Star Fall: Shards of the Coven, #2

By Michael Timmns

Secret magic and a tragic cost. Can a group of fledgling heroes find the key to saving their world from a deadly spellcaster?

Quint Linksill won't rest until he's proven his innocence. But he's shocked when his frantic attempts to show he didn't kill the love of his life have driven him straight into the devious clutches of the Blood Mage. And when chaos descends from the stars, Quint is forced down a murderous path to slay an innocent to save his friend.

Whisp is intent on revenge. And the young thief has one hand on the prize when fate rips justice away from her in one devastating stroke. Now robbed of her single-minded purpose, she finds herself swept along with a one-handed man and his mission to save a life.

Sojin, Lyyra and Malk find their hopes of stopping Unkirk and the Elders dashed, and all seems lost. But new hope rises, and they now know they must do what they have trained for: become Witchguard.

Never Brin is proud of her work and her shop's promising future. But she barely survives her grief when a flood of formidable power flows through her and kills her unborn child. And with no idea why hungry forces are hunting her down, she must flee her home or be killed.

While Quint and Whisp must find the one thing that will save Quint's friend, they instead unleash a danger that magic can't stop. As Never, unsure of who to trust, and the realm reeling from the disaster, must find her purpose and claim her destiny. And as powerful forces hunt her down, she finds unlikely help from three warriors who claim it is their duty to protect her. For Never is now a Witch of the Coven and must stop the dark forces bent on taking over their world.

Will their land fall under the malevolent rule of a shadowy fiend?

Star Fall is the second spellbinding story in the Shards of the Coven fantasy series. If you like enchanting protagonists, compelling world-building, and breathtaking twists and turns, then you'll love Michael Timmins's remarkable tale.

Buy Star Fall to stand up against tyranny today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Timmins
• Release date: Sep 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215649763

Book preview

Chapter 1

The unfortunate thing about being the Witch of Time do be, you know exactly when yours is up.—Ka’Rissa Solvare, The Witch of Time.

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Covenhome wasn’t always like this. As the capital of the Eastern Cantons of Rowens, it was a simple place. Witches were not ones for grandiose displays of wealth and power, though they had both.

The capital dotted an ancient forest on the Isle of Sleet. One-story homes and shops lay interspersed between mammoth oaks, walnuts, and redferns. Cobblestoned paths snaked their way through the tangle of unfettered underbrush, so overgrown, the walkways looked like hallways.

The paths were busy now. Busier than usual as messengers, workers, and the occasional Witchguard moved here and there. The Isle of Sleet was one of the cooler isles in the island chain known as The Storms because of the ocean current that encircled it.

The cool temperature and the above-average rainfall had done the mighty trees well. With the Witches of the Coven protecting them, freeing them from logging, and with the ministrations of the Witch of Flora, which kept them healthy and free of destructive insects and blight, they grew tall and wide.

Their canopy put Covenhome in its own counterfeit night as the sun worked hard to penetrate the broadleaf trees. Swaths of sunlight fell around the redferns though, as their fan-like needles offered little protection from the sun’s rays.

It was in these bastions of light where stores and other places of businesses dwelled. Leaving the darkness for the island residents. The residents ran the day-to-day operations of the capital. The others provided some service for the bureaucracy. Smiths, cobblers, bakers, and seamstresses all worked to provide for the Witches and their offices.

As the Witches were often away from the isle on business, they compensated those who worked on the island generously so they would remain when their services were called upon less.

This was not one of those times.

Four times during the year, the Witches convene upon the isle to discuss what is happening within the Cantons and to offer any rulings on pressing matters of state. During the rest of the year, they are free to travel about the Cantons and the neighboring countries as they see fit.

Unless a Witch calls a Meet. When a Meet is called, all Witches must return to hear why. Calling a Meet is not something a Witch would do without careful thought. The matter be of utmost importance. Many Witches travel far afield, thus returning for a Meet can cause personal hardship or ruin important negotiations and meetings.

They must set the Meet at an allotted time, giving ample chance for Witches to return to the Isle of Sleet. The Witch of the Heavens called for the Meet to take place two nights past the full moon. Despite knowing how little time she had left, Ka’Rissa Solvare, the Witch of Time, returned to Covenhome.

