Cassandra had hardly slept all night, she just lay there in bed waiting for the sun to come up, she was filled with excitement and trepidation for what Morgan would teach her, for what she was capable of. Everything had happened so fast, she'd been a normal Puritan girl a day ago and now she was learning how to be a witch from one of the most powerful women in Salem, the rug had been pulled out from under her and Cassandra didn't know if she could stay upright. When the sun finally flashed through her bedroom window Cassandra rose from her bed to dress in one of her long black dresses, it was overly hot in the April sun but she was in mourning for her father, there would be a scandal if she left mourning so soon, not that she wanted to. The dress wasn't anything special, it had belonged to her mother when she'd been a girl, Cassandra had always been closer to her father than her mother and knowing what she did now the redhead couldn't help but wonder if it was because of the secret their shared.
She read the letter several more times over breakfast, almost as though the words would have changed between reads but each and every time it continued to state she and her father were witches. I must hide this, she thought once breakfast had been cleaned away, if anyone found it they'd have her up on the gallows before she could say a word so she quickly went to her bedroom and hid the letter under the loose floorboard beside her night table; she'd gotten lucky with Missus Le Fey but doubted she would be again. Forcing herself to focus on something other than magic Cassandra busied herself with tidying her father's study – he'd never been the tidiest of men – he had a great deal of books and artefacts from other cultures much like the Minister, Flynn Carson, which was probably why they'd been on such good terms. Robert had taught his daughter to read and write from a very early age and made sure she knew everything he did about the human body, her Mother had always been against such teaching since a girl shouldn't have done men's work but once her father had explained that he could teach Cassandra to be a midwife she'd calmed down somewhat. Robert had never finished his daughter's schooling in the medical art but old Missus Jamieson had turned young Cassandra into a skilled midwife in training.
When noon approached Cassandra slipped her bonnet over her long red hair and put on her cloak then made her way through the town to Morgan's home that lay on the edge of Salem beside the woods. As she crossed the square she could see a woman whose name she didn't know being branded on the forehead with an A, forever marking her as an adulterer, it had drawn a healthy sized crowd and Cassandra hated how her fellow towns folk claimed to be good people but congregated when pain was to be inflicted on others. They'd cut the woman's long auburn hair off and stripped her down to her underclothes to humiliate the poor woman, some even cheered as she screamed. There was nothing Cassandra could do for the poor woman, interfering would only land her in the stocks to be shamed as well, the redhead refused to watch though as though it were some kind of entertainment, she'd take no enjoyment from this woman's pain.
Due to the sceptical there were very few people in the streets as she made her way to Missus Le Fey's home, almost larger than any other in Salem and made of strong dark wood. The house alone had her in awe and just like the widow that lived there it radiated authority and power. Despite its grand size Cassandra still perfected her own across from the gallows, her father had built it with his own hands – and probably some magic as well – love had gone into the construction of that home but she couldn't sense any in Morgan's.
With a deep breath Cassandra knocked on the door, loud enough to be heard but soft enough not to appear demanding or over eager. A few seconds went by before a slave girl about the same age as herself answered the door.
"I'm here to see, Missus Le Fey." Said Cassandra politely in a gentle voice with a soft smile.
"Of course, Miss. The Mistress is expecting you."
The redhead stepped inside and glanced around quickly as the slave girl took her cloak and bonnet, the house was not what one would expect of a Puritan woman, art hung on the walls and bright colors littered the whole building. There were sculptures and beauty everywhere. Suddenly something descending the stairs caught her dazzling blue eyes and Cassandra looked over to find Morgan smiling down at her.
"Hello, Cassandra." She greeted presently. "You're right on time. Come with me."
Morgan held out her arm and Cassandra quickly rose up the stairs to take her hand, warm and smoother than a woman her age should have had. Slowly the young witch allowed Morgan to guide her through the house and up into her bedroom at the back of the house. The door closed untouched behind them and she found herself mighty puzzled. Morgan seemed to sense Cassandra's concern.
"Do not worry, my dear, all is well."
That smile never seemed to fade from Morgan's lips and frankly it had started to concern Cassandra, almost as though there was something else hiding behind it. Still she watched and waited for the more experienced witch to show her the secrets of the craft. Morgan brought her over to a wall void of decoration and plucked a small pin from her hair which she used to prick her finger, blue orbs watched as Morgan drew a line on the wall in her own crimson ichor and then knocked thrice on the deep green paint, almost instantly the wall faded away as though it had never been there and revealed a staircase that spiralled downwards.
"Come." Said Morgan again then grabbed Cassandra's hand.
They descended deep down and one by one wall sconces burst to life granting light and much needed warmth. The stairs travelled much deeper than the redhead had expected and she wondered if they were even still in Salem, just when she was about to ask how deep they were going a door came into view, large and pointed at the top with strange carved symbols. Without a word Morgan turned the handle and stepped aside for Cassandra to enter first. The room was a good size with no windows just grey stone walls lined with flaming torches and wooden supports in each corner, there were several desks pressed up against the walls covered over with potion vials and papers that held symbols Cassandra had never seen before yet were somehow familiar to her. Herbs hung from the rafters in little bundles and books rested on high bookshelves without a single speck of dust. One wall was entirely taken up by a large fireplace that lit the second they entered the room, every inch of the room had her in a sense of awe.
