The blonde girl lay naked on the cool, dark earth of the cave floor. The wizard stood above her, watching, anticipating.

 

It was quiet in the underground chamber. The crackle of the candles punctuated the stillness with an irregular rhythm. The girl’s pale white breasts rose and fell tranquilly in her slumber.

 

The silence was broken by the soft sound of the soil shifting. Dirt fell from the earthen walls, covering the sleeping witch with a fine blanket of dust. Gradually, tendrils emerged from the wall, hovering above the girl.

 

It comes alive, despite the Harvest Moon being a week away! The wizard smiled. If this worked, it would be a resounding success. An early victory. He cast a quick glance to the corner of the room where the girl’s clothes lay in a messy pile. Her linen chemise sat in a crumbled ball on top of the red robes he had removed a few moments ago.

 

The tendrils descended towards the girl, snaking, twisting their way to their twilight offering. Slowly the roots wrapped around her arms, gently pulling the blonde into a standing position. Her limp body offered no resistance.

 

The roots had pulled her up, arms over head, until her delicate toes barely touched the ground. The wizard waited with bated breath. This next step is crucial.

 

Smaller tendrils wriggled out of the clay ceiling, seemingly in slow motion. They writhed in the dark void above the girl’s head, briefly coming to resemble a strange subterranean chandelier. The blonde stood suspended from the roots wrapped around her arms, still breathing peacefully, completely unaware of her surroundings.

 

I have done my research. She is worthy. He watched the tendrils hover above the girl’s head. Or do I say that to reassure myself? We shall see. The roots were more patient than him, floating above the blonde in a slow, rippling motion. It was as if the tree were sipping, sniffing the air above the girl. What is it waiting for?

Finally, the tendrils descended further. Slowly, they began to wrap their way around the blonde’s head.

 

The wizard fell to his knees. His voice shaking, he lifted his hands up to the ceiling.

 

“Oh, venerable and ancient spirit, Guardian of the Sonswyg, Tree of the Harvest, accept your humble servant’s offering!”

 

Smaller tendrils snaked their way into the girl’s ears and nostrils. Larger tendrils held the girl’s head fast as another small tendril began to pull her jaw open. A thicker root began to twist its way towards the blonde’s open mouth.

 

He watched as her lips stretched around the thick root that was exploring the soft wetness of her mouth.

 

Then, suddenly, the roots recoiled, unwrapping and releasing the girl who fell unceremoniously back to the ground.

 

The wizard froze. Rejection?

 

The roots and tendrils retreated quickly back into the earth. The girl’s sleeping body lay crumpled into a heap on the ground, coated with a fresh blanket of dust. It was as if the wizard had just traveled back in time five minutes. For a second, he wondered if he had hallucinated the whole thing.

 

No, it had worked. At least until the roots touched her head. He paced back and forth in the dimly lit cave. I don’t understand. I was diligent.

After pacing around the room for a minute or so, he stopped walking and breathed deeply. No use in wondering. I need to get the answers from her.

He pulled his wand out of his pocket, pointed it at the sleeping girl, and said, “Katasomnon.”

 

The blonde twitched gently, then furrowed her brow.

 

“Ughhh…”

 

The wizard resumed his pacing while the girl gradually woke up. This cannot happen a week from now. No. Need to be sure. The girl coughed gently and slowly stretched out her limbs. Her eyes were not yet open.

 

She’s supposed to be at the top of her class. A fine first offering! He grew impatient, walking over to the slowly waking girl. He nudged her thigh with his boot, a little rougher than intended.

 

“Ow…” The girl rolled onto her back, her pink nipples pointing up towards the wizard. Her face was scrunched up, but she still didn’t open her eyes.

 

“Come on. Wake up!” he nudged her thigh again.

 

Finally, she opened her blue eyes. It took her a moment to focus. She lifted her head off the ground and tried to look around. The dark room being mostly empty, she eventually fixated on the man standing above her.

 

“Who are you? Where am I?”

 

“Don’t worry about that, dear. I just have a few ques—”

 

He was interrupted by the girl’s scream. She had just noticed she was naked.

 

“What the fuck is going on?” she said, quickly leaping up and away from the wizard.

 

“Rhae, please.”

 

“How do you know my name?” Her back and palms were pressed against the wall. She hurriedly scanned the room, squinting in the darkness.

 

Finally, she found her robes. She began stepping sideways in the direction of her clothes, hugging the wall the whole time. Her breasts jiggled slightly as she moved.

 

“Rhae, I’ve spoken to a few of your professors. You’re considered one of the brightest first-years at Weirhaven.”

