Chapter Text
It was Philip’s first hunt.
Caleb had already been on several, being many years older. But it was finally time for his little brother to join.
…and it was finally time for the brothers Wittebane to make a name for themselves.
The boys were put near the back of the crowd, under the careful watch of a neighbor.
“Now lad, your job for tonight is the same as it’s been since you’ve been old enough to join the hunt. You are to help keep watch, observe, and learn,” he’d said, protectively clasping Caleb’s shoulder. “And starting tonight, keeping an eye on your brother will be added to that list of responsibilities. Make sure he doesn’t…try to take matters into his own hands.”
“Pip’s just enthusiastic. But yes, I shall watch him like a hawk!”
“See that you do. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. But even so, I will keep an eye on you both.”
The man patted Caleb’s shoulder one more time before leaving to gather torches.
They caught no witch on that night, but Philip had the time of his life. And each hunt after that was even more exiting than the last.
Caleb loved the scent of smoke.
He never understood why people complained about the smell sticking to their hair or clothing.
Smoke meant fire. And fire was warmth. Fire meant delicious cooking. Fire meant there was light and safety and protection.
And best of all, fire could purify.
The scent of smoke was not just a small price to pay for warmth. So long as you were not directly breathing it in, smoke was a delightful smell.
And smoke filled the air as he raised his torch higher and joined the chanting of the crowd, as he had done so many times before.
Firelight danced on furious faces, fists and weapons swung through the smoky air…
Caleb grinned.
“Tonight’s the night,” he said to the teenager at his shoulder.
“You say that every hunt,” Philip snorted from behind his horned mask.
Caleb narrowed his eyes. “Well, then. Maybe this time we should take matters into our own hands.”
“…yes?” Philip asked when Caleb did not elaborate.
Caleb’s crafty eyes circled the crowd, and he slowly grinned even wider, the firelight dancing on his face like an eerie golden mask.
“What would you say if I told you I have some secret intel, and perhaps it’s time for the brothers Wittebane to finally hunt a witch on their own?”
They broke off from the crowd at a fork on the path, extinguishing their torch and disappearing into the darkness before anyone could notice they were gone.
“Right. Charity spotted a hooded figure by the lake, just before sundown,” Caleb panted as he and Philip sprinted through the woods. “She said when it saw her? Poof! It disappeared like morning fog under a hot summer sun.”
“And she didn’t mention the lake bit to the other men?”
“No. She is squeamish, and I don’t think she wanted there to be a catch and hanging tonight. And she certainly did not want to be responsible for one.”
“How exactly did you get it out of her, then?”
“Weeeeellll…let’s just say I caught her after the interrogation, and had a little interrogation of my own.”
“And that is supposed to mean…what.”
Caleb just smiled charmingly.
“Does EVERY unmarried woman in town fancy you?!” Philip groaned as Caleb laughed delightedly.
“Oh, stop. I didn’t do anything unseemly! I just got her alone, and nicely asked if she had some additional information she would be willing to share with me. I was kind and respectful to her, as I would be to anyone! And since I was kind, she was willing to cooperate! I promised her that only you and I would know anything she told me!”
“She told you because she thought you were kind. Right. You really should just settle down. Then this nonsense will stop!” Philip said over his shoulder as they rounded another shadowy corner. “Every day it seems you get more and more women sighing and swooning whenever you do so much as blow your nose!”
“Eh. Not in a rush! And I haven’t really ever…felt that way about anyone before, so I’m not very interested. Besides, I have an obnoxious brother to watch over for a bit longer!” Caleb laughed, reaching out to ruffle a completely disgusted Philip’s hair. “And I have the feeling he would be less than impressed if I suddenly brought home a wife.”
“Betrothal isn’t about marrying someone you fancy, Caleb! It’s a covenant! A means to bring children into the world in a stable environment. Feelings shouldn’t come into it! Relying on feelings when it comes to marriage is completely stupid. And immature.”
“Well, look at you, suddenly such a relationship expert! And for the record, I am quite attractive when I blow my nose.”
“Disgusting!”
While they had been bickering, they had not been paying attention to their surroundings.
A keen tore through the air, loud and frantic and desperate.
“HELP!!!”
The brothers screeched to a halt, falling all over each other as they flailed in place.
They locked eyes, and bolted towards the voice.
“A witch attack!?” Philip gasped as they ran through the chilly early spring darkness.
“Who knows? But that was true terror, whatever it was!” Caleb huffed.