"It is a lot to take in, I know." Morgan said as she paced the room, fingers scraped over some of the tables. "When I first started to practice I could not quite believe it myself." There was single moment of silence before the older witch started explain. "Magic is about emotion and only by having control over our emotions can we gain power. The Puritans out there think we serve the Devil but they are wrong as usual. We serve ourselves, we are our own rulers. Potions, hexes, spells of all kinds, I can teach you to conquer them all but there is something that must be done first, something all witches must do."
Cassandra said nothing, just waited patiently as Morgan perused her bookshelves in search of a specific tome, the room grew warm as the fire's heat continued to radiate, it's light bounced off the grey stone giving the room an almost supernatural glow, I wonder if that was intentional. Without warning a large book bound in jet black leather was thrust into her arms, heavy and without identifying feature save for the bronze locks keeping it closed but not locked.
"What is this?" Cassandra asked curiously as she flicked through the mass of blank pages.
"Some call it a Book of Shadows but I prefer Grimoire. It is to be your diary, the place you keep all your secrets as a Sorceress and your experiments. This is where you write your journey through the world of magic." Morgan paused to watch the younger witch close the book and pull it tight to her chest. "There is one thing you must do though, one thing all witches must do. When you are home and all alone you must sign your name on the first page of this book, sign it in blood, your blood. If you do not the Grimoire is just a book that anyone can read, it has to be bound to you and only you. Once you have done this you will gain your familiar."
"Familiar?" Questioned Cassandra with a furrowed brow.
"Yes, my dear, familiar."
Morgan strode towards a small glass box lined in gold opposite the fireplace from which she took a large toad. She stroked it's slimy head tenderly as though it were a newborn kitten.
"This," She held the toad up for Cassandra to see. "is my familiar and he serves no one but me, pure loyalty. A gift to aid us in our craft. You will only get one once you have signed your name." The toad croaked and Morgan quickly set it back into its glass bed. "I cannot teach you to use your magic until you have gained your familiar, you must sign, you must write."
"I will." Said Cassandra softly as her eyes glanced down to the book still held close to her chest. "I'll sign."
"Good. Once you have you'll be well on your way to greatness. Go now, sweet girl, begin your journey. Take a few days to grow used to your familiar."
Cassandra didn't especially want greatness, she just wanted to understand and learn to control the tidal wave of magic she could now feel inside herself. Still she did as Morgan said and left with her new Grimoire. To the untrained eye it appeared nothing more than a book, a large one yes but still only a book, Cassandra knew the truth though, it was to be something very powerful. Something she had to keep hidden.
Slowly she made her way back through Salem's market and the young Miss Cillian purchased several vegetables and some fresh bread with the intention of making a meaty stew for her evening meal, Robert had loved his daughter's cooking. If she'd not sat a plate in front of him he would have forgotten to eat most days. After everything that had happened in the last week she needed some sense of normality, something boring and mundane. The streets were crowded now that the branding was over, a plethora of Puritans going about their daily lives, shopping and engaging in conversational niceties. Children ran through the streets playing and giggling and men slipped off towards the brothel in Knocker's Hole as nonchalantly as possible. Cassandra had always felt she was separate to the rest of Salem's people but she'd never expected it to be magic, strangely it was nice to know what it was even if it would more than likely get her killed.
The redhead had just started to slip off into her thoughts when a young man around her age with dark spiky hair bumped into her, he muttered a sorry mate over his shoulder as he continued on down the street. Seconds later she realised her coin purse was gone, he'd taken it, Cassandra came to a stop and looked back into the crowd but she couldn't see him anywhere. Most would yell and beg for someone to race after him but Cassandra had seen the young man – Ezekiel, she thought his name was – around Salem several times before, he lived on the streets and stole what he needed to survive; he needed the money in her purse more than she did. Also, if she did call out and he was caught Ezekiel's punishment would have been severe, brands and blood.
Soon enough she was back home and preparing dinner, vegetables were chopped evenly before being popped into a pot to soften while Cassandra set about dicing up beef. Once it was all in one big pot she left it over the fire to thicken, there was far too much for just her but Cassandra supposed she'd need to teach herself to measure enough for one rather than two.
The parlour was where she'd left her Grimoire and Cassandra sat down at the table with a quill and a sharp silver pin while dinner cooked. The book was easily a thousand blank pages possibly more and still had that brand new scent to it. Cassandra knew she'd sign it, there was far too much curiosity in her not to, however if she did she'd commit herself to being a witch for the rest of her life. Carefully Cassandra opened the Grimoire to the very first page and just looked at it for a moment, off white and blank. Just because I have magic doesn't mean I'm evil, I can use my power for good like my father. He helped people, I can too.
The eighteen year old picked up the little silver pin and pricked her left index finger, it stung but she ignored that small spark of pain as red came forth in a small pearl. A few drops drip, drip, dripped onto the page and then she dunked her quill into the blood drawing it upwards and wrote out her name in her neat handwriting.
