It had happened once on a Sunday morning, when she was five years old. The little girl had been in church with her parents as they always had done, when finally the kids were allowed to go play outside while the adults talked about their plans for the afternoon. After all the other children had decided to play soccer in the church gardens and had left her alone as always –she was a very shy girl, and never talked to anyone unless she felt obligated to–, the blonde little girl had ran to a tree to observe a chick that had fallen from its nest. It was a white-winged dove, small and with a broken wing. It had probably been lying there for days. Its mother wasn't there, and the poor animal couldn't do anything. The kid kneeled next to it, her hands stroking its feathers slightly as the animal exhaled its last breath. And seconds later it breathed again, its eyes opening for a second before starting to flutter its wings and fly to the branch where the nest was located. The blonde child smiled and wiped the tears from her bright green eyes before turning around and heading to the church again, where her parents talked to the neighbors. She suddenly felt a hand grabbing her arm, stopping her.

"Listen to me, my dear." an old woman said when the girl turned to face her. Her eyes were blue, and she wore a piece of fabric around her head that covered her hair. "What you have is a powerful gift, but most people fear it. You shall never show it to anyone and hide it at all costs, understand?"

The girl didn't question the woman, she felt some kind of connection with her, as if she was an equal, not just a stranger on the gardens of the church. Her parents called her, and the blonde girl whispered a soft goodbye before turning and running to her mother's arms, her yellow dress fluttering with every step she took.

Eighteen years passed, and the little girl had grown up and had become a normal young woman, with a normal and average lifestyle inside the normal Christian community she had been born in. Her hair was light golden and the curls cascaded over her shoulders, covered with an apricot-colored shawl that her mother had weaved for her. She always wore shawls, it was the only thing that differentiated her from everyone else. The woman that had been once a chubby little girl was now tall and slim, and her pale skin was soft, just like her mother's. The old woman was now almost fifty years old and looked like an elder version of her, while the girl's father was tall and had black hair. His sixtieth birthday had been that same month, and the girl had given him a new bible so he could pray during the nights he stayed at work.

They were a normal family, thanks to the old woman that the girl had met almost twenty years before. Because Misty Day had followed her advice and had never used her powers again.

After her mother's funeral, a young blonde haired witch with mismatched eyes covered with sunglasses wandered around the cemetery, not knowing where to go. Although they had never been really close -the woman had abandoned her in a boarding school for years- the blonde witch had taken care of her sick but still graceful mother for two years, when she had been diagnosed with cancer. Fiona had been a beautiful though exceedingly vain woman, with a both ruthless and outstanding personality. She had been the leader of the small coven where her daughter had been born in, in the middle of the city of New Orleans. The young witch had been raised by a few old witches that had been dying one after the other, until they were just Fiona and her.

The blonde woman finally crossed the exit gates of the cemetery, where her black car was parked. Her luggage was in the car's trunk, all her personal belongings and clothes carefully prepared for a trip that she didn't know where would end. She started the car and drove to the motel where she was spending the night. Where am I going to go? I have no one, I am alone. But she knew she wasn't. The next morning she got up early and left the motel quickly, still not knowing where to start a new life. The city was still close, and there were small residential areas full of small houses. All of them seemed to be inhabited, including the one at the end of the main street. Aunt Myrtle had died some time ago, but the witch still had the key to the house. She crossed the yard and opened the door of her new house. Always helping me, the witch thought. Because Myrtle Snow had always been Cordelia Goode's true mother, since the moment she had been born. Myrtle had been the one who had taught her to use her potioncraft powers, and later it had been her who had helped to regain her own sight.

'You're one in a million, my dear' the woman had said once, 'you're special, really special. Don't you ever forget it.'

Cordelia never understood those words, or the strange moments where the woman started saying that she was powerful. She never understood why, although she had to admit the woman was odd. Her eccentric looks, her mystic personality, even her funny eyes, as blue as the sky. What did she mean she was powerful? Cordelia was just a potioneer who had an extra power -yes, the Sight was a strange power, but it wasn't as powerful as resurgence or other rare skills. She was just a witch who was alone.