They rounded a bend on the path, and Caleb threw out his hand to stop Philip, grabbing the pitchfork from him in the same smooth movement.
A cloaked form was crouched on the ground, back to them.
It let out a soft sob, and curled into itself a little bit tighter.
“Could be a trap. Stay alert,” Caleb whispered to Philip, who nodded firmly and shoved on his mask.
Caleb took a cautious, tiny step, and a branch crunched under his foot.
He swore quietly as the figure leapt up, spun around, and…
…a hand flew out of the cape, and fire ignited in its palm, without the aid of flint or matches.
Caleb gasped.
The figure snarled.
“If you mean to harm me, I am more than capable of taking you down,” it said, no sign of the previous sobs in its firm tone. “Unless you would like to have a little duel to test me.”
“I…”
“Let’s go. See how long you last.”
Caleb realized the pitchfork was still in his hand, and was still pointed threateningly.
He heard a rustle as Philip dove into a bush alongside the path.
“Oh no, there’s nothing I can do against a real witch. I can’t threaten her! She might go after me, or heaven forbid she attacks Pip. I must wait until her guard is down…I must be unassuming…charming…friendly…how did she conjure a real fire? That’s…that’s so…or maybe…maybe there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for the fire! Maybe she isn’t a witch at all, and genuinely needs help!”
“How did you do that?” he found himself asking aloud, the pitchfork now lowered at his side.
“Do…what?”
Caleb pointed at the fire and smiled.
“Uhhhh…are you alright in the head?” the figure asked, completely bewildered.
Caleb realized he had lowered the pitchfork even lower, and was crossing the path.
He cocked his head and smiled again, curious and friendly, and realized that he was actually genuinely invested in this mystery.
…and more than a bit fascinated by that fire.
“Are you lost?” he asked in his best big brother voice, quiet and soothing. “Do you need help?”
“I…I’m…”
And with a whimper, the figure fell back to the ground in a heap, extinguishing the fire.
Before Caleb could rush to help her, she had already sat back up on her own.
“I fell,” she sobbed. “I was looking for potion ingredients and before I could catch myself with a spell I tripped and slid down a rock embankment and landed in a lake and I swam back to shore but I was somehow so much farther out from where I fell in. Why are the trees green? Why is this place so dark and cold and quiet? Am I dead?!”
Caleb could only stare in shock at the young woman as she cried, clutching the soaked cloak around her shoulders, a hood covering her face.
“Well…I don’t think you are dead,” he said, crouching down to peer into the hood’s shadow. “You seem quite alive to me. I do not know what happened to you, but you are in the woods near Gravesfield.”
The woman tilted her head.
Tears were streaming down what little he could see of her face.
He attempted to forget the fire he had seen ignite in her hand.
This terrified creature wasn’t a witch.
It couldn’t be a witch.
“She’s too genuinely frightened,” he decided. “Witches are evil, and powerful, and there would be no reason for one to be so…scared and small looking. Unless she’s trying to-”
The woman sniffled and her head tilted up. The hood pushed back just enough for Caleb to finally get a glimpse of her full face.
A few strands of soaked red hair were plastered to a pale cheek. A pair of shiny tear-filled eyes locked onto his.
Something slimy and uncomfortable slithered up Caleb’s spine. Something about this woman was…
Strange.
Uncanny.
Wrong.
Her eyes were too bright in the moonlight. Her skin was too pale. Her canine teeth were too sharp.
A desperate warning screamed in his mind and he felt the strong desire to run, to raise an alarm, to do anything but what he was about to do. But at the same time he could feel himself being pulled to her, and as he stared into her eyes his heart pounded in fear.
He held out his hand.
She took it.
She was so cold.
Her shaky fingers tightened around his palm, as if his hand was the only thing keeping her tethered to the world.
Her hood slid, and fell down to her shoulders.
Caleb yelped.
“What in the world…what happened to your ears?! What’s wrong with them?!”
“What’s wrong with my ears?” she snapped, bristling and dropping his hand. “What’s wrong with yours?!”
“What?! This is how ears look!”
“Titan spit!”
Caleb winced, and finally asked a very important question that had been burning on his tongue, ever since he’d witnessed her conjure fire out of thin air.
“Err. I don’t mean to ask something so awkward and potentially insulting, but…have you perhaps…consorted with Satan?”
The woman tilted her head.
