Interlude II

Inventive Spirit

In the small town of Sonder Valley, its citizens went about their usual humdrum. This included ignoring the very loud, very obnoxious screams of young witch Anya, who typically caused some sort of dramatics at least twice a week. While much more capable at thirteen, Anya always managed to lose herself in the middle of a task. This now included assisting her teacher in making potions for customers with varying ailments.

On this particular afternoon, Anya mixed an arrangement of herbs and liquids in a cauldron that overlooked the small cottage rear window. As Anya peered out at the magnificent valley, she dreamed of following that winding road through the mountains and escaping this dreary town. More specifically, she wished that she and her twin would venture out together, enjoying the opportunities available to them in the kingdom of Cisluna. Ophelia, on the other hand, did not find Sonder Valley as monotonous. Rather, she found it to be quite dulcet. The quiet suited her, but she also had something to look forward to. And while Anya could guess just what that something is, she constantly pestered her sister to consider other options.

While Anya thought of how she could convince Ophelia to leave, she didn’t keep her eye on the heat in the cauldron. Suddenly, the room started filling with smoke, blocking Anya’s view.

“Oh no!” the young witch coughed, waving her hand through the air. “Rebecca’s going to kill me.” she muttered, snapping her fingers to shut off the flame.

Unexpectedly, the window flew open, and a breeze guided the smoke through it. “You know,” Ophelia chided, “Rebecca’s going to kill you.”

Anya glanced over at her twin. She still hated when Ophelia gave her that disapproving expression. It always managed to leave her with a chill. Like the thoughts she shoved deep down were making their way out through her sister.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Anya was a terrible witch. In fact, she was considered in a league of her own when it came to incantations. It’s just that her sister was exceedingly better. And though Ophelia has moved away from potions, and matters regarding the apothecary, she still knew the gist of it all.

“Sooooo… does that mean you’ll help me gather ingredients again, so she doesn’t murder your favorite twin??” Anya grinned, pleadingly.

“Mhmm… no.” Ophelia swiftly turned on her heels, causing an aghast Anya to follow her into the next room.

“Wait, really??” the girl clenched her jaw, annoyed.

She watched as her sister returned to her workstation. Ophelia’s table was rather plain in design. It was long and wooden and butted up against the wall—not a view in sight. Along it lay piles of books, quills, ink, her journal, and paintbrushes. At its center, laid atop a cloth napkin, was what appeared to be a clump of dirt.

“Really.” Ophelia replied, wasting no time as she returned to her previous task. Ophelia picked up one of the brushes and delicately placed the bristles against the earth, painstakingly revealing some sort of dark stone beneath it.

Anya could feel Ophelia’s enthusiasm as she took a closer look. This change in demeanor excited Anya. She couldn’t help but note how despondent her sister has been as of late. Ophelia would perk up briefly, from time to time, but then, just as quickly return to her morose moods. And Anya figured out quickly that the timings of these moods were closely related to—

“They’re back!” a boy announced from the streets. “The knights are back!”

Ophelia pushed back in her stool at the exclamation, accidentally knocking it over. She glanced towards the door, clutching the paintbrush to her chest. Just as the young witch thought to take a step, she hesitated.

Anya’s brows pulled together tightly, instantly irritated. Before she thought better of it, Anya snatched the tool from Ophelia’s hand and shoved her towards the exit. “Oh, just go see the big oaf already.”

“I don’t know…” her sister said bashfully. “What if he’s tired from his journey?”

“Who cares?” Anya rolled her eyes, crowding her sister until she corralled her to the entrance. “He’s not going to mind.”

Just as soon as Ophelia was shoved out the door, she slammed into something hard. The witch could scarcely keep her balance, but Emery’s hands caught her by the forearm and pulled her into an embrace.

