Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Of Windowsills and Wishes

Astrid didn't know it, but her bedside windowsill was a place of magic. She often told her mother it was the house's most venerated place, but Mrs. Penticoff simply scoffed when her daughter used "complicated words." She was, after all, "just a child, bedridden, and much too naive to speak to adults like that."

Her mother's words had only spurred Astrid on. She spent much of her time expanding her vocabulary, which led to new books, which led to one very specific tome she found hidden in her very own room: Witchcraft for Novices. It had been sequestered under a loose floor board and wrapped carefully in rabbit's fur. On the inner binding was written her father's name: Robin Artisson.

The room had indeed once belonged to him, when he was her age, but she didn't understand why her late father would have possessed such a book. He couldn't possibly have been a witch. After reading the entire manual in only one sitting, she closed the cover and immediately realized her greatest desire in the world: she wanted to be a witch.

She also stopped using her mother's maiden name and began using her father's surname from that day forward, changing from an Astrid Penticoff to an Astrid Artisson. She never understood, anyway, why her mother had stopped using her married name. The decision often garnered her mother's ire, which was half the point.

In truth, and unbeknownst to her, the windowsill held much more magic than most witches had ever conjured in their entire lives. It was also covered in a good amount of candle wax and was cut from an old beech tree. The tree itself had grown deep within the bounds of the nearby woods and had a number of faded carvings on it from when it was a living thing. If one paid careful attention, and had the proper acumen, they might recognize those shapes for what they were: arborglphys, and not ones made my careless hands. They were in fact very powerful symbols placed there long ago. Astrid didn't know this, of course, but loved them all the same, often tracing their curvatures and angled turns with her fingers.

When she wasn't reading, Astrid didn't have anywhere to go, for you see, she couldn't walk. She had a wheelchair crafted by the old clockmaker in town, a Mr. Simonswald. He had donated it to their family. She used it to get around her room but the stairs that led down from her doorway prohibited her from going any further. She never left her home and hadn't been outside in years.

"Why don't your legs work?" her mother had demanded, when she had awoken unable to walk at the age of seven. "Why don't you ask them?" Astrid had retorted. "They just don't seems to listen." From then on her mother would always say her daughter was "half-stricken," whatever that meant, but her physician used more interesting terms like "paraplegia" and said she'd "never be able to leave the confines of Purzel."

For Astrid, that was all well and good. Living in Purzel was like living in a dream. She wasn't certain, but it must have been the mist. It frequently wound its way into town and gave the place a surreal, yet cozy, feeling. She pictured it like a thick, white blanket embracing the place.

The mist drifted in from the notorious Hexenwald, a large and shadowed forest that had grown across an expanse of rolling mountains. Sometimes, they were called the Witchwoods, but only in whispers and never in public. Outsiders tended to avoid the place.

The town mostly consisted of families who had always lived there: farmers who tilled the far end of town, furthest from the Hexenwald, or those brave enough to work the Purzel mines and nearby lumberyards. However, it also attracted a number of peculiar groups as well: those who wished to confront the "wicked woods" like priests and hunters, others who were intrigued by the mysteries of the forest like scholars and herbalists, and every so often a wanderer who simply wanted to get away from the bustle of big cities.

Confined to her room, Astrid would often spend hours gazing at the townsfolk of Purzel, and found she could easily memorize their mannerisms and routines. For example, in approximately five minutes a Mr. Cornelius Templeton, of Templeton Mercantile, would hurry past on his way home. He lived on Larrabee Way, didn't like children even though he had a very problematic one himself, charged too much for clothing and furniture, and his shop was set up just beyond where Astrid could see, on Chesterton Street. Though they had never spoken, she felt as if she knew him quite well.

When she grew bored of people-watching, she would shift her focus to the hounds chasing alley cats, or the alley cats hunting mice, and sometimes just the mice as they scavenged for anything they could find. She knew them all by name, and if they didn't seem to have a name she gave them one. Astrid knew every nook and cranny of the vista that was hers, every detail of the home facades, every stone in the road that her eye could capture, and even the places where the way dipped or rose slightly. There was the mysterious sealed door down an alley that nobody ever visited, the corner where everyone tripped on a bump, and the secret sewer entrance that only the smallest creatures could enter.

Today, however, had been rather uneventful and the day had passed exceptionally slow. After watching Mr. Templeton walk briskly by, Astrid sighed heavily as the last of the sun began to set. The small room seemed to transform as an eerie, yet calming, half-light filled it and then slowly faded. It was January the 8th, 1626, her thirteenth birthday, and her mother, who's annual efforts were usually minuscule to begin with, had entirely forgotten.