Ka’Rissa stood stiff-backed as she ran her fingers across the Altar that dominated the clearing. Roughhewn stone, almost two spans thick and twice as long as it was wide, rested on four squat pillars of rock.

Flowery scrollwork etched into its surface hugged the corners and reached out to its mirror at the opposite corners—never to succeed. Carved along the thick edge of the Altar were the ancient symbols representing each of the unique powers of the Aspect magics. Air, Earth, Fire, Water, Magic, Death, Time, Heaven, Flora and Fauna—each engraved in a repetitive pattern, their flowing lines cut with precision.

Ka’Rissa warmed with pleasure at being in the clearing marking the Coven’s beginning, which saw the rise of the Eastern Cantons of Rowens and hundreds of years of peace.

This clearing, at the site of the beginning of an age... a palpable sense of importance filled the air in it. A heaviness of history one could not escape feeling. Ka’Rissa was no different. She felt crushed under its gravity.

Whenever she came here, she felt insignificant in the world’s greatness. Oh, she could make her mark, for a time. But they would forget her, in the end. Time flowed on and it cared not a whit about you.

Speaking of ends. Tomorrow, the day of the Meet, she would reach hers. She couldn’t help thinking about how the end of her life coincided with the Meet. Too coincidental. What could possibly happen at a Meet that would bring about her death, she did not know.

Covenhome was the safest place for a Witch. Past Witches of Magic had erected shields and alarms to deter and stop any Blood or Essence Mages trying to attack Covenhome. The current Witch of Magic, Helena, kept these wards strong.

Ka’Rissa let her hand fall from the rough stone of the Altar. She was tall, taller than most of the Witches, except Trellia, the Witch of Fauna. Trellia Havin’s blood was obvious, the giant folk of the South, and a goodly amount judging by her height.

Ka’Rissa smoothed her blue janco weave dress, a gift from her Witchguard, Nees. The dress was unadorned except for the symbol of her Aspect, the hourglass, obscured, in part, by her long, curly red tresses marking her as a northerner. Her hair was the envy of many, as it was full and had long, natural curls, which coiled all around her head like a crown of scarlet springs.

Her eyes were characteristically blue, but unlike many of her countrymen, they were sky-blue instead of the deep azure. Somewhere in her lineage was a Thaelian, for they had lighter eyes of amber or honey.

Yes, her hair was her prize attribute, for without it, she would be unremarkable. She was neither pretty nor ugly. Just plain. She had a face like many of her countrymen, full of freckles. Tiny pinpricks of red upon a pale face. They covered her cheeks, forehead, nose, neck, and even spread down to her upper torso. Some seeing her might believe an ailment had stricken her.

Movement on the edge of the clearing caught Ka’Rissa’s attention. She turned her head to spot Helika, the Witch of Air, entering the clearing. Helika was Bornian, through and through. Dark locks of hair, almost black, framed her harsh-looking face. She had an axe for a nose sitting between two deep-set brown eyes. Bushy eyebrows rested on a wide, flat forehead.

She was wearing a simple sky-blue blouse and brown hox-hide trousers. The only sign of her rank was the medallion she wore depicting the symbol of her Aspect of Wind; like a sideways letter V with curled ends. Resting in the open space of the V sat a triangle with a horizontal line through the top third.

She was not a pretty woman. She made light of it as often as possible. Her humor was often self-deprecating and often crass. Ka’Rissa couldn’t hide a smile as she thought about how uncomfortable Helika usually made people with her dark and vulgar jokes. It was one reason she liked Helika so much.

They were of a similar age. In fact, many of the Witches of the Coven were close to Ka’Rissa’s twenty-five years. It was said this was the youngest Coven in recent memory. According to the histories, they had lost three to four Witches several years in a row preceding this current roster of Witches. The only two not replaced were the Witch of the Heavens and the Witch of Death.

It seemed to Ka’Rissa there had been an unusual number of accidents and assassinations during this period of Coven history. Being a Witch of the Coven had its dangers. Despite culling and hunting down Blood and Essence Mages, some slipped through the cracks.

