"Whatever troubles you had, they are ours now."

Misty let out a breath, her frantic heart slowing at the woman's words. Ours. No one had ever included her in the use of that word. It had always been this is ours and that is yours, separating her, cutting her off from the group.

But now, this woman was welcoming her into her world. "This is your house," she said, without a second thought.

A sense of peace washed over Misty, so different from the first time she had visited the academy, when powerful, sinister vibes had made her want to bolt.

The sense of warmth she felt from the woman only increased when she immediately agreed to let her friend stay. It quieted the worry at the back of her mind that the woman was only taking her in because she knew who Misty was and what she could do, and was planning on using her. Misty could tell she truly had a big heart, big enough to take in two complete strangers who needed help.

At least, Misty had assumed they were both strangers. That assumption had proved wrong when her friend called the woman by name. Cordelia. Such a pretty name. Refined. It fit the woman well.

Recognizing the nature around her, Misty began puttering around the greenhouse, sprinkling water on the more neglected-looking flowers. Maybe Miss Cordelia would let her help tend the plants that grew there. She supposed it might be difficult to care for so many living things when you couldn't see them.

Behind her, the witches' conversation filtered back into her consciousness. "Behold, our next Supreme," came the voice of her friend; Myrtle, she now knew.

She turned, wondering you they were talking about, only to find everyone's eyes fixed intently on her. She smiled awkwardly, clutching the watering can in her hands.

"Supreme?" she asked tentatively when the tense silence drew on. "What's that?"

"Myrtle, a moment, please," Miss Cordelia murmured, drawing the eccentric woman a side for a hushed but heated conversation. That left Misty to stand there self-consciously, the other girls still staring at her. Zoe and the kind-looking brunette behind her merely gazed at her curiously, but the blond between them, the one she had brought back to life, was glaring daggers at her. Misty took an involuntary step backwards, reaching behind her to slide her fingers across the leaves of the bush behind her, their smooth, cool touch grounding her and giving her confidence.

Suddenly, Myrtle and Miss Cordelia stepped apart, Myrtle rejoining the group of girls while Miss Cordelia turned towards Misty.

"Girls, why don't you go back to your rooms," she said over her shoulder to the little knot of witches. "I'll have a talk with Misty and get her settled."

She paused, allowing the girls to leave the room, then slowly walked towards Misty, her cane tapping in front of her. "Misty?" she queried.

"Yes, ma'am?"

Miss Cordelia turned her face towards her, and Misty realized she was using her voice to orient herself. She stopped in front of her, her hands twisting anxiously on the handle of her cane. "There's so much to tell you, so much you need to know…" she fretted. "I suppose I should start by answering your question."

Misty started. In the awkward silence during the two older witches' conversation, she had almost forgotten she had asked anything. "The Supreme."

"Yes. The Supreme," Miss Cordelia took a breath, seeming to steel herself. "The Supreme is an extremely powerful witch who leads the coven. In fact, she has power over all witches."

"Kinda like a witch queen?" Misty asked, starting to understand.

A small smile crossed Miss Cordelia's lips. "That's right. The Supreme has widespread connections, both within the world of witches and without. There is no door that is not open to her." Her words took on a bitter tone, but she quickly shook it off and smiled again, although this time it was much more strained. "But with all of that power and influence comes great responsibility. The Supreme must care for all of the witches in her coven, making sure no harm comes to them, and that the line continues."

"And… Myrtle thinks I'm gonna be the next Supreme?" Misty asked, her head spinning at the thought of all that power and responsibility.

Miss Cordelia nodded, her brow creasing in worry. Was she concerned that Misty wasn't right for the job? Misty wasn't sure herself.

"Who's the Supreme now?" she inquired.

Miss Cordelia's lips compressed into a thin line, her brow furrowing further. "My mother," she answered. "That's the other thing I need to speak to you about. Fiona… is not a very good Supreme, to put it lightly. Ever since she came into power, she has abused it, using for her own good instead of the good of the coven. Now that her power is declining, she is desperate to reclaim it. She will go to any lengths to do so, even killing anyone she fears may succeed her."

Misty let out a small gasp, the puzzle pieces clicking together. "That's what happened to that girl I brought back."

"Madison? Yes. Fiona slit her throat," confirmed Miss Cordelia, her tone somber. "That's why I think it would be best if you tried to stay out of her sight for as long as possible. But first, we have a ceremony to perform."