Almost a week passed and Cordelia had already met some of her neighbors -an old woman who had lost her sight many years ago and a couple with three children that expected a fourth one- and though she felt comfortable in that community, the area's religious beliefs weren't especially her cup of tea. Everyone wore a cross necklace around their necks, and when that Sunday morning she had realized that no one else was staying in their houses and were going to the local church instead, she had felt left out. She had never believed in god, and though Salem witches weren't forbidden to step into sacred floor, Cordelia had never entered a church. For a moment she thought about following her neighbors to the small building that was just in front of her house, but instead she decided to make a cup of coffee and finish unpacking the few clothes that still remained in her suitcase.

Misty had always thought that going to church meant seeking to build a relationship with God and the other people in the community, but it had been eighteen years and she still could remember the day she had met that old red headed woman. She was normal now, or at least tried to be, but couldn't stop thinking what would have happened if she had showed someone her true self. Her powers seemed to boil in her veins, and though she loved the normal life she had, she couldn't stop thinking what would have happened if she had told someone. Would have her family accepted her? Would have she had to run away? She didn't know, and though she was happy with the normal life she had, she wished she could show someone her powers. She entered the small church quietly, knowing that no one would be there that night. Misty kneeled and started her prayers, asking for some kind of help to save her father, who had had a car accident a week ago and was in a coma. She had the feeling that maybe she could save him with her powers, and she knew that if it all went wrong and she lost him she would be able to bring him back again. Her prayers changed, this time to find a reason to keep her powers hidden so her parents and friends still loved her.

"Excuse me," she heard someone say behind her. She turned her head slowly; her lace shawl caressing her shoulders. The woman's hair was up in an elegant bun, and her eyes were gorgeous and surprising at the same time. One was baby blue, while the other one was as dark as pure chocolate. Her eyes batted once or twice slowly, as if she felt sorry for interrupting her prayers. She had never seen her before. "Do you mind if I sit next to you? I am not used to churches, and I actually find them creepy..."

"Yes, of course."

"Thank you." the woman smiled and copied Misty's pose. "I didn't know that churches were always open for people to come…" The woman said before closing her mismatched eyes with a sigh. They sat in silence for some minutes, the woman focused on her silent prayers and Misty gazing at her every two seconds. Being near the woman felt strange for her, although it was a surprisingly good type of strange. The woman's facial features were delicate and had the shadow of pain in them. She had suffered an unimaginable pain.

An hour later the woman stood up, whispering a soft goodbye before exiting the place. Misty had already finished her prayers long ago, but stayed a little longer to keep the woman company. She felt close to her, even though they hadn't said anything else in the time they had spent together. Misty looked at the woman walk out of the church. That woman is the reason. But why?

When Cordelia lay down on her bed she couldn't stop thinking about the kindness of the young woman she had met in the church. When she was just a kid her mother had taught her that witches weren't welcome in sacred places, and she had never doubted Fiona's words until that moment. She had never thought in anything related to God, or if she would go to Heaven or Hell. She had been so focused on pleasing her mother that she had never questioned anything. But that night right before going to sleep, she had started thinking about herself, and it had been then when she had decided to visit the small church, a bit scared of the kind of decision she was making. It was almost midnight when she had gotten out of bed and got dressed in one of her simple black dresses, the same she had worn to her mother's funeral the week before.

When she had sat next to the young woman she had realized that she actually didn't know how to pray, or what to pray for. She was alone, but that meant she could enjoy now a freedom that she had never had before. She had already moved out of the house she shared with her mother, she had broken her engagement with Hank -he had cheated on her- and then she had quit her job as a high school teacher. She had done everything she wanted to do, and now she had nothing to pray for. She felt the woman's eyes on her every two seconds, although she didn't know why she was so puzzled about her. Probably it was her mismatched eyes, they were the only special thing she had.

Two weeks had passed and Misty kept going to the church every night -she didn't like it when it was day, there was always someone that asked how her father was and it had become repetitive- at midnight. She went there in part to pray for her family and in part in hopes to see the mysterious woman that she had met there. But she didn't see her again, not in the church, or the grocery store, or anywhere in the town. She wondered if she was just a traveler who had made a stop to pray, if they were ever going to meet again. It was one night when she realized that the small house in front of the church -to which one she had never payed attention- had its lights on. For what she knew, the old woman that lived there had died years ago and had no family, and the house hadn't been sold. Curious, she approached the house and looked through one of the windows. Dressed in a white nightgown and wearing big glasses, the blonde woman from the church was sitting on the couch, a book in her hands. Her wet hair cascaded over her shoulders gracefully, and her endless legs were bare, only enlightened by the fireplace's light.