To avoid being brought down, mages would go on the offensive and lash out and attack Witches. It was one of the main reasons for the Witchguard.

They had lost several to attacks such as these. There had also been accidents, some bizarre and questionable, others mundane. There had been deaths from natural causes and random violence. Or so it seemed. Ka’Rissa wasn’t so sure. For most of the Witches who died from violence, the Witchguard was absent.

Nothing immediately questionable about that. Witchguards were not obligated to remain in a Witch’s presence the entire time and often, if the Witch felt safe enough, she would send her Witchguard on some errand. No. Nothing immediately questionable. When you looked at the whole and the number of times it happened, it became suspicious.

Ultimately, though, whatever plan there might have been to eliminate Witches would fail. For the moment a Witch died, her Aspect would infuse her heir and it would compel her to come to Covenhome. As had happened to her.

Greetings, Helika, Witch of the Air, Ka’Rissa said as the other woman made her approach.

Helika snorted. Cut the formality, Ka, it’s just the two of us. When Helika was standing next to her, she turned her attention to the Altar, absently drawing her hand across its surface.

We are all drawn by the tactile feeling of this monument of our Coven. It speaks to us. I wonder what it says to Helika?

When the woman looked back up at her, Ka’Rissa gave her a warm smile. Very well, Helika. What do bring you to the Altar?

Same as you, I would imagine. She returned her attention to the table and drifted around to the other side, her fingers tracing the flowery etchings on its surface. I find I feel the need to visit it every time I come home.

Her eyes flickered back up to Ka’Rissa. Don’t you?

Aye. She nodded absently, her eyes drawn back to its rocky surface. I do feel it too. I wonder if some unseen magical power do draws us here, or do it be only its significance?

Helika didn’t answer. No one could answer that question. More knowledgeable and powerful Witches before asked that question.

She still isn’t here.

It took Ka’Rissa a moment to grasp the shift in topic and her lips drew into a straight line.

She will be, Ka’Rissa assured Helika, though not feeling all that assured herself. She do be the one who called the Meet in the first place.

Helika growled. Exactly. Who calls a Meet and then has the balls to be late?

Ka’Rissa covered her smile with her hand. It was an old habit she had developed around Helika. She avoided letting the more prudish Witches know she found Helika’s language amusing.

At least if you had called the Meet, we know you would be on time. Helika smirked.

Ka’Rissa didn’t bother to conceal her chuckle at Helika’s terrible pun.

Nees left?

Again, Helika switched topics. Sometimes it was difficult to keep up.

Aye, almost the moment we arrived. It do be the time for the Race after all and she wished to return home for the celebration.

Many of the Witchguard had left or already been gone; it felt like a mass exodus.

Only half paying attention, Helika nodded. Tymur as well. Early this morning. It was nice that the Meet coincided with the Race, though not early enough for most to catch the beginning. Her mouth parted wide as she smiled. But you know how much they party. Right up till the end.

Ka’Rissa wondered if Helika had ever gone to Hail during the Race. She had once. She doubted Helika would find the Hailatians idea of partying the same as hers. Oh, they celebrated, but Hailatians were a stiff people. Seldom did they let themselves celebrate with abandon.

I do wonder why she called the Meet, she mused aloud.

Helika snorted. The stranger that appeared in the heavens last night, no doubt.

They both glanced skyward. The glow was not visible during the day. It had appeared the other night. A star that had never shown itself before, appearing out of nowhere. Aye. It do be the obvious reason for the Meet. But how would she have known months ago?

Perhaps. It may be a coincidence. After all, it appeared months after she called the Meet.

And you are the only one who can predict the future, eh? Helika looked back at her and smirked. Ka’Rissa returned a dry smile.

Helika glanced at the heavens once more. Whatever the case, it seems ominous.

Ka’Rissa felt a chill and held back a shiver. For a moment, Ka’Rissa wanted to speak of her impending demise. The Meet, the new star, her death, all lining up at the same time. Ominous indeed.

Yeath has not come either.

