An Otherwise Pleasant Afternoon

Nothing passes the time like peace.

Deep inland, far beneath the patchy fluff dotting the pale blue sky, lay a dark mountain range covered in beech trees. Below the mountains, where the oaks mingled with chestnut and birch, sat the tiny town of Mansa. The town – which barely escaped the label of village on something of a technicality – was a sparse collection of old stone homes embedded in a large foothill at the bottom of the mountain. These days, as the hills flattened into the surrounding farmland, one could find a looser collection of younger brick buildings that had been built by newcomers to peaceful village. Speckled on the outskirts, between the fields that seemed to go on as far as the eye could see, were even newer clay and wood homes by latecomers who hoped to find a place among the good folks of Mansa.

What made Mansa such an attractive town for a fresh start?

Did it have a tight-knit community built around a welcoming church, where the pastor was both leader and neighbor? One who could manage the pressures that the state-backed church of the capital city placed upon the town’s abundant wheat production?

Did it have a practiced, knowledgeable Witch who ensured the survival of both mother and babe? One who would tolerate no outside aggression or malicious ignorance within her territory?

The town of Mansa actually had both.

Gale Keller, once known as the Witch of Nascent Seeds, now known simply as Miss Gris, had just finished her business in the fields. She had set up the recently pregnant Tina and her husband with a number of specially formulated candles, teas, and tinctures to ensure her health and comfort over the coming eventful months. Such was one of the many responsibilities that the local Witch had to her people. Now, she made her way to the Church of New Hope, tucked away deep in the town center near the hill’s apex. As brick gave way to stone around her and the path began its long slope upwards, she passed more and more folks going about their business.

“Hello, Miss Gris!” Carolanne the baker beamed a smile at her and Gale returned the gesture. The bakery’s front door was propped open while Carolanne swept outside of her storefront, the warm scent of baked goods wafting out into the street. Gale inhaled deeply, savouring the scent of fresh-baked bread as she continued ascending towards the church.

“Afternoon, Good Witch Gris! Off to see Elias?” Clyde, a local farmer, asked as he exited the blacksmith with a newly repaired tool casually propped on his shoulder.

“’Fraid so, Clyde. Quite a busy day, what with Tina, Elias, and my own gardens to attend… But the good pastor said it simply could not wait so… onward and upward!” Gale gave an exaggerated eyeroll and a swish of her dark curly hair, drawing a hearty chuckle from the man. She waved him off and continued up the cobblestone path.

The rest of her trek was quiet, save the chirping of birds and the clip-clop of her sandals on the stones beneath her feet. Every couple of minutes she climbed, the stonework looked older and older. In a very real sense, climbing the streets of Mansa was like traveling back in time. The wear and tear and blemishes increased with every step, as did the evidence of loving, practical maintenance on everything in sight. The shadow cast by the church’s belltower provided the approaching Witch some shelter from the harsh sun’s rays as the dark, sturdy oak doors came into view.

Just then – as if she had triggered some unseen mechanism – the doors groaned and opened slightly. This happened every time she came to the church without fail and it always unnerved her. There were no windows in front of this church, and Gale knew that her sandals made no sound so audible as to penetrate the aging stone of the building. He just always knew… and she could never quite tell if this was a gift granted by his God on high, or magicks from some other source.

She didn’t like how difficult he was to read.

The Witch slid through the cracked-open doors and did not shut them behind her, preferring silence as the better part of discretion. Elias stood near the front altar, past the many rows of pews, at the end of a simple red carpet, quietly giving a laundry list of instructions to his protégé. The young woman – Alyssa – was a pretty, petite, brunette with dark eyes aglow with admiration and attention for the good pastor. She was nodding her head vigorously, committing each item on the list to memory, not taking a single physical note down. Gale smiled approvingly as she quietly took a seat in the back row; the girl was quite well trained.

“Miss Gris.” Elias intoned after another minute, startling his charge standing before him. She glanced around frantically before squinting at the back row of pews and gasping ever so slightly when she noticed the Witch sitting in the shadows. Gale gave young Alyssa a lackadaisical wave and waited for the pastor to dismiss her.

