Isla closed the shop early and hurried her niece into the back room of the apothecary. The cat followed them and curled up in the little parlor window as they sat down at the little kitchenette table near the wood stove. Isla brewed and poured out hot, calming cups of chamomile tea, and the two women prepared themselves for a nice, long chat.

Nattie hesitated at first. She had no idea how Isla would take the shock of the news, or even if her long-lost aunt would even believe her. After all, she hadn’t seen the woman since she was seven years old. Isla had left the clan three years before  Natalia Ellwise had been named Witch Queen. 

But, holding onto that hot cup of tea, finally feeling safe and like she could breathe again, Nattie decided to tell her everything. How everything had been a sham, how her happiness had been draining for a long time, how she’d grown to feel more like a puppet than a person, and eventually about the betrayal of the elders. She told her about the forged prophecy, being snatched from her parents to be used as a weapon against humans, and even about Darius.

“That snake,” Isla hissed. “I never liked those Blackthorns. Did you know they have demon blood mixed into that family? Plus, they’re such snobs. When your mother was still a Greenleaf like me—before she married your father and became an Ellwise—those Blackthorns would always pick on her. I’d gotten into a lot of scrapes putting those brats back into their place.”

Nattie smiled at the mental image of a tiny Isla getting into childhood fights with Darius’ parents or aunts and uncles. Then, her smile fell.

“Their persuasion magic is so strong,” Nattie confessed. “He tried to convince me of so many things… I almost thought I’d fall for his spell. That I wouldn’t get away.”

“But you did,” Isla said, reaching out to hold onto her niece’s hand. “Thank the gods.”

Nattie wasn’t sure anymore about the gods, but she nodded.

“I’m sorry to come here,” Nattie added. “I feel as though I’m putting you in danger, but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. I couldn’t stay there, either. I had to run away—"

“And never send a letter, not even to your worried parents, that you were alive and well?” Isla asked. 

Silence fell between them and Nattie hung her head.

“When your mother wrote to tell me that you’d disappeared, and that the elders were blaming the northern humans for your probable death—"

“They were?” Nattie cried, looking up again.

“—it felt like my world had ended. I was so devastated to think that you were no longer alive in this world.”

Nattie swallowed the sadness and guilt that was now stuck in her throat.

“It was the only way, Aunt Isla,” she insisted. “If I send word back, it could alert the Elders. It could get my parents in trouble. Maybe even killed. I have no idea what lengths the Elders will go to in order to get what they want or to find me.”

Isla sighed. She still had worry lines on her face, but Nattie saw that she understood her reasons for going into hiding.

“After all,” Nattie added, “Darius said that if they found me, they would cage me and siphon off my mana without my consent. He may be a bastard, and a sleazy liar, but I believe him about that.”

Isla nodded gravely. “Yes. Given everything that you’ve said, I believe him, too.”

Nattie stirred her tea, thinking. “I have to admit. The human world is not at all as I expected it to be. Some things are familiar, like the villages and the farms. It’s quieter there. But here?”

Nattie was thinking about the city, which still buzzed outside, even as the sun was starting to set. People were yelling, carriages and horses were passing, and the sound of music came from somewhere in the square a few streets beyond. 

“I have to admit, I never truly understood why you left the clan all those years ago for a human city. Did you suspect that things were going wrong?”

Isla shook her head. “No, it wasn’t that simple. If I’d known that the elders were plotting something so terrible, I would never have left my family behind.”

“Then why did you go?”

Nattie remembered the day that Isla left. How her aunt had looked so bright, so excited. How she’d packed only one bag, put on her sun hat, and bid her family goodbye to go out and see the big world. Nattie had cried for days.

“I left,” Isla continued with a sad smile, “because back then, the borders were thinner and witches could come and go. Things were still dangerous, of course, but the humans who clung to the old ways—of nature and traditional healing—didn’t fear us as much. As a teenager, I met a human girl who became my friend, and she explained to me that the outside world could be a wonderful, vast, uncharted place for me. As I got older, I couldn’t stop thinking about leaving. And when I realized my only place in the clan was to practice illusion magic, marry well, and produce little witches of my own, I knew in my heart that I didn’t want that. I wanted to see more things, to visit other witch clans, to learn all kinds of healing and potion-making, and earn my own way in the world.”

Nattie listened with rapt attention. What a courageous thing for her aunt to do. How brave she must have been to defy her people’s expectations, to leave the safety of the Northern Mountains, and to strike out on her own.

“Was it hard?” she asked. “Leaving home?”

“Of course. But I knew that you and your parents were happy and thriving, safe behind our borders. Or so I thought.”

Isla’s face was shadowed with sorrow again. “I should never have left you. I should have been there…”

Nattie reached out and embraced her aunt. Yes, the last several years of her life had been a total lie, but she hadn’t been completely unhappy. There were still memories of stolen moments of peace in the gardens, moonlit walks through the Solarium corridors, laughter shared with the few temple acolytes she had befriended. She especially loved the warmth of a magical tome in her hands, the thrill of casting a new spell, and the rare but cherished smiles from the Elders who had raised her.

Though now, I wonder how many of those happy memories were also a lie?