"For you, Hazel, I think I will make your life an unending nightmare of embarrassment and ridicule, as you found it so enjoyable to do so to me today," Agatha said, her eyes on the child who gazed up at her.
Muffled sounds came from the bed, sounding as though Hazel's mouth was stuffed with fabric. Agatha laughed and shook her head.
"You get no say in this, as you did not allow me to defend myself," Agatha said cheerfully. "Now listen closely."
Agatha spun her finger in the air, sending what looked like sparkling purple dust around the room.
"Tomorrow, you will wake up, and everything you hold dear will be taken from you. Your husband will lose his job, only for your sister's husband to take his place. You will lose your status, your home, your materialistic show of wealth, and your sister will become the envied, wealthy wife of a banker. As for your child, she will remain healthy and beautiful..."
Agatha's smile widened when Hazel's shoulders sagged in relief.
"...but she will forever be filled with feral rage, a rage that only magic or true love can tame. To accompany her rage and to fuel your shame, every full moon, she will change. The beauty will become beast and have claws, fur, four legs, and sharp teeth.” She finished.
There was a blinding flash of purple light, and Agatha stood grinning wickedly at Hazel, who was no longer magically bound to the bed, but perhaps frozen in fear.
Agatha turned to walk out the door before a sudden thought hit her, and she turned back around.
"Oh, and don't forget the wee beastie will eat meat," She said to a stunned looking Hazel.
With those parting words, Agatha took her leave, kicking Melvyn square in the jaw as she passed him on her way out the front door. Agatha hummed happily as she left the town and entered a modest village closer to the edge of the forest, skirting around the huts and blazing fire pits. Not a single soul noticed her as she made her way into the woods and back to her home.
When she arrived at her small cottage, she started a fire, put a cauldron full of water over the flames, and imagined the hot soak in the tub she was about to take. She imagined tomorrow, telling today's tale to her friends. She imagined the horror on Hazel's face when the curse destroyed everything in her life that mattered. But there was one thing Agatha could never have imagined...
And that was for her to find a familiar beautiful babe abandoned in the woods just three days later.
Two: Certain Truths
“Momma, why can’t I go to the festival?”
“Because, my beauty, the men of Vildaheim feed on the flesh of the young.”
Agatha stood at the stove, flipping thick slices of bacon, the grease popping as the cottage filled with the mouthwatering aroma of spices and smoky meat. The small wooden table was already set with earthenware plates and intricately carved wooden utensils. As the bacon fried, Agatha set a tall clay pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice on the table, smiling to herself as she heard footsteps approaching.
"I knew you would wake for a hot breakfast," Agatha said, turning back to the stove.
"Good morning, Momma," replied a feminine, raspy voice.
Agatha took the bacon out of the frying pan, adding slices to a platter that was already stacked with sausage and venison patties, chunks of beef coated in a brown, savory gravy, and fried eggs. She set the plate on the table and took her seat, just as the young woman sat across from her. Nearly nineteen years had passed since that fateful night that brought Aribelle into her life permanently. Agatha had been picking berries in the moonlight, her only thought being to gather enough to make pies the next morning when she heard the unmistakable cry of a child. It took ten minutes to find Aribelle, wrapped in a blanket, hidden amongst bushes, far enough away that even the closest villages would not hear the child. Agatha had half a mind to return to Hazel and Melvyn and teach them another lesson. Still, she could not bear bringing Aribelle anywhere near the very people who had abandoned her without care of her wellbeing and safety.
"I need to discuss something with you, Aribelle," Agatha said, worrying her bottom lip.
"It will have to wait, Momma. I am sparring with Wren this morning, she is beginning to piss me off, so I've decided today is a day for lessons," Aribelle replied as she piled food on her plate, an involuntary growl rumbling in her throat.
The cup in Aribelle's hand shattered, sending shards of clay clattering to the floor. Agatha gasped softly, eyeing the glowing crystals embedded in the stone walls of the cottage. None of them were dimmed, but they would need to be magically recharged if Aribelle was having issues controlling her rage. Agatha observed Aribelle picking up the shattered pieces of the cup. Aribelle kept her jaw clenched and huffed out long breaths through her nose. When Aribelle turned her back on the table, crossing through the kitchen to throw the clay pieces in thrash, Agatha dug in her pocket and quickly dashed some sulann over Aribelle's food.
The sulann was one of Agatha's greatest creations, which she perfected by the age of twelve; the salt was mixed with a calming draught then left to dry and crystalize over three weeks. Those who consumed the sulann would experience instant waves of calmness so strong that a man in the midst of committing murder could have a few grains placed on his tongue, and he would sit down, apologize, and make his victim a cup of tea. Thus, the calming salt had become a popular staple with royalty and common folk with adolescents. However, as with any great invention, another discovered how to make the calming salt and began selling it for far less than the amount of coin Agatha required.
"I'll go down to The Pit with you, dear," Agatha said with false cheer as Aribelle approached the table.
Putting on a cheerful smile, hoping to mask the wariness in her eyes, Agatha watched with bated breath as Aribelle sat down. Aribelle hesitated as she looked down at her food, and for a moment, Agatha's heart stuttered as suspicion entered Aribelle's gaze, which remained locked on her plate. Tense seconds passed before Aribelle dug into her food, shoveling so much in her mouth that it was a wonder she didn't choke. Agatha relaxed, her smile turning true, and she nibbled on her own breakfast.
"That'd be nice," Aribelle replied through a mouthful of food.
"Fantastic, you finish up, and I'll get this kitchen cleaned while you get dressed," Agatha said.
"Alright, Momma," Aribelle mumbled through her chewing.
A short while later, Aribelle had finished decimating the platter of meat and eggs and drank more than half of the juice before going to her room to change. Agatha waited until Aribelle's door clicked soundly shut before rushing around the kitchen, dining area, and den checking and recharging the crystals.
"Lenthwi," Agatha whispered for the fortieth time, watching the crystal closely as it glowed a bright purple before dimming to a dull shade, looking as innocent as a gem-encrusted into the stone walls.
Going about her daily morning chores, Agatha hurriedly sprinkled several grains of the sulann in Aribelle's water jug. For added measure, she was sure to pack several treats that were made with the same calming salt, wondering if she would soon need a potion to control Aribelle's rage. Aribelle had managed to control the beast within her, becoming capable of releasing it at will, rather than only during the full moon. The rage had always been a bigger problem. Agatha had scars on her face, arms, and legs from Aribelle's tantrums as a toddler, and more than once she had to cast a bubble of protection around herself to avoid objects thrown at her head. If the crystals were failing...well, that could mean that Aribelle's rage was outgrowing Agatha's power. Agatha tried to shake away her troubling thoughts, reassuring herself that there had not yet been a time when she could not eventually get Aribelle under control. She would not let today be the day that she failed to calm the beast within Aribelle; there was far too much at stake. The time had come for many changes to occur, and Agatha was prepared to put those changes into motion, but there was not a soul in their small kingdom of Jurot that would dare go against the beast.