“Look, Robert.” Siouxsie whispered to her brother. “Look at all the books. There are so many. I could lose an entire winter lounging and reading all of this.”

  “It’s a mirage.” Robert whispered back “Figments of our enchanted minds. None of this is here. We’re all slowly going mad.”

  “Why are you so sure we are figments?” asked Vickiri. Robert almost froze at realizing the witch had heard him.

  “None of this makes sense.” Robert snorted as he turned his head in every direction to take it all in. “I’ve been to this place before and it was all bones and rot. It was not pleasant, so you’ll have to excuse my reluctance to accept it. I am not going into that basement again.”

  “Here we are.” Said Vickiri. As they arrived at a wooden desk with a small girl witch standing behind it. “Greetings Marzipan,” he said to her. “How is your sister, Marigold?”

  “As well as she can be, which isn’t saying a lot.” Frowned the girl in her bright yellow cloak and hat. Siouxsie noted that she had a thick metal band about her neck. “It’s the warm season so she keeps her distance from by sleeping under eastern bridge. I hope she’ll come soon. What can I do for you, great Vickiri? Who are your guests who mourn?”

  “Marzipan, this is Ignatius and his siblings Robert and Siouxsie. Would be so kind as to retrieve the tome that holds the Talisman of Lenfris?”

  “It would be my duty and honor, great Vickiri.” The girl bowed before walking out of sight behind the shelves.

  “Great Vickiri?” asked Ignatius to the witch.

  “Yes, as the leader of the witches I’m bestowed the title of “Great” as long as I hold the position. When the duties are handed to the next, the title follows the job. Have you no ‘Great’ where you come from?”

  “I’m afraid not. Our tribe share the duties equally. We find that when left to our own devices, each witch falls into their natural duties which differs from the next enough that everything gets done.”

  “I see.” Said Vickiri as Marzipan reemerged hefting a big black book. “Fascinating. Ah, here we are.” Vickiri took the book from her and opened it to the rear where some pages had been hollowed out to make room for a talisman that looked just like the one Ignatius held. An eerie blue glow emitted from it just the same.

  “You see?” said Ignatius. “Your possessions are just where you expected them to be. Release us from your custody.” Vickiri nodded in agreement as he ran his thumb over the glowing artifact. “Ignatius?” he asked as he held his hand out. “Might I see yours to compare them? I give my word I will give it back.” Ignatius took off his hat and removed the chain of the talisman over his head, giving it to him. “Hmmmm. Yes. They are all but identical. However, I see that yours has two magic blue sparks within. They are not the same.” He handed the talisman back to Ignatius. “I owe an apology to your and your siblings for making such claims.” Vickiri said, taking off his hat and bowing deep. “While impulsive, I feel it was justified considering the urgency needed to protect our magical artifacts. Witches, put away your blades. They are truly our guests.” The trio looked in surprise to learn that the others in their party had silently drawn daggers and had been keeping them at the ready behind their sleeves. “Leave us, I will see to it that these three receive a proper Spellvale welcome.” He said with a big smile as here placed his talisman within the tome and handed it back to Marzipan. The witch in yellow took the book and disappeared behind the bookcases once more. “Come, let me begin to make amends.” Said Vickiri putting an arm around Siouxsie. He tried to put the other around the other twin, but Robert quickly sidestepped out of reach to keep from being touched. “You wouldn’t be too opposed to a hot meal, yes?”

  “We would find that very agreeable.” Nodded Ignatius.

  “Fantastic.” Vickiri clapped his hands together. “Let us feast. I would very much like to learn more about those from your tribe. “This way, I know where we can find freshly cooked hens.” The three eagerly followed and stepped back outside where the rest of the witches of Spellvale bustled and milled about as they carried out their errands. Siouxsie took it all in and tried to make sense of such rapturous sights. She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything. Witches continued about their business, but all seemed to bow their heads or throw flowers at the feet of the trio.