The crescent moon seemed to greet Astrid with its glow and in response she lit a candle at the windowsill. She stared up at the stars for a time wondering what they were trying to tell her. She had read of witches that could decipher the night sky's messages just as one could read a letter written in a foreign tongue.

A yawn came, which she tried to fight, but finally it got its way. As tiredness overtook her, Astrid made a small and earnest wish, being her birthday after all, and with that she collapsed into her large downy blanket and quickly fell asleep.

The wish seemed trite to the little girl who kept watch at the windowsill, but little did she know it sparked a very significant spell. The magic, though minuscule at first, seeped into the old wood of the beech tree and settled in with the glyphs that had long waited for such a moment. The magic grew as she closed her eyes, blossomed as she began to dream of scenes she would forget in the morning, until finally it became a very powerful and permanent thing, an enchantment to rival some of the greatest spells most witches could ever hope to conjure.

Astrid didn't know it at the time, but that spell would change everything, and not just for her.

 

---

 

Astrid awoke from a dream where she had somehow wandered into the Hexenwald and was speaking something she didn't understand. The green and shadowed scenery of the woods faded as she slowly transitioned to the waking world.

The first thing she noticed was the fluff of her blanket and how bright it seemed, almost glowing as the morning sun bathed it in light. She stretched her arms, crinkled her face and...did something unusual. It couldn't be. It absolutely, undeniably couldn't be. Astrid Artisson had stretched her legs. She did it again and again as if it was the most fascinating thing she had ever experienced.

"I'm still dreaming, aren't I?" she said aloud to herself. I'm in the halfway world."

There was a sudden knock on the door and Astrid felt herself fully awaken. She pulled herself up with her arms and forced her eyes open as her maid, Eleanore, walked in. She was also her aunt, a rather "plump and unadorned woman," according to her mother.

Eleanor smiled as she always did, though she never seemed content. "Astrid dear, I've brought you some breakfast, but I couldn't find the salt, and I left the eggs out early this morning and they went missing, probably that troublesome fox—or was it a hound? Probably a foxhound then. Anyways, dear, all I could manage was toast and some juice."

Her aunt gave her a concerned smile, probably worried about what Astrid's mother would think if she found out about her blunders. However, for all her failed efforts, Eleanore was as sweet as they came. Astrid adored her.

"That sounds wonderful," she said, giving her aunt a reassuring smile. "You always know just what I like."

Her aunt sighed with relief, sat down the tray of food, adjusted it a little as if she could find a perfect angle, then scurried off in a hurry as if she had neglected something. She probably had.

If Eleanore was here, that meant her mother was away on business. Mrs. Penticoff had taken over her husband's position after, in her own words, she had "begged incessantly for it, accepted half the pay my husband earned, and still did a better job of it." As far as Astrid could tell, that was all completely true. Yet, the way her mother complained about the position, that it was "not befitting a woman" and "wearisome at best" just made Astrid glower.

Astrid always saw the best in people, even going as far to treat others well who didn't do likewise to her. But, when it came to her mother, for some reason she couldn't muster the same clemency. The thought distracted her and Astrid completely forgot about the dream where her legs had worked.

She spent a brief time people watching, pretending Baker Skimmins was a wealthy monarch and the squirrel that stole a small roll was a thief who had broken into his heavily guarded treasure vault. The truth was, the baker was a kind man, and always set one out for the squirrel to take.

However, something felt different this morning and it seemed to beg for her attention. She pursed her lips and thought for a bit, then crossed her arms to see if that got her thinking properly, and finally wiggled her left foot's big toe and the little thing obeyed. She froze in disbelief.

Just then, an unusually strong gust of wind passed through the streets, knocking over an umbrella, scaring some of the children, and even blowing a loose shingle off the roof of the town hall, just across the marketplace that her room sat above. She watched as the wind blew right into her window and made a further mess of her morning hair.

There was a commotion of voices as everyone laughed nervously, and then, someone shouted, pointing to something Astrid couldn't see, because of the large oak tree she named Fran, and everyone scattered like fish in a pond when you threw a rock in it.

"What could be happening down there?" Astrid mused aloud. She wasn't frightened, but was captivated by something unusual finally happening below her window. She usually lived for moments like this but couldn't help wiggling both feet now and mostly paying attention to that. Could this be real?

There was a tall shadow of a woman moving down below but she wore such a wide brimmed hat Astrid couldn't catch her face. Oddly enough she headed right for the front door of her family's home. There was a loud knock and a long silence.

