For most people, leaving the house is an act that requires no worry and is usually an exciting endeavor to anticipate. For Petra, it was like stepping into a forest full of deer during hunting season, without anything to differentiate her from the animals. People are out there, on the hunt for something, and she has no idea if it is going to be her turn to get shot. The preparation had become normal now, easy.
With a heavy sigh, she gathered the black mess of hair around her shoulders and tied it into a low ponytail. Glancing from shelf to shelf in the damp basement, Petra tried to take note of what she needed to stock up on, but from the cat, swirling around her ankles, to reaching up and at first missing the cloak that was held by a nail, her mind was scrambled.
"Alright, I need flour, milk, apples, and… hold on, Poppy, I need to think! Flour, milk, apples, and… what was it? Was it- oh! Bottles!"
Petra stifled a laugh, humoring her bad memory, as she got down onto her knees, cloak resting on her shoulder. Without missing a beat, the calico cat clambered onto her lap to rub all over her, purring, and filling the room with quiet sounds of her contentment. Petra ran her hands along the thick fur coat of the cat and got nibbles and a happy, shaky tail from Poppy in return. With big, yellow bug eyes, the little cat was nothing short of captivating.
"I'll be right back Poppy, okay? Are you gonna be a good kitty for me?" Petra asked before giving the kitty a loud kiss on the head and standing up slowly to let the cat hop off her lap. "I'll give you your supper when I get back, okay baby?"
Turning away reluctantly, she took hold of the heavy cloak with both hands to undo the clasp and throw it over both shoulders in one fell swoop. She searched the basement while redoing the clasp until she spotted a dark colored flannel and grabbed it, shimming it on from under the cloak. The bite of the cold air in just the basement had her shivering, so a flannel on top of a sweater would help keep in a little more warmth.
Adjusting the cloak once the flannel was on, she felt the bottom of the fabric getting caught on something. With a quick realization, she gave her hips a wiggle and pushed back the cloak, revealing a tail, the same color as her muted light skin tone, and covered in soft peach fuzz except for the few inches of silky black hair on the tip. Just another thing she needed to hide so she wasn't identified. Petra let go of the cloak to lift her sweater, willing the tail to wrap itself around her midriff once and resting just past her belly button. She lowered and tucked the front of the sweater in for extra security.
With dread growing in her chest, Petra grabbed a cloth bag and adjusted the cloak's clasp, which was choking her. Her hand ran farther down where a palm-sized, crystal eye hung on a thin chain around her neck, covering it with the clasp. Watching as her chest rose whilst taking a deep breath, Petra grimaced at the eye that now hung forever around her neck.
She stared into the cat's eye, trying to convince herself it was just glass; however, looking for a moment too long allowed for the beauty of the necklace to be revealed. The eye swirled and sparkled, unreal movements being made in an object that's supposed to be stationary. It made her wonder just how magic can be so dangerous and yet so pretty.
It had only been a few weeks since Petra started playing around with the magic necklace despite knowing she was a novice mage, only self-educated and relying heavily on old, worn books. Unfortunately for her, attempting to harness magic that she hardly understood didn't mesh well when it came to a magic item with unknown origins. After it lit up with a supernatural glow, the chain on the necklace shrank until it shortened enough that she couldn't remove it. She realized too late that with whatever unknown influence the crystal had, it initiated a binding curse, and now she has bound it to herself until death.
The piece would pass as a decoration to any untrained eye, but to those who delved into the arts of magic, any one of them could identify what this object was. With the deep and light blues with accents of green and a cat-eye pupil that was forever staring, there was no mistaking the Draco Oculus, as it was formally called. The crystallized eye of a dragon, an ancient creature rumored to have more magic in its body than 100 mages. The object was rich in stored-up mana, leftover from the dragon, but it was nothing to play with lightly.
Even the most skilled of mages had to be cautious and limit the time they interacted with the eye. The sooner Petra could distance herself from the object, the better, as the eye has been heavily rumored to take possession of people who use its magic for too long. Some say it is the dragon seeking revenge on humanity for slaying it. Mages long past recorded their knowledge, records that Petra has read countless times, about how the eye has influenced beings to cause great harm and destruction. Its motives are still unknown.
