“That’s the point,” Rowena said in a cheery voice. I knew she was speaking so for my sake. “It discourages trespassers.”
“How is anyone supposed to see where they’re going?” I muttered.
“There are no real directions,” Theodora said, squeezing my fingers. “We just have to walk forward until the passageway opens for us.”
“Oh.”
So this was magic. I couldn’t help feeling intimidated as we proceeded blindly forward.
Eventually, a rectangular outline of light appeared before us, almost like a door.
“Ah, here we are,” Miriam said. And then the darkness melted away.
A soft gust of wind swept in the scent of dew and freshly cut grass. I stumbled back into Rowena, appalled at what lay before me. Somehow, we were outside before a village on a hill. Huts and shacks spiraled up the mound, reaching the pinnacle in a chaotic crowd of straw, wood, and specks of green where trees and flora sprouted out from the crevices. It looked like a squatter village or an anthill, not quite man-made, but not quite natural either. I squinted up at the wisps of clouds floating through a cerulean sky.
“Welcome to Witch Village,” Miriam said, discarding the lamp behind her. The cave from which we came had disappeared completely, leaving only a vast expanse of green fields that extended to the horizon.
“I thought the tunnel was underground,” I said breathlessly. “We’re outside.”
She cackled, shaking her head. “Humans. I forget you grew up in ignorance.”
“She grew up protected,” Theodora said testily. “Now, show us to Lana, as you promised.”
Miriam harrumphed. “Alright, alright. Come with me.”
My nannies and I followed, traversing the field to the winding dirt path that led into the village. The path grew increasingly cramped as ramshackle structures and overgrown gardens crowded in. Laundry from clotheslines billowed gently in the breeze.
Rowena craned her neck to a short cottage behind us with a round yellow door, an unreadable look on her face.
“Want to stop for a visit?” Miriam asked without looking back.
“No,” Rowena said. Miriam grunted.
I stole a look at Rowena, but I couldn’t glean anything from her now impassive expression.
For the first time, I realized my nannies had lives outside of Papa’s manor. Lives that started here, no doubt. Why did they leave to care for me?
Perhaps they would tell me another time.
“Where is everyone?” I asked instead. Other than the overflowing flora, the five of us were the only living souls to be seen.
Miriam glanced back at me. There was a glimmer of something in her eye. “We witches are reclusive people. Not as social as humans. Not as strict, either. Your rules and regulations are frivolous to us,” she said. “But what you see here began when King Humphrey started the Non-Magic Age.”
I looked up. The history of King Humphrey had never been taught to me from a witch’s perspective.
“Two generations ago, to be precise,” Theodora said from behind me. She sounded tired, but not from the exercise. “The witch Navierre was accused of poisoning the royal family after the sudden death of Queen Heather. Not a good look for the head of the royal inspection team.”
“The trial was conducted in private. No doubt King Humphrey wanted to hide the lack of evidence.” Rowena huffed. “Lucky for him, malicious rumors were beginning to spread about magic and witches anyway, so it wasn’t difficult to condemn Navierre. And subsequently, all of witchkind.”
“As you know, Olderea’s Non-Magic Age meant that magic and all who associated with it were forbidden from freely roaming the lands. Plants with magical properties were uprooted. Witches were forced to leave. Most of us eventually went underground as there was no room for us in other kingdoms and no one wanted to transport witches,” Theodora said. “Still, some stayed above, either to guard our passageways or for personal duties.” She shared a look with Rowena.
“And you just let them push you out?” I said, perplexed. “Don’t you have magic?”
“Magic is not for warfare. And I told you, witches are a passive people,” Miriam said. “Passive to a fault.”
Something akin to injustice swelled in my chest. “Did no one ask King Maximus to change things when he took the throne?”
Miriam laughed heartily. “Now you’re getting some witch pride. Alas, just as magic runs in witch blood, hatred for magic runs in the royals’,” she said. “It is because witches have powers they could never possess. Fear and jealousy are only natural for humans in authority. I am afraid witches will never see the light of day for a long time.”
“But can’t they come aboveground whenever they like?” I asked. “They could disguise themselves like you.”
Miriam shook her head. “Guardians of passageways are very choosy about who they let in or out,” she said. “Letting through one wrong person could lead to chaos.”
“You would know, Miriam,” Rowena grumbled.
The snail seller scowled. “That was a special case,” she said. “And so it seems is this one.”
I waited for her to explain, but she didn’t say anything more. There was still one question that nagged me, though I was afraid to ask it.
“So, who was my mother?”
The silence suddenly felt uncomfortable.
“Her name was Seraphina,” Theodora finally said.
She didn’t continue and though a million more questions followed, I didn’t feel it right to ask.
Seraphina.
At least that much I knew about her.
We walked for some minutes, the path growing increasingly steep as we approached the top of the hill. Miriam finally stopped before a cottage with circular windows on each side of the door. A neat garden lined the perimeter and extended to the back. Miriam stepped aside.
“Here we are. Go ahead and knock,” she said, giving a nod to my nannies.
“Any particular reason you won’t?” Rowena asked.
Miriam frowned. “You know how Lana is with visitors. I have no wish to experience another wart jinx. It was horrible for my business and took months to wear off. People actually thought I was a witch.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake woman, just knock. Everyone knows a wart jinx can
