She stood straight by the doorway of her home, shoulders squared and eyes glaring with icy daggers that stabbed Crain's back like a pincushion made of flesh, bones, muscles and blood. It's been a day - a whole twenty-four hours - since the incident with the book, and her anger still did not leave her. But perhaps, the thing that dug in under her skin, taking root in her muscles and spreading like a fungus was the fact that that man did not even feel her presence. Not once did he look over his shoulder or even bothered to see if his host was awake, No, he just stood there, leaning on a wooden cane, holding his right hand as high as his broken body would allow. It was outrageous. It was humiliating. Was she merely a ghost in her own home? Or a stranger to be ignored? No, Anadil will not stand for this behavior!
"Er-hem" The witch coughed louder than the dozen previous coughs she'd made that morning. Finally, the man looked around and saw his host in the doorway. "What are you doing?" She snapped.
"How long have you been standing there?" The man ran his free hand behind his head, a lopsided grin on his face.
"Long enough." It's been almost an hour.
"I was just… uh… trying to get my ax."
"The trent threw it away. You're not going to find it by just standing there."
"It's supposed to come to me." The man nodded, suddenly the grass became incredibly interesting. "It's bonded to me, you see." He held out his right arm, grunting from the stretching muscles. It was covered with a spiraling tattoo from his shoulder and ending in the top of his hand. There were no other patterns to it. It was rather a simple spiral tattoo that he must've gotten when he was so drunk to realize what he was doing.
But Anadil didn't want anything to do with him or his lame tattoo. She rolled her eyes and left for the kitchen without another word.
"Look, about yesterday, I-"
Anadil spun on her heel so quickly that Crain didn't even see her move. Her red eyes were sharp and furious and he could feel the daggers pointed at his throat. "If you really feel sorry, drop it." The witch hissed.
Crain nodded dumbly and the daggers from Anadil's stare vanished. He breathed as if it was the first breath he ever took. He did find it comforting that the witch went straight to her boiling tea. He was expecting that she would storm out the room and leave him alone again. But she didn't. Luckily.
Thinking that perhaps he's out of the woods and was somewhat on the good side of the witch, wherever that may be, he limped into the kitchen with her to grab himself some tea as well but ended up receiving a crisp slap on the top of his hand instead, his veins screaming in the sharp whip. The witch glared at her as she grabbed the kettle and poured it empty into her cup, draining the steaming liquid in one go.
"Woman, you really know how to hold a grudge." He concluded, watching her as she exited the house.
"I don't hold grudges," The witch replied. "I just don't like you."
Crain followed, confused. "Why, exactly?"
Anadil spun to face him. "Well-" There he was, his face standing an inch from hers. There was a weird sensation on her face, something tickling but at the same time irritating, as if everything was instantly hotter. She tried to hide her surprise by playing tough and pushing him away. But there was something in his smile that says he saw something she didn't know. "You're an idiot," She said, ignoring the man, filling her old watering can with water with the wave of her emerald-glowing finger. She then tried to forget the existence of the man while she tried to focus on her plants.
He watched her carefully as he tried to figure out what was going on in Anadil's mind. Based on what he had heard, she was an excellent witch second only to Hester, who was perhaps the greatest witch to ever live. He did not expect to find her in a small cottage in the middle of nowhere watering plants and being friends with a fairy for a witch of her standing. Something must have happened sometime between after they graduated and now, and whatever it was, it must be something huge. A story worth telling.
But with a deep sigh, he realized that maybe he's done with her for today. She may not be the witch he expected her to be, but she sure does act like a bitter old hag. But Crain had to admit: she does have a breathtaking garden. It reminded him of home back when he use to spend his mornings at his grandmother's house, picking on the ripening strawberries and stuffing them into his mouth. A smile slowly crept across his face, as he remembered his grandfather chasing him with a broom out of the garden only to be stopped by his loveable Nan and giving him a slice of honey bread. He felt like home, only instead of a grumpy grandfather, he was stuck with a grumpy albino witch, and instead of strawberries, there were - moonflowers?
He cocked his head, blinking far more than needed to see if there was merely an unwanted speck on his eyeball. But it was still there, sitting at the base of a pale, dull tree in the middle of the garden-
"Hey!" A hand smacked on the backside of his head. "That's my tree!"
Crain shook the daze off, seeing Corriane standing over him with hands on her narrow hips. "What?"
"You called my tree pale and dull." She snorted.
"How did you…?"
"I'm a fairy. I can hear your thoughts. So unless you want me to rattle your brain once more, don't you dare say anything about my tree."
Corriane trudged past him into the house and into the kitchen. Her hips swayed hypnotically as the perfect base to her hourglass shape - firm and round, almost bubbly, but -
"I swear, stare at me a second longer and I will make rosebushes sprout out of your eyes!"
Crain pulled himself back to the moonflowers, desperately trying to contain a laugh and his thoughts. He limped towards the flowers just as Anadil approached to water it. They reached it at the same time and Anadil cocked a brow at him as he knelt on one knee touching the dying flowers.
"What are you doing?" She asked, her water can pose to pour its contents.
"It's wilting." He whispered, examining the graying petals. Its form were too grotesque to see anything significant, other than the iconic twin crowns, like its true shape or its legendary knots.
"Yes, I can see that. Now move aside so I can water it."
"It doesn't need water." He said in a hurry holding out his hand towards the witch.