“Because if you have signed over your soul to a demon or Satan himself…perhaps there is a way to help you!” Caleb continued encouragingly. “I am sure if you repent and disavow witchcraft, you could be saved! It's never too late to be counted among the heaven-bound! Please, let me help!”
The woman blinked.
“What in the absolute shit are you talking about?!” she yowled.
She jumped up, leaping back from a shocked Caleb.
She twirled her finger, and fire burst forth in her hand again.
“Where have I found myself?” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. “What do you mean disavow witchcraft? That would be like disavowing breathing! I am a witch! So is my whole family and every non-demon person I have ever met! Does that mean…you AREN'T a witch?! WHERE AM I?!”
Her eyes widened in realization.
“Wait…does that mean…do you mean to tell me…”
She pointed accusingly with her free hand.
“I thought your face looked unsettling! And your malformed ears…if you are not a witch, then what in the name of the Titan are you?!”
“Er. I’m a…a man?” Caleb said, slowly and cautiously. “Are you not a woman?”
“Yes, I’m a woman! A female witch!”
“Well, I am a man! A male human!”
“Human?!”
Her free hand drifted up to cover her mouth.
“…I thought humans were just legends. Myths. Stories. Oh, but that explains the ears. Do you really have no magic?”
“Of course I don’t have magic! I’m not the one here who thought it would be a brilliant idea to make a pact with Satan!”
The witch nodded to herself as the puzzle pieces started to fall together.
“Right. Humans are real. They do not have magic. They believe in some sort of magic-granting creature called Satan. I am apparently in some strange world…oh Titan, what have I…wait…Titan…Titan’s…”
Her eyes widened.
“TITAN’S BLOOD!” she shouted, smacking her forehead. “Last week I helped a patron find a book on natural portals-I work in a library-and…that must be it! THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED! I FELL INTO A LAKE CONTAMINATED WITH TITAN’S BLOOD!”
Her hands clutched her face as she finally put together the last piece of the puzzle.
“I FELL INTO A LAKE CONTAMINATED WITH TITAN’S BLOOD AND ENDED UP IN A REALM CHOCK FULL OF INSANE HUMANS.”
She shivered violently.
“Easy, easy,” Caleb murmured, awkwardly holding out his hands in a clumsy attempt to be soothing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But would you be comfortable coming home with my brother and I? You must be freezing, drenched to the bone like that. Let’s get you warm and dry.”
The witch rolled her eyes. “Oh. Right. I was just too startled to think straight. Thanks for the offer, but I can dry myself. Behold.”
She raised her hand, drew another glowing circle in the air, and closed her eyes.
A hot dry wind blasted her, her cape and dress and hair swirling wildly as Caleb covered his face with his arm.
Seconds later the wind died down.
Caleb opened his eyes again to see her standing there, bone dry and radiating warmth.
“Ohhh, that’s so much better,” she sighed, reigniting her fire spell. “So much more comfortable.”
She shook her head, allowing her shaggy hair to settle into a messy mop on her shoulders.
As she fluffed her hair with her free hand, Caleb realized he’d been…
Staring.
She looked up, just in time to catch his eye.
Her hair shone in the firelight, burning brightly with an orange glow.
Caleb realized his heart was pounding.
The witch raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry. I’ve just…I haven’t seen a woman with her hair down in a long time. Not since I was very young. Didn’t mean to stare,” he said awkwardly.
“Ah. It’s fine.”
“It’s shorter than mine,” he murmured.
The witch laughed awkwardly. “Is-is that another problem?”
“No! I sort of like-“
“STOP STARING AT HER AND DO SOMETHING,” Philip yelled from the bush.
Caleb rolled his eyes. “And that would be the brother I mentioned. Come on, Pip! Stop being rude. Get out here and introduce yourself.”
“She’s a witch!” Philip shouted. “What are you doing, Caleb?! Get her-“
“-get her home before she catches her death of cold and fright? Splendid idea!”
“GET HER HOME?!”
Caleb clapped his hands, firm and businesslike.
“Alright, everyone! Let’s get ourselves home and figure this madness out later. Preferably when we have some daylight!”
“But-“ the witch protested. “-but I shouldn’t travel too far. What if I lose track of the portal and no longer know how to-“
“I know the exact lake you arose from, Nimuë. It’s a large body of water, but has an easily explorable shore. If you agree to it, we shall investigate in the morning, once it’s warmer and once we can see what we’re doing.”
“… Nimuë?”