Ka’Rissa gawked at Helika and saw the woman was watching her with keen eyes; she smothered her reaction. Do she mention Yeath on purpose? Yeath was the Witch of Death. She was a strange Witch. It might be the nature of her Aspect, but Ka’Rissa had never felt comfortable around her.

It was Ka’Rissa’s time to snort. Do she ever?

Helika continued to watch her a moment, then lifted her shoulders in resignation. True. It has been years since I’ve seen her.

Ka’Rissa tried to remember the last time Yeath had graced them with her presence and had trouble recalling. It had been so long ago.

I do believe I have not seen her since Trellia’s Naming six years ago. The Naming was the formal ceremony one went through when they became the Witch of their Aspect. Trellia was the last named. An angry Blood Mage had killed the previous Witch of Fauna, Ellison.

Ka’Rissa remembered the story. Ellison’s Witchguard had not been at her side and although he hunted down and killed the Blood Mage, the punishment for failing to protect your Witch was excommunication from the Witchguard.

Yeath returned to Covenhome as often as an oleshar bird lands, which is to say, not often at all. As Ka’Rissa recalled, the Witch dwelled somewhere near the town of Wind Valley in Midhark. That do be the town of her birth, I recall. She knew little of the woman. Yeath all but shunned the Coven, and the Coven wasn’t welcoming to her in return.

Return with me? Helika motioned toward the path leading back to the town.

Ka’Rissa smiled her agreement and moved toward the path. Helika fell into step next to her. The town was close to the clearing, but the path was not straight. Like the course of people’s lives, the path meandered through the overgrowth lining the floor of the vast forest.

They remained quiet as they walked, enjoying the sounds of the land, the sound of the birds, and the chittering of hickers as they scrambled about the lower branches, their furry tails lashing about angrily at the intrusion into their realm.

The closer to the town, the wider the path got, the more people they saw. Townsfolk bustled about to prepare for the Meet and gave the Witches casual diffidence as they passed.

While the Witches were the leaders of the Eastern Cantons, they did not expect fealty. Ka’Rissa knew some Witches felt they were rulers. She, however, saw herself as a servant of the people.

They were guides. The compass for the realm. There had been Covens in the past who ruled with a tight fist, but most only worked with the leaders of each of the Cantons to keep the peace and unity. It was a generational argument, and each Coven had to decide for themselves how they would govern.

As the silence grew between her and Helika, Ka’Rissa’s thoughts returned to her death. It would mean a new Witch of Time would be gifted and then named. She knew who it would be. She had foreseen it. It was one of the gifts of the Witch of Time. She could glimpse a Witch’s successor.

In fact, it would be one of her duties here at this Meet to delve each Witch present to determine if a candidate had the spark.

No one understood how a Witch’s power chose someone, only that at some point, somewhere in the realm, a woman would have the spark of an Aspect come alive in them.

The spark would remain dormant until the current Witch died. Then the spark would come to life and the candidate would gain the powers of her Aspect and come to Covenhome to be named.

It made things easier knowing the candidate beforehand. Then a Witchguard retrieved them the moment a Witch died. As of the last Meet, however, Ka’Rissa could delve no one else’s successor.

It wasn’t unusual. This was the youngest Coven in a long time. In theory, all the Witches of this Coven would be alive for a long time before anyone would need a replacement. All the Witches except me, of course. She would need a replacement sometime tomorrow.

If any of the other Witches were to die before a successor was gifted, then their Aspect would flow into the closest candidate who already had a spark.

This had happened a few times in Coven history, and disaster followed soon after. To have a Witch with two Aspects, creates a power imbalance within the Coven. Once, in the battle of Hellspark, a devastating fight between the Coven and a group of Essence Mages, the Coven lost four Witches. Only two successors were alive, but because of how the magic works, it gifted one Witch three Aspects.

She ruled the Coven for two decades.

Is something bothering you, Ka?

She gave Helika a sideways glance and saw the woman watching her with concern. Again, Ka’Rissa felt the desire to tell Helika about her fate tomorrow, but again decided against it. It would do no good to trouble Helika. There was nothing either of them could do to change it, and Helika wouldn’t understand.

She would try to protect her and when she failed, which she would, she would feel guilt and Ka’Rissa didn’t want to burden her friend in such a way.

