Traitor

“It is Halloween. The best year for spying,” Bruce explained to the council, “On anyone! It’s so simple! Just wear a costume, because that won’t be suspicious! It would be ordinary!”

“So what is your point?” The Grand Sorcerer asked from his seat, high above the rest of the Councilwizards.

“My point, your Grandness, is that this is the perfect time to see what those dratted Witches are doing!”

Witches and Wizards were not the same. Witches were rivals of Wizards and had frequent wars with each other. The United Magicals (The United Nations of the Magical Realm) had to keep a ban on warring, for it dealt too much damage to the Magical Realm.

Eventually, the Witches and Wizards left the United Magicals, and so, the ban couldn't be applied to them.

The Wizards and Witches frequently sent spies to each other to gather information, just in case a war sparked.

The Grand Sorcerer was pensive for a few moments, then spoke. "Hm, good point. But who will go to the Witches? Everyone knows that they'll kill any Wizard on sight. Each Wizard who's tried to infiltrate them has had their head sent back to us. Who has the courage to undertake this daring mission?"

“Sir,” Bruce said, “If you don’t mind, I was thinking that I could go to them.”

“But you are the head of Intelligence Gathering. You’re not a spy. How could you go?”

Bruce managed to keep his anger in check. How did this brainless husk of a Wizard become the Grand Sorcerer?

“You are forgetting that I was once a spy myself,” he replied, with the air of explaining to a two-year-old that one plus one is always two, “I believe that I am capable of doing this mission.”

“Alright, alright,” The Grand Sorcerer agreed. He stroked his long, silvery beard. “Are you sure about that?”

“I am fully aware of the risks, sir. I can do it.”

“Very well. All in favor of Bruce Precursor going to gather intelligence from the Witches?”

One by one, all the Councilwizards raised their hands.

Bruce grinned. He would finally be going on a mission again.

One week afterward

It was Halloween night. The night the Witches would gather in the Great Oak Tree to have their yearly meeting, as the Wizard spies say.

Bruce was getting ready in his room. He had concocted a potion made out of the feather of a phoenix, the eye of a griffin, and a pint of orc blood. It would prove useful in Witch territory.

“Sir!” A Wizard outside the door called, “They have your portal ready!”

“Just a moment!” Bruce replied. He corked the potion, sealing it tightly, and pocketed it.

He went down the stairs and exited his house. Outside, a large, black portal frame had been constructed.

Bruce smiled. All he had to do now was insert the mystic book into the portal’s base. He headed over to his garden, where a large bush sculpture resided. It was in the shape of a dragon, the Wizards’ natural ally. The Witches had the wyverns. Both were forces to be reckoned with.

Bruce closed his eyes and concentrated. Slowly, he began to rise into the air. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in front of the dragon’s mouth. He looked inside. There it was. Just as the Grand Sorcerer had told him. The mystic book.

It was heavily guarded in Warlock Central, the treasury of the Wizard Kingdom. The treasury was guarded by fierce Warlocks. The mystic book had been taken out of its precious sanctuary to serve one purpose. To transport Bruce into the Witch Kingdom.

Every mystic book has a purpose. To be inserted into a portal frame and make a gateway to a specific area. Or kingdom, in Bruce’s case.

Bruce found the mystic book hidden inside the dragon bush's jaws, covered with leaves from top to bottom. He carefully took it out and floated back to the bottom.

He walked over to the portal frame and inserted the book into the slot at the base.

He waited. Nothing happened. The frame was still as black as ever. Bruce waited some more. He finally lost patience and kicked the book. It slid in a bit more, and voila!

The frame turned to gold and had a greenish substance in the middle. Bruce was mesmerized by patterns swirling inside the substance, or Forve, as it is called in the Wizard Kingdom.

He took a deep breath, said, “Well, here goes nothing,” and stepped into the portal.

He immediately saw the world turn upside down. He felt nauseous. And in a bright flash, he fell onto hard and cold dirt.

Bruce stood up, coughing and spitting soil out of his mouth. “Unusually bitter,” he remarked, wiping his mouth.

When he recovered from the sudden fall, he looked around. He was in a clearing on the border of what looked like a forest. Beside him was a large bush, spilling out of the earth.

The moon was high in the sky, partially concealed by dark clouds, thundering now and then.

A few hundred feet away, stood a large tree.

Not just any tree, Bruce soon realized, it’s the Great Oak Tree.

The Great Oak tree was nearly one thousand years old. It had once been in Wizard turf but in a terrible war that took place a few hundred years ago, the Great Oak Tree had been taken in by the Witches.

Suddenly, a voice rang through the air, coming from a nearby road. Bruce leapt behind the bush, covering himself with leaves and some dirt. He managed not to scream when a garden snake slithered through the bush, flicking its tongue at him.

“Ah, Prickle,” the voice cackled, in a rugged voice, “How nice to see you here.”

“Yes,” Prickle replied. Her voice was like the first voice, rugged and rough as sandpaper. “I was also wonderin' if you could help me, Storm?”

“I owe ya, for what you did for my Luna,” Storm replied.

“I forgot the entrance to the meetin’ tonight. Could ya tell me where it is?”

Storm was silent for a moment. “I’d'a thunk you're a wizard, if I hadn’t brains like mine!”

Prickle laughed. No, it didn’t sound like a laugh. It sounded like a screechy ghost's laugh.

After she was done, Bruce listened closely to Storm’s answer. This could be his ticket to the meeting!

“Alright, alright. The entrance is the tip of the biggest root. The one on the west side of the Oak Tree.”

“Thank you, Storm,” Prickle replied, “I owe ya one.”

And off they walked.

Bruce waited until the sound of their footsteps came to a close, and emerged out of his hiding place.