“Just a joke!”
“Ahh. That was so funny. I am currently in hysterics over your incredible joke, which I completely understood. My name is Evelyn, by the way. Just…putting that information out there.”
“Caleb!!! Have you been reading those…books again?!” Philip yowled.
Caleb snorted and turned to glare at the bush. “And how exactly did you know that was from a book, Pip?”
“Lucky guess!” the bush shouted.
“Or you’ve been reading it yourself!”
“I haven’t!”
“You have!”
“Just because I understood your Lady of the Lake reference doesn’t mean I-“
“I SAID NOTHING ABOUT THE LADY OF THE LAKE! You wouldn’t have gotten the joke if you hadn’t read Le Morte d’Arthur yourself, you little hypocrite!”
“Little?! I’m taller than you!”
“Barely!”
As the human and bush argued, Evelyn’s head swung back and forth.
“Maybe those bozos are more similar to us than the legends suggest,” she muttered to herself sarcastically.
“If you take her home, I’m telling the hunters you are harboring a witch!” Philip yelled wildly, catching her attention again.
“You mean WE are harboring a witch. And on the topic of sin, I am sure that Goodman Mather would be very interested to hear about your reading habits,” Caleb murmured, raising his chin at his brother and smiling serenely but threateningly.
Philip’s face flushed and he scowled.
“Come on, Pip. It’s the right thing to do,” Caleb said gently. “Did Christ not specifically target the possessed and needy and unsavory for aid? And how blessed are we to have the chance to save a wayward soul? Who but they are in the most desperate need of God’s light?”
“Fine!” Philip shouted with a stomp of his foot. “Fine! But she will need to recite the Lord’s Prayer before she enters the house. If she can’t do it or bursts into flame, it’s on you!”
“Fine!”
“FINE.”
“FINE.”
“…I will need to recite what? What are we talking about here?”
The trio set off for Gravesfield, Evelyn’s fire lighting the way, their loud conversation echoing through the quiet woods.
Caleb caught Philip’s eye.
He put his finger to his lips, and winked.
Philip’s eyes widened in a sudden understanding.
He nodded.
At the end of the path, they were greeted by a blessedly quiet and abandoned Gravesfield.
“The men must still be out on the hunt,” Caleb said, scanning the town from a ramshackle porch as Philip and Evelyn plodded up the path and into the yard. “And for once, I am glad we live on the outskirts. Good. Come, Evelyn, let’s get you inside before anyone sees-“
“WAIT. Stay right there.”
Philip bolted into the house and returned moments later, quill, ink, and parchment in hand.
He glared at Evelyn, pressed the paper against the siding of the house, and started writing frantically.
“HERE,” he barked “Can you read? Read this aloud, if you would be so kind.”
“Of course I can read! Did you miss the part when I mentioned that I am a librarian?” she snapped, snatching the paper from Philip.
She squinted and held up her fire to better illuminate the writing.
“Hmm. You have very nice script,” she murmured. “Right. Our father-“
Philip backed away and dramatically covered his face with an arm.
Caleb rolled his eyes.
Evelyn recited the prayer perfectly.
“Not one stumble, despite having never heard it,” Caleb said a little smugly. “Alright, Pip. I will finish the stew, if you will clear and set the table. For three, if you would.”
Philip groaned in frustration and tantrumed his way into the house, grumbling and ranting under his breath the whole way.
Evelyn was deposited in front of the fire with a blanket to continue warming up as the brothers put finishing touches on a humble yet hearty meal.
“Here. Let’s add a few more potatoes and yams to stretch it for three!” Caleb said cheerfully, quickly chopping up a few more tubers to toss in the stew pot that had been simmering fragrantly all afternoon. “And we can use the leftover stale bread to sop it up! It should-AHHH!”
He dropped the knife and grabbed his finger in one quick motion, and hissed through his teeth.
“I should know better than to rush when knives are involved,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “I work with them enough. Hey, Pip! Could you fetch me a-“
He stopped short when a pair of small hands firmly grasped his.
“May I see it?” Evelyn asked. “I’m so-so at healing spells, but if it’s only a small cut…oh, yes, this will be easy.”
As Caleb watched with wide eyes, Evelyn twirled her finger, creating another one of those spell circles.
“Hold still!” She instructed.
She placed the circle over the cut, and in a comforting pulse of light and warmth, the cut faded, and then vanished.
“Oh. Thank you,” Caleb murmured, staring at his hand in wonder.