With the crystal on her person 24/7, she takes caution with every bit of magic she uses and every choice she makes in case the eye decides it's time to take control. All she can do is hope it isn't any time soon.
Tucking the crystal eye away in the safety of her sweater, Petra slowly opened up the old oak door, looking up the basement steps outside to be met with chilled air kissing her cheeks. The bitter promise of snow. More reason to get her errands done as soon as she could to get back home before the weather hit.
Shaking grown-out curtain bangs out of her face to further conceal pointed ears, she popped up the hood and gave the sides a light tug to let it droop over her face, insistent on hiding her features as much as possible. Petra let out an encouraging breath, leaning over to grab a leather satchel, jingling with coins, on a small table beside the door, and tied it onto the belt loop of her pants. Before she thought about the cold any longer, she set out through the door, locking it behind her.
This certainly wasn't the life she wanted for herself, scurrying around other people like a rat and hiding when someone spots her. Some part of herself knew she lived a higher, more eloquent life before all of this; she could feel it, but amnesia is a terrible thing. Her earliest memory is waking up bloodied, sore, and in the wreckage of a burning carriage. Unconscious, and she would later learn, deceased bodies lay in and around the wreckage in burning silk dresses and torn-up fine-pressed suits. Petra lay in the dirt in a daze for only a few minutes before kind Samaritans helped her to a carriage and took her into the city.
To this day, she never got an explanation for what happened or ever saw the aftermath of that wreck; she was busy learning where she was and being taken care of by an old couple who ran a shop in Blackrock Port. After she rediscovered her touch of magic, accidentally stealing a flame from a nearby torch to hover over her freezing hands one cold night, she was excited to show it off to the people she had gotten to know. To her, she was remembering who she was, but to them, she was a monster in disguise.
Blackrock was small for a reason: a small chosen government and a very tight-knit support structure between nearly every resident, so nothing could go awry in the port. Many times in the port's history did bureaucratic men come to influence the town with their magic and wonders, a gift that took years of intense study and practice, but left many open to the corruptive power of mana. Even if Petra was devoid of any partial influence, the town's leaders refused to keep that danger in their town. She tried to hide, the kind old shopkeepers helped her for a while, but after a bounty was put on her head, dead or alive, the only way she would survive was to leave.
The old couple pointed her in the direction of an abandoned two-story home over five miles out; they intended for her to stay there one night and head to a better city to the north. Petra stayed, she restored the home, and after three years, it was a miracle she was still there and thriving. After three years, posters still hung around the town of increased bounties and "Watch for the WITCH".
After two hours of walking down a few winding forest paths, carved out by years of taking the same route, the bustling port was in view. Snow littered the ground and piled up as slush on the sides of the dirt roads, which were now a muddy mess. Petra walked carefully in the slush, cringing every time her boots sank into mud or particularly icy snow, and by the time she reached the welcome sign for Blackrock Port, she could start to feel the water resistance of the leather wearing off and cold seeping into her socks. The walk back was sure to be a little more miserable with freezing feet. With the sky overcast and the feeling of snow in the air, she picked up her pace in hopes of not getting caught in the worst of it. The coming week was sure to be rough with that kind of weather, but she made sure to stock her purse with extra coins the night before.
As she approached the crowd of the farmer's market, surprisingly active for such a dreary day, she tugged her hood down further and kept her eyes on the ground as much as possible among the sea of bodies. Her heart was thudding against her chest from being in the presence of other people, terrified that today might be the day someone recognizes her. Right as Petra turned to head down an alley, she rammed shoulders with a man, much taller than her, and completely froze up. He scoffed and stood there for what felt like forever. Petra was hoping he wasn't waiting for her to look at him.
"Watch where you're going," The man spat in annoyance, hitting her shoulder on purpose as he walked past, talking to himself loud enough so she could hear. "The people here, I swear."
