four.

sister three

TWO WOMEN SAT in comfortable chairs, the glimmering surface of the circular table they sat at clean enough to show darkened, distorted reflections of the witches. Adaire Barebone held a mug in her thin fingers, steam rising from the coffee within. She sipped it slowly, silver eyes staring into space, a multitude of thoughts running through her mind.

Out of the three sisters, Adaire was often the one sought out. Most assumed that she was the nicest, that she was the one who could be persuaded with emotion, and while Adaire knew that those were partially true— after all, Narcissa's sharp tongue and temper were well known —she couldn't help but wonder if they knew the true nature of Maev... 

A sigh fell from her lips, a quiet gust to expel the silence that had enveloped them. Maev would always appear to be the flippant, wanderlust driven witch to their people no matter how much Adaire pushed her to reveal her true colors. And she couldn't help but hope that Maev had finally come to her senses and that this meeting would mean she was coming to terms with who she was and what she had to do.

"Why now?" Narcissa's voice was cold, calculating even, as she traced an invisible shape on the table.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific." Adaire murmured, taking another drink and letting the scalding liquid settle in her stomach, the warmth welcome in her otherwise ice cold body.

"We haven't heard from Maev in nearly five years, why would she contact us now? And why both of us?" Narcissa's scowl was brutal, all sharp edges and displeasure, an echo of the haunting beauty that was carved into her face. 

"I'm sure there's a good reason," Adaire's voice was a stark contrast to her sister's, much more soothing and even, dare one say, gentle... well as gentle as a witch could get. "Perhaps she would like to rejoin us in looking over claims or ease back into the community."

Narcissa scoffed, shaking her head, her braid swinging with the movement and the light catching on the single red strand that burned like flickering fire. "As if, that little shit made it very clear that she'd much rather travel the world and surround herself with humans than live with us."

"She has her reasons."

"And she better have a damn good reason for having the audacity to cut off contact and then call this meeting out of the blue and then on top of all that be late." Narcissa picked at one of her nails, painted a shining gold, annoyance etched into the curve of her mouth.

"There's still two minutes till twelve." Adaire reminded her sister, setting her now empty mug on the table. 

A chill ran down their spines and both of their gazes, a clash of silver and gold, stared at the wall as Maev Barebone arrived as she always did— cloaked in shadows that twisted and churned and allowed her to melt out of the wall as if she'd been a part of it.

Silence reigned as the two sisters stared at the third. In the five years since Maev had disappeared, she'd changed, more than either of them had imagined. Once short hair had grown into a cascade of curls that reached her ribcage, dark hazel eyes adorned with bags, her lips curved down in a soft frown. But it was more than just her appearance, something in her had shifted, something fundamental that both were struggling to place. And, even at this distance, they could feel her magic humming underneath her skin, begging to be released.

For, unlike her sisters, Maev's magic didn't come from conjuring spells like most witches, or even tailsmen to store power. Instead, it came directly from her, it flowed through her veins and pressed against every corner of her body. 

She was a container for her magic, whilst her sisters were conductors for theirs.

"Maev," Adaire breathed out, knowing that a part of her had believed the youngest wouldn't show, "you're really here." She'd risen out of her seat without knowing it, her hands gripping the edge of the table. 

A sly smile appeared on Maev's face, "Well, I called for it, didn't I? It would be rather rude of me not to show." She walked forward, sitting on the edge of the third seat, her back rigid enough to betray her nerves.

Narcissa heaved her legs onto the table, ignoring the disdainful glance of Adaire, crossing one leg over the other and fixating her heavy gaze on Maev. "Why did you call this meeting? I recall you storming out of this very room and saying you wanted nothing to do with our 'reckless agenda' or some shit like that."

Maev slowly settled into her chair, taking a deep breath before meeting Narcissa's gaze with her own. "Because I need a favor."

Narcissa snorted, "No way in hell am I going to do you a favor."

"Now wait, we should hear her out—" Adaire's voice trailed off at the burning look Narcissa cast her way.

"No, we shouldn't. We don't owe her a damn thing and she doesn't owe us a damn thing. As far as I'm concerned, we shouldn't have even had this meeting."

"She is our sister and if she needs our help we should give it to her," Adaire replied firmly.

"Oh to hell with the sister shit, we all know that Maev doesn't want to be our sister any more than we want to be hers. What, with all the upset she's caused with the others and you've heard the rumors as I have, that she's unfit to be one of us. That she's only with us because of her Blood magic and that if another Blood witch was found she'd flee faster than we could say 'magic'—"

Their voices rose and clashed against each other, Adaire and Narcissa arguing about both Maev and mundane things that somehow found their way into the conversation.

"I want to induct a Ranju!" Maev's shout rang in their ears, the two falling silent and turning to look at her, both with matching incredulous looks on their faces.

"You want to induct a Ranju?" Adaire whispered, confusion shining in her eyes. 

"You, of all people?" Narcissa echoed her sister's thoughts.

Maev pinched the bridge of her nose, resisting the urge to sigh, "Yes."

"Why." Narcissa didn't bother to phrase it as a question, the word punching through the air with a cold precision. 

"Because," Maev rubbed her temples now, trying to think of the best way to communicate her thoughts to them, "because I want to help him. And I normally want to help people but this is different, it's not even that I want to help him it's that I need to help him. I can't not heal him, and I don't know why but I have this feeling when I'm around him that I need to do everything in my power to protect him? But not quite protect because he's capable of doing that himself, but rather offer him more protection I suppose? A safe place if he needs one, one where I can heal him and offer support—" she trailed off, frustrated with herself at not being able to word it right.

However, Adaire and Narcissa looked at each other for a moment, before turning their attention back to their younger sister. 

"Maev," Adaire called out gently, causing her to look up at them, "Why don't we start with the basics, okay? Can you tell us his name?"

"James," she breathed out, "his name is James."

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