Crystal bound

I’m just another one of Ianthe’s servants. Or better said—prisoners. Along with a black cat with yellow eyes named Dark, a flying broom called Aella, though Ianthe insists on calling her “Whirlwind,” which Aella hates, a heavy golden spellbook she calls “The Gift”, which I’m pretty sure she stole, and an owl named Sophie who watches over the house at night while Ianthe drags us on her quests.

I think Dark was a gift from her witch parents, but I’m fairly certain he despises her. I’ve seen long strands of her violet hair in his claws more than once. I suspect he’s tried to murder her. Unfortunately, unsuccessfully.

Ianthe is a young witch—ambitious to a fault. She has long violet hair, wears only black dresses, and dons a sharp hat when we go outside. She began her journey to become the world’s most powerful witch five years ago, at fifteen. When I met her, she only had the cat and a broom. A different broom. Her name was Daphne. She broke trying to fly with Ianthe on her. That was tragic—Daphne and I had been planning to escape before her untimely death.

Then came Aella. A shiny, bright yellow broom. She was radiant at first, but within a week, she looked just like Daphne—worn and depressed. Ianthe patched her cracked handle with a spell from The Gift.

And how did she get The Gift? I helped her. Not willingly. She pressed her bony fingers against my crystal surface, leaving greasy fingerprints, and hissed in that eerie voice:

“Where is the Great Witch’s spellbook of all time?”

Could I lie? Not with her threatening to smash me on the floor. And I knew she wasn’t bluffing. Dark and Daphne had explained it all. They told me all about Avery’s betrayal and her well-deserving demise.

Ianthe had smashed the previous crystal ball. Avery, a blue-haired water spirit, had been trapped in this crystal ball before me. No one knew if it was Ianthe who actually imprisoned it. Not Dark, not Daphne. The Gift might know, but it never spoke to us.

We believe, Avery had probably been imprisoned by another witch, and Ianthe either bought or stole the ball from that witch. Considering we saw her steal the spellbook, stealing a crystal ball wouldn’t be a stretch.

But Avery was a rebel. She hated Ianthe and lied to her constantly, just to spite her. Until Ianthe offered her a deal: help find a replacement spirit who could predict the future, and she’d be freed.

Avery took the deal. She hated me since we were little spirits. We grew up together in Nymbrook, a village of flower and lily-pad houses floating on a humming river. Avery lived in a lily. I lived in a golden daisy—high class. The Prince of Nymbrook, Hawthorn, asked me to marry him. Avery hated me for that.

Then Ianthe came. I remember her pushing Hawthorn aside, chanting over my flower with an empty crystal ball in one hand and her other hand sweeping over me. And just like that, I left the daisy behind and entered this glass prison.

Do you know what it’s like to live inside a crystal ball? Everything outside looks warped, like the world is folding in on itself. When Ianthe moves the ball, the view spins and tilts until I feel like I’ll puke. Luckily, I usually sit on what I call a throne. Sophie says it’s just a stand to keep the ball from rolling off the table, but I’m a spirit princess—I married a prince, remember?

There is one thing I enjoy though. The ball with Avery inside used to glow a calming blue, which Ianthe liked. But now, whenever she summons me, my long golden hair fills the ball, turning it into a blinding little sun. It tortures her. That tiny bit of suffering? It makes me smile.

As for The Gift—well, that’s how Aella’s handle cracked. I led them to the spellbook’s hiding place: a cave atop a hill. Ianthe could’ve walked, but she wanted speed. So, she rode Aella. Near the summit, a gust of wind knocked them off balance. Ianthe screamed, yanked Aella’s tail, and—crack.

I watched from below, beside Dark. For a moment, I hoped they’d fall. That would’ve solved the “Ianthe problem.” But poor Aella.

Ianthe quickly cast a spell to mend the crack. Aella told us later that Ianthe entered the cave alone. So yes, she definitely stole it.

And Aella? She was bought at a flea market. With fake coins.

Now, after years of studying spells and practicing them with her bare hands, Ianthe had only one item left to acquire. Then she’d become the Great Witch.

That morning—Friday, October 31st—she stormed into the basement. Dark mewed, his long whiskers twitching in warning. Aella stood upright by the door, as always. Then Dark hopped onto the table beside me, curled up on his violet pillow, and pretended to sleep. I sat cross-legged at the bottom of the crystal ball, perched above my throne, refusing to stand for the witch.

The basement was dimly lit by grass-scented candles, though most days it smelled like something was burning.

