At dawn, soft gray light filtered through the small window of Marigold’s cottage, casting a dim glow over Lucia’s cot. She stirred as her dreams faded, like mist in the morning sun, leaving only a hint of dread and the haunting image of a sickly priest in black robes. Slowly, she removed the eye-shaped charm from her forehead and tucked it into the small pouch on her belt. It had provided answers, but only in riddles.
Marigold was already awake, stirring a pot over the fire. The aroma of herbs filled the room, mingling with the earthy scent of damp wood and the cool morning air.
“Good morning,” Marigold greeted quietly, ladling something warm and savory into a bowl. She set it on the table beside a steaming cup of tea. “I made soup—you look like you could use it.”
Lucia smiled gratefully, wrapping her fingers around the warm bowl. She took a sip, letting the warmth spread through her as she watched Marigold gather bundles of herbs and supplies for the day’s work.
“This plague—or whatever it is—has made people desperate,” Marigold murmured, glancing out the window. “And Father Ambrose… he only fuels that desperation, talking of curses and sin. He says the sickness is a punishment, here to cleanse the town of wickedness.” She hesitated, casting a wary look at Lucia. “If he knew about you, he might count you among that ‘wickedness.’”
“What can you tell me about him?” Lucia asked softly.
Marigold looked hesitant but finally sat across from her, folding her hands. “Ambrose came to town about a year ago, not long after the sickness began. He’s young, much younger than most priests. And… something is unsettling about him. He knows things he shouldn’t, like he has his own dark magic.” She glanced nervously at the cross on the wall. “Some say he has visions, that he can see into people’s hearts. Some call him blessed… others, cursed.”
Then there was the other figure, the one shrouded in fog with golden magic.
Lucia had a guess.
Witches and warlocks drew magic of various colors based on their souls and the dimensions they tapped into. Gold magic was one of the rarest hues, associated with extraordinary power and knowledge. If she was correct, only one place allowed its magic to shine so brightly: Kamar-Taj.
And when Lucia thought of Kamar-Taj, she thought of the Ancient One.
The Ancient One could be a powerful ally in the ambitious plan Lucia was forming—steadfast yet unpredictable, merciless but kind. She was the type of master willing to bend rules if it meant preserving the greater good. The Ancient One wouldn’t hesitate to break her own principles to keep the world safe, even allowing a student like Doctor Strange to push boundaries if it served his learning and protected humanity.
Yet little else was known about her.
All Lucia knew was that the Ancient One was Celtic in origin, crowned Sorcerer Supreme long before Strange, though no one knew exactly how long ago.
Lucia could try to find the New York sanctuary, created thousands of years ago. But finding it would be troublesome, especially with the countless runes of concealment that blinded Lucia when she tried to peer deeper into their magical secrets.
But she also knew that without the guidance of Kamar-Taj, her plans might be impossible.
As she pondered how she might reach them, her gaze drifted upward to the sky—or what others would call the sky. To her eyes, it was a vast array of runes and golden magic, veiling any trace of blue beneath a yellow-green hue. Threads of black magic coiled through it, dark tendrils woven into the golden tapestry. These threads twisted and clashed, yet never quite touched the delicate words woven into the shield. They were traces of demonic magic, a trail she had followed from Salem. It was masterfully concealed; had it been even slightly misaligned, the spell would have alerted the Sorcerer Supreme and drawn their attention to the town’s troubles. Then, suddenly, an idea struck Lucia.
She shot up, startling Marigold. “I-Is something wrong?”
“Do you have any paper and something to write with?”
“In the drawer to the left.”
Lucia retrieved a quill and paper, swiftly beginning to transcribe the demonic runes with urgency.
“What are those?” Marigold asked, watching curiously.
“The runes affecting the town,” Lucia replied, focused on the page. Each rune pulsed with faint, dark energy, seeping into the parchment as if the ink itself were cursed. A chill ran down her spine, but she kept going. These runes were the key. Taking care, she separated the characters to prevent them from activating or alerting the demon controlling the magic.
Marigold watched in silence, concern etched on her face. “What do you plan to do with those?”
Lucia finished the last rune and set the quill down with a sigh. She met Marigold’s eyes and smiled. “I’m going to call the police.”
“Police?” Marigold repeated, confused.
"Oh, I forgot we don't have the police yet... Ummm, think of it as an enforcer, who ensures magic isn’t used for evil and keeps demons at bay.”
“We have those?” Marigold looked surprised at the new information.
Lucia nodded. “Thanks to them, we have peace.” She rose to leave, tucking the parchment into her pouch. “I’ll be back.”
Marigold paled, casting a wary look at the dark runes that pulsed on the page. “You’re really going to summon… an enforcer?”
“If I can send this through a secure channel, they’ll know what to look for. It’s our best chance to stop Ambrose’s magic before it destroys the town.”
“But… what if he finds out?” Marigold whispered. “Ambrose’s magic seems to know things it shouldn’t.”
Lucia smiled faintly. “I’ve thought of that. I’ve embedded cloaking barriers in the runes—only someone with the right intent and skill will be able to read them. Ambrose may have power, but his magic is reckless and raw. He won’t see through it.”
Marigold’s face showed a sliver of relief, though her worry remained. “How will you contact them in Kamar-Taj?”
Lucia tucked the folded parchment carefully into her pouch. “It’s a risk, but I’ve woven a natural magic communication rune—a little trick I learned from my travels. If the person I want there sees it, we’ll have a chance to communicate.”
Lucia pulled her cloak over her shoulders and smiled gently at Marigold. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Marigold nodded determination in her eyes. “There’s a secluded spot in the forest to the left. I’ll keep the villagers away, so they don’t see you.”
With a nod, Lucia stepped outside, breathing in the cold morning air as she followed the winding path into the dense woods beyond the village. Deep in the forest, she found a quiet clearing, set the parchment on a smooth stone, and began to chant softly. Her voice rose with the morning wind, weaving through the trees as the runes glowed faintly, releasing a thin golden thread that drifted up into the sky’s magical tapestry.
While Lucia cannot use magic like most witches, she is still able to use simple spells with the help of runic language. The only problem with that is that they are tiresome, require long and specific chanting and cannot do much in a fight.
She waited, feeling the pulse of distant magic, watching as a faint ripple spread across the runes above. Her message had been received. Relieved, she turned back to the cottage as if nothing had happened.
(End of Chapter)
