The room was only lit by the embers of the fire in the fireplace. Their glow cast eerie shadows around the room, flickering over the minimal furniture to create shadow beasts. A woman sat in front of the fireplace, murmuring to herself as she tossed herbs into the fire. The smoke of them filled the air with a hazy fog, allowing the shadow creatures to hide and peek. She paid the dancing shadows no mind. Her eyes were firmly placed upon the embers.

“Hissing cat.” She tossed more herbs into the fire. “Snarling dog.” Another plume of smoke. “The clawing of a babe as the sister smothers her shrieks for life.” This time she placed a log onto the fire and it bloomed into light, forcing shadow to take cover. “Kin kill kin,” she whispered to the flame. “I call out. I beg. Let them see our crying face.” She took a knife from in front of her and slit open her wrist. Red life trickled from the open gash and she held it over the fire. The flames sizzled and sparked as it greedily sucked up the fluid. “One and same. Face to face. Water to blood.” She brought her wrist down to the burning log and the scent of her searing flesh overpowered the smell of burning herbs. She winced and furrowed her brows as the pain of the burn overtook her senses.

With, a gasp the woman fell backward. Above her, in the rafters of her cottage, the drying herbs swayed. The dancing shadows congregated there while the fire flickered. She watched them for a long moment and wondered if it had worked. She lifted her arm and inspected the burn carefully. It was not too horrible, it should heal with minimal scaring in time. She lifted herself from the floor and lit a candle. Carrying it with her, she approached a large cupboard from which she took a small tin and bandage. She slathered a sharp smelling salve over the burned cut and then wrapped it in the gauze. It was blissfully cooling.

She carried the candle out of her small cottage. The garden out front was lit by a full moon. She walked the stone pathway to her gate. Above her, the stars were nearly outshone by the lunar mother. The woman could only just make them out through the break in the trees that consisted of her clearing in the forest. A mere mile away the town slept. In her, dreams she had seen dark things come to pass for those they deemed witches. Devil worshippers. She hoped her spell would abate that.

A warming summer wind rushed past her and the leaves sang her a shuddering song. She prayed that it would carry her spell and awaken the town before their foolishness became murder. How many would it awaken, she wondered. What would their new powers do? Excitement rolled in her gut, but it could not edge away the fear that what she had seen would still come to pass.

The cemetery was off-limits at night. Everyone in Accrington knew that. Of course, there had never actually been an example of someone being punished for being there after hours. Nor were there guards posted at the gate, which didn't even have a lock. There was no need. Everyone simply obeyed this rule, and that was that. Well... almost everyone.

Stanley Humber was not the rebellious type. He considered himself a good, honest man, and if you asked anyone else in Accrington, they would more than likely agree. This would be after an expression of pity flickered across their faces. Stanley's a good lad, they'd say with nod and a hint of a grimace, Such a shame that business with his wife. Neither of them deserved that.

As such, it would be some wonder to them if one of the other citizens of Accrington were to find out what Stanley was up to every Wednesday night. Days at the mill were long. It was rather common for Stanley to be up before the Sun and home after it had set. As such, there wasn't time during the day for him to visit the cemetery. As such, the young man had built up the questionable habit of taking a dim lantern and passing through a thin part of the hedge that bordered the back of the cemetery in the middle of the night.

Tonight the air was still and the sky was clear. Stanley hadn't even bothered to bring his lantern with him. Though the cemetery's position on the edge of town afforded Stanley privacy from prying eyes, even with the lantern, he felt as if everything was lit well enough tonight that he wouldn't need it. The walk to the cemetery proved as uneventful as ever. No creatures stirred in the woods that bordered the cemetery. The windows of each house were dark, the inhabitants fast asleep. As usual, Stanley would be the only one in town having a rough Thursday morning due to lack of sleep.

Stanley slipped through the gap in the hedge, having turned it into an art form after so many times doing it before. The first several times he had tried, the hanging brambles and branches had given him cuts and scratches that had been difficult to explain away. He weaved his way through the headstones, feet moving across a well-memorized path. At last, he came upon one that looked just like all the others. Dark, roughly hewn, and sticking out of the ground at an angle. The only thing that set it apart from all the others was the name etched into it.