The man turned his back to the altar and faced the Witch. “Thank you for climbing all the way up here. Alyssa, you have your instructions.”

“Yes, Pastor Gould!” Alyssa responded only a bit too enthusiastically as she hustled down the aisle, pausing at the still-cracked doors to glance at the Witch who hadn’t spared her a second glance, before dutifully exiting and pushing the doors shut from the outside. Elias smiled at the Witch expectantly as the echoes of the closing door faded, his golden eyes silently suggesting that she stand and approach the altar. Gale, of course, had other ideas.

“…Well?” The Witch intoned into the silence.

“If you would, Miss Gris?” The pastor nodded at the space in front of him.

Gale raised an eyebrow at the man. “I’m not of your flock, Elias. And I think I’ve walked plenty on your behalf already. Come.” She beckoned him over sharply and his smile merely widened. After a few moments’ deliberation, his ‘customer service’ smile crossfaded into something marginally more honest, and he made his way down the aisle towards her.

“I have simply come to trust in the sheer abundance of your energy, is all. We both know frail, bookish types like myself are not suited for a journey to the outskirts.” Gale rolled her eyes at the man standing before her as he straightened his tie. Elias Gould was many things – cunning, opaque, magically adept, infuriatingly self-assured, and many more – but frail could never be counted among his traits. The pastor, now in his late forties, maintained a disposition of carefully calculated imperfection: his blonde hair just the slightest bit unkempt, his glasses the tiniest bit crooked upon his nose, his beige linen suit creased just right to imply a large amount of manual labour. All of that combined with the occasional dot of ink or a smudge of ash on his otherwise infuriatingly handsome face rendered the populace powerless against his charm and leadership. He managed to deftly walk the tightrope of commanding universal respect and being an approachable pillar of the community.

Gale glanced over her shoulder at the front door with narrowed eyes. “Sure, we’ll go with that. The least you could do is use one of your minions to deliver letters to my door.  You shouldn’t be using local scamps as your couriers.”

Elias chuckled slyly. “Ah but other than you, who has the energy if not the children? It is my personal belief that every member of a community has responsibility – nay, a mission – to help tucker the little ones out. It is a service we perform not only to support the parents who are doing God’s work, but to keep our community as peaceful as possible!”

The Witch snickered. “Well, make sure you reward them properly. Favours are meant to be reciprocal. Wouldn’t you agree, Elias?”

“Oh? Is that why you walked all the way up here? And here I thought you were simply excited to see me, Miss Gris.” Gale whipped her head back around to scowl at the man. Without breaking eye contact, she brought her hand up and her fingertips shone with the verdant light of the forest’s depths. She drew a complex Rune in the air in a matter of moments – each finger moving precisely and independently – and palmed it to activate the spell.

A split second later, a large wooden arm grew out of the door, reaching towards the pair within the church. It made a fist – one finger at a time – and promptly swung that fist back towards the door, oak slamming into oak with a thunderous crash.

The slam was met with a shriek from the eavesdropping Alyssa on the other side of the door, who scampered away at full pelt down the hill.

“Now-now… that was unkind, Good Witch. I dare say you will have to apologize to the poor girl later.” Elias admonished her with a slight shake of his head as he took a seat in the pew in front of her.

The Witch dismissed her spell and clicked her tongue irritably. “Really? You’re going to scold me for shooing away a little spy?”

“Hardly. But I would never punish her for the act itself, only for getting caught! Listening is what I train her for, after all. What good is a shepherd without his collie?”

She chuckled in disbelief. “Goodness! To think you’d actually say it out loud. Your lack of hypocrisy in most matters disturbs me… I imagine you’re fairly unpopular with your colleagues.”

“Gale.” The Witch flinched at the utterance of her true given name. It always startled her whenever he said it – but she knew he would never say it if there were even the slightest chance that someone could overhear it. So he must have quite thoroughly checked their surroundings, however the hell he did so.

“Down to business, then.” The Witch replied flatly.

The pastor nodded gravely, staring off into the dark on the other side of the aisle. “As much as I’d love to exchange barbs with you until judgment day, I do believe this to be a matter of some pressing time.”

“Well?”

“You’re familiar with Amy Gilliard?”

