In the following weeks, Azra spent a lot of time in the mountains with the witches. At first, his father was sceptical about him learning to become a wizard, but he respected Mnou greatly, so over time he accepted that his son would not continue in the fishing trade. And so, Azra's training began.
During the lessons, the girls would occasionally take turns teaching. While Mnou gave most of the lessons, she deliberately left some room for Esme to step in. She was glad when Esme got involved—explaining things or teaching the boy directly. Watching her patiently and eagerly explain the basics of magic filled Mnou with immense joy. Esme had come a long way since they first met. And not just her. We're both learning from each other, Mnou thought contentedly.
Azra was a good student. He was attentive and, in a way, curious, though it was clear he still couldn't quite believe what was happening. He wasn't nearly as energetic as Esme had once been, but he listened quietly to everything the witches told him. He accepted his fate calmly and obediently. Mnou saw a bit of herself in him. She too had sailed along the channel that life carved for her, never truly asking for it. It had always been difficult for an aspiring witch, and both girls tried to help him as much as they could. Esme even sewed him a stylish, pointy wizard hat. Unlike their old, worn ones, this one was glossy black with a subtly stitched brim of purple thread. It made Azra very happy, and he wore it proudly.
One sunny morning, Mnou suggested the three of them visit the hot spring where she once took Esme to rest from studying. The children eagerly agreed, even though Azra didn't yet know what it was all about.
Three pointy hats swayed side to side on a path full of melting snow. Six boots squelched through muddy puddles hidden beneath the snow. It didn't take them long to reach their destination.
Azra was just as captivated as Esme had been before. At this time of year, the hot spring looked even more like a magical place detached from the rest of the world. A few steps back through the thicket and patches of snow began to appear, eventually giving way to an all-encompassing whiteness. But the trees around the spring were bare, their fallen leaves lying quietly around the massive roots like a brownish blanket, and the warmth was like a warm spring day. Occasionally, a faint northern wind whispered through the trees and shrubs, giving them goosebumps, but otherwise there was no trace of winter.
The children immediately jumped into the pond. They swam, splashed water at each other, and laughed. Mnou remained seated on the shore, watching them play. Now and then, a spray of pleasantly warm droplets reached her. Esme tried to persuade her to join them, but she politely declined. If it had been just her and Esme, she would've gone swimming right away, but she didn't want Azra to feel awkward. She was happy just seeing them enjoy themselves. That was enough.
When the children got tired, they climbed out of the pond and collapsed onto the soft mossy ground. They chatted for a while, then fell silent. After a moment, quiet breathing could be heard—Esme had fallen asleep, curled up peacefully. At first, Mnou thought Azra was dozing off too, but before long he quietly got up, careful not to wake his friend, and began to dress. Then he sat a little way off from Mnou, on the hard root of an oak tree.
Except for the occasional whistling wind in the bare treetops, it was silent. The forest had nothing to say. The winter forest was mute. At last, Azra broke the silence.
"Master Mnou?"
"Yes?"
Another pause followed. The witch patiently waited for her student to collect his thoughts.
"Do you remember how I promised you I wouldn't want to become a wizard?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I lied."
Mnou still said nothing, simply watching him attentively and listening carefully to his every word.
"I wished for it even after you told me what it meant. I wanted to do magic too, when I watched you and Esme. I thought it must be amazing. And it actually is, but… but… you know…" he wasn't able to finish the sentence.
Mnou had to consider her response before speaking. Then she said, "Death and magic are inseparably connected. Both in practice and in our minds. Without the soul of someone close to us, magic can't be used, and every time we cast even the smallest spell, we're aware of its weight and what lies behind it. I told you then that it's like a curse, but it's not that simple. The truth is, it's also a blessing. A powerful blessing that allows us to do things ordinary people could never dream of. Every coin has two sides, and so does magic. It's both a curse and a blessing. And it's up to us to decide which it is for us. So, what will it be for you, Azra?"
The boy's face twisted into a grimace of deep thought. He stared at the pond, steam rising from its surface. Then he could only shrug and mumble, "I don't know."
Mnou nodded solemnly. "It might surprise you, but I'd say the same."
Azra looked up at her in confusion and surprise.
"I've been using magic for ten years, and I still haven't figured it out. I think it's something I'll be searching for my whole life. So don't worry too much. You've had this power for only a few weeks, and you've got your whole life ahead of you to figure it out. And the most important thing is," the witch knelt in front of Azra so she could see his eyes. She gently placed a hand on his soft black hair. Just like his mother's, she thought, "that you're not responsible for what happened to your mother. Remember that. Your wish to become a wizard had nothing to do with it. Gaining magical powers is only a consequence of death. I believe the souls that dwell in our staffs loved us so much they refused to disappear into the land of the dead. They came back for us. It's proof of their love."
Mnou felt tears sting her eyes. She quickly blinked them away and stroked the boy's head again. Tears streamed from his eyes. She moved closer and let him stay like that for as long as he needed.
Mnou stood lost in fog. It was thick, like curdled whey. She couldn't see a step ahead. She didn't remember how she got there. It felt like she must've always been there. She looked around carefully, but there was nothing to see except the heavy canopy of mist. An uncomfortable silence pressed in her ears. She wasn't afraid, but she felt something was wrong—that she shouldn't be here. She took a few clumsy steps, then almost bumped into something. It was a rough-hewn stone, shaped somewhat like an egg. A figure had been carved into it. It was a woman. She wore no clothing, so her curves were still clearly visible. Her hands held a strange gesture—her right palm pointed to the now-invisible heavens, the left to the stony ground. Her face had been smoothed by wind and rain. Mnou stared at the statue for a long time, with a nagging sense that she had seen it somewhere before.
It's only a matter of time, witch.