“Sorry for the scar. A witch with any sort of talent for healing would have been able to remove even that,” Evelyn said sheepishly.
“Oh,” was all Caleb could say, shyly looking away from her to clean off the blood and get back to work.
The warmth and comfort from her magic continued to play through his mind and tingle in his hand as he tossed the chopped potatoes and yams into the simmering stew, and it continued to consume him as he busily tidied up, and then swept the floor while they waited for supper to finish.
As he swept, Evelyn inched closer and closer to the stew pot until she was leaning over to peer into it, her nose wrinkled with curiosity.
“What is this? Griffin stew?” She asked.
“Venison. Our neighbor got a fine buck last week, and was willing to trade me meat for some repair work on his barn’s roof!” Caleb bragged, placing his hand on his chest as he flipped his broom with a flourish. “We have been feasting like kings. Wait, did you just ask if it's griffin stew?!”
“Yes. Do…you not have griffins in your realm?”
“You HAVE griffins?”
“Yes?”
Caleb stared, his broom suddenly completely still.
“…what does it tase like?” he asked curiously.
“It tastes just like griffin.”
And for the first time, for a split-second, the ghost of a smile floated across Evelyn’s face.
“…on that note, what’s venison?” she asked.
“Deer. Do you know what a deer is?”
“…uhh.”
“THEY LOOK LIKE THIS.” Philip cut in, slapping on his mask then holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers, his lanky frame looming threateningly from the kitchen table. “With magnificent antlers and powerful legs and sharp senses!”
Evelyn blinked at him as Caleb groaned softly, putting his face in his hands.
“Do deer have spider breath too?” she asked.
“…what?” Philip asked in bewilderment, the wind completely taken out of his sails and mask already pulled off. “…no?”
“Huh,” Evelyn murmured. “Too bad. I’ve been craving spiders. I’ve been on a wiggly, crunchy kick lately. Well, supper smells interesting, in any case.”
Both brothers recoiled in disgust in the exact same way as Evelyn casually sniffed the stew again.
“Uh. Well, good news. We’re ready to eat!” Caleb said, attempting to get the image of hairy spider legs out of his brain.
Evelyn eagerly destroyed her bowl of stew, almost as soon as she was handed it.
“Your cooking is good,” she said through a full mouth, ripping apart a hunk of bread to sop up the broth in her second serving. “It’s…really good. And comforting.”
“Thank you!” Caleb said, the tips of his ears flushing a light pink.
Philip glanced at his brother, and then at the witch, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
Philip scurried off to his room as soon as supper was done.
“I must prepare. I must defend myself,” he thought frantically, shuffling through the collection of books that was stashed under his bed and tossing the rejects over his shoulder as he searched. “Is there a way to ward a witch from a space? I could swear there were symbols one could use to protect a room…or perhaps-”
His machinations were interrupted by his big brother.
“Knock knock!” Caleb said, rapping his knuckles on the side of the doorframe. “Nice work. You did some fine acting.”
“You too. It was…hmm. Suspiciously good.”
Caleb’s eyes flickered to the pile of books.
He lunged, and grabbed one off the pile before Philip could even react.
He silently held up a copy of Le Morte d’Arthur and pointed at it accusingly.
“Oh, shut up,” Philip snapped, jumping up to shove the rest of the pile back under his bed before his brother could get a better look at them.
Caleb tucked his book under his arm and rolled his eyes.
“So, with that out of the way, what’s the plan?” Philip asked, crossing his arms as he settled in on the side of his bed. “I’m assuming you have a plan.”
“Of course I have a plan, dorbel!” Caleb snorted. “Right. We’ll have to keep the witch hidden for a bit. Mather will return from Boston in a few days, so if we want the credit for bringing her in? We should wait ’til he’s back. I don’t trust the other men as far as I can throw them, so if we don’t want them to steal our catch? We should take good care of her, keep it hush that we have a house-guest, and wait. Besides, I might be able to coax some helpful information out of her if she trusts us. She mentioned an entire witch family, and she is in search of a portal to some sort of wicked realm. Perhaps we can use her to lure in more witches to catch!”
Philip nodded firmly, and cracked a wide grin.
“Nothing can stop the brothers Wittebane!” Caleb said, returning the grin and extending his hand.
Our rivals shall be crushed beneath our feet!” Philip responded, reaching out to grasp it
They shared excited grins, their faces glowing eerily in the candlelight.