Gale raised an eyebrow at the man. “Yes… she’s the second daughter of Johanne and Cindra. Blessedly large family, if I recall correctly… they work a number of plots north of town, just before the dark woods at the foot of the mountain, no?”

“The very same, yes. It appears that the youngest children strayed too close to the mountain the other day.” Gale frowned at this – those foothills were decidedly not her territory. She has specifically drawn her mystic lines all those years ago so as to not brush up against the dark things sleeping in the Ruhiger Mountains. The things that resided beneath that prison of rock, crystal, dark, and green were never meant to be touched by the picks or minds of men.

“That’s well outside of my territory, Elias. I’ve told you before my powers are limited on that mountain. I’m sorry you’ve lost some lambs, but I don’t think I can-”

“Oh they aren’t lost, no worries about that.” Gale sighed in relief, but Elias continued. “Young Anise and Bertrand were collected in short order by Amy. This alone would not be worth mentioning… but it appears that some manner of haint hitched a ride back with the group.”

“Ah…” Gale replied, beginning to understand what they were doing here.

“It seems that upon catching up to her youngest siblings, the particular milieu of fear, anger, and relief rendered her soul vulnerable to something that had been… watching the children,” Elias explained, returning his gaze to the Witch in the pew next to him.

“Amy has been possessed?”

“Not quite. The young woman has a steadfast heart, but this haint seems to be clamped onto the outskirts of her soul and is… eroding her. I do not believe she will last more than a couple more days. And with each passing day, the odds that we can remove it without hurting young Miss Gilliard approach zero.”

“So… why haven’t you taken care of this?”

Elias frowned almost petulantly. “This particular haint seems to be rather skilled at barrier magick. As such, I am unsure of its source – even whether it is a demon, fiend, or devil – so I cannot brute force my way through its barrier without hurting Miss Gilliard.”

“I see… And since it is technically establishing a ‘place of power’ inside of my territory…”

“Yes. I imagined that you could overcome its defenses with relative ease, and with relatively little discomfort for the victim,” the pastor finished for her. “It does appear that we are on the same page. If we leave now, then I do believe we can make it to the Gilliard farm and back before dark and still maintain a genteel pace.” He stood sharply and began walking up the aisle.

Gale draped an arm over the back of the pew she sat in and cocked her head at the man. “Hold your horses, Elias. All you’ve done here is tell me a bunch of things, but I don’t recall you actually asking me anything yet, let alone me agreeing to what you’re implying.” The pastor paused his egress and faced the Witch, his gold eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He walked back down the aisle with measured, confident steps until he stood before the good Witch, still seated in her pew.

“Put plainly, Witch of Nascent Seeds, I would like your assistance in banishing the aforementioned haint back to the blackened heart of the mountain from whence it came. And I wish for the exorcism itself to be as comfortable a process for young Miss Gilliard as possible; a matter which I would of course leave up to your discretion.” Elias offered his hand to the Witch and she almost absent-mindedly placed her fingertips on his palm as she made a mock show of contemplation. He knew as well as she did that she was going to accompany him, but he had never known the woman to not give him a hard time whenever he asked a favour. In some ways it was a pleasant change-of-pace from the eager offerings of his flock, but as this matter was slightly more pressing than usual, he was forced to do something… drastic.

“Hmm… I don’t kn- oh?” Gale cut her faux consideration short as she felt Elias place his thumb atop her fingers and turn his hand to lift her own up past his chest. She turned her head to face him fully, just catching the glint of his eyes as he bowed slightly into her hand, placing an ever-so-gentle kiss upon her fingers.

“Please?” He asked as his lips curled into a vulpine smirk.

Gale’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed for… a number of reasons, namely the audacity of this ‘man of God’ to act so shamelessly within his own deity’s place of power.

“Y-you! I can’t- You-” Gale sputtered incoherently as she snatched her hand back from his, before finally conceding. “Fine! But I’m not walking with you! I have to get some things from my cottage!” The Witch stalked towards the front doors beyond the pastor without a second glance at the amused man.

“Ah, a shame. Will you be bringing the wine for our debrief, or shall I make a stop on my way?” Prodding the Witch when she was flustered was a favoured pastime of the good Pastor of Mansa.