Amelia Humber

Stanley usually began by murmuring a prayer, asking for leniency when it came to his inability to let the dead go. Tonight, however, when he closed his eyes and bowed his head, he could not find it in himself to pray. After a few brief moments, Stanley opened his green eyes and frowned, fixing his dead wife's grave with a certain insecurity... as if seeing it for the first time. It seemed alien to him for some reason that he couldn't put a finger on. It wasn't until recently that he had stopped crying when he came here. Now this? Was he beginning to move on? For some reason, that thought scared him. If he moved on, he would forget her. He didn't want to forget her...

Suddenly, a warm breeze cut its way through the cemetery. It was unpleasant and without warning, causing leaves to rip from their boughs and streak through the air in the dozens. What had been a windless evening was now being enveloped by a tempest, despite the sky being cloudless. Then, just as soon as it had come, the breeze ceased. The leaves picked up by the wind fell to the ground almost directly in a most unusual display. Stanley's brow furrowed at this strange occurrence, his head turning this way and that as if to find a reason for it.

A few moments passed. In this time, Stanley had turned from Amelia's headstone to look up towards the house across the lawn from the nearby church. The mysterious wind did not seem to have roused the vicar. Though unsettling, Stanley felt as if it was nothing more than a strange happenstance and that the night could continue without another thought being put to it. He turned back to his wife's grave....

And there she was. Standing right in front of him as pale and lifeless as she had been on the night of her passing... yet very much there.

"Stanley." she whispered in a voice as cold as death.

Stanley let out a scream of surprise and fear, feeling as if his heart had stopped in his chest. He jumped back from the image of his deceased lover, catching his left foot on the exposed root of a nearby tree. This caused him to fall backwards, the world turning upside down. Before he could break the fall with a backwards-thrown hand, his head struck the ground with a thud and everything went black.

The evening had been much too short. The energy it had taken in order for her to perform the spell coupled with the lateness of the night before left her feeling drained. The rays of sun naturally woke her. Normally she was awake well before the dawn. It was unsettling to know that sun greeted her before she had a chance to do so for him. Rubbing her eyes she removed the furs from herself, exposing her naked form, and stepped out into her garden. Here she did her usual morning greeting. Lifting lightly tanned arms up to the sun she arched her back, presenting herself to the father. She then leaned forward, sweeping her arms down and brushing the tips of grass with her fingers. lastly, she reached forward and lay stomach to the ground and once again arched herself toward the sun.

She repeated the series of movements a couple of times before she lay herself out to enjoy the rays. They danced warmly over her naked flesh and she relaxed. The tiredness of the morning was long forgotten. The energy of the sun helped her feel more awake and prepared for the day ahead. The woman stretched, loathe to remove her body from the languid warmth. However, there were chores to do.

Back in the house, she donned simple clothes of easy to move in fabrics. She cleaned out spider webs, dusted bottles, and took down herbs from the ceiling ready to be ground up or bundled. She had to make sure her house was presentable if there was a chance she would have to be teaching new witches. Once satisfied with the cleaning she grabbed a wicker basket from beside the door and made the trek down to the little town. The stone pathway up to her house soon turned to dirt turned to a deer trail. Grasses swished around her skirts and bramble thorns grabbed at her clothes.

When she finally emerged from the trees and onto a grassy hill there was the town just below. Off a little way was the church. The woman wrinkled her nose and spat on the ground. She always took the longest way around to avoid stepping near the offending building. God had not been kind to his flock as of late. Especially not those on the fringe of society, such as herself. She ripped her eyes away from the church and instead went into the town.

She was normally here when the town was just beginning to awaken, however, the lateness of the hour at which she woke meant that the residents were already bustling. She liked the sounds. There were a few horses drawing wagons filled with hay or goods. The blacksmith's hammer clanged loudly against metal and anvil. The scent of baking bread was just starting to drift away. She smiled lightly to know that life was still in full swing. But she could detect no signs of a magical awakening. Perhaps it would take time? Maybe they were hiding it? She would be sure to visit as many places as she could today. She would start by going to the General Store. It was a comfortable wooden building with no sign out front. None was needed as everyone who lived here knew exactly what it was.