Misty turned around and headed home, unable to get the woman's image out of her head.

Cordelia looked down at the list in her hand, her messy handwriting (she had written it at 3am) making the items on it nearly illegible. She finally gave up and folded the list again before starting her shopping. Half an hour later she was minding her own business, looking for the soy milk when she noticed a head of golden hair scurrying down the aisle. Cordelia grimaced in discontent at the junk food of all natures that the cart contained. Ugh, does anyone know what healthy food is? she thought, looking up to the person that pushed it. Although at first she didn't recognize her, it didn't take long before the witch realized that the person was, in fact, the young woman from the church. She was wearing a beige floral embroidered kimono with fringes at the bottom above a white dress with flowers on it, and her hair was loose like the night they had met. For a moment Cordelia pondered the idea of turning around to avoid her, but when their eyes met she realized it was already too late. The younger woman observed her with both curiosity and astonishment, a shy smile on her face.

"Hi." she said.

"Hello."

"I didn't know you lived here."

"Yes, uh, in the house in front of…"

"The church. I know."

"How?"

"I saw the house lights on one night when I was going to church."

"Do you go every night?"

"Usually I don't. I just feel like going there and pray sometimes."

"Oh. Well, uh… I guess I'll see you around town."

"Yeah." the young woman said with a nod before pushing her cart next to the shelf where the chocolate cookies were located. Cordelia kept walking, turning her head just for a second to observe her. Beautiful.

It was three in the morning and Cordelia couldn't sleep. The image of her mother, nearly bald and weary from cancer, lying in her death bed and admitting that she had always loved her and that she regretted abandoning her daughter in a boarding school. Her mother, telling her that she was sorry before hugging her weakly. Her mother, falling limp in Cordelia's arms, lifeless. Cordelia had been having that same dream for months now, and in those sleepless nights she had already finished seven different books. She pondered the idea of starting another one, but as she walked to the toilet she realized that there was a light on in the church in front of her house. Well, that's a first. Without any doubt, she put on a coat over her nightgown and walked outside the house. The small chapel was empty, with the exception of the woman who prayed in the front row. Cordelia walked to her. "Hey." the woman whispered when she saw her, moving a little so Cordelia could sit next to her.

"It's the first time you've lit a candle."

"I know. It's the first time I've see you here for over a month. You don't go to church on Sundays."

"I haven't had the need to come back again. What are you praying for?"

"My father. He's dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay, he's with God now."

"Do you remember the time we met here?" Misty asked.

"Yes, of course I do." the woman answered. It had been another month, and their meetings in the church during the night had become more frequent, to the point that now the woman with mismatched eyes now walked quietly into the church every night and sat next to her. They usually didn't speak, but sometimes they made a little conversation.

"You said that you were not used to churches."

"I had never been in a church before that night."

"Never?"

"Never."

"Why not?"

"My mother told me that people like me, like us, couldn't enter."

"God loves everyone, no matter who they are."

"Can I ask you something?" Cordelia asked two nights later.

"Of course."

"Why do you come every night?"

"What do you mean?"

"Every night I look through the window of my room, and I can see the light of the candles you put here. Why do you come here every night?"

"I don't know actually. I've been different to everyone here since I was little. I just don't seem to fit, I'm not... normal. People in my high school used to say that I was a freak. Now they're all married and have children and that kind of stuff, and I keep thinking that I'm too young to get married. I mean, I have never fallen in love you know? After my father fell in that coma I realized that I needed to sort my priorities, that I had to think a bit more about myself. That's why I came here that night."

"And the other nights?"

"Your company made me feel safe."

"Safe?"

"Yeah, it's like a connection between us. Your vibes are good. And I think I'm… like you."

Wait, she knows I'm a witch? Is she a witch too? What is she trying to say?

"L-Like me?"