The Witch yanked open the heavy double doors as if they weighed nothing, the rush of wind billowing her skirt dramatically. “I can only imagine the frightful headway the Church would make if you put half as much energy into your job as you did into all of that insufferable smarm of yours…” She paused in between the open doors for another few seconds before petulantly answering the question.

“…You bring it!” And with that she promptly slammed the doors behind her, trotting down the stone path, fanning her face with her hands, and pretending she couldn’t hear the pastor’s laughter through the doors of the church.

***

The two would-be exorcists met on the outer edge of the Gilliard’s property, where their drive met the path that ran towards town. It was mid-afternoon now, but even with the sun high in the sky, there was a darkened cast about the farmhouse at the center of the property – at least to the pair’s magically enhanced Sight.

Gale clicked her tongue contemptuously. “Yuck. The air here’s already gone rotten. Let’s clear this little problem up... Hold this, if you would.” She handed the pastor a plump waterskin, then slipped off her sandals and hooked them onto her backpack. As soon the Witch’s bare feet touched the Earth beneath, a pulse ran through the territory that contained Mansa. The awakening of power in the land was imperceptible to nearly all within the territory, save Elias, Gale, Alyssa, and – of course – the pair’s target.

The pastor regarded the Witch quizzically. “Are you sure that was wise? Announcing yourself like that before we have had the chance to set anything up?”

She rolled her eyes and began walking down the path. “Surely you’re not suggesting that I scuttle around – like a thieving rat – in my own territory!”

Elias grinned and followed behind her. “I would not dream of it, dear Witch! Merely expressing concern at the fact that I do not know the nature of your plan.”

“You said you would leave the matter up to my discretion. Just bless the water skin.” Gale shot back, still irritated by the pastor’s earlier behaviour. Elias shook his head melodramatically and silently prayed to his God, drawing a variety of symbols above the waterskin in his hand as he walked.

The two came to a stop a few meters from the house, the air thick with the mountain’s darkness. There the Witch shrugged off her backpack, setting it down and producing a small leather pouch and a sturdy garden trowel. She motioned for the pastor to follow her and began taking measured steps off the path and into the grass that surrounded the house. After only a few steps, she squatted down and cut into the earth with her trowel. When she had made a satisfactory little hole, she produced a strange, green, oblong pod from the pouch and buried it the nascent hole.

“If you could water that, please?” Gale asked over her shoulder as she moved on to dig her next hole.

Elias nodded curtly as he followed behind the Witch. “Of course… but what are they? And how many are you burying?”

“Seven total… and they’re seed pods from the Ceiba pentandra tree, also known as the Silk Cotton Tree. Outside of the obvious, it’s well known in many island countries as a place of imprisonment for evil.”

“Oh really?” Elias inquired as he watered the second pod, sounding as interested as ever in the regional mythology that was the Witch’s specialty.

“The specifics vary from island to island, but it was originally thought that Silk Cotton Trees was the physical home of many jumbees – like, spirits or haints as you’d call them. If you ever see one of these trees fully grown, you’ll understand why; twisted, creepy-looking giants.” Gale gave her lecture as she repeated the seeding process, her path tracing a clean heptagonal perimeter around the house. “Anyhow, that part of the mythology makes them something of a magnet for disembodied spirits – there are rules, after all – and a particularly popular myth tells the story of a carpenter who trapped the Devil King Bazil inside of the Silk Cotton Tree, carving seven chambers into the trunk in order to confound and entrap him forever.” The Witch finished her speech as she came to a stop right on the path leading to the front door, between the first and last buried pod.

Elias joined her after draining the last of the blessed waterskin over the seventh pod. “And these it is the power inherent in these myths that you intend to leverage today?”

“Yes. This should work regardless of whether it’s a demon, devil, fiend, mountain haint, or whatever. I can entrap it – especially since it appears to be so confident that it did not exit the house to interrupt my ritual.” The Witch sneered at the thought of being underestimated by such a creature. “But if it is a hell beast of sorts, banishing it is on you.”

“Of course. Shall we?”