She shook her head. It do be nothing, Helika. My thoughts do stray to the purpose of this Meet. The Meet and the new star. She motioned upward with her hand. As you said, it do seem ominous.

And you see nothing?

Ka’Rissa never felt good at lying. It made her uncomfortable. While she hadn’t out and out lied to Helika, she was keeping something from her, and it was clear the woman had sensed it. She had decided, though.

Nothing.

They fell silent again and Ka’Rissa could feel the other woman’s desire to be more direct with her questioning. It was a measure of the woman’s respect for Ka’Rissa that she only sighed instead and asked nothing further.

They were moving closer to the center of town and closer to the buildings that housed the Witches. Here the paths were wide and straighter. Now, instead of winding their way around the boles of trees, they were wide enough to part around the trunks and continue.

The paths were full of people now. Most were workers, though Ka’Rissa saw a shen moving through the crowd that parted around the woman. If the shen noticed or cared about the avoidance, she did not show it.

She had never felt comfortable with the shen, the magic hunters. She knew they were necessary creations, but because of their profession, the Coven chose killers to become shen. Then, the Witches would imbue the shen with traits from their Aspects to strengthen them, make them faster, and immune to magic, to deal with the mages they would hunt.

Letting their feet take them, they followed the path that led to Ka’Rissa’s home. It was a simple house. A quiet ranch home created from wood crafted by a Witch of Flora many decades ago to be used for housing a Witch. There were many such houses here, set aside for the Witches to choose from.

Ka’Rissa couldn’t help thinking about all the time she had spent in this home. Like most of the Witches of the Coven, she spent only part of her time here in Covenhome and the rest of her time traveling the Eastern Cantons.

Her days were often filled with delving a petitioner’s timeline. It was one of her duties as the Witch of Time. People would come from all over the Cantons to ask her to read their past. Some had mundane requests; hoping to recall where they had left something of value or to prove to a loved one that they had never been unfaithful. Other times, she would use her powers to prove someone’s innocence.

It was those times she held most dear. To use her gift to help free someone from prison, or even being put to death, by reading their past and bearing witness to their innocence.

As the Witch of Time, her testimony was without question. If she claimed someone as innocent, then they were free to go. She would just as often have to use her gift used to prove someone’s guilt, though. She cared little for this. To do this, she had to delve into someone’s past against their will.

When the duties of her office weren’t consuming her time, she would spend her days walking the woods of Covenhome or reading in her favorite chair on her porch. But those times were few. And now, there would be no more reading late into the evening or walking the sculpted paths of Covenhome.

Tomorrow, she would leave this world, her time here over. A pang of loss wretched her soul. I do not be ready for this. She didn’t think she would ever be ready for this.

Ka? Helika’s voice brought her out of her contemplations. To be honest, she had almost forgotten the woman was there.

They were standing a short distance from her front door and Ka’Rissa had no recollection of how long they had been standing there.

She turned to the other Witch and offered an apologetic smile. I’m sorry, Helika. My mind do drifts through times long past.

Are you sure you are alright?

It hurt Ka’Rissa to dismiss the woman’s obvious concern, but it would do little of them any good to discuss what would happen tomorrow. Instead, she reached over and patted the woman’s arm.

I will be, Helika. I do just need some rest.

It was clear the woman didn’t believe a word of it.

Ka—

It do be nothing Helika. Nothing that do need concern you, anyway.

Again, Helika looked as if she would press further, but Ka’Rissa gave her no chance.

Will I see you at tonight’s dinner?

Helika continued to study her, then looked away.

Of course, Ka. I will be there. She looked back to Ka’Rissa. Will we talk then?

Will we talk about what do be bothering me? My impending death? No, Helika, we will not. If there do be time. There do be much to discuss and plan for tomorrow’s Meet.

What if she doesn’t show?

Ilandilil again. The Witch of the Heavens will be here, Helika. And if she do be not, we will need to wait for her arrival.

Helika huffed. That has never happened before.

It was true, as far as Ka’Rissa knew. Never in the Coven’s history had a Witch called a Meet and been late.

It was bound to happen someday, Helika.

Figures it would happen to us.