"Yeah, uh…" the young woman muttered. "Gay..."

"What?!" Cordelia jumped.

"I... like girls?"

"Uh, I am not gay… Where did you get that idea?!"

"You said that people like you couldn't enter churches, and since there's been all this gay people fighting for their rights and that kind of stuff going on..."

Oh my God. What do I do now?! Cordelia felt panic run through her veins. She was not gay, she had never been with a woman. She had been married to Hank for years, since they graduated from college. She looked at the younger woman with hesitation. Does that mean that she doesn't know I'm a witch? "I'm sorry you got the wrong impression, but I am not gay." she stated.

"Oh..."

"You seem… disappointed?"

"Well, you're hot."

"What?!"

"Yeah… you're kinda gorgeous."

"Oh, uh… Thank you." Cordelia smiled shyly, biting her lip, her cheeks turning red.

Mistaking Cordelia's bashfulness for discomfort, the young woman quickly attempted to rectify her words. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable… I just thought I had to say it, uh… forget it." and with that she stood and ran outside the church, leaving a baffled Cordelia sitting there.

Closing the door behind her, Misty tugged on the leash as the dog strained towards the front of the apartment building and the fresh air. With a sigh she sunk one hand into her coat pocket while keeping a firm hold on the leash. The park was filled with other weary owners taking their dogs for the mandatory walk; the air reverberating with yaps and growls as the various sizes of canines staked out their territory and fought for superiority. Finally having enough of this fresh air thing; Misty plopped herself down on the nearest bench; tying the leash to the thick wooden beam that served as an arm. Putting her hand up to support her head, she closed her eyes and tried to replay the last few minutes of the dream she had that night. It was about she and the woman, sharing a kiss in a hidden spot in the church's gardens, gently at first but slowly having it become more passionate. The woman put her hands around Misty's body, pulling her impossibly close as they kissed.

That woman made Misty's heart race. She didn't know why. She didn't know what it was the thing that she liked so much. It was a tie between the woman's eyes, her lips and her voice. Misty liked the woman's voice, it was silvery and gentle. She opened her eyes again as she realized that she was starting to breath heavily, her cheeks going red instantly. It was then when she saw the blonde woman walk across the park, unintentionally approaching her. Misty quickly stood up and walked away, unaware that her hair clip had fallen to the floor.

Cordelia looked at the item on her hands with tears on her eyes. It had shiny green stones glued to the flower shaped piece, and little golden ones around them. The hair clip was beautiful, and its owner didn't seem to know she had lost it. Cordelia couldn't take her out of her mind. Her beautiful wild hair, the way those dresses that the older witch wouldn't never wear looked on her, even the funny way she walked. Am I really attracted to her?

The witch with mismatched eyes had never been with a woman. While her friends went to parties, she stayed at the residence studying. While the other girls thought that having a boyfriend was boring, Cordelia had been in love with Hank since the day they met. To be honest, Cordelia had never thought about being with a woman. Not that she rejected the idea. Not right now, when she was sitting in the library watching the younger woman approaching her. She talking to another woman, who looked exactly like her.

The young woman finally spotted a free chair, just opposite to where Cordelia was sitting. They looked at each other with awkwardness for a second, until Cordelia decided that she had read enough for that day. She closed the book and stood, walking outside the quiet room. The other woman had fled when she had seen her a week ago in the park, and she hadn't gone to the church any of the following nights. Why did she do that? Why did she simply stood up and walked away? And why the hell am I so affected by it? For God's sake, I don't even know her name!

Misty had stopped going to church at nights. After her father's death, she had no reason to avoid talking to her neighbors and religious companions. But that night the air was hot and she couldn't sleep. She finally decided to walk outside of her small house, taking the chance now that her mother was profoundly asleep, and wander through the streets of the small residential area. She thought about the woman that she had met almost two months before. Misty didn't know almost anything about her, and now that they had been avoiding each other for weeks Misty knew that it would be impossible to get to know her. I'm an idiot, I shouldn't have said I was attracted to her. Even telling her that I'm a witch would have been better.