“After you, Good Pastor.” The Witch smiled and gestured at the door. Elias beamed back at her and strode up to the door, knocking loudly three times. The door swung open moments later, revealing a clearly distraught young boy. He looked up at the pastor, then to the Witch, then back to the pastor, fear melting away into a mixture of hope and trepidation.

“Father Gould! A-are you gonna help my sis?!”

The pastor kneeled so as to be eye-to-eye with the boy. “I sure am, young Betrand. To make sure no one is hurt, I have also brought along Miss Gris. You know Miss Gris, right?”

“Y-yeah… Yeah! She’s the Witch in the Woods! She made me medicine when I was sick… Is my big sis real sick?”

“That’s right. And we are going to work together to make sure your big sister gets all better.” At that, Elias stood up and Gale placed a hand on his shoulder, giving the boy a gentle smile before leaning in and bringing her mouth next to Elias’s.

“Get the family outside, just beyond the lines of the ritual. It’s going to make a move soon.” She whispered brusquely.

“Of course.” Elias replied quietly before turning his attention back to the boy. “Now then, young man, why don’t you take me to the rest of your family? We should give the Good Witch privacy to do her business.”

“Okay! Follow me!” Elias followed the boy inside as he scampered about, knocking on various doors. Meanwhile, Gale entered more cautiously, clicking her tongue at the sour taste in the air. This close to the entity, she could tell it was not the sort of thing she would be able to fully banish. But she was confident she could deal with its more esoteric magicks long enough to force it to abdicate the young woman’s body.

The Witch followed the foul-tasting air to the last room at the end of the long hall. As the pastor passed, Gilliard family in tow, he nodded at her and muttered a short prayer under his breath. Gale felt a mantle of ethereal energy enshroud her as she came to a stop outside of Amy Gilliard’s bedroom. She wondered briefly what manner of request the man of God had had to make in order to bless a creature like her. Or perhaps it was a simple matter, and her beef was with the Church, rather than their God Himself.

Questions for later.

The Witch reached into her pouch and grabbed a handful of seeds before taking a steadying breath of sour air and opening the door.

It felt like walking into a boiling sea.

Amy Gilliard’s room was heavy with otherworldly magic. Gale felt the reality-warping nature of it clawing at every single one of her senses. Her mouth tasted like blood, every surface was screaming at her, the scent was that of not just death… but her death. All the while her mind raced in every direction at once and her skin felt like it wanted nothing more than to walk away from the fascia beneath. There was nothing to do but die. She had to just sit down and-

The Witch of Nascent Seeds plunged her nails into her palm and the pain sliced through the torrent of illusory madness. All at once the jumbling of her senses faded and Gale found herself face to face with the possessed Amy Gilliard. She stood in the center of the otherwise non-descript bedroom, wearing a nightgown and standing with an unnatural tilt to her torso, her head nearly upside-down as she glowered at the Witch, who took the time to gently shut the door behind her. Her skin had a ghastly pallor and her thumbs were much too long.

The Witch glowered at the thing that was but was not Amy Gilliard. “That’s not going to work on me, demon, why don’t we skip the theatrics.”

A wicked grin that spread across the woman’s face. “I thought I’d scented the h-holy mannnn ret-Turning for a second-second round! But he hi-HI-hides behind the sssssskirt of a WOMAN of d-d-dirt and magic instead? How d-d-d-d-issapp-p-POINTing. I want-want-wanted to eeeeeeeat him ffffffffffffffirst.” The voice that was not Amy Gilliard’s words was stilted and erratic, as if the body was fighting to clench its jaw against the words as they poured out unbidden. Amy Gilliard’s mouth was smiling – or possibly baring its teeth – but the grin was at odds with the all-consuming terror behind her eyes. The young woman was still in there somewhere, half-lucid in the recesses of her own mind and struggling violently against the demon’s control.

Gale nodded approvingly.

“It’s okay, Amy. You’ve done enough; good fight. I’ll take it from here.” The Witch spoke directly to the woman behind the demon’s mind, ignoring the creature’s jeering entirely. The fear in Amy’s eyes warped into something resembling confusion even as her mouth twisted in a snarl of indignation.