Petra hurriedly made her way into the alley to keep out of anyone else's way, her heart pounding, breath coming in gasps, and tears blurring up her vision. She kept walking despite how shaken up she was, disturbing a few stray cats and a dog who ran away from their dinner of trash. Petra stopped at an old, rickety door sunk into the brick walls and knocked five times in a rhythm, then waited. She stood there and mentally reassured herself that the threat was gone and no one was coming for her.
The door creaked open just enough for an old green eye to peer out. Petra looked down to meet the weary eye peeking out at her and had a hard time fighting a smile. A cackle rang out into the alley, and the door swung open to reveal a small, old woman. Her hair, peppered with gray and white, was long and braided over her shoulder; her eyes were alive and brimming with joy.
"Oh my little bird, how are you doing?" She asked fondly with a heavy, Germanic accent. Petra leaned down for the woman when she reached up, gesturing for Petra's cheeks just to hold her and make sure she looked well. Warm air from the fireplace inside the shop spilled out of the doorway, sending a wave of comfort over her.
"I'm well, Oma. You look as young as ever." Petra complimented, making the woman let out a hearty laugh.
"So, what do you need today? I just got a big order of sugar, so please take a sack."
"That would be wonderful, thank you. I need flour, milk, and apples. Is Opa at his shop today? He always has those glass bottles that I like."
"No, he's at home sick today, my dear," She chatted as she walked into the shop to retrieve what Petra needed. "He caught a small cold, but he'll be better soon. Wait just a moment, I'll go grab what you need."
The lady went off on her way, and Petra sat in the open doorway, happy to have a moment to rest her feet and warm up. While waiting, she stared down the alley at the people walking by, listening to bits and pieces of conversations. She tensed when hearing the mention of a witch, surprised she was still being brought up in conversations after so long in hiding. She felt like some sort of tall tale at this point. Like one of those scary stories parents would tell their children to keep them from misbehaving. Despite the talk, the fact that she wasn't being actively hunted anymore was a blessing in her mind.
A few long minutes passed, and there was a thump from inside that caught her attention. When she looked back, there were two large sacks and no sign of the old woman. After a few moments, the old lady was just barely managing to carry two more large sacks filled to the brim.
"Oma! Oh, I didn't ask for all this. I don't have enough coins for everything. I can't even carry half of this home." Petra exclaimed, getting up in a hurry to meet the woman who just rolled her eyes.
"I know, I know, child. You're going to need it, though, with the snowstorm we have coming in. Who knows how long it will last. So don't fuss. Besides, as payment, you can show me that magic you talked about last time. You know that… carrying magic.." She gestured wildly, trying her hardest to remember the word as Petra knelt beside the goods.
"The spatial magic? Oma, I don't think I can carry all of this, I mean, I haven't even practiced that much and-" Petra cut herself off, seeing the woman's face fall. "You know what… you're right. I can't afford not to take all of this right now. Okay, are you ready? I hope I am…"
Petra looked back at the door and then to the woman as she pointed back at it. She got the hint and closed the back door, staying behind but to the side of Petra, giving her shoulder a rub while she took her hood off before taking a step away.
Petra held her hands out toward the bags, closing her eyes to focus internally on the feeling of the magic. She wasn't a true mage, so it was a gamble whether she could pull off a trick like this. It was all a mental game she learned; if she can imagine it, then she can pull it off. Most of the time.
Exhaling a slow breath, she kept her hands relaxed and envisioned the magic flowing through her veins, pooling up in her hands. Just like that, her hands grew tingly and warm, and from behind her closed eyes, she could see the purple glow. The old woman gasped behind her, making a sound of awe. Petra focused on the feeling and imagined the strong arms of the universe taking the bags for her, carrying a burden for her so she could make it home.
She opened her eyes to make sure the magic was following her thoughts. The veins in the backs of her hands were aglow from beneath her skin with a gentle purple color, and from her palms, two hands stretched out, as dark as the night, reaching out toward the bags. The moment a hand touched a bag, it was enveloped with that same nightly darkness and was absorbed like a liquid into the hands, then back into Petra. With each bag, she could feel her bones, her very soul, get heavier, and she felt weaker. The price of such magic, the universe cannot hold burdens without some sort of price.