 

“My professors?” she continued to hug the wall as she moved. “You do look familiar! You’re… are you… you’re a professor too!”

 

“That’s not important. What’s import—”

 

“Shut up!” she screamed. She had finally reached her clothes, quickly grabbing her red robes and covering her nudity. “Do you know who I am? When my father hears of this, he’ll make sure you’re thrown into the deepest dungeon of Caermord!”

 

This is going nowhere. He stared at the girl. Rhae, sensing that her threat had fallen on deaf ears, desperately searched for her wand in her robe pockets.

 

She was slowed down by trying to keep her body covered at the same time. By the time her hand wrapped around her wand, the wizard was pointing his own directly at her face.

 

“Exaixon.”

 

Rhae’s fearful expression slowly melted away. The tension in her arms and shoulders dissipated. Her eyes grew blank.

 

“Drop the robes.”

 

A second later, Rhae obeyed, letting her red robes fall to the ground. Her arms swung to her sides. She made no attempt to cover her breasts or her well-kept bush.

 

“You are Rhae Wygold, yes?”

 

A moment passed between his question and her response.

 

“Yes.” There was no emotion in her voice.

 

“And you currently have some of the top marks in your class.”

 

Another moment passed, then, “Yes.”

 

“This makes no damned sense!” he swore, turned, and walked out of the room into the small corridor, eventually emerging into the more well-lit space where his books and experiments were kept. Choosing to pace here for a change, he tried to keep himself calm. There must be a reason. He looked over the room as he walked back and forth, taking in the contents of his study. As long as she is young, magically gifted, of above-average intelligence… she should be accepted. He ran his fingers along the many tomes he had spread out across the desks. Some books were open, some were closed. Some had dried wax on the parchment where large candles had melted.

 

She’s at Weirhaven, so she’s capable of magic. She’s a first-year. She gets high marks. His eyes fell on the many vials he had strewn about the room, some empty, most filled with liquids of different colors. He turned back to his books, to the one he had read mostly recently, The Trees of Oswalt, the one he had been studying so closely. His eyes fell to the parchment next to the book, to the notes he had been copying. Suddenly, he froze.

 

“Of course!”

 

He dashed back into the corridor, quickly finding himself back in the barren room. Rhae Wygold stood in the corner, just as he had left her. Eyes gazing forward, half lidded, arms at her side.

 

“Rhae, are you a good student?”

 

There was a pause, then, “No.”

 

He sighed, but he wasn’t sure it was a sigh of relief. “Do you study diligently?”

 

“No.”

Here it is. “Do you copy your assignments from someone else? Another student?”

 

She stared forward, unblinking. After a brief pause, she confirmed: “Yes.”

 

A mixture of relief and frustration swept over the wizard; relief at finding the answer, frustration at the unnecessary delay this mistake would cause. She’s right, with her pedigree, it’s not worth keeping her hidden for weeks. Not if she cannot serve a purpose. Too much unwanted attention. I’ll need to erase her memories of tonight and drop her off somewhere in Swefnwicc. Perhaps near a tavern. She’ll think she drank too much.

 

But that would not solve the issue at hand. He turned back to Rhae. “Whose assignments do you copy?”

 

“Bedelia Ecclestone’s.”

 

“And she allows you do to this because… you’re her friend?”

 

 A pause, then: “No. I pay her ten dymies per assignment.”

 

Ten dymies? Great Galt! “I see. Is Bedelia a first-year as well?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. She will have to do instead.”  The wizard scanned Rhae’s body, looking her up and down. She was of above-average height, with blonde hair that fell just above her breasts. She normally had bright blue eyes, although they were now dull in her hypnotic state. Her breasts were in good proportion to her body, just the right size for her thinner frame.

 

She cannot serve as on offering. The rules do not apply. He reached out slowly, stretching his fingers out towards her left breast. He felt himself get goosebumps as his fingers touched her chest. Her breast was so soft in his hand, conforming to shape of his palm, her pink nipple hard to the touch.

 

“You know, you’ve caused me quite the inconvenience with your… academic dishonesty,” he said, unbuckling his belt. “As a professor, which you noted, I feel that it’s only right you be punished.” His trousers fell to the floor. Breathing heavily, he stared into the half-lidded eyes of one of the richest girls in the Duchy of Ysros.

 

“On your knees,” his voice trembled slightly.

 

After a pause, Rhae Wygold obeyed.

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

"Okay, who saw me get Gwen Grey?"