“Don’t you ignore me Wwwit- Oh?” Amy Gilliard’s body relaxed all at once – like a marionette whose strings had been cut – before rising into a more traditionally aggressive stance, a vicious smile that reached the eyes on its face. “You have my thanks, Witch! This one was certainly resilient! I suppose the holy man will have to settle for dying second… But I’m sure he won’t-”

The Witch of Nascent Seeds yawned loudly, without covering her mouth, and wiped the resulting tears from her eyes. “Can we get this over with, please? I have things to do.”

The entity possessing Amy Gilliard gaped in disbelief at the Witch, unsure if she was stupid, brave, or both. Her skin suddenly saturated from sickly white to pink to red and back again before her face twisted in rage.

“YOU COCKY LITTLE FREAK OF NATURE!” A voice that was not Amy Gilliard’s shrieked as the woman leapt at Witch, her nails suddenly viciously long and sharp as the demon’s magic warped its host’s body.

Gale raised her hand to her mouth and sharply blew the myriad seeds from her palm, directly into the face of her attacker. It growled in confusion as it blindly swiped at the Witch, who agilely stepped to the side. The creature stumbled past Gale and its nails carved a sizable gash into the door to the room. As the possessed woman whipped around to face the Witch, the light, dainty seeds clinging to her face began to sprout, nascent roots grasping for purchase on the woman’s skin. ‘Amy Gilliard’ shrieked as she frantically plucked at the hungry, newborn plants.

“W-w-what are you doing!?! You’ll hurt her!” The demon cried out in dismay.

The Witch of Nascent Seeds shrugged. “I’m a Witch – I’ve no obligation to tend to the pastor’s flock. I am only here to expunge an intruder from my territory.”

“Shit… SHIT!” ‘Amy Gilliard’ screamed as the demon encased its host within a shimmering, iridescent, cubic barrier. This, of course, was exactly what the Witch had been waiting for.

“There it is…” The Witch of Nascent Seeds opened her mouth wide, but instead of a loud yawn, a cloud of fluffy dandelion seeds billowed out of her mouth, the opaque torrent rapidly engulfing the barrier that the demon had place around itself.

“What the fuck is this?!”

Once the demon was fully entombed, Gale slowed the flow of seedlings and snapped her mouth shut with a click of her teeth, cutting off the spell all at once. The Witch sloshed the remainder of the seeds around in her mouth before spitting a wet glob of seedlings onto the floorboards.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Did you know that many people consider dandelions to be weeds? It’s strange, they are so very good for the ecosystem and packed full of nutrients and even useful for local pollinators. They’re so ubiquitous so as to not be considered invasive. They’re helpful. They bring value… and they always find a way to sprout.” The barrier hummed with hellish energy as the demon’s magical energy attempted to push back at the millions of roots that grew from the hundreds of thousands of seeds.

“But you… you are invasive. Choking out the local fauna, wreaking havoc, and spoiling my garden.” A muffled sound not unlike glass cracking leaked out from the writhing cloud of rapidly sprouting dandelions. Gale could feel the demon pouring more Mana into the barrier, but it was simply not made to take millions of constant, tiny attacks all at once. It would either run out of energy and be helpless, or it would drop the barrier and run. She could have simply opened her own barrier inside of the creature’s barrier, this being her territory and all. But what was important here was the fear. And in Gale’s experience, there was nothing quite like the threat of becoming a seed bed to strike mortal terror into any and every living thing.

The demon, of course, broke before its barrier did.

“FUCK!” The demon roared in its own voice as it dispelled its barrier, dropping the dandelion sprouts all at once on the floor. “FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!” The creature’s half-solid, shadowy form flew towards the open window, repeating its curse over and over. It had abdicated Amy Gilliard’s body and seemed to think it would escape back to the dark mountain from whence it came.

The Witch of Nascent Seeds, on the other hand, tended to the newly freed Amy Gilliard, whose consciousness was already returning to her exhausted body.

***

Elias heard the cursing demon before he saw it.

“There are children out here…” The pastor whispered indignantly.

“-UUUUUCK!!” The scream rang through the open air as the demon phased through the window of Amy Gilliard’s room, which faced the pastor and the children of the Gilliard family who were gathered behind him.

