© Nadia Filipska, 2024
Ariella Windor
Everything felt like a haze, as if I couldn’t shake off the remnants of a long, deep sleep. And honestly, why “as if”? I really had been asleep, though it was no ordinary slumber.
A cup of coffee slowly started to clear things up: my mind sharpened, and my vision grew clearer. What had I done to myself?
“Uros, where are you?”
“Right here,” the spirit replied, materializing directly on the table. Today, he’d chosen the form of a fierce little dog, probably mirroring my lousy mood.
“So, what do we do now? What’s the date today?” I asked, a flicker of panic in my voice.
“Hmm, the third.”
“So, just two months until my twenty-fifth birthday?” I stared at Uros, my heart skipping a beat.
“Yeah,” he answered firmly.
“Uros, do I even have that much time?” I asked the question that had been gnawing at me.
“Arishka, your aura is still like a sieve. Your magic is leaking out, and your reserves are nearly empty.”
“I can feel that myself…” I sighed.
It felt so strange to have my magical reserves almost depleted. Not long ago, I couldn’t take a single step without relying on magic, and now I had to ration every bit of it.
“I reckon you’ve got maybe a month and a half, two at most, before things get critical. And that’s only because you’re a powerful witch. Anyone else wouldn’t have even made it out of the revival*,” Uros said, stunning me with his bluntness. He didn’t like this situation any more than I did, but we had no choice.
“Time’s running out,” I muttered, standing up to get ready.
“Where are you headed?” my Guardian huffed, clearly annoyed.
“I’ve gotta eat something these next few days. All the food’s gone bad after a year,” I explained. “Tell me, Uros, how much magic do you have left? Can you hold out without a recharge?”
“I’ll manage. Worry about yourself.”
I hadn’t even stepped out the door of my house when they were already waiting for me. How did they find out so fast? Someone must’ve set up a magical alert near my place. I’d have to check on that later.
“Aria, we’ve been waiting for you to come back!” the men exclaimed in unison. “Where’ve you been all this time? We thought you’d left us for good.”
For good? What exactly were they implying?
“Well, I’m back now,” I replied evasively.
These two, who’d been vying to be my fiancé, were people I’d happily erase from my life if I could. Fiancés! Irida, why did you have to mock me like this? Why didn’t you handle things yourself like you were supposed to? Now I’m stuck cleaning up the mess! And given the circumstances, with only two months left, there’s no way I’ll find a new suitor. I’ll have to pick from what’s in front of me.
“Aria,” Nevis began, “we’ve talked it over and decided we won’t keep bothering you with our visits. No need to stress you out.”
What a relief—and a surprising show of unity from two men who, just over a year ago, were ready to tear each other apart.
“So, we’ve drawn up marriage contracts,” Mirten continued. “Take your time to read through them, think it over, and choose who’s worthy to be your husband: my son or Nevis.”
They handed me two thick stacks of paper. Heavy stacks.
“Your birthday’s coming up soon. A big milestone. So, I suggest we set the wedding date for the second, the day before you turn twenty-five. No one loses out,” Nevis hurried to assure me.
Of course, no one loses out. That’s exactly why they drafted these contracts—to squeeze as much as they could out of poor little me.
“Sounds just peachy. But what if I want to get engaged to my chosen one sooner?”
They clearly hadn’t expected that question. Their faces stretched in surprise, and they stared at each other in silence for a few minutes.
“We’d be thrilled,” Mirten finally recovered.
“Good. And one last thing—I’ll be drafting a marriage contract of my own. I’ll send it to you by mail for review!”
This time, I shocked them even more. It took them a full ten minutes to process what I’d said.
“Aria, come on, is that really necessary?” Nevis said, catching up to me as I headed toward the village.
“This isn’t up for debate. I’m accepting these,” I gestured to the papers in my hands, “and you’ll accept mine.” I stunned them again and calmly continued on my way.
Sure, I might be a calculating witch, but they’re no saints either. I’m almost afraid to look at the price each of them has set for this forced marriage. Choose one? There’s hardly a choice here. A failed necromancer or the father of a dim-witted son. And yes, I’ll have to marry that very son. Irida, you’ve been unfair to me. You owe me not just a husband, but a normal life!
With that mood weighing on me, I made my way to the village. I stopped by the shops and picked up some basics: bread, milk, eggs, and vegetables. I wandered through the village, taking it all in. Nothing had changed in the year I’d been gone. No one asked where I’d been, though they recognized me right away. I didn’t have friends here, and I never would. No one in this village likes witches. And by extension, they don’t like me. If they found out I had no magic left, they’d drag me to a bonfire without a second thought—and I’m not exaggerating. Sure, the Middle Ages are long gone, and we live in an era of technology and magic, but these folks still haven’t accepted magic. While they might tolerate other mages among them, witches are a whole different story. For people like me, they’re always ready to perform a “cleansing ritual” by fire. The locals have wanted to put me through that kind of ceremony ever since my parents disappeared. Only my magic saved me. My powerful gift allowed me to defend my life, though it came at the cost of a few others. I don’t regret it—everyone gets what they deserve. After that public “performance,” they left me alone. That’s when I learned the most important lesson of my life: never show weakness.
Things have settled down since then, and they’ve just come to terms with my presence. I can walk through the village, buy groceries, and even step into the church under their surprised stares. No one comes at me with sticks or torches anymore. They’re afraid.
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*Revival – a spell for accelerated healing of wounds and restoration of physical and emotional strength during a magical sleep.