"Is anyone there?" shouted a voice. It seemed to command her to do its will.

"I am," said Astrid.

"Then come down immediately!"

"I can't come down."

"This is entirely rude, showing this kind of hospitality to the mayor's wife of all people."

"Well, I think you are the one being rude, if I'm being honest" replied Astrid.

The woman looked up and Astrid saw her face, both stern and beautiful. She often saw her from a distance but didn't ever see her close enough to capture any details. Astrid looked down and cocked her head to the side.

"How am I being rude when you are the one refusing to come down here and welcome a guest?"

"I can't walk," Astrid said matter-of-factly. She wasn't angry, just confused by the woman's antics.

"You can't...what? What do you mean you can't walk?"

"Have you heard of paraplegia?"

"What are you on about girl? Making up words?"

"You may want to look it up. It's a sad word really but one I've learned to say without wincing." Except now it possibly held an entirely new meaning for her. It was becoming a thing of the past. It was something that might be leaving. She hadn't had a moment to do any real testing as this was a whirlwind of a morning and she had been caught up in the excitement.

The woman muttered something about irresponsible children and went back to knocking loudly.

Astrid closed her eyes. She supposed she could try standing, and if that went well, she could try walking across the room, and—she opened her eyes and she was already standing. This was a moment she would never forget. And just like that she wobbled across the room like a newborn colt, knocking into her dresser at first, stumbling to her knees only once, and finally making it to the stairs.

"Maybe I will answer the door," she said.

Astrid took one step, holding tightly to the first baluster, and then another, shaking with both delight and fear. She was so careful with each step that she didn't realize she had reached the bottom until she heard a voice.

"My goodness, Astrid. In the name of the almighty. You're walking!"

Astrid looked up just in time to see Eleanore who had clearly been cowering behind the front door, terrified of answering it.

"I suppose I have," she said, and Eleanore promptly fainted.

Astrid grabbed a pillow from a nearby bench and used it to prop Eleanore's head up. She was breathing and seemed only bruised from the fall, but the incessant knocking continued and Astrid had had quite enough of it.

She walked straight to the door without the slightest wobble, opened it wide and glared at the mayor's wife.

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"I like your hat," she said, realizing afterwards how odd the greeting was.

The woman seemed completely befuddled due to the abrupt comment and being in full view of a body lying on the floor.

"I thought you couldn't walk?" she chided.

"Well, now I can."

"Is she...?"

"She fainted," explained Astrid.

 

---

 

Astrid's room had a certain warmth to it. Her large window was almost always open, letting in fresh air and the light of the sun. Colorful hanging flowers adorned the room, as well as potted ones of all shapes and sizes, squeezing in between stacks of books and collections of candles. It was a cozy place.

The rest of the Artisson home had been taken over by her mother and sharply reflected her personality. It was practical, if not cold and drafty, but opulently designed with serious paintings and brown furniture. There were plants, but they were always the same dark green color, and every room felt like you had stumbled upon a place that was to be admired but not lived in.

"Have her drink some of this," said the woman in the wide-brimmed hat as she exited the kitchen. "It will help with any pain she might have."

Astrid had always heard rumors that the mayor's wife was the one who really ran the town, and now she half believed it. The woman had a commanding presence and seemed to know something about everything.

"Thank you," said Astrid. "But why are you here?"

She took the cup and offered it to Eleanore who was frozen in fear and had a terrible headache. She brought it up to the lips of the woman and had her sip a little, as she seemed unable to speak or even move. From what little Astrid could coax out of her, Eleanore was convinced that the mayor's wife was here because of something she had done. Astrid didn't care if that was true or not. She wanted nothing more than for Eleanore to feel better.

"I'm Loretta Crenshaw, the mayor's wife. You probably already now that. I have business with someone in this house." She glared at the two of them in such a way that Astrid wondered if she were trying to tear out all their secrets.

"My mother is out," said Astrid.

Astrid put her arm around Eleanore who had begun shaking slightly, and something strange happened to both of them. A comforting feeling passed between them and suddenly Eleanore's dreary eyes lit up. The change was so abrupt that even Mrs. Crenshaw noticed.

"That remedy really is something," said Eleanore, suddenly full of vigor.

"Feeling better are we?" said Mrs. Crenshaw.

"Um, well, yes. I haven't felt this good in ages. And Astrid dear—you're legs!"

"It's something else isn't it?" Astrid beamed with honest excitement as she spoke.