She pulled out a chair and sat. I saw them coming—her bony fingers with huge black nails, ready to leave their mark on my glass. Aella clenched her bristles, worried she’d hurt me this time. Dark mewed, curious.

“It’s October 31st, Dark. My only chance this year to steal the Great Wand! Do you know how powerful I’ll be with that wand in my hands?” she said, then touched me with her cold, sweaty hands.

“Show me where the wand is, Crystal!” she demanded and all I wanted to scream was, “That’s not my real name!”

My golden hair filled the ball, glowing as bright as the Nymbrook sun. Ianthe and Dark turned their heads away. I closed my eyes, trying to retrieve the information she wanted. The faster she let go, the better.

Then I froze. What I saw made me realize she wouldn’t survive this quest.

“Show me, Crystal!” she repeated, sensing my hesitation.

I didn’t want to. I gathered my golden hair behind me, and the ball turned dark—something I’d never done before. Ianthe recoiled in fear.

“That can’t be good,” Dark mewed, but she ignored him. Aella crept closer.

“Crystal!” she yelled, pressing her fingers against me again.

I turned bright—brighter than ever—but she wouldn’t let go.

“Show me where the wand is, Crystal!” she screamed.

I pushed myself too far. My head spun as the ball swirled in her hands. When it stopped, I felt sick. Partly from the spinning. Mostly from what I saw.

“The Witch Killer has it,” I finally confessed. He had killed hundreds of witches in the past few years.

She yanked her hands away in terror. Dark mewed and dove behind Aella’s bristles.

“The Witch Killer?” Ianthe growled.

“We’ll find another way for you to become the Great Witch!” Aella said.

“There’s no other way,” Sophie replied.

“Stupid owl,” Dark muttered.

Then Ianthe’s cold hands pressed against me again. She was more determined than ever.

“Where is the Witch Killer, Crystal?” Her voice was deeper now, trance-like.

I swirled again, harder this time. I nearly slipped from her grip, but she held tight.

“He’s in Morwin Village. Getting ready for trick-or-treat tonight,” I said. Even she looked unnerved.

“I guess we’re going on an adventure…” she giggled darkly, eyeing me, then Sophie, Aella, and Dark.

Great. A suicide mission.

She approached the old wooden closet with golden knobs and pulled out three potions: purple, green, and black. She was making that poison again. She poured drops of purple and black into a jar, stirring with a large spoon. I saw Dark and Aella already dizzy from the scent.

“Hahaha, enchanting, isn’t it?” she cackled. That smell always made Dark and Aella woozy with delight. Sophie hid her beak in the window hole to avoid it. Me? The ball intensified the scent, making it sharper and more piercing. Lucky me.

Then she added drops of the green potion—the smelly one. That was the poison. The other two were camouflage.

“My witch, the Witch Killer will destroy you if you go near him!” Aella warned.

“Yes, he would… on any other night. But tonight is Halloween! There’ll be plenty of fake witches around… Hahaha!” she laughed again, then draped a dark cloth over me.

I couldn’t see a thing.

I heard her footsteps climbing the stairs. When she was gone, I screamed, “Dark? Help me out here!”

I heard his tiny paws on the table. He grabbed the cloth with his teeth and pulled it away.

That night, Ianthe returned dressed to kill. A shiny black dress, tall black boots, and a high witch hat. Her violet hair was curled and flowing to her waist. She carried a violet crossbody bag, which I recognized by smell as her old brown one, magically altered. This time, she’d made it see-through.

“Crystal, you’ll be on lookout all night. Once you spot the Witch Killer, warn us!” she ordered.

“Dark, when he approaches, sneeze on him and burn him with this!” she said and handed him a green fluffy item that she had poisoned with her potions. Judging by his gagging face, he didn’t like it.

“Whirlwind, on my command, hit him in the eye with your straddle!”

“Sophie, while I cast the killing spell, use that mirror to block it from bouncing back!”

“Wait—does that mean it can bounce back?” Sophie asked, alarmed.

“Yeah, it can! But once I get his wand, I’ll use it to bring you back!” Ianthe said, laughing gloatingly.

After giving us our orders, she dropped the heavy Gift into her bag—right above my head—and marched out. She climbed onto Aella, Sophie perched on her shoulder, and Dark leapt into the bag at the last second before we lifted off.

“Straight to Morwin Village!” she barked in that annoying voice.

