Witch’s Brew

The magicians’ truck vanished into the cold twilight, leaving Alia alone at the edge of the world. A solemn black tower ascended into the clouds. She wondered what its inhabitant must be like. What would make someone hide away from civilization?

This was her punishment. The daughter of her hamlet’s two most prestigious magicians, she entered magic-school with high expectations, the burden of which she could not bear. She argued with her teachers and brewed forbidden potions. According to the dean, her behavior was more befitting a witch than a proper magician. Thus, he decreed, her punishment must fit her crime: she must steal and destroy the witch’s brew.

The front door would not open, and there were no ajar windows on the ground floor. Pacing through the yellow-gray knee-high grass surrounding the tower, she failed to find a crack in the stone or a hidden staircase. Hiding in a nearby bush, she watched the stars emerge into the darkening sky. The glow of starlight illuminated the cloaks of the witch’s three new apprentices. These were not the apprentices of vulgar folklore, with pointy hats and ancient robes. Their outfits were sleek and dark, hardly visible under cover of night. Alia lured the tallest one away from the others, hypnotizing her before delivering a decisive blow to her head. The apprentice lost consciousness, and Alia wasted no time stealing her robes.

Before following the apprentices inside, Alia cast a destabilizing spell on the tower’s fiftieth floor. One stone tumbled downward, and the others trembled. She smirked before entering the tower to participate in the witch’s séance.

The witch did not know any of the apprentices, and none of the apprentices knew each other, so they did not trouble Alia as they gathered around a gold-lined lavender pillow. Atop the pillow was a winged goblet filled to the brim with a pale blue liquid. It had to be the brew. The dean had told Alia nothing about the brew’s effects, only that it conferred dark power to whoever drank it.

As she stared intently at the goblet, the other apprentices freely conversed. The séance was orderly, but it was not dour. When they weren’t chanting, they laughed and ate and played gothic music. Alia needed to capture the witch’s attention, but she lacked the apprentices’ easy charisma, so when the witch mentioned needing some newt’s legs, Alia responded, “I think they’re on the fiftieth floor.”

The witch found nothing on the fiftieth floor except unstable stones. Before she could cast a spell, the floor collapsed. She hurtled toward the ground, shocked and helpless, only for Alia, strolling along the tower’s perimeter as though suspecting nothing, to cast a spell, slowing her fall. The witch embraced her savior, saying, “I owe you everything.”

“Witches should help each other out,” is what Alia said.

“I didn’t want the other apprentices to think I’m a murderer,” is what she meant. A situation like this required more finesse.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, miss.”

“Call me Niobe,” the witch said. “I’m sure you want something. Name it. I’ll give it to you.”

“All I want is to stay the night.”

“Really?” Niobe’s calm, surprisingly soft brown eyes traced Alia’s face.

“I’ve always wanted to stay here,” she said of the place she had not known existed twenty-four hours earlier.

***

As the crisp silver crescent moon hung in the center of the sky, Alia slithered out of bed and clambered toward the witch’s brew. The two apprentices had left hours before, and the witch slept on the tower’s top floor in a bed shaped like bat wings. Scrambling over wrappers and empty glasses, Alia wrapped her fingers around the goblet. The witch’s brew glowed bright in the thick darkness. It couldn’t be this easy, could it?

Was the witch, this supposed master of darkness and chaos, just going to allow her to destroy the brew? Did she not suspect Alia’s ulterior motives? The parlor’s sole candle abruptly disappeared. A figure lurked in the shadows, but when Alia turned, there was no one. “Is that you, Niobe?” she asked. There was no reply.

Alia tipped the goblet on its side. The thick, chalky liquid dribbled out, pooling on the pillow. What would happen when it was all gone? The magicians would let her graduate from school, but then what? She would still be a lonely outsider. Trembling, she returned the cup to the pillow. There was still a third of the brew remaining. After a moment’s hesitation, she raised the cup to her lips and drank.

Her head swirled, and she leaned against the velvet curtains, waiting to see what powers had so concerned her teachers. Magic swept through her. As her blood thickened and her pupils dilated, she tapped a table with her thumb. It dissolved into atoms. She glided out of the tower, her stone-dark eyes burning with sinister ambition. Her teachers would pay for their cruel words.

Fifty paces from the tower, she slammed into an invisible barrier.

Regardless of what spells she cast, she could not bypass it. There was no trick to outsmart it, no scheme to outmaneuver it. As she searched in vain for a weak spot, she didn’t notice a light click on behind her. Out of it emerged Niobe. “Thanks for setting me free.”

“What do you mean?”

“The last person to drink the brew becomes the witch of the tower. Your power is infinite, but you’re imprisoned here.” Niobe easily stepped through the barrier.

“You tricked me.”

“You tricked yourself. Enjoy your new home.” Niobe waved farewell before vanishing into the night.

Returning to the tower, Alia found the goblet refilled with witch’s brew. It looked as tantalizing as ever. Approaching footsteps echoed through the stone corridor. The tall apprentice, still without her robes, wandered into the tower and asked what had happened. Alia grinned. How hard would it be to convince her to drink the brew?

 

Joshua Fagan is a writer and critic currently residing in Colorado Springs. His work has previously been published in venues including Daily Science Fiction, 365 Tomorrows, and Plum Tree Tavern. He is the founder and editor-in-chief of the literary speculative fiction publication Orion’s Belt. His YouTube channel has received over 1.3 million views.

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