  “For those who mourn.” They always said before moving on. Vickiri led them to a small spot in the center of the market where a fire was roaring. A witch dressed all in red sashes tended flame and boiling pot. A table sat empty and happened to have four stools around it. Once seated, they didn’t need to say a word before the witch in red brought four cooked hens, setting one in front of each of them before returning with four sizeable cups of wine.

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  “We get wine?” asked Robert with some surprise.

  “Our harvests and cultivations have been abundant this year.” Vickiri nodded. “Wine and hen are a luxury to be enjoyed when they can be.” Robert wasted no time in tearing into his hen and gulping the wine. Ignatius began to eat his slowly but Siouxsie, enraptured by everything around her couldn’t stop watching everything around her long enough to get a bite. “Siouxsie?” Vickiri asked between bites. “How long have you been practicing lightning?”

  “Not long enough to be very accurate.” She said, smiling and waving to witches as they passed.

  “Did the witch in yellow say you have a witch living under a bridge?” asked Robert in between greedy smacks of chicken.

  “Ah, yes, Marzipan’s sister.” Vickiri frowned. “A sad tale. She was adventuring at the base of Faustacon mountain two summers ago and had an unfortunate accident. The incident left her…changed for the worst I’m afraid. She keeps to herself and seldom returns until the winter cold is too much to bear.”

  “She sounds like you.” Siouxsie kidded Robert with a jab to the ribs. He gave no reply other than a disinterested grunt between bites of food.

  “What about you?” asked Vickiri, looking to Robert. “You’ve not removed your hat and you’ve kept the brim low the entire time you’ve been in my presence.”

  “You are correct.” Said Robert without looking up or slowing the ravenous manner in which he ate.

  “Forgive my brother.” Offered Ignatius as he began to eat. “He enjoys his solitude even in the presence of others. It’s his way and I don’t foresee him altering it anytime soon.”

  “And what of you, Siouxsie? Do you feel rejuvenated enough to give a small demonstration of your magic?” Hearing this, Ignatius watched Vickiri with suspicious eyes. This was the second time he’d taken interest in her lightning. Surely anyone would be interested in seeing her cast, but something about the man’s eagerness made him uneasy.

  “I never felt that I couldn’t before.” said Siouxsie as she chewed the last of her meal. “It’s very strange that I wasn’t able to cast when we met. Perhaps this meal will give me the strength. Thank you.”

  “Have you no lightning casters here?” asked Ignatius.

  “We do.” Vickiri smiled. “However, she is very old and at the end of her life.”

  “She?!” asked Siouxsie with some surprise, almost spitting out a piece of chicken. “Is she here? Is the Lightning Witch here?”

  “You know of her?” asked Vickiri, his interest piquing.

  “Everyone knows of the Lightning Witch where we come from.” She offered. “We sing songs about her.”

  “Oh, you do?” asked Vickiri. “How do the songs go?”

  “Don’t you know them already?” Asked Ignatius. “One would think our tribes would share the same songs.”

  “Yes, but one would think we would dress in the same manner, yet we know that to be a falsity.”

  “Then perhaps once Siouxsie has rested and digested, she could give it another try.”

  “Perhaps.” Said Vickiri. “We haven’t seen a display of lightning magic in some time.” Hearing this, Siouxsie’s eye went wide.

  “You saw the Lightning Witch, Vickiri?” she asked anxiously. “What was she like? What did she look like? Tell me what you know about her!”

  “A very old woman with long white hair. Our historical records say hundreds of years old and guided the first witches of the land to this place to settle.”

  “Hundreds of years old?” Asked Ignatius. “How could anyone live that long? It’s unnatural.”

  “Who can say?” shrugged Vickiri. “The healers and alchemists found it to be an anomaly. The best reason we could find is that the strange lightning magic that flows through her is what sustained her for so long.”

  “So where did you bury her?” asked Robert

  “Bury her? Why would we bury her? She’s still alive!” Siouxsie heard this and gulped so hard a piece of chicken got caught in her throat. She coughed and wheezed, gasping for air until her twin shot up from his chair and whacked her across the middle of the back. The open hand strike landed so hard that a projectile of half-chewed hen went flying across the table and into the grass.