Ka’Rissa smiled at her old friend’s irritation.

Well, Ka’Rissa said, her lip curled, time will tell.

Helika rolled her eyes at the quip, but then snorted loud enough to scare a hooded lark napping on a branch above.

Till later, Ka.

Till later, Helika.

Helika turned and made her way down the path toward her own home. Ka’Rissa watched her go, wondering if keeping silent about tomorrow’s death was the right thing to do to her friend. When she died, Helika would realize she had known all along and had not spoken to her about it. She wouldn’t understand. She would be angry at Ka’Rissa for keeping it a secret. Not that it will matter to me anymore.

Ka’Rissa frowned to herself, turned, and entered her home.

*

The following day began a whirlwind of activity in Covenhome. The Meet sent everyone into a frenzied preparation. Cooks and bakers bustled around their stoves. The Grand Grove, littered with long tables and chairs for the midday feast, created a maze for the servants to navigate. The day was warm and bright and full of life. Ka’Rissa was thankful for that. If her last day in this world was cold and dreary, it would have been a disappointment.

The better part of her morning was used to seeing her affairs were in order. She wasn’t someone who doted over material things like some others. Her belongings were modest and minimalistic. She had nothing to leave her family, of which only a sister and father remained.

Her most prized possessions were her books. None of which would find use with her family; her father was a woodsman and her sister was the mother of six now and helped tend a farm with her husband. No. They would not find any use for the books.

They would sell the books and make some good money from the sale, no doubt. Ka’Rissa did not want the books to go to someone she did not know, though. Given the time she had spent among them, they were like friends to her, and she would see them given to friends.

She aimed to spend the rest of the day saying her goodbyes. Though she didn’t intend for anyone to know they were goodbyes. She planned to let each of her friends know how much they meant to her and how much she loved them before the night was over.

Most of the Witches she got along with, were even friends with. There were two exceptions: Yeath, the Witch of Death and the Witch who called this Meet, Ilandilil.

Yeath was an odd woman and not personable. Ka’Rissa, much to her regret, had never attempted to get to know the woman. Yeath didn’t visit Covenhome often.

Ilandilil was another matter. The Witch of the Heavens was a haughty woman. She was one of those Witches who believed the Coven should take a firmer hand with the Cantons. To lead, instead of guide, and she made no secret of it.

Countless times over the years, Ilandilil had imposed her will on the various rulers of the Cantons. Ilandilil received reprimands, but it mattered little, as she would turn around and do it again.

The Coven did not have a way to remove a Witch from the Coven. Except for murdering the Witch and letting her Aspect transfer to another, hopefully less willful, candidate.

The Coven prohibited the practice, as it would be a slippery slope to allow those types of machinations. Not to say it hadn’t happened in the Coven’s history. In those instances, the Coven kept silent, or with an out-of-control Witch, the Coven touted as willingness to sacrifice one of their own to show they were not above the laws they themselves had created.

There was something more fundamental about Ka’Rissa’s... lack of friendship with Ilandilil. The Aspect of the Heavens sat counterpoint on the wheel. Not that Heaven and Time were opposites, more like the flip side of the same coin.

Ka’Rissa didn’t enjoy Ilandilil’s company, that was all. For the moment, at least, neither one of them was here. As was customary prior to the feast, the Witches in attendance would gather in the Great Grove. Ka’Rissa made her way there as well.

The Great Grove was not only where they held feasts, it would also be the location for the Meet. When she arrived, she spotted Helika and waved to her. She was standing with Quillith the Witch of Flora, Norel the Witch of Earth, and Helena the Witch of Magic.

Quillith was Thaelian. A blonde-haired and amber-eyed beauty. She wore a simple gown of some material Ka’Rissa was unfamiliar with; some plant fiber she had crafted into cloth, knowing Quillith. Next to her was Helena.

Helena was Bornian like Helika, but where Helika’s features were stark, Helena’s were cute. She had a round, almost childlike face with pert lips and a button nose. She always managed a doe-eyed expression, though she was smart and quick-witted. Her raven locks were combed straight and held back by a diadem of simple interwoven twigs. Two ringlets on either side of her head dangled down, framing her face.