In front of him was a long road, made of yellowish-red bricks. It winded down a hill Bruce was on, all the way to The Great Oak Tree, winding around it.

Bruce plunged his hand into his pocket. Out came the potion he was making in his house. It was a fiery golden color. Bubbles swirled inside the liquid. Bruce unscrewed the cork at the top and gulped it all down.

He closed his eyes and waited. A funny sensation was rushing through him. It was making him tremble and blink and fall. Again. Wow. When he fell, his body rippled. Once. Twice. Thrice. When he got up, his body was nothing like a wizard.

He was now a Witch, with green skin, a white-tipped black hat, black robes, and black boots with white highlights on them.

Witches had different skin colors, according to which region they live in. Their clothes’ colors indicated their status. Bruce’s skin showed that he was from the Enveyrn region. His clothes showed that he was a Derwylis Witch. Not too high, not too low. Just perfect.

Bruce walked down the pathway, a hood covering his face. He wasn't too happy with his new look.

When he reached the biggest root on the west side of the Oak Tree, he looked closely at it. He walked closer and felt it, looking for any pushable places on the bark. He found one.

He pushed it and waited. The wood went inside and seemed to go upwards. In an instant, the root’s tip opened, revealing a burly Witch.

“Down with the hood!” She ordered. When Bruce pulled his hood up, she peered closely at his face. After nearly thirty seconds of this, she let him go.

He walked along a long hallway. In the end, he could hear shouting, clamoring, and footsteps. He knew it was close. Bruce broke into a run and stopped only once he reached the meeting room.

It was very tall, expanding up to the branches of the Great Oak Tree. In the middle, a large table was set, with only two chairs. The sides of the trunk were lined with ovular platforms, with Witches crowded inside them. They had a single ladder to climb to get to the higher platforms.

Bruce walked into the lowest platform. After pushing and shoving his way through, he reached the ladder and began to climb. After he was a good height above the table, he stopped and stepped onto the platform.

“What’s your name kid?” An elderly looking Witch asked him.

“I’m-” Bruce thought fast. “I’m Paris.”

“Hmm,” The elderly Witch said, “That’s an unusual name.”

“My parents were unorthodox.” Bruce lied. 

“Hmmm.”

But before she could say anything, a loud horn sounded.

The old Witch moved over to the edge of the platform, her arms resting on the railing. Bruce did the same, except he went ten feet apart from her.

When he looked down, he saw two Witches sitting on the seats around the table. One, who was sitting on the head seat, had peachy skin and looked young. The other one had blue skin.

“Well,” The head said, “Let us not wait anymore! Let the meeting begin! We have four topics to discuss today!

“Our first matter of the day is treachery. There have been five Witches that have been accused as traitors this year! They must be punished! Guards!” She called out, “Bring us the renegades immediately!”

The guards obeyed, bringing the five traitors into the hall. They fell on the ground and started pleading to the young Witch.

“Please Warden, have mercy,” they said.

“Mercy?” The Warden cried, “You do not deserve mercy. You have the highest sentence a Witch could have. Exile.”

“Warden,” the oldest Witch of the accused said, “Please. Give us death rather than exile. Exile is the worst sentence. Only people who have murdered fellow Witches deserve that.”

The Warden thought for a moment. “Fine!” She cried out, “Let it be death … by exile!”

Savage! Bruce thought.

The Warden raised her hand and shouted out “Venenthra!” A large hole opened under the renegade Witches and swallowing them whole.

“Well,” The Warden said, rubbing her hands together, “That’s over with. Our second matter is about new spells being discovered! Dr. Viper has two new spells for us today! I’ll let her take over now.”

“I have discovered two new spells this year!” Dr. Viper said, “The first causes a lightning bolt to strike the ground one foot in front of you. It is not dangerous. The incantation is Lighturnus! You may write that down in your notebooks.”

At this dialogue, Bruce looked around. Sure enough, many of the Witches had notebooks with them and were jotting down the incantation.

“The second spell is a jinx. It causes your enemy’s hair to cover their face for ten whole seconds, making you have an advantage over them. The incantation is Lockenferus! You may write that down too.”

Once all the Witches had written the spell down, The Warden spoke once again.

“Our third topic is about Wizards.”

At this, Bruce listened carefully, concentrating on The Warden.

“Wizards are scum, everyone knows that. They kill us. They imprison us. They take away our magic! They must be punished for their wrongdoings!”

And what about your wrongdoings, huh? Bruce wanted to shout, You’ve also been horrible. You treat animals as if they’re just slaves, and ally with those insufferable wyverns. At least we’re allies with respectable dragons!

“That is why I have decided to wage war upon the Wizards! We shall rid the Earth of the Wizard vermin! Who’s with me?”

A loud cheer issued across the stands.

“Who’s going to destroy those scumbags?”

“ME!” Every Witch cried.

Bruce’s eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting the Witches to wage war against the Wizards. The Wizards were far too powerful and populous for the Witches to manage. After all, plenty of Wizard spies reported that the Witch population was far lower than the Wizards'

“You might be thinking about why I decided to do this,” The Warden said as if she read Bruce’s mind, “Everyone here knows that the Wizards overpower us in strength and population. That brings me to my final topic to discuss.

“I have decided to wage war because we have one crucial advantage over the Wizards. We have a spy.”

What in the world? Bruce thought It could be Apollo, I never trusted him. Or Dirk? Or Finchley?

The Witches around him had their brows furrowed. They too, also wondering who the traitor could be.

“The spy is very well placed. Many of you do not know that he is an ally. You may have cursed him, you may have fantasized about killing him. But he has been with us ever since he was elected. He has a very high position in the Wizard Regime. A commanding position.” The Warden said, with a malicious grin.

No, Bruce thought, it couldn’t be!

“That spy is The Grand Sorcerer!”