Anadil grunted, crossing her arms in front of her. "This is my garden. I know what my plants need."
"But that's not yours," Said Corriane, chomping on a piece of bread. "This is one tough bread. Kinda like the woman who made it, and I mean that in a bad way."
"It's rye bread, idiot. It's supposed to be tough."
"That's the last time I'm taking food from your pantry."
"I wish that were true." Anadil rolled her eyes.
"Excuse me?" Crain waved his hand while still bent over the flowers. "You said that this isn't your flower, where did you get it?"
"Where else? From anywhere!" Anadil snorted. "But damn that thing! I've been trying to make it live for weeks! Potions and magic don't work on it!"
"That's because it doesn't work that way. It will only live on the spot where you found it. Nowhere else."
"Well, that's one demanding flower." Corriane bit another piece of her bread.
Crain looked at her with a slight hint of confusion since she was the one whom he expected to help him explaining this.
"Do you know what flower this is?"
Both women remained silent.
Crain breathed in heavily and sighed twice as loud. "It's a moonflower."
"You say that like we're supposed to know what that is." The fairy waved her bread at the man crumbs hitting his face.
"You oughta know! Your people made this flower!"
"We did!?"
Anadil looked at the fairy who was gaping in surprise.
"Yes, you did. To honor the separated lovers who died before they were reunited."
"Ugh!" the witch's face twisted in a mass of disgust, holding her lit finger at the flower and was ready to blow it up.
"Nononono! Wait! Don't kill it!"
"It's dead anyway! I might as well end its misery."
"NO! I can help! Just put your finger down."
She lowered it unwillingly.
Crain held his right hand over the flower and closed his eyes. His tattoo began glowing cobalt blue. What was once a plain tattoo was now littered with small runes that Anadil did not before see - runes that were similar to those written on the cover of his book.
Faint specks of light started showering over the flowers like dust passing through the rays of the sun. It shimmered and it danced, before landing softly on the petals, melting away like powdered snow. But with each speck, the flowers grew brighter, though not in a way when she first saw it, but it was almost like it. Their twisting stems stood taller and more confident than before, the petals on the twin heads turned a dull white instead of gray. Anadil fell to her knees and for the first time since she saw it, felt the familiar warm electric wave from her chest and wrapping around her body, her eyes dittoing they shining petals, and a faint smile pulling on her lips.
The flowers looked better than they were five seconds ago.
"What did you do?" She whispered so quietly that she didn't know if Crain heard her.
"I shared my joy." He said plainly, his grin reaching his ears.
"What?" Anadil turned to him, pulling herself out of her trance.
But Crain didn't seem to have heard. That or he's ignoring her again. He pushed himself up, grunting and sighing at the same time, balancing himself on the support of his cane. "Where did you find it?" He threw the question in the air, landing on both the witch and the fairy, his voice stern and serious.
"Uhm, in Yarra."
His forehead creased. "Yarra? The realm of the Matriarch? There?"
"Yes." Anadil stood, patting the dirt from her sundress.
"Can you take me there?"
"Why would I take you there?"
"I've been looking for these flowers since I left Saltstone. It's not even in the Enchiridion! I'd study this," He pointed at the flowers. "But they're not in the best condition."
"You can't travel like that." Anadil pushed passed him, her tone marking the end of the conversation.
"Please. This is my job." Crain pleaded. "Just show me the way and I'll leave."
The witch uttered a sarcastic chuckle. "You? On your own? Puh-lease. You can't even stand! How can you even travel to Yarra?"
"We can use your rats." Corriane chirped happily.
It took Anadil glared at her but to no effect. Can she even glare? Can they see that she's glaring?
"Yeah! You can make Scruff, Scrawn, and Blot as large as a horse and they can take us to Yarra."
"Who said you were coming?" The witch snapped.
"But I wanna go too! It gets dull here, you know."
"Please Anadil. Help me write the book!"
An idea rang in her head. She still wanted that book, but she knows that she cannot just take it. He may be bloodied and bruised, but Crain was possessing some stronger magic that she is not entirely familiar with, and who knows what traps are set for unwanted hands touching that book. But if she did this task with him, then he'd owe her a favor. But she needed to make a bargain so that this deal would tilt fully to her favor without him knowing it. Perhaps this dreadful trip with him would be worth it once she finds the secrets she was looking for. And so with a blink of her eye, she laid down her plan. She would fight for access to that book.
"Fine! On one condition." Her brows furrowed, her red eyes twinkling with her plan.
"Name it!" The man said eagerly.
This was it. He took the bait. She just needed to be careful for him not to see the trap. She needed to be delicate in setting it. It would all depend on the words that she would say next. "I want access to the Enchai-"
"Deal!"
What? Anadil shook her head, the shimmer in her eyes gone and her jaw dropped to her feet.. Was she dreaming? She's pretty sure she got out of bed that morning. "That's it?"
"You want to read my book for the purpose of, what I suppose is, to find power, yes?"
"Uhm…" Surely she's dreaming.
"Well, what are you waiting for, then?" The man's smile grew wider and wider. "C'mon! Let's go to Yarra!"
"I'm coming too!" Corriane cheered, calling out Anadils rats with her leftover rye bread.
The scale was certainly in her favor and that was easy. Unexpectedly easy. She didn't like it one bit. Something tells her that she needed to be far more careful from now on.