Mnou spun around instantly, hearing the voice dulled by the mist behind her Instinctively, she took a stance with her staff raised. But the next moment she realized she was clutching only air and wisps of fog. She was defenceless.
It's only a matter of time before I take you. You have a strong will, but you will submit to the goddess. Whether it's today, tomorrow, in a week, a month, a year, or even ten. Time means nothing to me.
The wall of fog tore like paper, and a figure appeared before the witch. It had a beautiful, naked, feminine body with striking curves. One hand pointed to the heavens, the other to the depths of the earth. But the face flickered vaguely in a cloud of mist that veiled it.
The witch shook. Her sweat-matted hair clung to her damp skin, tangling in front of her eyes like willow branches. She managed to shake her head and stammer as bravely as she could. Never. You'll never have my body!
Invisible lips moved behind the veil. Perhaps so. You can stand proud, you are strong—but the question is, strong enough? And if it turns out you're not... I will have to turn to the other one.
Mnou's pupils narrowed in silent dread and realization. She was speechless.
But I think that would sadden us both, don't you... Mnou?
Something warm, like the sun itself, grabbed the witch by the hand and pulled her into the void. With a startled gasp, she woke up.
She lay in her bed. Her soaked nightgown clung to her unpleasantly, and under the damp blanket it was unbearably hot. She impatiently threw the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, trying to calm down. It felt like the darkness was pressing on her from all sides. She grabbed her staff and lit a candle. Suddenly a cry and then a rustle came from the corner of the room. Mnou picked up the candle, its light now dancing restlessly around the room—leaping from the counter to the table, from the table to the fireplace, and so on. She rushed to Esme. Even in the faint candlelight, the girl was visibly trembling, her face pale as winter snow. Though Mnou was shaken too, she sat beside her and gently brushed the girl's sweaty bangs aside.
"Another nightmare?"
Esme shook her head, and with a strained voice said, "No, this time it was different. I've never had this dream before. I can't remember it exactly, but I was lost in the fog and… and I was talking to someone." She paused. "It was... it was the faceless goddess."
Mnou stared at her in shock. The girl continued:
"It was like someone reached into my mind. I barely resisted. If someone hadn't caught me, I don't think I could've done it." Another pause. "I think… no, I know it was Yelwa."
Only then did Mnou realize it was her mother who had pulled her out of it. She gripped her staff tightly and felt its gentle warmth, like sunlight.
The weather had rapidly worsened. Snow had been falling almost constantly for several short, dark days. During the day, there was a dull grey everywhere; the entire world lay beneath a thick blanket. A helpless and bored atmosphere prevailed. The witches were practically trapped in their mountain cabin, and if they hadn't had enough supplies stored in the small cellar, things could have been much worse than they already were. Every day, they diligently cleared the snow, but it didn't help much, as the cleared area was soon buried again.
Azra hadn't appeared at all during those days. The girls understood. Reaching them would have been difficult and dangerous even for a grown man, let alone a boy. They also realized just how much they had gotten used to the new apprentice. In just a few weeks, he had become an integral part of the household. It felt as if something important was missing. That only added to the gloomy mood that hung over the place. At least the witches found comfort in each other's presence. It had been quite a long time since they had spent time alone together like this.
Mnou thought back to the early days after she had taken Esme on as an apprentice. She felt a little ashamed of how she had treated her at first, but at the same time, she had to smile. We've changed a lot since then. Both of us. I'd say for the better, but who am I to judge something like that?
Mnou also often thought about that dream. It worried her. Not so much for herself, but for Esme. Whenever she started thinking about it, her insides twisted with nerves. Just before the massive blizzard hit a few days ago, she had managed to lay a strong protective barrier around the house. Neither of them had had similar dreams since, which calmed her a little. Still, she had promised herself that as soon as the weather eased, she would have to return to the mountains and deal with it. She no longer had a choice. She tried to avoid these unpleasant thoughts as much as possible. She knew they only burdened her already troubled mind. She did her best to keep her head as clear as she could.
One evening—or maybe it was late afternoon, it was hard to tell in those days—they sat quietly at the table. Esme was skilfully knitting new gloves because she still didn't like her red and green mittens, and Mnou was stripping dried herbs. The knitting needles clinked together with a quiet, monotonous rhythm, the leaves crunched as they were stripped, spruce logs crackled contentedly in the fireplace, and the wind howled outside. It was an almost idyllic, peaceful scene. The witch felt herself starting to doze off when she suddenly noticed that the rhythmic clinking of the needles, which had lulled her so successfully, had stopped. She rubbed her eyes and focused on Esme in the dim light.
The girl had indeed stopped knitting and was staring thoughtfully at the dancing flames in the fireplace. She didn't look particularly troubled, but her expression was serious.
"Is something wrong, Esme?" Mnou asked. "Shall I add more wood?"
The girl looked her in the eye. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again and turned away. Mnou could tell something was weighing on her heart.
"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" Mnou asked gently. She wasn't pushing—just trying to give her some courage.
Esme's gaze remained fixed in the void, but her mouth moved shyly: "I just thought… I just realized that… we've never told each other our stories."
Mnou nodded in agreement. She inhaled the scent of herbs. Then she spoke: "A witch's story is usually a delicate thing. I didn't want to bring it up until you were ready."
Esme sat stiffly in silence. She was lost in thought. She looked a little nervous.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to go first." Mnou felt that as the master and adult, she had a certain duty. "If you feel uncomfortable at any point, just say so and I'll stop. I truly don't mind. And above all… if you don't feel like telling yours, don't force yourself. Only when you're ready." She smiled and nodded at her. The girl returned the smile timidly and met her gaze. She adjusted the cushion on her chair and silently prepared to listen. Mnou took a deep breath and let the words flow.