Nothing happened.
Cassandra wasn't exactly sure what she'd expected, maybe a sudden burst of smoke that faded away leaving behind her familiar or maybe a strange box to just appear beside her as her father's letter had. She didn't know, but she'd certainly not expected nothingness, For a time she just sat there with blue eyes glancing around the room in desperate search of something new but still nothing happened, even after the blood had dried Cassandra was alone. Had she done something wrong? No, she couldn't have, Morgan had said just to sign her name in blood and Cassandra had done exactly that. Cassandra Cillian, that was her name written in her own crimson blood, nothing could have gone wrong.
Later when she'd finished dinner and had indulged in a few hours of reading Cassandra was still familiar-less. Eventually, when the sun had long set, she gave up and went upstairs to change into her nightdress before clambering into bed and blowing out the candle. The book lay on her night table, something in the back of her mind told her to keep it close and with the importance Morgan had placed on it Cassandra wasn't about to let the Grimoire out of her sight. Maybe she'd wake the next morning to find a toad sat upon it.
Sleep took Cassandra easily, despite having done nothing overly taxing she was still worn out; excitement and trepidation had probably caused it. She didn't usually dream, or at least she never remembered them, but that night she found herself in the dark woods.
The silvery moon hung high in the sky without a single cloud in sight, wind danced through the trees around her and Cassandra felt at total ease, in fact she felt safe which was strange for such a dangerous place. One thing was for certain, Cassandra wasn't alone in that forest, something far off watched her, circled her, but there was nothing malevolent to it; if anything it was comforting. Blue orbs glanced around the thick trees quickly searching for whatever watched her but failed to find anything.
"Hello?" She called out but no response came. "Hello?"
Suddenly a twig snapped a few feet behind her and the redhead spun around, there was nothing there save for trees and air. Just as she was about to glance away two eyes came into view, only the eyes, nothing more. They were low to the ground like an animal's would be however, they didn't look animalistic, the orbs were a green-hazel color and had immense intelligence to them.
A powerful gust of air hit her and Cassandra started awake, she blinked rapidly in the darkness but grounded to a halt when she saw a gargantuan white wolf stood at the bottom of her bed. The redhead yelped and shuffled back against her headboard even though it would do little to help her if this wild animal chose to attack. Her heart pounded in her chest. Babum! Babum! Babum! Her eyes went wide as dinner plates, she had no idea how it had gotten into her house let alone into her bedroom without her noticing; wolves never came into Salem. Slowly the creature took a few steps towards her and Cassandra backed up further, then something strange happened, the wolf stepped backwards again as though attempting to calm her. She raised an eyebrow at that, wolves didn't back away from scared helpless prey. Her heart rate slowed a little and the teenager found the courage to really look at this white wolf, its eyes, green-hazel just like in her dream. This was no normal wolf.
"Are you... are you my familiar?" Asked Cassandra softly, she held out her hand and the wolf padded over to nuzzle it. That brought a smile to her pink lips. "You're not what I was expecting."
The redhead patted the bed and let the wolf jump up where it quickly lay down with its head on her chest, it's breath tickled her neck. With the animal closer and clearly settled Cassandra ran her fingers through its long fur, she could see now that it was actually white dusted with grey. The creature seemed to like being petted and she could feel it calming as her fingers stroked through the fur on the top of its head. The wolf purred when she tickled behind its ears.
"Are you a boy or a girl?" Cassandra asked with a smile only for the wolf to flash her a look that said really? "Boy?"
The wolf barked. His fur was warm against her body and that feeling of being safe and protected only intensified the longer the two spent there on her bed.
"You're cute." He didn't look to pleased at being called 'cute' but didn't object. "And I can't just call you 'wolf', you need a name, a real one for a fine upstanding gentlemen like yourself."
He didn't make a single noise, just lay there with his head on her chest and those big green-hazel eyes looking up at her. Cassandra glanced around her room as she thought until she came across a book on her dresser, she'd taken it from her father's things a week ago. Puritans weren't supposed to have fairytales and such but Robert Cillian hadn't ever really played by the rules, the book was of old Arthurian legends. Tristan, her mind suggested but she dismissed it almost as quickly as it has appeared, her familiar didn't look like a Tristan. Lancelot? No, that wasn't just wasn't right. Then an idea burst forth in her mind.
"Galahad. Yes, that's it. Brave and noble Galahad." He nuzzled into her neck and Cassandra took it as a sign he liked the name. "You can't just be Galahad though. I'm Cassandra Cillian you need to be Galahad something." Another moment went by with the wolf watching her then she smiled again and tickled his nose. "Jenkins, Galahad Jenkins, that will be your name. Like it?" Galahad barked again which only made her grin and pull the creature closer. "Sleep now, Mister Jenkins, it's late and I didn't get much sleep last night."
Galahad didn't object, just let the redhead snuggle him as she slipped off to sleep and used him as a giant fluffy blanket. She'd not expected a huge wolf but he was adorable and Cassandra had been dreading a toad; she hated those things.