Alchemy of a Witch: Fermentation by April Aasheim

Author:April Aasheim [Aasheim, April]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-15T22:00:00+00:00

The shadow pets were wrong.

There was time—and it passed—very slowly.

She remembered things during her eternity in the cottage—mostly the bad things: People she’d let down. Lies she told. Challenges she hadn’t met, or worse, faced. The disappointment in her mother’s eyes when she informed her that she had no interest in taking her place as a village elder. It was as if seeing the shadow pets again, brought to surface her own shadows.

I deserve everything that’s happened.

Humming to herself, Morgan swayed on her knees before the fire as random thoughts came and went, trapping her in a loop of self-pity and regret. “The broth,” she managed to say, in one of her more lucid moments. The broth is doing this to me. But the brief realization quickly drifted away, up the chimney with the smoke.

Morgan beamed like a little girl as small bubbles floated from the cauldron, swirling before her in a choreographed dance. The largest floated to her open palm, it’s glassy surface reflecting an image of her as a child, violets were woven through her hair. The bubble attracted other images, and they attracted others still, until there was a hive of bubbles resting on her hand.

One bubble showed her as a toddler, laying on Almara’s lap beneath a leafy tree. It was pressed against another bubble of her lying in the grass with Jon just after they had made love. She turned her hand around to see them all. Each was a piece of her story, playing out simultaneously before her. She poked at one bubble, and it deformed but did not break. Each of the bubbles connected it to it wobbled, swapping their scenes around and altering them slightly. Once settled, there was a slightly different story to tell.

Releasing the bubbles into the air, they dispersed and floated up the chimney. Morgan sighed and removed her rings from her sack, placing them on her fingers. She felt the comforting hum of magick, but no other effects. Would she go mad if she had to carry them all? Could she be any madder than she was already?

She twisted Quin’s Ring of Stars, wondering if he ever reached Perselly. Then, she touched Alistair’s, wondering if he were still alive. Whatever powers the rings possessed had not saved them, nor her it seemed, and she wept as she returned them to her purse.

Shortly, the door clicked three times and then cracked open. Morgan squinted at the slit of light piercing through, expecting to see Marguerite’s imposing figure. Instead, a young woman appeared with a small child in her arms.

“Rachel?” she asked excitedly, blinking. She stood up, peering closer. “Is that really you?”

“Morgan!” Rachel put the boy down and ran to her side.

“Bridget,” Morgan corrected, hugging her friend fiercely. She patted her down to ensure she was real.

“Bridget…I was given permission to come and say goodbye,” Rachel whispered. Her beautiful red hair had been roughly shorn to her ears.

“Goodbye? Oh Rachel, I am so sorry I was not able to help you,” Morgan said, looking at the handsome child toddling about.

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