The other woman with them was Norel. Norel hailed from the Isle of Snow, an island in The Storms. It was surprising to see her here with Helika. She was one of the more uptight Witches in the Coven, not to mention being the Witch of Earth put her across from Helika on the Wheel.

Her appearance matched her personality as her face looked forever pinched, like she had bitten into something bitter and her face froze in reaction. Like most islanders, Norel’s skin was copper colored. She had narrow brown eyes, which Helika suggested had formed that way from looking down her nose at others.

Helika only meant it in good humor... mostly. Not that Norel looked down at people. She was, however, a little judgmental toward those who did not uphold her standards. Which, Helika said, meant no swearing, no drinking, and no fucking.

Ka’Rissa clamped down on the sudden desire to burst into a laugh and instead offered a warm smile to the ladies present.

Helika, Norel, she greeted. Helena.

Ka! Helika greeted her back, her pleasure at seeing Ka’Rissa again, obvious. I was just questioning these ladies if any of them had ever slept with their Witchguards.

Again, Ka’Rissa held back a laugh. She was sure Helika had been asking them nothing of the sort, but had only implied she was to get a rise out of Norel for Ka’Rissa’s sake.

Helika! Norel’s voice rose, shocked, and a deep flush of red crept up her neck to flood her face. You weren’t... She turned to Ka’Rissa. I mean... she wasn’t! the woman continued to sputter, till Helika calmed her.

Ka knows that, Norel. Calm yourself. I was just poking fun.

Ka’Rissa noticed Quillith’s cheeks were rosy and her eyes downcast. Ah, so at least one of us has. It wasn’t uncommon. Affairs often happened between a Witch and her Witchguard. When one was in the other’s presence as often as Witch and Witchguard are, a certain closeness was a given. It would be for nothing though, for a Witch seldom married, and a Witchguard would return home to marry another Hailatian, as was their custom.

Ka’Rissa saw Helika noticed Quillith’s blush and ran interference for the poor woman. Helika could be merciless.

Helena, what do you think of the new star? Do you believe it do have some magical significance?

Helika narrowed her eyes at her before turning her attention to Helena.

The Witch was already shaking her head the moment Ka’Rissa began her question, anticipating it and dismissing it.

No. I have run all manner of magical delving into the newcomer and it does not emanate any magical energy. My belief, though I would wait for Ilandilil’s assessment, is that it is what it appears to be—a new star. Stars must come into being. She looked around the group for some support of her supposition. They can’t have always been there... could they?

It was an interesting question to ponder, but ponder it was all they could do. If Ilandilil had been there, she could have given them a better explanation.

Where is that damn woman? Helika muttered.

Yes. Where do she be? The Meet was Ilandilil’s idea, and she had yet to show. It was, of course, possible there had been some sort of delay during her trip to the Isle, but a Witch who calls a Meet arrives days, sometimes a month, ahead of the actual Meet to ensure no delay—to ensure she would be there.

What will we do if she doesn’t show? Quillith eyed them. Do we wait here until she does?

Ka’Rissa shrugged, but it was Norel who answered. We will wait, as is right. We will give her ample time to arrive.

They fell silent at that. But how long do be ample time? Ka’Rissa wondered.

At that moment, Bekka, the Witch of Fire, entered the Grove. She was a short woman, not reaching Ka’Rissa’s breasts in height. Short and wiry. She was a fellow countryman. Unlike Ka’Rissa, who had the red hair common to her people, Bekka, in some cruel twist of irony, had been born with pale blonde hair.

Through the use of plant pigments, however, she kept her locks a bright fiery red as befit her Aspect. Of the newer recruits, Bekka was the oldest at thirty-seven. She was a comely looking woman, not as beautiful as Quillith, but she turned eyes.

Bekka was one of her closest friends; closer even than Helika. The Witch wore a dazzling white dress with the symbol of a burning fire, her Aspect emblazoned upon it. She saw Ka’Rissa and smiled, making her way over.

If you do excuse me, ladies? Ka’Rissa hesitated to receive their assent before detaching herself from the group and heading to meet with Bekka.