She didn't know how, but she ended up in the gardens of the church as she used to do. She was about to turn around when she saw a light coming from inside, as if someone had lit a candle. She's there. Missing her small talks with the woman, Misty crossed the door of the building. She studied the space, until she finally noticed the woman who was now sitting in the front row. She's here.

"Hello." was the only thing Misty said.

"Oh." the woman stood up, surprised to see her there. "I'm sorry, I… I didn't think I'd see you here."

"Yeah, I… wasn't actually going to come, I just ended here. Uh…" Misty looked at her feet. "Why the candle?"

"What?"

"Why are you putting a candle?"

"My mother. She died two months ago, but… I don't know, I wanted to pray for her tonight."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Were you two close?"

"Not much, but she was my mother…"

"I understand." Misty finally took a seat next to her but not as close as they had been some other nights. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For avoiding you."

"Oh."

"I thought that you were mad at me."

"For what?"

"For saying that you were gay. It's none of my business and I shouldn't..."

"It's okay."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"No, I'm not."

"Then why did you leave the other day in the library?"

"You had been avoiding me and I didn't want to make it awkward, I guess."

"What?"

"Yeah, when you were in the park with your dog."

"Oh… No, I didn't mean to… I mean… ugh."

"You were avoiding me."

"Well, yeah."

"Why?"

"I was kinda thinking about you and I panicked."

"Thinking… about me?"

"Yeah, uh… I was imagining…" she inhaled deeply, knowing that now she couldn't turn back. "That you kissed me."

"What do you mean?"

"Yeah, you and I were kinda making out?"

"Oh."

"Okay, listen, I…"

"I know you're not gay or anything, but I just really like you and I can't stop thinking of you."

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that. I've never felt attracted to women, but I can't stop thinking of you either, and well…" Cordelia moved a little closer to the young woman, finding impossible to take her eyes off her. "maybe I could give it a try."

"Do you mean that…"

"... yes." Cordelia leaned, her face getting closer to the other woman's. She closed her eyes as her lips grazed over the blonde's, just to feel how she pulled back. Cordelia opened her eyes, observing how she had moved away. "What's wrong?" Cordelia asked.

"Nothing, I just… don't know your name."

"Oh, right. I'm Cordelia."

"I'm Misty. Do you have a last name?"

"Goode."

"Cordelia Goode."

"Yes."

"I'm Misty Day."

"Misty Day… beautiful."

"Cordelia is beautiful too."

"Thanks."

"So…"

"Uhuh?"

"Should we kiss or something?"

"If you want, yes."

"Yes I do. Just…"

"What?"

"I have to tell you something."

"Okay."

"I'm… odd."

"Odd?"

"Different. I, uh… have powers."

"Powers…?"

"Yeah, uh… I can make dead things come back to life…"

"Like a... witch?"

"Yeah, I guess. Please don't freak out." Oh my God, were the words that Cordelia kept repeating in her mind. That's why we felt connected, she's… she's a witch. "Cordelia?" Misty asked, watching the woman's jaw drop. "Are you… okay?"

"Oh my God."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just didn't expect to meet someone like me here."

"Like you?"

"Yes, another witch."

"You are a witch?!"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I barely knew you!"

"And I barely knew you!"

"So you've got powers too?"

"Yes, I have the Sight."

"The Sight?"

"Yes, um… I have visions of the past and future."

"Oh, wow."

"You said you could make things come back to life, right?"

"Yeah."

"Resurgence…" Cordelia muttered.

"Resurgence?"

"Yeah, that's how we call it."

"We?"

"Witches. I lived in a coven before coming here."

"There's more like us?"

"Yes."

"Why did you leave that… coven?"

"I was the last one. The other witches died."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. They had lived long lives and their time came."

"Was your mother a witch too?"

"Yes. A very powerful one."

"Like you?"

"Oh, no. I am not powerful."

"You have visions, you know what is gonna happen. That's powerful."

"Resurgence is a powerful skill. And very rare."

"I told you I was odd." Misty joked, a grin appearing in her face now that Cordelia seemed to be more relaxed. The other woman smiled widely at her, looking down to her lap for a moment before moving closer again.

"We can be odd together, if you want."

"Of course I want to."

"Can I kiss you, Misty Day?"

"I don't want you to do anything else right now."

And Cordelia did.

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