The Vampire & Her Witch

In the deepest hollows of the Briar, where the cypress trees grew so old that their roots had become a labyrinth of their own, the longest night of the year settled across the swamp like a breath of fresh, cool air. Another year was ending, and a new one had come to take its place.

To those who didn’t know the place, it was hard to know the coming of the seasons, and at times, it was just as hard to know the coming of day and night. On this, the longest night of the year, the thick fog that blanketed the Briar barely seemed to have lightened at mid-day, and when night fell, even the creatures who dwelled in the Briar’s depths barely noticed a difference.

But Amahle, who had lived here long enough to know every twist and turn of the Briar’s labyrinthine waterways as well as she knew the strands of a web she’d woven, noticed the differences. The clumps of threadlike moss hanging from the trees glowed a slightly brighter shade of green or purple as the sun set beyond the fog, and the dancing fireflies gathered in the spots where the air grew still as if to provide a map to the places where a weary traveler could take shelter.

The Briar was awake, even in the depths of winter, and it was waiting for one of its most important residents to come home.

Amahle stood barefoot on her porch, overlooking the dancing fireflies and the rippling waterways as she felt the faint -THRUMMM- within her chest that marked the approach of another member of her coven. Soon, she thought with a slow smile, they’d almost all be together again.

It was a night to celebrate the unexpected, and Amahle had chosen one of her favorite sleeveless dresses for the occasion. The silky fabric clung to her chest and slender waist before spilling like a waterfall from her hips, and the color that faded from deep crimson to velvety black matched so well with her crimson eyes and inky, long hair that it was clear the dress had been made just for her.

”If only we were all together tonight,” she sighed as she leaned back, allowing the spider-like limbs behind her to support her weight as she sipped the chilled tea she’d brought onto the porch with her when she stepped away from the bustle of dinner preparations in her warm and comfortable home.

Talauia had been gone for months now, for the first time in decades since she’d taken in the Thistle Witch, and there was a part of her that couldn’t help but fret even though she knew her oldest witch was as safe in the Vale of Mists as she was in the Briar... Perhaps she was even safer with both Ashlynn and the Harbinger of Death to watch over her.

”You sure did find a patch of trouble, sugar-pie,” Amahle murmured as she sipped her tea.

The last time she’d faced vampires who had come to ’retrieve’ the prize their master desired, it had been simple enough to fend them off. A witch could never become a vampire, and once she’d made it clear that the last of the Glimmerwing clan had become the Thistle Witch, the lackeys of the Fangs of Death had withdrawn in peace rather than further provoke her ire.

For decades, the knowledge that Talauia could never become one of Shubnalu’s progeny had kept her safe.

Now, however, word that the Mother of Trees had bound herself to the Harbinger of Death with a bond of blood had begun to spread across Eldritch lands, and it was only a matter of time before the oldest among the True Vampires learned that a path he’d never considered would allow him to seize the prize he’d once been denied.

When that day arrived, even the Briar might not be able to keep Talauia safe from the Fangs of Death, and so she’d sent one of her most vulnerable children away in the hopes that the fledgling Mother of Trees could better protect her from the dangers to come.

”Maybe it’s time to take a stroll,” Amahle said as she drained the last of the tea in her cup. ”I ain’t been out in such a long time, an’ the house still has a bit of room for another youngin or two... A Blackthrone or a Cactus Witch or a Barberry,” she mused.

It had been nice to have Ashlynn and Heila here over the summer, and in the months since their departure, Amahle found that she missed the days of helping a young witch discover their power. Holly had broken her heart, and she’d nearly failed with Jacques before she even presented him with his seed of witchcraft...

The scar on her chest from her first attempt to nurture a Sandbox Seed reflected a far deeper scar on her heart, but as she listened to the sounds spilling from the kitchen behind her, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was time to open her heart again.

”Trouble’s a’ commin’,” she said, looking out into the night. ”An’ everyone’s startin’ to stir.”

Even the Mother of Tides had taken notice of things happening on the lost edge of their world. By now, Amahle was certain that the Witch of Deep Currents had reached Ashlynn’s home with word of her survival. As much as Amahle had been delighted to learn that her little sister was descended from the Witch of Ebbing Tides and that she might have deeper support from her family than she’d feared, there was something else about Esselk’ti’s mission that left Amahle with an even larger basket of worries.

”Passing by the End of the World,” Amahle said, shaking her head as she turned to go back inside to finish preparing dinner. ”Big Sister, I hope you know what you’re doing. Big Brother’s not an easy one to disturb an’ ’just passin’ by’ won’t cut it if he’s feeling cross...”

But then, with the way things seemed to be heading, perhaps it really was time for the Father of Calamities to make his presence known once again...