“Ah, there it is! Everyone stay close – it is far too weak without a stolen body to harm us!” Elias called out loudly enough for the demon to hear.  As anticipated, its gaze snapped towards the pastor and the man of God gave the creature a smarmy grin. Several more eyes blinked into existence across the demon’s incorporeal, tenebrous form.

“WHO’S WEAK BLOODY PRIEST?!” The demon’s many eyes swiveled all about before locking onto Johanne and Cindra Gilliard, who stood behind an adjacent pile of loose dirt in the ground clutching at one another. Afraid, but resolute.

The eyes grew teeth just to smile with as it let out an exultant cry. “I’LL SHOW YOU WEAK!” It twisted itself briefly in the air before firing off towards the heads of the Gilliard family like a black sword cutting through the air. There was nothing that the pastor could do to stop it.

Not that he wanted to.

With a sound not unlike lightning striking a tree, an enchanted, blessed, silk cotton tree leapt out of the ground a full forty meters tall and three meters thick above its fin-like buttress roots, which stuck out of the otherwise undisturbed ground a respectable five meters. It had risen to its full height in the blink of an eye and enclosed around the demon as it passed over the seed. The tree looked like it had always been there… and in fact, Elias suddenly found that his many memories of this land now included this very tree. He shook his head as he crossed the line of the Witch’s ritual heptagram, approaching the definitely-not-nascent-tree that shook with the muffled roars of the demon trapped within.

Her power was something else, alright.

“Johanne, Cindra, please tend to your children. I will have this sorted out momentarily.” Elias gently ordered the two gobsmacked adults who had fallen on their rumps when the tree sprung into existence in front of them. They nodded their heads and scampered off to mind their family.

Elias watched them go before turning his head to the tree. “I have a question for you, demon.”

“FUCK YOU! WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Came the predictable response. It was far less intelligent than Elias had originally thought.

“How did you come to be upon that mountain? Is there a Hell Rift up there?”

“PISS OFF! I AIN’T TELLING YOU SHIT!”

“And here I was going to at least make your end quick. You have no capacity to defend yourself within those chambers.” There was a dull thud from within the tree as the vague outline of an inhuman handprint appeared on the smooth bark at the pastor’s eye-level.

Elias pressed his palm against the tree where the print had appeared as the demon continued to scream at him. “DO YOUR WORST YOU COWARD! YOU DIDN’T BEAT ME! SHE DID! YOU DON’T HAVE THE-”

“Blessed be the light… eh, so on and… so forth.” A shockwave of brilliant golden light shot through the tree, briefly gilding the thick canopy of leaves above as auric sparks gently fell from the tree.

The demon ceased to be without a chance to even scream.

“…Pity.” Elias muttered irritably.

He turned his head towards the window to Amy Gilliard’s room and locked eyes with Gale, who rewarded him with a small smile and a thumbs up. Once he returned the gesture, she turned her attention back to the young woman she’d moved to the bed. The pastor decided to leave the health care to the Witch and approached the rest of the Gilliard family to talk them through the next steps of the situation.

***

That night, Elias sat in his home at a small table set for two across from a roaring fireplace. He had taken the time to slice some cured meats, cheeses, and bread from the bakery. The wine was opened and airing and everything was ready for his guest to arrive for their debrief. The pastor frowned at the thought; ‘guest’ did not quite sound correct to describe her.

Not that either one of us would openly call one another ‘friend’, he thought wryly to himself. Before he could indulge in too much contemplation on that matter, the Witch arrived.

“Come in, Gale.” Elias called out into the empty room. A moment later the door creaked open and Gale slipped in soundlessly, shutting and locking the door behind her. She was elegant as ever. Her curly, dark brown hair had the occasional bronze highlight that matched her sun-weathered skin and was pulled back in a loose bun. Even in the dancing fire light, her eyes shone with the same verdant green he’d come to associate with the Witch’s magic. Tonight, she wore a long black skirt and a light grey, sleeveless blouse – her usual outfit for her occasional ‘debriefs’ with the pastor – and a small black jacket overtop to ward away the cold.

“I don’t love it when you do that, you know,” she said as she approached the table, slipping off her jacket and slinging it over the chair next to the pastor.

