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."
The slender witch's green gaze settled on Marvela, who peered out from behind the cauldron. Marvela shivered, paralyzed. Something in those narrowed, green orbs left her feeling like she was facing off against a snake she had stumbled across in the grass.
Asra tapped a fingernail to her chin in thought, a coy smile spreading across her unblemished face. "And is that your little familiar I spy hiding behind Mother's old cauldron?"
Marvela hissed at the green-eyed witch.
"Simply adorable," Asra said, chuckling. "Though I've never been much of a cat person myself—"
"Why are you here, Asra?" Sable interjected, folding her arms in front of her.
Asra held a hand up to her mouth with a tiny gasp. She seemed to be trying to appear hurt at her sister's words, but the way her eyes still gleamed said otherwise. "What do you mean?" Asra asked. "Can't I simply pay my younger sister a visit after all these long years?"
"You know, I've sent letters to you, Asra," Sable said. "Letters that you've never responded to. I've tried to make peace with you for decades. Ever since the last time we saw each other..."
That light in Asra's eyes dimmed at Sable's words. "Yes..." she uttered, falling into the chair by the fireplace as if all her strength had been sucked from her. Her crow croaked and flapped over to her lap. The green-eyed witch ran her fingers through those inky-black feathers, lost in thought. "The last time we saw each other..."
Asra blinked.
And the light returned to her eyes once more. She straightened up in her plush throne. Fire was in her eyes and venom in her voice as she spoke. "The last time we saw each other was through a wall of flames while I was tied to a stake in that little town of Vigilance. Right before I called to the spirit, Slight, to save me many centuries ago." She snarled at her sister, who recoiled at her tone. "Because you didn't."
"You know I tried, sister," Sable said, her voice cracking and her posture falling. "But I have always told you, Asra, that a spirit's favor always comes at a cost. The spirits are not to be trifled with—"
"If you're weak, maybe," Asra snapped, making Marvela and Branwenn flinch. Asra smoothed down her crow's ruffled feathers apologetically. "But, oh, there are benefits," she purred. Her eyes flicked up to meet Sable's. "The years clearly haven't been kind to you, my younger sister."
The kitten watched the two humans stare at each other. Centuries of unspoken history passed between them in the form of Sable's icy glare and Asra's fiery sneer.
But eventually, Sable dropped her gaze to the floor.
Marvela's tiny stomach sank with a flutter.
"No matter," Sable's sister hummed, rising to her feet. She stared out the window at the blind eye of the moon. "You asked me why I'm here, didn't you? I'm here because I have a debt to pay. Since we've parted ways many, many years ago, eight times I have been burned by the ones who lack magic, and eight times I have asked Slight to bring me back."
Asra turned back to her sister. The moonlight was a stark white halo behind her. "As you said, a spirit's favor always comes at a cost. Slight is coming to collect, Sable," she hissed. "In three nights to be precise. On the night of the full moon, he shall rise from the Spirit Realm. And he shall take me back to forever serve him."
Sable's seething expression cooled ever so slightly. Some unspoken emotion—regret? remorse?—made her eyes glassy. "I'm so sorry, Asra. If only you had led a different path—"
"Oh, I won't be going with him at all, dear sister," the green-eyed witch explained, chuckling. Her eyes glowed like a cat's in the dark. Her crow was smiling again. "I have a plan."
Asra snapped her fingers, and a breath of wind swept through the cottage, illuminating every candle. She stood and observed Sable's book collection tiredly. "Have you noticed that magic has been vanishing from the world?" she breathed. "Fewer women are born with the affinity for the arcane arts every year. This world used to fear and respect magic. But now they only care for... technology."
Her last word positively dripped with disgust.
Sable shifted her position so that she stood between Asra and the cauldron Marvela hid behind.
Despite the flickering candles, the temperature in the room dropped. A chill ran down Marvela's spine.
"The world is changing," Sable said. "And we must adapt to it. That is how all things survive. Even us witches."
Asra snarled at that, baring her teeth like she was a feral animal. The flames of each candle sparked as she charged up to her sister. "Why should I change when I have the power to make everyone else change?" she spat. "I don't want to hide myself like other witches just to survive, Sable. I never did. I want to thrive. I want to be respected. I want to be feared."
Her snarl vanished. "I want people to bow before me," she whispered. "To pay for what they did."
Marvela shrank back as the other witch's hands bunched up into tight fists. Magic swelled in the air. Papers rustled in a nonexistent breeze. Glass jars rattled and fell from their perches, shattering onto the floor.
The fireplace vomited flames—flames that reached up to the ceiling.
Flames that starved for destruction.
Sable gasped at the sight of her sister, backlit by her monstrous inferno. "That power!" the old witch exclaimed. "Where did you acquire that?"
Asra simply smiled. "For the past year, I've been preparing for Slight's rise." She took a step toward her sister. "I've destroyed other witches. And I've claimed their magic for my own."
"What! Why?"
That awful grin across Asra's pale face widened. "So, I could be powerful enough to take you down next, Sable."
Her crow laughed from her shoulder.
Magic pulsed in the air.
Marvela wanted to hide.
Her witch stood squarely in front of their unwelcome guest. Her glaring eyes no longer twinkled. Now they were aflame with unbridled fury.
It was a fury the likes of which Marvela had never seen.
"Asra," Sable said. There was no hint of pleading in the way she spoke. Her voice was firm. Demanding. "I can't let you do this. You are messing with the spirits, and that's a dangerous pastime. You will only get hurt if you—"
"Oh, my dear sweet sister, Sable," Asra chided, sweeping her elegant red tresses over her shoulder. "Always looking out for me. Always trying to keep me out of trouble, despite both of us knowing your efforts were always in vain."