Ka! They embraced, and Ka’Rissa held Bekka longer than was customary for the occasion. Bekka, for a moment, tried to extradite herself from Ka’Rissa’s embrace, but must have sensed the desperation in the embrace and returned it in full.

I do need to speak with you. Keeping her voice low and soft.

Bekka pulled away and eyed her with concern before giving a brisk dip of her head.

They moved some distance from the rest of the Witches. Ka’Rissa glanced back to see Helika watching her while pretending to pay attention to something Norel was saying.

There was nothing she could do about that. She would try to make it right with her later. Right now, she needed to speak with Bekka. Of all her friends, Bekka was the most pragmatic. She also understood and accepted the fact that if Ka’Rissa saw something of the future, it would happen. There would be no stopping it.

For this reason, she felt comfortable opening up about her impending death.

What do it be, Ka? Bekka asked when they were far enough away from everyone.

With all her intent on telling Bekka, she found she could not find the words.

I... well... She sighed and looked to the side.

Bekka reached out and touched her arm in support.

Ka, you do know you can tell me. Whatever do be bothering you, I will understand and try to help. But I can’t do that unless you do tell me what is wrong.

Ka’Rissa turned back and looked at the diminutive woman. Such a tiny package for a woman filled with so much power and strength. She was a formidable woman as well as a Witch. But she also had an immense heart and compassion.

There was no way she could deny such earnestness.

I had a premonition. She did not need to emphasize that this was more than just a feeling. For a Witch of Time, a premonition was a type of foretelling. Bekka understood that. Her friend watched her, knowing Ka’Rissa would eventually get to the point.

I will be dead before this day do be through.

Bekka gave a sharp intake of breath and her hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide, tears pooling on her lower lids.

No! The denial was quiet, yet forceful.

Ka’Rissa managed a slight bobbing of her head, tears also coming unbidden to her eyes. She thought she had shed all these tears a month ago when the premonition struck her.

She was wrong.

Her friend caught her again in a hug. This time embracing her both supportively and clinging to her as if to let her go would see her gone from this world.

Ka’Rissa shared the hug and its feelings and felt tears fall she had hoped to avoid this day.

Time passed. How long Ka’Rissa didn’t know. They separated, both taking a moment to recover themselves. Bekka took Ka’Rissa by the hand and led her to a nearby unoccupied table, and they sat.

How long have you known?

About a month. She noticed the disapproval in her friend’s expression. I did think to seek you out sooner, but the Meet had already been called. I did not know where you might be. Bekka’s obvious disapproval eased. I felt it best to come here, instead of searching all over the Cantons for you. At least I knew you would be here... eventually.

Bekka clicked her tongue and nodded. You do be right. It would have been pointless to have searched me out. She offered a conciliatory smile. Do forgive me, it do be my grief at not being able to spend more time with you that do have me acting this way.

There do be no need to apologize, Bekka. She took her friend’s hand in hers, the corners of her mouth hinting at a small curl. I will miss you too.

They spoke for some time then, about days long past and a future that, for one of them, no longer existed. They kept the conversation light, not wanting to delve back into the sense of loss they were both keenly feeling.

Have you told Helika? Bekka asked at one point, bringing up the topic once again that they had been avoiding.

Ka’Rissa frowned. Bekka and Helika were her two closest friends, but they couldn’t be more different. Bekka was very logical and saw the world for how it was. Helika was more emotional; more, ‘this is how I think the world should be, so I’m going to change it.’

She loved them both, but Helika would not take the news of Ka’Rissa’s knowing she would die today, well. She would look to change that outcome and do everything she could. It was a drama she wished to avoid on her last day on Earth.

She avoided her friend’s gaze. I can’t. And before Bekka could voice her disapproval, she continued, At least, not yet. She turned back to her friend. I do have a sense that I will know when my death do be imminent. So, I do have time. I will tell her, though. I owe her that much, but I don’t want to spend the rest of the day placating her and trying to convince her to stop trying to save me. Bekka continued to frown.

You know she will!

Bekka smirked. Very well, Ka. It do be your decision, and I will respect it. But what happens if you die before you tell her? If you do, and she finds out I knew—her eyes