Page 13 of Their Witch Bride

It begins. A new song, different from years past, but a song meant to play upon our emotions. Without a single word spoken, I feel excitement and new beginnings. The crystals light up and darken along with the echoing sounds from the crystals that vibrate through my chest into my heart, so powerful that I almost have the urge to turn around and run, just to stop the feeling. It’s that strong.

It’s remarkable, and it’s only a tiny show of what she’s capable of. It’s always been my favorite part of the ceremony because I always feel a little different after the vibrating of the crystals. Like I’m part of something bigger than myself instead of so alone.

If it wasn’t my time to be in the ceremony, I’d be excited. Witches never really show off their powers, but tonight is the exception. It’s like when entertainers come to the town, only better.

After Avyn finishes, my mother calls up Naya, the most powerful Green Witch, to delight us with her show of magic. I look around me and see Lilac’s face light up as she watches Naya curl her fingers delicately. With each movement of her fingers, vines grow from the corners of the room and weave themselves around the crystals, creating a natural tapestry on the walls.

I clap in awe. I clap alone. The rest of the witches continue to watch, mouths open and smiles on their faces. My mother shoots me a look for making noise. I place my hands in my lap and turn my attention back to the show.

When the walls are complete, hundreds of flowers bloom simultaneously, and flower petals rain down on us. I squeal and quickly cover my mouth with my hands, but everyone else roars with surprise and applause. Naya beams with pride at the reception of her new show.

“Now, as a Warrior Witch, it’s my turn,” my mother says, a sly smile on her face. Anticipation buzzes in the air as we await her display. She’s never done this before. Warriors don’t have magic to put on a show. I sit at the edge of my seat, curiosity urging me to look on.

With minute flicks of her wrist and the whisper of the word “destruction,” the clay pots located on stands around the ballroom explode one by one. The explosions are small and contained; no shards fly out towards anyone in the crowd. The remnants of each pot lay almost decoratively around the stands they once occupied.

I release a breath, amazed at her magic and the control she has over it. I understand why I’m such a disappointment to her. Look at what she can do. I can’t even put out a fire.

The crowd roars, but my mother isn’t done yet. This is a rare treat! One by one, the candlesticks arranged on each table in the ballroom melt into puddles of wax, again looking like decoration. She can make destruction beautiful.

She stands on the stage, taking in the applause and cheers, reveling in it. Her face, regal and strong, shows that she knows how valuable she is to the coven. She knows how to wield her power and how to lead our coven.

I can’t help but to smile as I clap for her, proud to call her my mother.

She raises her hands to quiet the crowd. “It’s time to carry on with the ceremony. I will now announce what positions each of these newly of age witches will have.”

Twenty. A powerful age. The age where your childhood is gone.

She calls someone’s name, but my ears seem to stop working. No, they still work. My heart’s pounding so loudly that I can’t hear anything. I can see her lips moving. I see each girl hopping up, excited and joyful, and accepting the positions bestowed upon them, but I can’t make out my mother’s words, because my turn will be soon.

Is she going alphabetical? Is she bunching the girls by position? I wish I could focus long enough to figure it out, but this is it. The moment is here, and I can’t do anything but sit in this chair and breathe.

“Edna Trevils.”

My mother calling her name breaks through the fog and pounding in my head. I shake my head and sit up straighter to hear. Edna is beloved by the coven. She’s the most powerful witch of our age group. She has to be given exactly what she wants.

My mother hugs her, and an unexpected pain stabs through my heart that I don’t understand. Then she pulls back and smiles. “Edna, watching you grow into the woman that you are and into the magic you possess has been an honor and a privilege. You have always maintained a strength that never breaks, even as a child. I remember your determination and drive to learn more and to be better at your magic–a magic that is immense and has only grown stronger as you’ve aged. Truly, you’re the daughter I wish I had. The daughter any parent would want.” Another pain, followed by an empty feeling. “I have faith in your skills. So much faith that it is my honor to give you the role of Crystal Witch. I know your power will do great things for us. You will always make us proud.”

Edna beams. An actual aura radiates around her. My mother grasps her hands, holding them tightly as if she’s imbuing Edna with some of her own magic. It’s incredible, and yet, something in my heart fractures at the sight of the two of them. That should be how my mother views me. But I bandage that fracture up and put my smile back on my face.

“Clio Delacroix,” my mother calls out.

Clio hops up, smiling brightly.

“You have been an excellent witch. You have been helpful to many of your peers. Your parents have called you a delight, and your magic is… adequate. Your instructors have never complained about you. You seem to be a hearty worker, capable of pleasing many people. You will be given the role of a Kitchen Witch,” my mother announces, giving her a quick hug.

Kitchen Witches are powerful in their own right. They’re capable of helping heal through food, and even capable of making people feel certain ways when they eat. We rely on them greatly, even if they aren’t well respected.

Except, this isn’t what Clio wanted.

Clio’s shoulders slump, and her smile falters but doesn’t quite turn into a frown. I want to reach a hand out to her or give her a hug, but I know I’m not supposed to. She sits back down, her head hanging low, and I think about whether other witches have been unhappy with their roles in the past. No one ever said they were, but maybe that’s just another thing we never talk about.

“Lilac Void.”

She stands, looking even more nervous after Clio’s role was given. She hurries across the stage, her purple dress sweeping behind her, and my mother takes her hands gently.

“Lilac, you understand beauty and strength. You don’t mind getting your hands dirty or working hard. In your classes, not all of your powers were celebrated, but you excelled when it came to one subject in particular. Look around at all of these vines and blooms. I expect to see you up here performing for our ceremony as the head Green Witch one day.”

They hug, and Lilac curtseys and sits back down, holding her head up high and smiling brightly. A vine grows from her sleeve and wraps around her wrist like a bracelet.

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