Marvela Mystic | ✔️

Chapter 2 ✨ A Midnight Dreary

That silent crow had returned. Now, it sat waiting on the other side of the window. Its eyes were as cold and lifeless as before.

Marvela was just about to unleash a yowl to awaken her witch when she felt Sable run a hand along the raised fur of her back. Her witch was already aware of their guest.

"It's a bit late for uninvited company, but the window's open," the old witch growled with a tone unfamiliar to Marvela. "Why don't you let yourself in?"

The crow tilted its head at the sound of the witch's voice. With deliberate slowness, the fowl tapped its beak against the glass once more, this time shoving the window open with a creak.

In a flutter, the bird dove inside and settled on a stack of books. Black feathers floated about the room.

Marvela hissed at the unfriendly creature. The bird only stared in silence from its perch. Amusement flashed in its beady eyes at the kitten's bravado.

Sable's breath hitched as she held Marvela closer. "I'd recognize that smug look anywhere. You must be Asra's latest familiar," the witch continued, rising from her chair.

The kitten gasped at Sable's words. Another familiar? In her short time as a familiar herself, she had yet to meet another. She balked at the crow, which appeared to be smiling at the mention of its master's name. It was odd enough that a creature with a beak could smile in the first place, but the nefarious hint to the bird's expression made Marvela even warier.

"But where is that witch of yours?" Sable asked the crow. "It's not like my sister to be so far behind her familiar—"

Marvela's tail fluffed up as the flames in the fireplace erupted back to life. They towered up and over the hearth and detached entirely from the logs that fed them. Sable ducked away from the blaze, tucking a squeaking Marvela out of sight behind the cauldron as she did so.

The black kitten peered around the cauldron. She gaped, wide-eyed, as the flames reshaped themselves into a vaguely human form. Then to the remarkably detailed figure of a woman.

All at once, the fire vanished, leaving the cottage and its occupants in moonlight. The air swelled with potent magic while a new figure surveyed the dark room.

A tall and slender woman with fiery red hair that almost reached the floor perused Sable's eclectic collection of magical goods with pursed rouge lips. Her hungry eyes gleamed like emeralds as she traced the orange spines of books on the shelves with a manicured talon. She wore a long, midnight-black gown that hugged her thin frame and dragged along the floor behind her.

She would have been beautiful—if not for the strange, menacing aura around her.

Something about this woman made the fur on Marvela's spine stand on end. She arched her back and fluffed her tail even more.

Her witch, Sable, on the other hand, forced a smile on her wrinkled face at the intruding woman. "Well, if it isn't my dearest sister, Asra, come to pay me a visit after all these decades."

The slender witch retracted her prying hand from the shelves. An equally false smile stretched across her pale, angular face as she turned to the portly witch—a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Ah, Sable! How lovely to see you again! This old place was as hard to find as ever. Luckily, I had my eye, Branwenn here, locate it for me," she replied in a sickly-sweet voice. Her crow ruffled her inky black feathers with pride when Asra mentioned her by name. "And dare I say, not a single thing has changed since I was last here—"

"Everything is orange now."

Asra's eyes flitted from one side of the room to the other as she stroked her familiar's feathery head. "Are you positive these orange splotches weren't here before?" she mused, her lips still pursed. "They do go well with the rest of this derelict shed."