Her grin faded, replaced by a sneer. "That's why I have to end you. I know you won't let me carry out my plan. That quaint town outside the forest... Vigilance. It's harboring new witches; young, untrained, and teeming with potential. All for me to take. Just as there was a First Witch, eventually so shall there be a last."
The flames behind the seething witch glowed green like her eyes. "After I take all that power, I will have enough to stand up to Slight. To make him my familiar."
Again, she took another step toward Marvela's witch.
Marvela watched her witch take a trembling step backward.
"My servant," the green-eyed witch concluded. "But first, I need to make sure you stay out of my way." She raised a hand toward the old witch. "You can burn like I did."
Sparks ignited in the air, scorching the books lining shelves, blackening papers that were strewn about, and searing Marvela's fur.
The kitten leaped from her hiding spot, ready to defend her beloved witch who now summoned her own mystical powers.
A low hum filled the cottage. Fire rose from every surface. Glass jars exploded from the heat.
Marvela threw herself across the flames, desperate to reach her witch's side.
A feathered cannonball collided with her.
Branwenn knocked her to the floor, cackling.
With sharp talons pinning the struggling kitten down, Branwenn taunted her with an awful, croaky rasp, "Does the kitten really think she can stand up to Asra? The sorceress the entire world will soon fear?"
Beneath the jeering crow, Marvela gritted her fangs and clapped her paws together. A surge of shimmering orange light left her body. A wave of energy swept the crow aside and tossed her against a burning bookshelf.
Shaking her head to gather her senses, the crow flapped her wings and rose into the air above Marvela. "Is that all you can do? I guess weak witches create weak familiars."
A glowing green mist enveloped the crow. Every broken shard of glass rose from the ground amongst the smoke and flames, all emanating the same green light.
Marvela saw her own wide-eyed expression reflected in each of the shards as they cut through the smoke towards her. With a squeak, she released another orange wave at the glass.
She redirected the shards straight toward the flapping crow.
With a startled squawk, the bird beat her wings faster, propelling herself backward out of range of the careening shrapnel.
And into the old cauldron on the countertop.
The cauldron toppled over the edge, landing upside-down on the floor, trapping the bird inside. Glass rained down amongst the flames away from Marvela.
The kitten smirked, panting, at the upturned cauldron and the muffled caws inside it. She might only have one trick up her metaphorical sleeves, but it sure was a show-stopper.
Her fowl foe now out of the way, the kitten squinted into the smoke, searching for the dueling witches.
Asra's grin was the first thing she saw. The witch stood amongst a halo of floating motionless sparks.
Sable kneeling on the floor in front of the slender witch was the second.
Marvela gasped and prepared to bound across the burning room to assist her. A wall of fire suddenly erupted in her path, halting her in her tracks. She caught Sable's eyes through the flames, seeing that familiar twinkle in them.
"Magic never leaves, Asra," Sable said, never tearing her eyes away from her familiar. "It just takes a new form."
Asra scowled. "I'll make good use of yours." Her outstretched hand clenched into a fist. All at once, the suspended sparks drew together in the center of the room. There was a flash of white—a deafening thunder.
Marvela clamped her eyes shut. A strange, sudden power stirred in her chest. It struggled to escape like a caged bird. The kitten curled up in a ball, her paws covering her face as the heat, the light, the noise, and the power within her all swelled.
Then there was nothing.
The kitten blinked at the fading embers that drifted to the ground like glowing snow.
Asra lowered her arm. She raised a corner of her lips in a half-smile at the empty space in the room in front of her.
Marvela's witch was gone.
The kitten's tiny heart stopped. The falling embers faded. Bits of the roof collapsed around her. The flames around her grew.
As did her wrath.
The kitten shot a glare at the green-eyed witch whose smile never faltered as she turned to the window, her familiar now freed and perched upon her shoulder.
"It's time we head out then, Branwenn," Asra purred to the bird on her arm. "Time to again vanish into the night with flames in our wake."
She strolled toward the window, unbothered by the fire as if it were an old friend of hers. Then she paused, lips once again pursed. She pried a book from a smoldering shelf and blew the soot off the cover. "Ah, Mother's old spellbook." She chuckled. "Might as well take a souvenir, I suppose."
Black quills sprouted from every pore of her skin. The quills rippled, lengthening and flattening into iridescent feathers. Her body shrank. Her eyes darkened.
And then there were two flapping crows, one of which had the old spellbook in her claws.
It was the very same book Sable and Marvela had pored over just a few short hours earlier.
The crows escaped out the window.
Marvela took off after them just as the cottage crumbled around her. With the place she called home, the place where her heart had been filled with so much joy, now reduced to burning rubble, the panting kitten followed the crows as they rose into the sky that swirled with smoke above the treetops.
Marvela wouldn't let them escape.
She would do everything in her power to bring that snake-eyed sorceress to justice—to stop her from hurting anyone else.
She called her magic as she ran.
She felt it writhe and grow within her.
She felt it escape.
Her magic carried her up into the air. An inferno spun into existence around the kitten, lighting up the night and turning it into day for a few heartbeats.
The crows squawked as flames caught them in the air, scalding their feathers. Marvela's outstretched claws dug into the book one of them carried.
Asra's beady black eyes met Marvela's as the kitten hung from the book, suspended in the air. Those dark eyes widened as the flames overtook the three of them.
The crow released the book. Singed and scorched, she took off into the star-strewn night with her familiar close behind her.
Marvela fell from the sky.