The village wasn’t far, but Aella made the trip a nightmare. She twirled uncontrollably in the wind, and I spun inside the bag with her. Dark even puked—luckily, on Ianthe’s precious spellbook.

Her night vision was terrible. We hit branches, screamed, mewed, and finally crash-landed in Morwin Village. Not exactly the discreet entrance our boss had hoped for.

After Dark and Sophie helped Aella down from the tree she got stuck in, we wandered the dark streets, trying not to raise suspicion. Ianthe was right—witches were everywhere. Must’ve been the top Halloween costume. We blended in.

The decorations were stunning. Creepy orange pumpkins with jagged teeth glowed outside every house. Skeletons climbed balconies or rose from the ground, their bony fingers reaching for trick-or-treaters. Reminded me of Ianthe’s hands. Definitely the weirdest place she’d ever taken us.

Then I saw him. A tall man in a filthy brown costume, greasy hair plastered to his forehead, and the wand Ianthe craved clutched in his hand. It was him—the Witch Killer. No doubt.

“The Witch Killer! Behind us!” I whispered, and Ianthe heard me.

She spun around with Aella in hand, startling Sophie off her shoulder. Dark, walking beside her, mewed in terror.

The Witch Killer pushed past fake witches and wizards until he blocked our path.

“How did he recognize us?” Sophie whispered.

He raised his wand and muttered something. A powerful gust knocked Ianthe to the ground. Her bag flew off her shoulder—and I started falling.

“Is this death?” I wondered. I heard Dark mewing beside me. He’d caught me! I didn’t smash! Yet!

But we were at the top of a slope. I started rolling.

This is it, I thought. The end.

My golden hair filled the ball, turning me into a small, bright sun tumbling through pumpkins and laughing children, who couldn’t stop giggling at the mysterious glowing orb rolling between them.

“Somebody, catch me!” I yelled. Then I saw Dark—rolling beside me like a black furry comet, trying to slow me down.

I was dizzy, but I glimpsed the Witch Killer flipping through the spellbook. I kept rolling, Dark chasing me, kids cheering and pointing at the spectacle.

I hurtled toward a radiating pumpkin with sharp teeth. With every roll, it looked scarier. I think Aella jumped in front of it at the last second to cushion my stop.

“Good job, Aella,” Dark panted.

Then I heard Ianthe chanting spells, though I still couldn’t see her. I felt Dark’s warm fur on one side and Aella’s bristles on the other.

Finally, I saw her. Ianthe approached the Witch Killer, Sophie beside her, holding the mirror in her beak. At the exact moment both Ianthe and the Witch Killer cast their spells, Dark sneezed violently, but not in the right direction. Sophie panicked and turned around—making her aim the mirror at Ianthe.

Boom.

A deafening explosion.

I opened my eyes. Dark and Aella were beside me, looking at me in awe. Something was different. They weren’t curved anymore. They looked exactly as they should. I wasn’t in the crystal ball anymore.

And I felt something on my back.

My wings had grown back.

I was free!

Sophie flew over, stunned. But where was Ianthe?

The Witch Killer approached. We clung to each other. Was he going to kill us?

But then he began to transform. First, he shrank to our size. Then his bulk vanished. His dirty clothes turned bright yellow—like gold. His greasy hair turned golden too, like mine. Wings sprouted behind him.

And I recognized him.

“My Prince! Hawthorn!” I gasped.

“I’ve searched for you for years, my love! I’ve slain so many witches to free you. Our fairies helped me take that brutal form to find you!”

“Is it really you?” I asked, hugging him as tears welled in my eyes. Sophie shed one too.

“It’s me! Your cruel boss didn’t even bother hiding her violet hair. I spotted her instantly among all those witches.”

“But where is she now?” I asked.

He pointed to the crystal ball behind me. It shimmered violet—like Ianthe’s hair.

She’d taken my place.

Dark mewed happily.

Long story short, we live in Nymbrook now—me, Hawthorn, Dark, Aella, and Sophie. Of course, we didn’t leave our mean witch behind. We brought her with us.

A violet crystal makes a lovely centerpiece for our kitchen table in our daisy home. Outside, the whole village smells like a garden in perpetual spring.

Dark often stares at her with his bright yellow eyes, mewing mockingly, and spinning her with his little paw.

“Feeling better, Crystal?” I ask every morning.

“My name is Ianthe!” she screams, her eyes and nose red from sneezing all the time. “Please, smash me! Don’t torture me anymore!”

“Please smash me, Marigold!” she begged.

Sadly for her, flowers trigger her allergies.