 

Betrys Lush had been one of the first students to dash out of the lecture hall when Professor Dryncaster announced the mandatory coven. She walked swiftly through the Cloister, flanked by Cadi Fflur and Eira Cambrie. All three wore black robes which flapped lightly in the autumn breeze.

 

"The whole classroom saw you," said Eira, in her usual monotone. "You were the first to go, remember?"

 

Betrys shot Eira a sideways glance. "I had to set the standard for the class. Which you two failed to meet, by the way." She stopped walking, closed her eyes, stuck her tongue out, and feigned a snore.

 

Eira brushed her jet-black hair out of her eyes. “Very funny.”

 

Betrys opened her eyes and laughed. “I thought so.” She started walking again.

 

“I needed that nap,” said Cadi. “In fact, I wish I were still asleep.”

 

“You sleep more than any girl I know,” said Eira.

 

“A beautiful girl needs lots of beauty sleep.” Cadi was the shortest of the three, and sported a blonde pixie cut underneath her tiny black witch’s hat.

 

The three girls emerged out of the Cloister in front of the Grand Hall, an immense stone building fronted by a portico interspersed with large granite columns. The columns supported a large pediment featuring sculptures of the founding witches of Weirhaven. Towering above the Grand Hall was an enormous dome made of white stone.

 

The doors were not yet open, and a large crowd of students was beginning to gather outside. Betrys, Eira, and Cadi stood out amongst the growing flock of witches. Despite (or in spite of) the fact that the prevailing Swefnwiccan fashion trend of the day was to wear colorful robes and hats, the three wore all black. As more and more students gathered outside of the Grand Hall, a sea of color threatened to drown out their drop of darkness.

 

“What do you thing Old Hag Silverthorn has to say, anyway?” said Betrys, standing on her tip toes to peer over the crowd.

 

“Don’t call her that in public,” Eira snapped.

 

“I sure hope she’s not cancelling the Dawns Mabon,” said Cadi, who was short enough that she made no attempt to get a good view.

 

“I wouldn’t mind that,” said Eira. “Druicraeft boys are stone-dumb. We don’t need to let them loose on Weirhaven.”

 

“I’m excited because those wizards are so dumb. Makes them easy to manipulate,” said Betrys.

 

All of a sudden, a load groaning sound swept over the grounds, drowning out their conversation. Betrys could see the huge bronze doors of the Grand Hall begin to swing open.

 

As soon as the doors were open wide enough to pass through, students began to flow into the building.

 

“I want good seats!” said Betrys, elbowing a short student wearing red robes in the ribs. “Out of my way!”

 

“Slow down!” hissed Eira, who was struggling to keep up. She turned around to look for Cadi, but had already lost her.

 

Once the students had passed through the portico and stepped through the large doors of the Grand Hall, they filed through a rectangular vestibule with a soaring ceiling. The light of the autumn morning did not penetrate far into this antechamber; the room was lit with what seemed to be hundreds of torches. As Betrys passed through the vestibule, she saw what looked like sunlight emerge from the archway ahead.

 

Eira had fallen back in the crowd, looking for Cadi. As soon as the bronze doors had opened, the students had surged forward in a fluid motion, as if they weren’t a group made up of individuals but instead a single, cohesive force, like a flood of the River Wicc or the Ilyrsea coming in at high tide.

 

As Betrys passed under the archway she emerged into a vast domed chamber. It was not her first time in the Grand Hall, of course; all new students held their First Coven here prior to the commencement of classes. But it was a space that resisted any sense of familiarity. No matter how many times students walked underneath this dome they were always filled with awe.

 

What was now referred to as the Grand Hall had been, at one point, centuries ago, a meeting place for some of the earliest witches to walk the lands of Tywyll Noeth. What was now Weirhaven’s campus had at that point been entirely covered with trees, the northernmost reach of the Sonswyg Forest. While in those days wizards could occasionally enter the courts of the Kings of Tywyll Noeth (especially if they were at war, in which case the Kings conveniently forgot their aspersions to magic—or, at least, magic that was on their side), witches were still persecuted, forced to gather in the depths of the Sonswyg, away from the prying eyes of the public.

 

Over a span of decades, what was initially just a clearing in the forest slowly developed into an amphitheater. More and more trees were cleared away as young witches came to see demonstrations performed by the older and more learned. Eventually the amphitheater in the Sonswyg came to be known as Weirhaven. Not only did the size of the amphitheater increase as the community grew, but new buildings were constructed to house the witches that taught and studied there, and thus the first dormitories were built.

