellow dress hemmed with orange, and tying an equally orange headband onto my short, curly, golden hair. I walk out into the kitchen, riddled with anxiety. I try to pass unnoticed into the kitchen and see what is in reserve. I grab two slices of bread and set them on a pan over fire, briefly sweeping the kitchen, as it toasts. I take  some of the apricot preserves that I had made two weeks ago and spread it on both pieces. I grab my satchel from my room, already packed, and add a few kiwis grown from the community garden and a particularly sharp spoon to the top.

Stepping out the door, I hear a voice stop me.

“Remember, no more hanging around with that Malv, or the siblings.”

I nod, bracing myself, almost waiting for something more, but she lets me go by turning from the hallway and back out to the garden.

The sun is almost above some of the trees, and I hope that I am able to find something, and that my half-plan will work.

 I have found a new patch that suffices as a substitute for the willow tree over the past year for magic studies. The trees there are relatively quiet as older trees tend to be, and it has an abundance of useful plants in the general area.

Could she really be infected with inuriagi?

The question won’t leave my mind as I walk through the forest.

Over the past year and perhaps slightly before that, I realize, her behavior has changed. Ever since I can remember, she has been a kind, if harsh spoken, person, open to mistake and misbehavior, especially that of a child. Her and I would practice magic basics together in the garden and she would teach me human and witch history and politics up until around two years ago, when she had decided that I had learned enough and she would teach me only what I wanted from then on. At first, I had asked so many things, not wanting it to stop, but then she gave me a book that went along with most of my questions, A Hedgerows Guide to The Sun, and me and Ebony began experimenting on our own.

My mother was at first a tad miffed about being pushed to the side, but eventually she relented, and it was an entire six months before she had started to act so strangely. It was subtle until that night with the rune, after which it spiraled. I realize now that she was up earlier and out later, that she would seem more distant some days, that she would tend some plants more attentively than others, plants which she had never paid so much attention to before.

I sigh.

It could really be. The parasite changes one. And there is no known way to reverse it once it fully takes hold.

And there is no way to tell when that has happened.

It could be a matter of days or a matter of years, the more it is used the faster it grows.

I, however, refuse to believe that she is gone, even if the days when she seems her normal self are growing fewer and farther between.

That only means we need to do something now.

I stand in the clearing and sit, rummaging through my bag. At some point last night, I had snuck into my mother room, looking for one of the history books that she and I had shared what feels like so long ago.

I pull the book out of my satchel and flip through the pages, looking for the one detailing the events leading up to the Yungari, the witch law that banned any association in any way with inuriagi.

My mother is the one that taught me about the evil; how could she have fallen to it?

I read over the few pages, trying in vain to find something that could disprove our suspicions, and, after finding nothing, instead look for something that might further a cure or identification. When this also does not happen, for many Conclium scholars, those who work specifically for the Conclium De Malficus, the people that reside over the witches, have done so in greater depth already,

I close the book, frustrated.

Staring at the cover, I feel tears well up in my eyes as the hot feeling that has been growing in my chest reaches its peak. I suppose that yesterday I had not fully comprehended that my mother could be using inuriagi, and it is only now catching up to me. If she goes too far, I could lose her forever. And it is already happening.

I take a deep breath and calm myself. The best I can do is educate myself and use that to my advantage. I re-read the texts, marking important passages and notes on a piece of paper.

Once I finish, I pack up the ink and quill and pull out A Hedgerows Guide To The Sun, reading through the steps and ingredients of the next potion as I wait for my writing to dry.

One of the last things I have left is learning more sylvaniagi, plant magic, and I will not give it up.

Once I am done, I pack the book, put the paper into the history texts, and eat one of the kiwis as I head back to the village. Once I get to the outskirts, I tactfully avoid view of my home and go south to Ebony, Masy, and Wey’s house, hoping that it is late enough that they will be at least near their home.

I pass Irens house with no sign of her around and am about to move on to the Volks when I see her coming from the market through the garden, towards her cottage. Elated, I almost race towards her, and as she sees me she smiles excitedly.

“Is it a good time?” I say.

“Yes, I just was about to go get Ebony! Do you have anything?” she says, pointing towards Ebony’s house, and I nod

“Somewhat… I just took a few notes on a short text about it. Hopefully they can be of some use.”

“Wait for us at the birch trees, Masy and Wey should be there soon-ish too.”

I nod again and turn, praying again to all the forest sprites on the continent that she is not at the market at this particular time and that none of her friends report me back to her as I pass into full view of the center of our village.

The trees welcome me back, our group being one of the few who go there, which is still odd to me, though they are content with only the groups that pass through now since we come fairly often.

I go only a few trees in before turning and waiting, tossing the empty kiwi skin on the ground near a young plant.

I am sitting against a sleeping birch by the time Masy and Wey arrive.

“Oh, hey!” Wey says, seemingly surprised to see me there. “Sorry, we had to drop off some of the stuff we got at the market, where you waiting a while?”

I shake my head and stand up, brushing my dress off.

They wear similar outfits, as they always do, but instead of a matching blue hue, Wey wears plain brown trousers, similar to the ones Iren was wearing today.

Looking around cautiously, Masy says: “’Thought your huffy mom said we couldn’t hang out anymore?”

I nod, motioning to keep quiet, and Masy smirks.

“So the perfect child finally does something naughty” she murmurs, and I almost laugh. I have done much worse for far longer, but I don’t know if even she would accept my village friends.

We wait a minute more before Iren and Ebony finally appear, and they hurriedly herd us deeper into the woods.

“So has anyone thought of anything?” Iren asks immediately.

“I still think we really should tell the Conclium.” Ebony says immediately.

I nod, but interject.

“We should, but first we need sufficient evidence. I am not certain they would simply accept the word of some children, especially on such matters.” An unbidden thought pops into my head, and as I am about to voice it, Wey responds.

“Okay, well, how do we get that evidence then?”