"It's Witches!"

It’s witches!” Benny called out, standing and pointing toward the warehouse in the distance. “It’s magic!” He looked back toward us frightfully.

We’d stumbled upon an olive-colored warehouse in the middle of the woods while hunting for game. The day was getting late, chill already settling down on the slopes underneath the red-and-orange-capped canopy that was the fall forest. Benny, Jack, and Shorthair were all begging me to head back to camp when we heard what sounded like the useless tool Oldie Ted use to strum during long walks and tireless nights; before the sick got him two seasons back. I almost kept the damned thing, but it still grieved its master’s end, and one of its two remaining strings lashed me as I tried to play. Jack smashed it to bits—partly to avenge me and partly to seek revenge against his torturer; he was never a fan.

“Witches do not exist,” Jack hissed through clenched teeth, dragging Benny down by the backpack. “But Birders, Broken Badgers, and Slowhand’s men do…so keep down, Fresh-flesh.”

Benny swallowed, his eyes darting from face to face before resting on mine. He had the look of someone slapped, looking to me for defense. I felt he ought to be —and was shocked Jack was so lenient.

“We’re in the woods, Benny, not in the Upper Sanctuary,” I scolded. “We may be out of the city and off the road, but others travel these woods as well.”

He nodded, his eyes glassy. As always, I forgot the prestige built around my person—that damned Bard. A pang of guilt ran through me. Jack was right; a slap would’ve been too much. Instead, I stepped closer, crouching by Benny’s side. “When I was your age, Oldie Ted use to spill a whole bunch of junk into my ears. Saying when his grandpa was young, he used to sit in front of an apple and talk to others far away, all over, at the same time.”

“All over?” Benny asked, his face scrunched in disbelief.

“All over.” I nodded.

“Even near the big Lake?”

“Past it—past even the forever water.” I spread my hand out and swept it through the air.

“No? How? With the metal birds we saw up in the mountain?”

I shook my head. “He was just telling a tale, Benny. That’s the point. It’s not real.”

Benny pouted. “How do you know?”

“Because magic isn’t real.”

“What’s the invisible stuff that kills you if you stand too close to it, then?”

“That’s Jack’s farts,” Shorthair chimed in, her comedic timing on point as ever.

Jack leaned over and let one rip, much to Shorthair’s dismay, though I saw the twinkle of a flirtatious smile. A pang of jealousy ran through me— I shook it away. I was named Victoria for a reason; I was meant for grander things. Jack couldn’t offer anything other than his wide white-tooth grin and deep laugh that shook the hay from the mushroom gardens—and my heart. I breathed. It’s the price. One day I know, I’ll finally be able to live up to my name—though birthing some arrogant stranger’s kid seemed like overpayment.

“What does Momma Karen teach you all in school nowadays, Benny?” I asked, my thoughts returning to the task. “When I was your age, I knew what the Absolution was, what caused it, and how many years since.”

Benny squirmed. “I was never good at history, Mother Victoria.”

“Nor sex ed either, it seems,” Shorthair groaned as she fidgeted with her bow’s string. “She’s not a mother until—”

“Since when did we become Momma Karen,” Jack cut in, his tone somber. Causing my heart to flutter despite itself.

“It’s just Victoria until…well, for a while,” I offered, with feigned apathy.

Jack turned away on his hunches, facing the loud strumming noise we heard. “I say we go investigate.”

“Oh, so we’re all just taking turns saying dumb shit,” Shorthair critiqued. “I’m next: men are more attractive when they don’t use their brains.”

“I’m with Jack,” I offered a moment later.

Shorthair laughed but then, seeing my face, wrinkled her vulpine face in consternation. “Tell me you’re just joking?”

“We were sent to get deer,” I made a show at looking around, “No deer. We need something to bring back.”

“Yeah,” Shorthair agreed. “You. We need to bring you back. Going to investigate loud noises in the woods is precisely how one finds themselves not returning.”

“We can handle it,” I said. “If it gets too tough—”

“Dree? If it gets too tough? There’s three of us and a bag of meat who would go great in a stew.” Benny, who was nodding appreciatively with Shorthair’s words, gave himself a hug at that. “We are in no position to investigate anything. What if it’s Slowhand’s men are down there—or worse, Birders? We don’t have the gear to face that—and certainly not the manpower.”

Shorthair was my oldest friend; her nickname was given by me. When we were young, she had golden waves of hair. She’d tie it in a ponytail when we played. But soon, the Old Fathers, in their infinite wisdom, predicted her to be the next Victoria and forbid her from partaking in childish frivolities. Instead, they made her study the art of leadership and command. It was a week before she found the closest blade to hack her rich locks off. They thought she’d gone mad, even worse, that no man of good stalk would find her worthy of his seed. So, she lost her de-facto place. It took two more years before they reluctantly favored me. Only after I led a group of salvaging kids away from a patrol of Broken Badgers. It wasn’t a big deal, but my father happened to know a traveling story-telling Bard specializing in embellishing his subject’s deeds. Next thing I knew, I was voted Victoria, and Shorthair, whose hair had fully returned—and was easily the longest and most luxurious in the commonwealth—was free. Though neither of us got to keep our names.