 

Eventually Weirhaven College for Witches emerged from the Sonswyg. Or, more accurately, the Sonswyg was cut away as Weirhaven grew and as witchcraft jettisoned its more negative associations of the past. A monumental building was erected to enclose the amphitheater, capped with an immense dome. To keep the open-air feeling of the ancient space, the cap at the top of the dome was never built. Instead, the dome’s apex featured a large oculus that allowed air and sunlight into the enclosed amphitheater.

 

Despite the fact that the amphitheater was now (mostly) enclosed, it retained many details that harkened back to its ancient roots. The ground that Betrys and the crowd of students now walked on was still a combination of earth and granite, as it had been for centuries. Their way was lit by the beam of sunlight that entered through the oculus and fell like a spotlight on the stage at the bottom of the amphitheater.

 

Betrys quickly shuffled down the granite steps, trying to get as close to the stage as possible. She looked back, trying to catch sight of Eira and Cadi, but couldn’t catch sight of them. “Dumb bitches,” she muttered underneath her breath.

 

Eventually Betrys made it down to the third row from the front, which had a few seats remaining near the aisle, and decided here to make her stand. Standing at the left entrance of the row, she turned back towards the stairs where the crowd of students was still descending. As she turned, she came face-to-face with Guinevere Grey.

 

“Let us through,” Guinevere said, pointing at the empty seats behind Betrys. Behind her stood Mair Ab Owain and Alys Merwin.

 

“Not a chance, Grey,” said Betrys, smiling. “These seats are unfortunately reserved.”

 

“Says who?”

 

“Says me.”

 

“You don’t own the Grand Hall.”

 

“Not yet, at least. Now move along.”

 

For a split second, Betrys thought she saw Guinevere’s hand twitch towards her right pocket. She wouldn’t. Not here. “My friends should be here any minute,” said Betrys. “You should really find your seats, Gwen. They’re filling up fast.”

 

Betrys could tell she was getting to her. Guinevere’s brown eyes were doing a fair job at hiding her rage, but Betrys could see past the façade. Even Gwen Grey gets angry. After a moment, Alys put her hand on Guinevere’s shoulder and said, “Come on, let’s look somewhere else.”

 

“Listen to the giantess, Grey. I think I see some seats up there in the eleventh row.”

 

Suddenly the slender Eira and pixie-like Cadi appeared behind Guinevere’s group.

 

“These students are crazy,” squeaked Cadi. “I almost got trampled like four times!”

 

Cadi’s high-pitched voice seemed to snap Guinevere out of her rage-induced trance. Without saying a word, she turned towards Mair and Alys and said, “Let’s go.”

 

As Guinevere and company walked back up the steps, Betrys shouted, “Enjoy the coven, Grey! Try not to sleep through it!”

 

Eira and Cadi filed past Betrys and took their seats on the granite. Betrys chuckled to herself as she sat down.

 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” Eira asked in her monotone.

 

“No, I really can’t.”

 

The Grand Hall was full of the sounds of students talking, speculating as to the reason behind the mandatory coven. The acoustics of the space amplified the sound, drowning out conversation and forcing the students to speak even louder to hear each other.

 

Suddenly a hush came over the crowd as the faculty began to enter and descend the steps. The professors entered the hall in order of seniority, with those of the shortest tenure leading the way. The column of faculty was led by Meleri Pixton, the potions prodigy who looked not much older than the average Weirhaven student. She wore a thick bronze chain around her neck, which seemed disproportionately large in relation to her petite frame.

 

After the younger, bronze-chained professors had filed past, a group of middle-aged, silver-chained professors followed after. Finally, the gold-chained crones entered the hall. Betrys could see the small, long-haired body of Professor Dryncaster walk past. Betrys couldn’t help but notice how solemn the professors looked. So it’s not good news.

 

It seemed like the other students in the hall had gotten the same impression, and renewed whispers echoed around the domed amphitheater.

 

Finally, the last faculty members entered the hall and descended the steps. The rear of the column was taken up by a tall, stoic witch. As she passed by, Betrys couldn’t help but notice that her gray hair was tied in the most intricate braid she had ever seen. The witch’s black hat was inlaid with emeralds around the brim, and instead of wearing gold she wore a chain of iron.

 

As the rest of the faculty took their seats along the first row, this witch remained standing just outside of the spotlight created by the oculus.

 

As the faculty silently stared at the standing witch, the whispers of the students reached a fever pitch. Betrys overheard three, maybe four different predictions as to what the Head Maven would announce. Looking around, students wore expressions of annoyance, interest, fear, excitement. Some even managed to feign disinterest, although the sound in the Grand Hall was deafening.

 

But a sudden and breathtaking silence fell over the Grand Hall as Seren Silverthorn stepped into the light of the oculus.