Page 63 of The Witch and His Crow

‘It is criminal for a witch to not devote themselves to the craft. It is like a skill, you know. If you do not practice it, you’ll never experience the full joy of Hekate’s offerings.’

My skin shivered. How had we gone from grasping with old magic, to forgetting it? Or perhaps we just were not responsible enough to hold such power?

‘And doyoubelong to a coven?’ I asked, keeping the conversation alive. Perhaps there were clues in her knowledge that would help us work out the purpose of this trial. Hekate always had a purpose, a test of a witch’s qualities. Discovering what she was seeking would set us on the path back to our time.

‘Sadly, it has been many years since witches congregated in groups. Doing so only starts whispers and pointed fingers. Which is why you and Arwyn must be careful, going forwards.’

I longed to tell her not to worry about us. Our story was not set in stone, whereas Eleanor’s was. Her life had already come to an end in our time, her story either cut short or not. ‘Can Iask how the stone circle works? It would help us where we find ourselves next.’

What I didn’t say aloud was how similar the protection around this village seemed to the one around the castle. Except altered to keep magic in, not out.

‘I’m surprised your family have not taught you such spells,’ Eleanor said. I wondered if she was goading me into revealing more information.

‘My family didn’t have the chance before Witch Hunters murdered them.’

Eleanor took me in, her eyes softening, sorrow drawing deep lines across her forehead. ‘I’m sorry for what was unfairly taken from you, my child.’

She hugged me. I could’ve stopped her, but I didn’t. Eleanor was close in age to what my mother would’ve been if Father Tomin didn’t execute her. Selfishly, I allowed myself her offered comfort. Closing my eyes, I folded into her arms like a child. Her careful hand rubbed circles across my back. It was so comforting, I missed when Arwyn stopped walking upstairs.

‘I also am the last of my family name, Hector.’ There was pain in her voice, it mirrored the thorn forever buried in my chest. ‘The Letcombe name shall die with me. And this small village knows that. Those who’ve lived here, have lived in it for a long while. My family had roots so far in this soil, that if you dug down in the ground you would end up far in the past. And my neighbours are not fools, they knowwhatI am. Some may not like it, but they sure do respect it.’

Letcombe. I stiffened, drawing back from Eleanor’s arms. ‘You’re Eleanor Letcombe?’

The witch my mother told me stories about. The last witch who was documented to have access to the old magics.

‘I would show pride that you know of me, but that also sparks concern as to who else is aware of my name,’ Eleanor replied, worry evident in every aged line beside her creased eyes.

‘No, it isn’t like that. I just… my mother must’ve known you once. She told me stories about you.’

‘All good, I hope.’ Eleanor said, clearly satisfied with my answer. Perhaps she just knew not to pry into a witch’s intuition and all.

‘How do you stay… hidden from the Witch Hunters?’ I said, knowing how Eleanor’s story ended. She would die, on a pyre, begging Hekate, trading old magic for new, so witches across the globe could protect themselves from the same fate. ‘I mean, if you have advice that we could take, I would hear it.’

‘Well Hector. I believe those within this village do not sell me out for coin, because without me, they are not protected. It is my stone circle that keeps the demons out. My blood feeds the protection my family laced around our land, and it will until the day I die. It is the key to keep them locked away. Sacrifice the key, and the demons would win.’

And yet you will die, I thought. The knowledge of her doom made me uncomfortable. I could hardly hold her gaze for long.

‘These demons, I don’t remember learning—hearing about them.’ I quickly corrected. ‘Again, more knowledge that died with my family I suppose.’

History told that Witch Hunters believed witchcraft was a blessing of the devil, but never did the books tell ofactualdemonsroaming the land. This was knowledge I didn’t have. But then again there were the creatures I saw taking Jordan’s body into the ground. The feeling that came with them was wrong—demonic.

‘Witch Hunters preach that witches have scorned the world, longing to eradicate all those who do not wish to turn to our dark ways. They believe demons are our pets, our companions,working beside us to achieve a common goal of damnation. But of course, that is not the case. Our magic comes from the earth and elements, not the domain that lurks below. We are beings of nature, but in the eyes of the Witch Hunters, we are not different from the same devils they believe we worship for access to magic.’

I looked down at my open palm, flexing the fingers, almost willing them to do something. It was easier looking down than allowing Eleanor to read into the nuances of my facial expressions.

She reached for my hand and took it. She laid the back of my hand on her knee, then smoothed my palm out until it was completely flat. ‘It is important that a witch connects to their element. The divine connection is given at birth, determined by the alignment of the stars.’

This was an answer I could give. ‘I’m an air-witch.’

‘Ah,’ Eleanor said, smile brightening. ‘I have never met an air-witch I did not enjoy the company of.’

My smile was natural in return. There was an ease about Eleanor, a presence that made me want to lean into her and feel her warmth. Yes, I found her welcoming. But above all, she had a motherly aura. If I imagined hard enough, this would’ve been the closest I got to speaking with my own mother again…

‘This is the symbol for air.’ Eleanor began painting a triangle on my hand, the tapered tip pointing northwards. ‘If you focus your intent on the element, you will be able to call on it. Go on. Try.’

‘I don’t think this will work,’ I said, laughing it off, but something serious in Eleanor’s gaze stopped me.

‘You will never know what you are capable of until you try.’

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