Past and present merged, shifting like coloured shards in a kaleidoscope, swirling like memories through time. Vague memories came back to him, memories that he had locked away deep inside himself for as long as he could remember. He remembered the blessings, murmured incantations recited over their beds while they were supposed to be sleeping. Almost two decades had passed since he had heard her voice, her words, anywhere but in his own head while he dreamed.
Their mother had not been like the other women in the village, he had known it then and he knew it now. The only difference was that he now knew why she was different. Much as he hated to admit it, he had known the instant that Muriel spoke the words that she was telling the truth. He saw it in the victorious look that the Grand Witch wore and he heard it in her voice, the hatred that she had felt toward his mother and now his sister. More than that, he felt it deep within him, the truth resonating within him like the ringing of some great bell. He saw it the second that Gretel lifted the wand from the floor, saw it in the way that the wand flared to life beneath her touch. He saw the little spark of darkness that recognised something in her and it frightened him more than anything he had ever encountered.
He could almost cope with the knowledge that their mother was a witch, that like it or not he and Gretel had that magic in their bones and blood. They had spent their lives since childhood hunting and killing witches, trying to eradicate them only to find that what they hated most had been inside them all along. Had that latent power been calling to them, calling to her, all along? What he did not want to contemplate however, was the possibility that his sweet sister might somehow change because she knew about the magic that was hers to command.
Rolling over and opening his eyes, he found her sitting at the table by the window of their shared room, long legs curled beneath her on the chair. She was lost in thought, face turned up toward the window and face bathed in moonlight. There were tears on her cheeks, pale tracks that seemed to glow, and he caught the gentle hitch of her breathing as she wrapped her arms around herself. Hansel had seen his sister cry before, not often but she had occasionally shed a few tears, and it both hurt him to see her in pain and angered him that he couldn't prevent it.
She turned as he got up and approached her, dark eyes flashing with emotion as she leaned into him and let him absorb the weight of her against him. Placing one hand on top of his on her shoulder, she let out a deep shaky breath and he waited for her to speak. He had already noticed the wand on the table before he reached her, resting on a square of black velvet, glowing in response to her proximity, had already seen the grimoire open on the table as if she intended to read it or had been reading it in the moonlight.
"I don't know what we do now," she admitted, voice so quiet that he could barely make out the words. He didn't need to, he knew her feelings because they were the same as his own. "All this time we were fighting witches and our own mother..."
"Shh, we didn't know," he reassured her, slipping an arm around her shoulder and holding her to his chest. "We made a pact a long time ago that we wouldn't talk about the past and we should keep to it. We keep looking forward, keep moving."
"And the white witches?" she asked. "What do we do about women like Mina, like me. Do we burn them too?"
Hansel tightened his hold on her as she struggled against him. "I will never let anyone light a fire under you Gretel," he swore, meaning every word. "We do what we've always done, we take the witches who prey on children, the ones who turn to the dark and invoke the devil. The white witches don't bear the marks, they are good at concealing themselves amongst the villagers wherever they live and we're going to let them. As long as they do no harm, we let them be."
Gretel sniffed, turned her face up toward his, searching his eyes as if looking for a lie. "Can you do that Brother?" He saw the anguish in her eyes, the confusion. "You've hated witches our entire lives, can you really let them live?"
He searched his heart, seeking an answer that he knew she wanted from him and found no hesitation in giving her the words she needed to hear. "Those that do harm we will hunt just as we always have. They're weakened without Muriel to lead them and they need time to regroup but we know one thing for sure, they will come for you again Gretel." He stared down at her, his sister, his better half, the flip side of his own spirit. "If I have to kill every last one of them to keep you safe then that's exactly what I'll spend the rest of my life doing."
She offered him a tired smile, fresh tears snaking silently down her cheeks. "Well you won't be doing it alone," she informed him, rising to her feet and straightening her shoulders. "You've been beside me my entire life and that isn't going to change now. Besides if you can cope with the fact that I'm a witch I could always try blessing the weaponry now and again, who knows we might end up with less scars …"
She reached down to the wand on the table, re-wrapping it in its velvet carrying pouch before slipping it into her bag. He tried to ignore the way that it glowed more brightly as her fingers drew closer to it, relieved that she was packing it away where neither of them would see it. Tomorrow they would leave Augsberg and the events of the past few days behind them, moving on in search of the witches that had escaped the Sabbath ritual in the woods. Along with their new allies, they would be leaving this cursed city behind. He couldn't wait, there was nothing but pain here for both him and his sister, memories and anguish, grief and blood.
He watched her as she climbed into bed, pulling the sheets up to her chin like an innocent child and wondered what the future held for them, a Grand White Witch and her witch hunting brother, wondered whether either of them would ever come to terms with their past well enough to form a future. When he was settled on his side on the floor, as comfortable as he would get, she looked down and smiled at him, a soft, genuine smile that made his mind still and his heart calm. As if she could read his mind she reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his and raising them so that she could plant a kiss on his knuckles. "We'll find a way Hansel," she murmured, "we always do."