Emery was much taller than the witches now. Approaching six feet, he was lanky, but muscular from training with his troupe, and now, at sixteen, he was considered a junior knight. No longer just an apprentice, he went with them on their rounds, conducting surveys, fending off fiends, and protecting the people. At first it was only for a day or two, but the more experience he got, the more his captain relied on the young man. Now, he would be gone for weeks at a time, and always, the first thing he did upon his return was rush over to a certain witchy cabin.

“Ophelia!” her name reverberated in her ear which now laid against his chest. “I’m back.” He proclaimed, somewhat out of breath.

Still, he laughed. Ophelia found it so infectious that she began to smile herself. Her face warmed as she wrapped her arms around him and gazed up at Emery. He was still the only person to be able to tell the twins apart.

“Emery, welcome back.”

Anya pouted bitterly as she watched the exchange. Here we go again. She thought, recognizing the telltale signs of exclusion. Whenever Emery was in town, Ophelia and he were inseparable. After the seekers attacked the twins, they became quick friends with the knight-in-training, but he and Ophelia particularly hit it off. They were constantly chatting, going for walks, or munching on some sort of treat. They always tried to include Anya, and while she often joined in, Anya couldn’t help feeling strange around them. Nothing they did was particularly troubling, and yet, she felt like she was intruding. The whole thing made her feel distant from Ophelia. As if Emery was taking her sister away somehow. Which only motivated Anya to get out of Sonder Valley with fervor.

“Hey there, Anya!” Emery entered their home, hugging her as well before staring towards Ophelia’s workspace. Noticing the stool, he picked it up, and asked, “You guys in a hurry or something?”

“Heh!” Anya smirked, glancing at Ophelia who instantly stiffened awkwardly. “Well, one of us was. Ooooww-uh!” Anya glared at her sister who kicked her in the shin before she walked over to their guest.

“How was your trip, Emery? You guys were gone for quite a while this time.” Ophelia remarked.

His viridescent eyes lit up with excitement at the question, and in no time at all, Emery began to regale the girls with tales from outside the valley. He spoke of the salty seaside port where they defended the sailors from pirates, and the glittering capital where he helped guard the royals in transit. He talked about the food, the people, and the thrill of helping those in need, and then, finally, he took out his sheath, which was always strapped along his belt these days.

When Emery turned thirteen, he was finally allowed a real sword. He took care of it the best he could, but ultimately, his strength was greater than most, and he still often split his weapon in two.

Emery unsheathed the broadsword to reveal the damage. He held out the hilt of the weapon where only some of the blade remained. The rest was still in its scabbard. “On the way back, we encountered a hoard of robbers.” Emery revealed. “They had some mighty weapons. They were made of the toughest steel I’ve ever seen. Of course, we defeated them, but in the process my sword broke.” He sighed. “The captain refuses to help me get another one. He said I need to find a way to repair it, but I don’t think it’ll feel the same afterward.”

Ophelia frowned, upset about her friend’s plight. “I’m sure the blacksmith can make it good as new though.”

“Yeah, for a nice sum of lunas, that is.” Anya added.

Emery groaned. “I have the same feeling, truthfully. It’ll probably take up most of my savings, but if I don’t get it fixed, the captain won’t take me on any more quests.” Then, quite offhandedly, he said, “It’s too bad there’s not some way to make my sword impervious.”

“Impervious?” the twins asked in unison.

“Yeah, you know. Kind of like… invincible. Unbreakable. Resistant to damage?”

The girls looked at each other, contemplating this request.

“Perhaps…” Ophelia started.

“…with a spell it could be possible.” Anya’s light brown eyes sparked with intrigue.

Spells were Anya’s cup of tea. She could work out any sort of incantation given space to think and time. The thought of a spell to make something impervious gave her little heart an exorbitant amount of delight.

Anya grinned, nodding her head at Ophelia, who asked, “Emery, how long are you in town for this time?”

The young man was very confused by the bright-eyed witches, but he knew better than to stop the twins when they had the air of inventive spirit about them. “The troupe will be in town a while yet to train and catch our bearings. Unless there’s an emergency, that is. Why?”

Ophelia and Anya beamed at one another before Anya ran off to find her journal.