Page 22 of Curses and Cauldrons

“Go on. Tell me what you know.”

Ava licks her lips and recites the story that we’ve been told since we were children. About the young witch who stole the heirloom and threw it into the river. Which in turn led to the covens cursing each other.

Fitz snorts and looks up at us, her fingers still working on her creation. “Are they still peddling that bullshit?”

I lean forward. “If that’s not true, then what really happened?”

“I know I’m old, girl, but I’m not that old. It’s not like I was around when the Briar Witch was thrown in the river and the covens were cursed.”

“But you’ve heard a different story?” Ava prompts, looking less nervous as her interest gets the better of her.

“Perhaps. I’ve been around a while. I’ve heard lots of stories.”

“Any that you want to share with us?” I prompt.

“Use your brains,” Fitz says, like we’re idiots. “What was the name of the witch? What was this magical heirloom she supposedly stole?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. They only ever call her the Briar Witch.”

Fitz looks unimpressed. The bottom of her slipper scuffs against the ground. “Did you know that there weren’t always two covens in town? That Tenebris and Lumen used to be one big happy family.”

“What?” Ava blurts out, just as I say, “Really? But I thought the two covens cursed each other.”

The ancient woman hums again. Her gaze floats down to her sticks, which look a lot like a little doll. She’s wrapping twine around the bundle, which very clearly has arms, legs, and a head now. “The Lumen coven worships the Maiden, do they not?”

Ava and I nod. Growing up, we were taught that magic has several manifestations: the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. Our coven worships the purity of the Maiden, the innocence of light magic. It’s what allows me to use my healing power and Ava her empathic abilities. They’re all gifts of the Maiden. The Tenebris coven worships the Mother, which is why their magic is dark. The Mother desires obedience and punishes when her needs aren’t met.

The Crone is a symbol of what happens when magic is abused. The loss of vitality because of a misuse of power. No one worships the Crone. She’s like the devil in Christianity. Awarning about what happens when we’re too proud or abuse our magic.

“Many covens outside Mystic Hollows don't believe the Maiden to be better than the Mother, or that the Crone is evil. They understand them to be manifestations of power at different points in our life, or even different aspects of ourselves.”

I try to wrap my head around that statement, but I don’t know how to reconcile it with what I know. The Lumen coven uses light magic, led by the Maiden. All the witches in our coven have light magic. The Tenebris coven has dark magic and is led by the Mother. If the Maiden, Mother, and Crone are simply the representation of magic at different points in our lives, or various pieces of our identity, then why do we only worship the Maiden or the Mother?

“It’s said that when the founders first settled in Mystic Hollows, there was only one coven. It’s thought that disagreements on how to handle the curses created a rift. The two sides split and formed the covens as we know them today. They moved away from worshiping the Maiden, Mother, and Crone. What a shame.”

“Why is it a shame?” Ava flinches as she speaks like she’s expecting a caustic reply, but Fitz chuckles.

“Because your magic is incomplete. There are gifts to be given by all three of the triad. I mean, when was the last time you heard of a fated bond happening between two witches?” Fitz points a crooked finger at me. Fated bonds? Really? “What are you missing out on because you’re only focusing on one facet of your magic?”

I sink back and lower my eyes. Why does it feel like I’ve personally done something wrong? I shake off the sensation. While that’s fascinating and blowing my mind a little, something else Fitz said sparks a question. “But in the story of the BriarWitch, it’s said that the covens are fighting.” I pause. “Doesn’t it?”

“No.” Fitz barks out. “The story, which is just that, mind you, says that the powerfulfamiliesof Mystic Hollows were fighting.”

“Wait, what do you mean there were disagreements on how to handle the curses?” Ava swats at a vine that keeps creeping over her knee.

Fitz smiles at the two of us. “Caught that, did you? Ironically, despite the way the covens split, one worshiping the Maiden, the other the Mother, both covens have maintained the very same method of dealing with the curses that their parents used and their parents before them. I’d even say they’re not all the different from one another.”

Fitz pulls out a small stuffed cloth tomato full of pins. She slowly extracts a long needle with a red pearl on the end. With a giggle, she jabs it into her doll of sticks and straw. I stiffen, and Ava turns to gape at me.

Fitz just made a voodoo doll. Who the hell is the victim?

“I don’t understand...” I hesitate.

“Don’t worry, she deserves it.” Fitz waves around the doll.

I clear my throat. “I mean, about the handling of the curses? Are you saying there’s a cure?”

“Do you ever spend time looking through the old grimoires at the coven house? There are some really enlightening entries in some of the older books. You young people always forget your history. There’s much to be learned from the past. Fitz stands abruptly, much more spry than I’d expect from someone her age. She drops the doll on her seat and makes a shooing gesture.

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