"Are we done with this little scene? I now know who I need to speak to." Loretta's continual scowl was directed at Astrid.

Eleanore did something out-of-character then, and spoke up. "Without her mother here, and, well, it's almost time for lunch. Perhaps another time would be—"

"That's a wonderful idea. Fetch us some lunch would you?" said Mrs. Crenshaw. It was a question but feel like a question.

Eleanore looked as if she'd like to protest but got flustered, her cheeks growing red. "Very well. I guess I could do that." She looked at Astrid who nodded.

When Eleanore was out of earshot Astrid stood. "We don't know if she's well or not yet! Why would you send her off like that?"

"Oh, she's more than fine, and it wasn't the tea. It was you. You felt it didn't you? The spell?"

"Are you a witch?" asked Astrid, not quite sure where the question had come from.

To her surprise Loretta Crenshaw nodded. "I am the witch in these parts. My Coven has members across the entire town and even a few in Coventry."

"In the city? Isn't that dangerous? They have witchfinders there." Astrid had read an entire section on "Secrecy and Discretion" in Witchcraft for Novices.

"You have no idea dear. There are more than witchfinders. There are trials for witches and things far worse I'd rather not speak of to someone your age. That is why I'm her to make a proposition."

Astrid was very confused and made no effort to hide it.

"I want you to join our coven Astrid."

"I'm not a witch."

"Oh, but you are. Just as my ginger tea didn't enliven Eleanore in such a way, your ability to walk again is no miracle. It's magic my dear."

"I am a witch? What do you mean I'm a witch? That's not possible is it?"

"You don't want to be a witch?" said Mrs. Crenshaw, smiling for once.

"Well, I do, but how would such a thing come about?"

"Oh, there are many ways, but it all boils down to aptitude, and you clearly have that. You are already more powerful than half the sisters in my coven."

Powerful? Astrid wondered what was so good about being powerful and she didn't have an answer. However, she realized what this was all about, not about protecting Astrid or taking her under her wing, it was something selfish and mean. She always had a sense for these sort of things, and wanted no part in it. All Astrid wanted to do was help others. That's why she wanted to be a witch. She had read about witches who could cure, witches who shared wisdom from the stars, and witches with solutions to all sorts of everyday problems. Why else would someone become a witch?

"You would not only gain power and influence in this town, but you'd be able to bring wealth back to your family," explained Mrs. Crenshaw.

"No!" Astrid answered so suddenly and so final that Loretta was taken aback.

"I haven't finished yet."

"Yes you have. I'm going to ask you nicely to leave our home, at once." Astrid stood and walked towards the front door.

"I sensed your powers from across town and used a very expensive divining spell to pinpoint the source. You are not simply dismissing me."

"I am," said Astrid.

Loretta Crenshaw's demeanor changed entirely then. It went from stern to something altogether sinister. "If you won't join us, then you are against us. You'll be a lone witch who won't be able to learn anything new, and as competition I will have to do something about your meddling, immediately."

"I've made up my mind," responded Astrid.

Loretta put out her right hand and twisted it in a way that looks painful. "A hex upon you and your home, upon your kin and your eternal soul. Ruin shall befall those who tread on these grounds." Astrid half expected the sky to darken and to hear thunder but there was only the sound of silence. Loretta seemed to have also expected more as she stared at her own hand in disbelief.

"Impossible. That's impossible!" She screamed the words in an otherworldly voice, then stood. "You'll be nothing without a coven!"

Astrid opened the door so the woman could leave. "You said so yourself. I've got more powers than half your coven and never had an ounce of training. I think I'll be perfectly fine as my own witch."

Loretta seemed to snarl like a wild beast, and though it would startled Eleanore, and most people for that matter, Astrid could only smile.

"I do like you, and your hat. You're not as bad as you pretend to be, you know. You helped Eleanore."

Loretta turned and promptly left, slamming the door behind her.

Astrid couldn't get the smile off her face. She was witch. She was a real bona fide, spell-casting witch. She gave a hearty yawn and sat down on the nearby bench. It turned out that spell casting was also exhausting.

She heard Eleanore drop something in the kitchen and struggle to clean up whatever mess she had made. It made her chuckle, and then she felt herself lying down almost involuntarily and dozed off. Astrid quickly found herself in the dream world where she found herself running through the town until she made it to the surrounding fields. She continued on without stopping until she found herself at the edge of the Hexenwald. She only hesitated for a moment and it was simply to appreciate the scenery before her. She sprinted forward, her feet taking her deep into the Hexenwald. 

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