It was hotter than the sixth circle of hell.
Thick beads of sweat dripped down Beatrix's flushed cheeks, and she took her hat off to desperately fan herself. The tip of Beatrix's pointed black hat was crooked; a result of handling it recklessly over the years. She never valued her traditional garments the way other witches did.
"Eye of newt," a voice said.
Beatrix didn't pay the voice any mind. As she pulled her hair back into a long dark braid, she would've traded anything to step outside and let the afternoon breeze cool her down. Instead, she was stuck inside the crooked shack her family had built for spellcasting.
"Eye of newt," the voice repeated, louder this time.
Beatrix looked out the only window in the spell shack. Outside, a flock of crows glided above an endless cornfield. It was a common sight for Beatrix after being raised on a farm her entire life.
Beatrix watched the black mass soar. The crows kept a uniform shape, not daring to separate from each other. The birds reminded Beatrix of how like-minded the witch community was. It was common knowledge that witches were most powerful together, not apart.
"In the name of all things unholy, hand me the jar!"
Beatrix jolted back from the window, realizing the demand was directed at her. She found her three aunts—Aunt Constance, Aunt Clarice, and Aunt Cordelia—hunched over a cauldron in the center of the room. The cauldron held a steaming green liquid that threatened to bubble over.
Aunt Constance's focus didn't shift from the concoction as she snapped her spindly fingers at Beatrix. "The jar. Now."
"What jar?" Beatrix asked dumbly.
"The eye of newt jar, insipid child!"
Panic was growing in Aunt Constance's eyes.
Beatrix fumbled around in the cupboards that lined the walls. She yanked open every drawer and dropped to her knees to see if the eye of newt jar had rolled under the cabinets. She couldn't find it anywhere.
"Quickly!" Aunt Constance yelled.
"Hang on, I just had it!" Beatrix called over her shoulder. A lie. She had no idea where the jar was, despite her aunts' explicit orders to prepare the potion's ingredients the night before.
How was I supposed to know eye of newt was so important for a pyrokinesis spell? Beatrix thought.
Green liquid spilled from the cauldron and splattered around the room.
"There's no time!" Aunt Clarice screeched.
"Brace yourselves!"
All three of Beatrix's aunts lunged away from the cauldron and hit the floor. Beatrix copied them and curled into a ball. At the last moment, she grabbed her hat and jammed it back on her head, squeezing her eyes shut.
A deafening blast rang out and a hot wave ran flush against Beatrix's skin.
After the heat subsided, she cracked open an eye.
Smoke filled the spell shack and every wall was scorched black. Beatrix could hardly breathe; the smell of sulfur and burning hair suffocated her.
When the air cleared, it took everything in Beatrix to suppress a cackle at the sight of her aunts. Constance, Clarice, and Cordelia were covered in ash from head to toe, and their hair stuck out in a million different directions. Aunt Clarice had lost half an eyebrow in the blast.
But any humor Beatrix had found was cut short when her aunts turned to glare daggers at her.
That was when Beatrix became aware that her own hair was still perfectly intact.
Right before the explosion, she'd stuffed her braid under her hat, the same hat she'd secretly charmed with protective enchantments a few weeks ago.
The fact that her hat survived the explosion made Beatrix swell with pride.
However, she couldn't revel in her success. If her aunts found out that she'd experimented with magic, she could kiss what little freedom she had goodbye.
Beatrix had been forbidden from practicing witchcraft until her sixteenth birthday (despite many young witches dabbling in basic sorcery before then).
Aunt Cordelia believed that waiting until Beatrix turned sixteen was best because it was the typical age witches sold their souls to a devil.
You aren't ready. The only way I'll trust you around magic is if you have a devil familiar to whip you into shape, Aunt Cordelia had told her. A devil won't tolerate the recklessness and disobedience you show your family.
Beatrix scoffed at the idea. It sounded like serving a devil would be worse than serving her aunts. She wasn't interested in swapping one master for another.
Devil familiars were known to eradicate a witch's enemies, extend a witch's life, and aid a witch in mastering the dark arts.
But I have no enemies I want to eradicate, and I don't need to extend my life, Beatrix thought bitterly. And if I can already enchant a hat on my own, I bet I can master the dark arts on my own too.
Consequently, Beatrix had ignored her aunts' rules and played around with beginner spells whenever she got the chance, regardless of her sixteenth birthday being half a year away.
To deflect her aunts' attention from the enchanted hat, Beatrix got up and dusted off her skirt and apron. Her clothes were now a darker shade of charcoal than they'd been before.
As Beatrix cleaned herself off, something heavy clinked in the front pocket of her apron.
Beatrix pulled out the eye of newt jar.
She sheepishly waved the jar at her aunts. "Found it."