The glow dimmed as the hands retreated into her hands, and she relaxed. Raising her hands to inspect them, as the woman came over to do the same. The palms of her hands looked to be stained purple, as if she had smashed blackberries in them and didn't wash them off in time.
"Oh, little bird! You are so talented, how incredible, oh thank you!" The woman squealed, a huge grin on her face as she pulled Petra's face to her, kissing her head loudly and lovingly. She still giggled as she grabbed her stained hand, getting Petra to look her in the eyes. "Please hurry home now and stay safe. Opa and I love you, and I hope to see you again very, very soon."
With a quick hug and wave out the door, she pulled her hood on and made her way back into the crowd. She felt a bit more out of breath as she walked, like every step took more energy than she was used to. Thankfully, she was out of the hustle and bustle in no time, making her way back up the muddy, snow-covered slope that followed her road home. It was a blessing that her only bad run-in was getting sworn at.
Petra kept up a good pace beside the busy road, impatiently waiting to see her path and escape into the safe coverage of the woods, but her body was growing heavier by the minute. The hill and the snow blowing into her face were making it harder to convince herself to keep this magic up. Her mind wandered to the crystal eye at her neck and how relying on a little magic could help her get home.
Without thinking of the consequences, or ignoring them completely, Petra reached into her sweater, cold hands grabbing the warm chain and pulling the crystal out into the winter air. Grasping the warm pendant in her palm, the object being just small enough for her hand to wrap all the way around it, she felt the way it pulsed with life beneath her fingers, melding with the magic still leftover in her hands. She slowed her pace, pooling her energy into her hand and into the eye, letting it stay there for a few paces, then sucked it back into her body. Releasing the crystal quickly to stuff into her sweater, Petra saw a glow of blue behind her eyes as her sight grew blurry for a second, then dissipated.
Petra knew the eye wanted her to use it, and old mages only ever wrote about its evils, but a part of her believed she could be better than it with a good amount of willpower. Right now, she refused to keep it on her mind as her body felt nearly normal again, and she knew her personal pocket dimension grew stronger for the time being. She upped the pace, dipping into the forest as soon as she found her path, not caring if a passing carriage saw. The thickening snow would keep the drivers focused on their horses and the road.
The walk back home was fast, and upon reaching her land, the wind was starting to howl with the incoming storm. She ran down the steps to her door, unlocked it, and raced in. Her body ached with cold and exhaustion, but the warmth of her cottage surrounded her like a warm blanket. Leaning into the door, taking that moment to rest and try to fight off the tiredness in her eyes, excited meows approached her.
"Hey, Poppy, did you miss me, sweet girl?" Petra leaned down and petted the cat's face as she purred. Stepping around the cat, she walked over to the far wall of the basement next to a table of dried herbs and books, and performed the same ritual to spit the sacks out onto the ground.
She hummed a soft tune, taking off her cloak and unwrapping her tail to let it hang free. It naturally curled up at the end, so it didn't touch the ground. She went through the goodies, putting things away in the cabinets of the basement, with Poppy meowing insistently for food. Petra was swayed into going upstairs and grabbed as much as she could to deliver to the kitchen. The house was dark, and outside, snow was blowing past the windows.
"I knew it was going to be bad, but this is a full-on blizzard." She muttered to herself, walking over to the smoldering fireplace to put a couple more logs on. While waiting for the fire to start up, she relit the lanterns she had turned off before she left, a precaution in case anyone came snooping, and put food in a bowl for the cat before heading back downstairs.
Petra was putting away the last of the sugar when a heavy thump sounded at the door beside her, followed by a hurried couple of knocks. She froze, fear piercing through her, the only thought being that the bounty hunters had found her. Muffled male voices talked on the other side, and it wasn't until she heard the cry of a young boy that she knew she had to see who was there. Pushing some of her anxiety away, she looked around for a small knife kept in the basement for animal skinning and held it tight in her hand. Petra looked hesitantly through the peephole on the door, seeing four individuals huddled together.
