Witch Saintess

Chapter 4: Wind Spirit

My hand loops and twists in a braiding pattern, occasional straight lines, I'm not fully aware though. I let my mind wander. I needed a small spirit, a creature of the air, floating and light, careful of lifting at least something.

I wrote something else, and my mind opened slightly more. I always struggle with this. I imagine creatures all around me, and I feel the prickle up and down my neck, as I concentrate harder, and suddenly I see, crystal clear, threads in the air.

I see one, like a piece of shredded blossom, grasping at the air, floating. I reach out to grab it's thread, to bind it to me, and I miss. I take another breath, and focus on the creature moving slowly away from me. It's already fading.

I grab it's thread, grasping it tight in my hand. It squirms, and pulses towards me, as I tie it tight to my scribbles, each part of the paper holding part of it's life. I focus hard on it, yanking it closer, careful not to snap it's thread.

I fold the paper carefully into an intricate shape, and the creature waits in front of me, twitching and wriggling like a worm on a hook. I come out of my trance, and squeeze the paper in my fist.

I feel the tiny life-force connected to it scream. Good. It knows it has to listen. I check the edge of the paper, and a faint green glow has started on the edge.

What I just did was spirit-capturing, binding the lifespan of one of the many, tiny, invisible creatures of the world to me, to the piece of paper in my hand. I can dispatch it, and have it do my bidding, including using it's small powers.

The glow means how long it has to live. For some reason, whenever I bind spirits, they die eventually, the weaker they are, the faster it happens. I bet this one won't even last the full way through the ceremony.

I like having one on hand, it makes self protection easier, and an air spirit can look mysterious, and I can blame it on the wind, or some girl I can blame as a witch. That makes it easy. I don't always need to use them, but either way it doesn't matter.

I think I could be the only witch who could do this, because I have never seen any of the parenthetic girls the inquisition has been dragging in recently do anything similar. I'd like to learn more, but it seems a twin ability is rare.

I'm better at being in contact with my Earth side anyway, so I'm better at potions that this, but both are useful. I sigh, and leave my room, tucking the paper inside a hidden part of the crucifix I always have around my neck. It's useful for hiding things like this.

I meet Silvera in the corridor, and I ignore her. We're only that... Familiar... After dusk. She's still my rival after all, and if anyone ever found out, we'd be dead. I could probably save myself, but there's no way to tell whether or not I'd ever be saintess again. She would most certainly not be as lucky, so she'll never tell.

We make our way to the main hall of the church, and we take our places either side of the altar. Inquisitor Leon stands just in front of it. I stand through it, looking as graceful as I can, because that's my job.

I wait, until it's my turn then I start to read what I have written for this occasion.

"Inquisitor, I, Candidate Liora and Candidate Silvera welcome you back. You have spent your time away ridding Europe of witches, and have gained acclaim across many territories. We hope this experience will be enough for you to win the position of head witch-hunter, which will be held in a week." I finish talking, and return to my spot.

I stand there for the rest of the long periods of talking, looking at Leon, as he kneels there for far longer than neccecary, but hey, it's a good view of his overly-serious face. His gorgeous, overly-serious face.

It was over sooner than I expected, and I lurked around the food table, waiting for Inquisitor Leon, ignoring Silvera's attempts to get my attention. He finally walked over, and I smiled welcomingly, as he looked around politely.

"Hello Leon, I mean, Inquisitor." Silvera said from my side.

"Uh, Leon is fine." He smiled at her, and she checked back with me nervously.

"Uh, L-Leon, this is Liora." She said.

"I know. We've met." He said, acknowledging me, then turning back to Silvera.

"So, Leon, are you going to participate in the head witch-hunter competition." I asked, hiding my irritation.

"Yes, my lady." He said blankly.

"What did you think of the food?" Silvera asked, fidgeting with her hands.

"It's better than I'm used to. I've had to deal with some appealing local's before. They barely use any flavor, but now I'm back, and it tastes so much better than anywhere else. There are other things I've missed too." He smiled faintly.

"T-the heat?" Silvera muttered.

"Ha. Yes, everywhere else lives straight through the day, in freezing conditions but I've been looking forward to the siestas again." He says, as I smile helplessly.

I reach a hand up to my neckline, and grip the crucifix around my neck tightly, thinking of the paper inside. I mentally loop the creature's lifeline around my fingers, and squease, tight. The creature yelps, only I can hear.

I direct a pulse of its life at Silvera, aiming to push her over. A wind stirred from nowhere, a light tinkling in my ears like singing. It fluttered through her skirts, and I urged it on. Stronger. She staggers, and Leon watches as she dropped what she has been eating, and stumbled back.

I smiled internally as she fell backward, crashing into the table. I rushed forward, the concerned saintess act still up. I got there before Leon could, angling my body away from him to stop him from being able to help her.

"Silvera!" I pulled her up, creating slightly more of a scene than necessary. "I think I saw the Inquisitor push you over! Are you hurt?" I asked her, pulling her up.

"Liora. Yes, I'm not hurt, sorry, no." She rubbed her head.

"Did you hit your head?" I asked her, holding her hands tight.

"Uh. I must have." She said quietly.

"I'll take you to the sick room, you can't have your siesta like this." I reassured her, leading her out of the room, perfectly aware of the pairs of sympathetic eyes on my back, and the hostile gazes at Leon.