Miss Cordelia walked from the greenhouse back to the academy, gesturing for Misty to follow. She led the young woman through the house to a grand room with a huge fireplace. The other witches were already there; Myrtle was busy shaking out bright red cloaks from an antique trunk and laying them over the girls' shoulders. Miss Cordelia left Misty to be dressed by Myrtle while Zoe helped her on with her own robe.

The heavy fabric and rich colors of the cloaks reminded Misty of illustrations of royalty she had seen in her picture books as a little girl.

"I feel like a queen," she said happily as Myrtle draped the cape over her shoulders.

As she fastened the tie around her neck and tried to arrange the funny black veil over her head, she listened to Miss Cordelia explain the other girls bicker over who was really going to be the next Supreme.

"Being the Supreme isn't something to wish for," chastised Miss Cordelia, drawing Misty out of her examination of the lacey veil. "It's not a gift, it's a burden. How many of these women had happy lives?" Misty's eyes darted to the portraits on the walls, taking in the many women's faces. "They had power, but with it came the crushing responsibility of the coven. They all bowed under the weight, except my mother, who ran from it."

"Can I say something?" Misty asked breathlessly. "I don't wanna be the Supreme." Miss Cordelia had explained to her the responsibility of such power, but to hear it so bluntly made her really understand what a burden it was.

"Nobody gets to choose," Miss Cordelia said plainly. "When Fiona dies, whoever it is, will be."

She drew her veil over her face, and the rest of the circle followed suit. Calling for them to join hands, she began the ritual.

First, they blew into each other's mouths, transferring energy around the circle. Then, they passed the ceremonial dagger from witch to witch, each of them slicing a small cut into their index finger. That done, they held their fingers into the center of the circle, allowing the blood to drip to the floor. Finally, they pressed their palms back together, tipping their heads back and raising their joined hands between them.

Apparently, that concluded the ceremony, for as soon as they dropped their hands, the girls were arguing again. Madison pointed out that the ceremony would be useless unless Fiona killed herself, something she was unlikely to do.

"Not without a push," Miss Cordelia replied, and left it at that.

After that the circle broke up quickly, the girls disappearing to their separate rooms. Myrtle reverently folded the cloaks back into their trunk and dragged it back off to wherever it was stored.

Finally the only two left were Misty and Miss Cordelia. Misty fidgeted awkwardly, unsure of what to do know that the ritual was over.

"Um, Miss Cordelia?" she asked tentatively. "Where do I go know? I don't really feel safe goin' back to the swamp, not with that man out there."

"No, of course not," the older witch assured her. "The room next to mine is empty now; you can sleep in there. For what small protection that will give you." Her mouth twisted ruefully.

"You're a powerful witch," Misty asserted. "I'd feel safer sleeping next to you than anywhere else in the house."

Miss Cordelia laughed, but the sound was devoid of any real amusement. "Me? Powerful? Hardly."

"Yes you are," insisted Misty. "You knew exactly who I was and what happened to me, even though you couldn't see me."

"The Second Sight? Yes, it can be useful, but I'd hardly be able to use it to save your life if your were in immediate danger, would I?" The older witch turned away, hiding her face as if she were ashamed. "All I can really do is brew these potions, and even that isn't very helpful. I'm hopeless."

Misty reached out, careful to only touch the other woman's shoulder where it was covered by her sleeve. From the way she had taken her hand in the hall, Misty could tell Miss Cordelia's powers were brought on by skin-to-skin contact, and she didn't want to disturb the woman with more unwanted visions.

"No, Miss Cordelia, you're not hopeless. I can see how much you care, how hard you work to protect those girls. You've got a kind of deep inner strength, that much I can tell."

Miss Cordelia shrugged out of her grasp, seemingly unconvinced by Misty's words. Turning towards the door, she began walking, swinging her cane from side to side in front of her.

"Follow me," she called over her shoulder. "I'll take you to your room. We'll retrieve the rest of your belongings tomorrow, when we can be sure the area is safe."

Misty trotted after her, having no choice but to follow, feeling troubled by this woman's poor view of herself. Couldn't she tell she was one of the most powerful witches in this house? Misty resolved that she would do whatever she could to convince her new friend of this fact.