“We’re going down there, Beth,” I said, standing over her. She flinched at the sound of her birth name. “Whatever that noise is, it’s too loud for them to hear us coming. So, either they are too confident out here in the deep woods or just idiots. I’m gonna make them pay for it. While teaching, young Ben here the importance of silence and knowing your location.”

Benny looked as if he’d just swallowed his hatchet. Jack flashed his too-handsome grin that making me hate that talented Bard just that much more.

Shorthair snorted and shook her head. My mind fragmented: I wanted her friendship, and I wanted her servitude-- I knew they were mutually exclusive. I swallowed it all and thought, the trappings of power, then cast down the hill. The setting sun at my back, the way we were taught.

Halfway to the compound, the noise changed from a consistent strumming to something that sounded like shots of thunder. Then a man’s voice cut in, soaked in a gravelly, shaking tenor. “All along the watchtower….”

I slunk behind a fallen tree near where the forest ended and opened up into a meadow, pulling Benny down as I did. Jack and Shorthair slid into the nearby bramble, stoking my jealousy hotter. Is it better to love than to lead?

I looked out toward the warehouse. It was pristine; it looked almost new, though I knew it was older than the Absolution; it had to be. There were two entry points: two large sliding doors, big enough to fit the big metal carts of old (I’ve picked through enough to know) at one end, and a small side door: both open, the noise pouring out through them.

Jack must’ve thought it was safe to move because he was by my side when I looked, Shorthair on his other side, leaning on him. “Easy pickings,” He muttered softly into my ear.

I am Victoria. I am Victoria.

“We don’t know what’s in there,” Shorthair protested. “What’s making the noise? It sounds unnatural. Could it be like the outside the manmade valley? Where everything was bigger, louder, deadlier. What if a giant is in there?”

“There’s not….” I started without conviction. Then remembered what I was taught: sell certainty certainly when you feel uncertain. “It’s just the way the place is built—it bounces noise—makes it louder, like a cave.”

“Would this be a good time to tell you I don’t believe in witches anymore?” Benny asked behind me, near praying for me to change my mind.

“Yes,” I said, jumping up over the fallen tree. I looked back to see Jack on my tail, followed by Shorthair and, to my amazement, Benny (looking as worried as I felt). As we got closer, I heard a churning, high-pitch noise that reminded me of several cats purring at once. My heart beating to the rhythm of my feet, I thought of the stories Oldie Ted told me growing up, of my ancestors charging into battle, how, through everything, we share this moment. The man’s singing picked up then-- up and up-- so high he was shrieking, and yet, its beauty brought tears to my eyes—or was it something else? “ALLLL along the watch tow-err-err!” Was this what awaited me in my future?

I signaled for Jack and Benny to head around to the small side entrance. Jack picked it up instantly, hooking Benny around his long arms and pulling him with him in a swift movement. Shorthair and I ran to the big opening as fast as we could. Both of us neck-and-neck, reminding me of the little girls now gone to time. She was racing me, churning my blood to a boil. She is no equal of mine-- She was selfish; she gave up her right to this, as I gave up… Jack. Sacrifice was as fake to her as witches.

We rounded the corner, Shorthair notching her bow. I drew out my twin daggers. We screamed into the blaring noise, our eardrums shaking, hearts pounding—all for nothing.

The warehouse was near empty. Just four black pillars near every corner and podium smack in the middle. We took a breath, watching Jack and Benny glide through the open side door (Jack more than Benny). The noise suddenly cut. Jack looked my way, horror on his face.

“TRAP!” He screamed, but my attention was elsewhere.

A red glimmer caught my eye from the center of the warehouse. I walked closer, transfixed. My feet shaking, my arms quivering. My heart…on the podium. It was a locket. Polished, smoothed red metal, snapped together.

“What is it?” Benny asked.

“My heart.” I offered. Before reading the note on the podium. “Your desire is inside.”

I felt them crowd me, all on edge, waiting. I lifted the locket; it radiated warmth—as it was the real thing. I pushed my thumb into the small divide in the metal and pressed it open. The metal swung apart, dropping something it held. The inside of the locket contained two mirrors; in one, I saw my reflection. I was the same; my new title changed nothing time wouldn’t: aged lines began cutting through my smooth skin. In the other, I saw Jack. Perfect. I smiled. Then looked down and saw what the note that fell out of the locket said: “Your Absolution.”

Suddenly, Jack spit out blood. I looked; Benny and Shorthair were already on the ground throbbing—blood bubbling from them. I made to scream but choked—feeling a warmness suffocate my desire—my blood. My hand was on fire. I dropped to my knees, watching as the locket began tunneling through my bubbling flesh.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw a figure approach—all in black. It was a woman, her teeth white and pure—no lines of age.

“Who…?” I choked.

“Witches,” She answered. “Duh!”