The words this time were magical, light, and string. That combination made me think of the Fate Witches from 7th Sea but I wanted to take a magic like that a little further and do something a little different with it. After some thought, I got this. Tabatha stood from her spinning wheel and stretched out her back. It was aching, and she had to admit that it was starting to do so earlier and earlier each day. It was strange that she didn’t seem to notice it until she had stood up, and that meant that she was able to ignore it if she wanted to. However, it always came back to haunt her – the longer she went on like that, the more it hurt and the longer it took to ease.
She breathed slowly, willing the ache to fade. She wasn’t sure if anything she did helped, but it was better than simply accepting it and doing nothing. Either way, after a few moments it had lessened enough and she moved to the fire, taking some water from the kettle that always hung over it for tea. That fire provided all of the light for the cavern where she spent her days, but currently it was too light. She unfocussed her eyes and looked beyond. To her sight, the cavern faded from view, and she saw string. If she concentrated, she could make out what different things in the true world were, but that was also harder than it had once been. She reached out with her mind and cut the strings that connected the fire to spinning wheel, the table, and the other things around the cave that were currently giving off light. She focussed her eyes again, looking back on reality, and nodded to herself. Much better. Tabatha sat at the table and stirred the tea, awaiting the arrival. It only took two heartbeats and she heard the footfalls from the passage. Right on time. She sat and waited until the young woman came around the corner. She looked exactly as Tabatha had expected – not too tall, and nervous looking, her shabby dress hanging from a very loose frame. Her hair was tangled and dirty, cut short but not with any skill. She couldn’t be surprised that the woman was nervous – Tabatha knew how she herself would appear to the young woman. Old – almost too old to still live. She knew that her own hair looked no better, though for her it was because much of it had fallen out, rather than simply poorly kept. She could also still remember the day, long ago, when she had stood where this young woman did. “Come in,” Tabatha said, trying to sound kindly. “Come in – would you like some tea?” The younger woman hesitated in the cave entrance, her eyes moving quickly, exploring every detail that she could see. “Who are you?” she asked. “How did you know I was coming?” Tabatha smiled in a way that she hoped was warm and welcoming and waved for her visitor to approach. “Come, come. You know who I am, don’t you? Even if you didn’t really believe that I exist.” Silence was the only response. “Ah,” Tabatha continued. “You didn’t really expect to find me, did you? Either way, come on in – the tea will get cold.” She’d found, over years of receiving people just like this young woman, that trying to inject a little normal into what was a magical experience was the best way to put her guests at their ease. Finally, the young woman did come in, slowly and hesitantly, and sat in the chair prepared for her. As she approached, her eyes stayed stuck on Tabatha and only once she had sat down did they move to the tea before her. She took a drink, placed the cup down again, and then folded her hands in her lap. “You’re the witch, Tabatha?” “Well,” Tabatha replied with a smile. “I am Tabatha, but a witch? I suppose some might call me that – mostly men. It’s true that I have some magical ability, but I don’t think of myself as a witch. I think mystic is probably a better word. Now, Sarah, drink your tea before it gets cold. Then we can get to business.” She, again, looked into beyond, and reached out. She connected a string from the fire to the teacups for just a moment, letting them share the fire’s heat to warm them up. Before they could become too hot, she cut it again and re-focussed her gaze on reality. Sarah was staring at her with wide-eyes and Tabatha realised that she had made a mistake in using the woman’s name before she had been told it. She truly was getting old to slip like that. “Don’t worry about it,” she said to Sarah, hoping to calm her again. “I’ll explain everything soon.” Sarah continued to stare, but she reached down and picked up her tea again. She drank it down, seemingly ignoring, or not noticing, the heat. She replaced the cup, and her gaze didn’t shift an inch. “Good,” Tabatha said. “I always say that it’s best to start with tea. Now, would you like to tell me what brings you here? Why you have hunted down a folk tale that you didn’t believe existed?” Sarah opened her mouth, but then closed it again. She was picking at her fingers, though she kept her eyes on Tabatha. “You already know though, don’t you?” Tabatha nodded. “Yes, dear. I know what has happened to you, and why you’ve come. And I’m sorry for what you’ve had to live through.” Sarah took in a deep breath before speaking again. “Can you help me then?” “Not in the way you’re asking for,” Tabatha replied. She put down the cup that she didn’t realise that she’d picked up. Her heart ached for this young woman, and the pain that she had been through, and she wished that she could help. Oh, how she wished she could help. “Fate has another design for you.” “You can’t help?” Sarah’s voice was quiet, only just audible. Tabatha knew that desperation – the feel that she had journeyed for nothing, only to find hope and to then have it dashed. She remembered it well. “How can that be?” Tabatha shook her head. “I’m sorry. All things have their limits, including my power, and even I cannot act against Fate. Just as my predecessor could not help me.” “But the stories? Surely, everything you do changes fate?” Sarah’s voice was louder now, her fear turning to anger. Tabatha didn’t take it personally – she had reacted the same way all those years ago. “No,” she replied, keeping her own voice low and calm. “No – Fate cares little for most people, and I can do as I wish to them. For some, however, Fate has designs which even I cannot work against, and you are one such.” “So, what can I do?” The anger had gone from Sarah’s voice, almost as soon as it had arrived. Now she pleaded, desperate. “You have done what you need to do,” Tabatha replied, stretching out one old hand to place it over that of the younger woman. “You have come to me, and you have had faith. Fate does not choose you cruelly, though it can seem that way. You will have the chance to right this wrong yourself.” “What do you mean?” “You have been chosen to be my successor. You will stay here, with me. I will teach you what I know, both of the world and magic. And then, when your training is complete, you can do what you will.” “You will teach me magic?” Tabatha nodded. “And then I can do anything?” Again, Tabatha nodded. “Yes,” the old mystic said. “I will teach you, and then you can act as you will. However, I give you the warning that my teacher gave me. Fate does not tolerate selfishness. You will be able to use your magical abilities to help yourself in many ways, but if you use them to harm another for your own benefit then Fate will push back.” She shuddered at the memory – she had not taken the warning to heart at first, but she had swiftly learned her lesson. “I can’t quite do anything I want then?” Tabatha smiled. “Oh, yes – you can do whatever you want. If you are prepared to accept the price.” Sarah sat on her chair, staring into the space between them. Tabatha refilled the teacups, understanding well what the younger woman was going through. It was a wonderful offer, to be taught to understand the world in such a way, and to be able to use such understanding to change it, to exert power upon it. At the same time, it meant leaving her old life, any friends or family, her home, behind and not looking back. That could be hard – though, just as with Tabatha so long ago, the pain of that life would make the choice easier. Sarah nodded. “Very well. I accept.” Tabatha nodded in return, not surprised. Nobody ever said no. A part of her delighted that soon she could rest. Another grieved for the life she was inflicting upon another.
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