Elias reached for the wine and filled two glasses, handing her one of them. “Do what?”

“Inviting me in before I knock. It makes me feel like you’re always watching me. One of these days you’re going to have to explain how that works.” She grumbled as she accepted the glass and sat down.

Elias chuckled. “I see. Well, for what it’s worth: I’m not always watching. But let’s be reasonable: I don’t ask you how your power works, and you don’t ask me about mine.”

“…I suppose…”

“How fares Amy Gilliard?”

She took a long sip of the wine, pursed her lips, and nodded with approval before answering. “She’s in rough shape, but fine. She’ll recover with rest and proper nutrition. I explained as much to her parents. And I gave the children a stern talking to about the mountain.”

“You and I both. We mustn’t invite such darkness into our homes.” Elias shook his head and took another small sip himself. “And unfortunately, it does not take much at all for these things to ruin multiple lives. Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong place… right time. Just bad luck, really.”

Gale sighed at that. “Bad luck, huh? I suppose so… Oh, did you get any useful info from the demon?”

The pastor frowned into his glass. “I did not.”

The Witch did the same. “…Pity.”

“That’s what I said!” The two smiled at each other and clinked their glasses together before draining them and setting them down. “More?”

She nodded sharply as she stacked some meat and cheese onto a small slice of bread. “Please.”

They stared into the dancing flames, drinking and eating quietly for several minutes before Elias finally turned fully towards her and broke the silence.

“Do you really have no power on the mountain, Gale?”

The Witch closed her eyes briefly before turning in her chair to face the pastor. “…It’s not no power. But… How to put this? Something else controls the flow of power through that land. Something much, much more than I am. Whatever that something is… it’s been there far longer than I’ve been on the land which we sit. I could use my powers, sure, but whatever that mountain is could cut me off from my power on a whim. Why?”

Elias sighed, disappointed. “I see… It’s just that- I mean- God forbid there is a rift up there. Haints are one thing – they at least seem to play by your rules. All lines and territories and Domains and what not. But if demons are gathering up there too, then this must be dealt with sooner than later.”

Gale nodded her head gravely. “Well, we’ve confirmed at least one demon. Can’t you call the church?”

The pastor gave her a grim smile. “To do that, I would have to admit that I do not have the-” He waved his hand up and down at her half-heartedly. “-situation here under control.”

The Witch snorted and leaned back in her chair, picking her glass back up off the table. “Under control? Is that what you’ve been telling them? I feel like I should be more offended than I am… must be the wine.”

“Simply convenient terminology.” The man chuckled and rose his glass to hers. “I would not read into it too much.”

She tapped her glass against his once more. “They do love their convenient words, don’t they?”

“They certainly do.”

They drained their half-full glasses and returned their gazes to one another.

Elias cocked his head at the Witch. “If I were to investigate, would you go with me?”

“Aren’t you a bit old to be doing investigative work? Seems irresponsible of you to abandon your flock, don’t you think,” Gale chided him teasingly.

He smirked at that but pressed the point. “Alyssa is well-trained. Let me rephrase: would you let me go alone?” At that the Witch of Nascent Seeds’ face hardened. She stared at him sternly, her face unreadable. Elias, to his credit – or perhaps the wine’s – met the intimidating gaze of the powerful Witch levelly. After many long, long seconds, her countenance twisted into a pout and she turned to face the fire once more.

“…That wasn’t fair…” She protested petulantly.

“I know…” The pastor admitted. “Well?”

The Witch let out a long, melodramatic groan. “I would… ensure that the shepherd made it back to his flock… alive.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her wording. “Just like you did back at the Sehrekt Estate?”

The Witch tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. “Ugh. Let’s talk about more pleasant things.”

“Heh, fair enough! Then tell me, how fairs Lady Tina’s health?”

“She’ll be just fine. She’s young and takes good care of herself, and she’s still early on in her pregnancy… Oh!” Gale tilted her head to look at Elias with the most conspiratorial of grins spreading on her face. “That reminds me: you’ll never guess what she and her husband were bickering about when I arrived!”

Elias’ smile was earnest as he settled back in his chair to listen to her gossip.

“Please, Good Witch. Do tell!”