Two taller men stood on the outsides to frame the four; the one on the right was lean and light-skinned with curly blonde hair. The one on the left was a bit taller, muscular with dark skin, patches of light skin splotched on his face and neck, his black hair pulled back into a bun. Noticeable tusks stuck out from his bottom lip, and his ears looked inhuman and down-pointed. He held a boy to his side who had skin a bit lighter than his own and brown, curly hair. Petra couldn't get a good look at the boy, but he had a tall, thin frame, which the tusked man held close to him to try to shield him from the cold. The two tall men both had on heavy armor along with the boy, though his armor was more leather than metal.
On the right, the blonde man shielded his glasses with his hand, leaning into the man in the middle who sported large wings, wrapping one around the curly blonde. The wings belonged to another blonde, wearing expensive-looking white and gold mage robes, who was shoulder height to the man he held in his sandy colored wing.
Petra knew better than to trust a stranger, but light shone onto the winged man's face from the peephole. They knew she was there. She could ignore them; they would have to move on fast if they wanted to survive the blizzard, but then she thought of the young boy, shivering next to the tusked man. There was only one answer. Petra slowly opened up the door, all four eyes darting to her and squinting in the light. The winged man stepped forward, wiping snow off his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Please let us in. We will leave as soon as it's day, but please just-" Petra put her hand up to stop the man mid-sentence as she opened up the door wide, making a split-second and selfless choice.
"Come in, come in!" Petra ushered the bunch inside, eager to find out if this was a ruse or not, and mentally preparing herself to be able to fight.
The burly dark-haired man was the first to make a move, pushing the boy toward the doorway before reaching over to push the curly-haired man next, and only moving once the winged man hurried in too. He gave Petra a short nod of appreciation before bypassing her.
Petra had just gotten the door closed, turning around to speak to the strangers when she was hit with a bear hug from the winged man. She was surprised by just how cold his body was compared to hers and hugged him back with one hand, concealing the knife in the other as he muttered many 'thank you's' into her shoulder. The man pulled away, and she watched the others nervously, though they all seemed too tired and limbs too cold to make any move. They weren't putting on an act, especially the boy who stood huddled against the curly blonde man who was rubbing the boy's shoulders.
"I truly cannot thank you enough for this. We would have died out there." The man said and studied her face for a moment, looking for more words of gratitude, it seemed. "Oh, we should introduce ourselves. My name is Wilhelm, and the big guy back there is Perseus. And these two are my sons, the lanky one is Finn, and the brunette is Elias."
Petra watched the men and boy as Wilhelm introduced them. Each of them gave them some sort of little greeting when they were called. Perseus gave her another head nod, Elias a little wave, and Finn a smile. They seemed nice.
Before Petra could respond, Perseus stepped in front of Finn and Elias, his arms crossed, staring down at Petra. Either to intimidate her or size her up, Petra couldn't tell, but it was working. With the man closer, his size and appearance felt like they were created for intimidation.
"What's your name? Who are you?" Perseus grumbled out the question, though it sounded more like a command. He looked down on her, intentionally, she felt, and squared her shoulders to stand a little taller.
"Percy- for god's sake, be a little nicer. Bloody hell, she just saved us." Wilhelm retorted, and Perseus huffed a little growl, stepping back beside Finn but still watching her. He wasn't the friendly type it seemed. Hard to trust, like her.
Finn pulled himself away from Elias and rested a hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist. The gesture wasn't meant as a threat, Petra was sure by the friendly look on his face, but she grew uneasy.
"What's your name?" He asked as he and Wilhelm looked at her expectantly. She hesitated for a moment, all eyes on her, and cleared her throat.
"My name is Petra... It's nice to meet you all." She thought for a moment about what she should say to these people as they just stood around, warming up from the cold. "How about I uh… go get some blankets for you all? Blankets and I'll set up my two spare rooms. One is in that back corner, the other is upstairs, if you want to choose who goes where," She gestured out of the storage area and into the library area of the basement, where an open door was. Before giving anyone time to talk, she headed upstairs, discarding the knife onto a nearby counter as soon as she could.
This was going to be one hell of a night. She could only hope that the snow would stop soon.