As she entered the shop a bell rang and a man stepped out from the back of the shop. "Why God ye good den, Miss Maria. Late start I see!" He was an older man, bald on the top of his head and sported a thick grey beard. It hid his smile but she could see in the way his warm eyes crinkled at the edges he was wearing a great big one for her.

Maria smiled in kind. "Good morning and blessed day, Mister Arrow." She approached the counter and set the basket down. "As requested, here are the five containers of burn balm, eight of healing cream, and ten of the cold tonic" She removed the containers from the basket and Arrow counted them out.

"Perfect," he said as he set them aside. "And I have for you, my dear - a case of empty bottles and jars and a dozen eggs." He pushed a small crate toward her. It was a bit bigger than she had anticipated but would easily fit in her basket. She stowed it away and asked - "Anything interesting happen lately?" Maria leaned close in a conspiratorial way.

Arrow laughed, "Well, they say that Ana is already with child and that is why she is to be married to that lout Phillip. And that strange wind last night, but besides that nothing new." Maria pouted. "What can I say, little duck, our town is a dreadfully boring one." He reached over the counter and ruffled her black curls. Maria made a sound of false indignation, all the while smiling. Smoothing her unruly hair back down into her long braid, she lifted brown eyes up to meet Arrow's. She hoped that he might be one of the changed, one of her Kin. He had been such a fatherly figure throughout her lonely life. But, if he had changed it was obvious he was very good at keeping it a secret.

"I have some more shopping to take care of today and I am running behind. Unfortunately, I have to cut this visit short, many apologies Mister Arrow."

"I am glad just to be able to see you from time to time Maria. Come have dinner with me and Lydie sometime." Lydie was his wife, a sweet but devout woman. She sometimes made Maria a bit uncomfortable.

"I'llGoodbyeood bye and God bless," she hefted her basket over her arm and out into the world she went. When her back was to Arrow she lifted a cloth over the small crate. As the cloth settled the crate seemed to disappear, making the basket look empty. All of these actions were hidden behind her handy shawl. She supposed the next thing she should purchase would be bread. Perhaps some fresh milk from Abby...

The cacophony of the lumber mill was useful when it came to numbing your brain to the world outside of it. Between all of the sawing, slamming, and scraping, one usually had no time to be with their thoughts. That was especially useful to Stanley this morning, as he had no wish to waste a second's thought regarding the night before. However, even the noise and physically demanding tasks that came with his job were not proving to be enough of a distraction. The back of his skull ached incessantly, and his vision occasionally blurred. Getting out of bed this morning had taken every ounce of his will, and not all of that had to due with the pain in his head. If he'd had it his way, Stanley would have stayed home today to take stock of his senses. Unfortunately, the miller had been pushy with his returning to work only three days after Amelia's death. Missing a random day for a reason he couldn't explain would surely see him sacked.

Stanley's thickly calloused hands worked automatically over the log he was currently de-barking, moving a pristine, thick straightblade back and forth over a lengthy piece of lumber until it held nothing but a smooth surface on every side before moving on to the next one. As he worked, sporadic images from the night before swam across his vision. The church, the headstones, the cemetery hedge; it all just played on rewind. No matter how hard he concentrated, he could not remember how he had managed to return to his house and reach his bed. That warm breeze was the talk of the town, and Stanley held the impossible assertation that it had everything to do with the strange event he had witnessed.

Amelia's face was fresh in his mind. Her lips were pale to the point of nearly matching her porcelain skin. Her thick black hair framed her round, flawless face like flimsy curtains. The gaze of her green eyes pierced his very soul. Stanley did not want to remember her like that. He wanted only memories of her smile or her laughter.

Then there was the way she had said his name. It set his teeth on edge.

Stanley

He heard it again, whispered in his ear as clear as day. It sent a vicious chill down his spine and caused him to jump with surprise, letting out a yelp that was audible even over the noise of industry. Snapping his head around to look behind him, Stanley saw nothing, naturally. And when he turned back to his work, he noticed with horror that he had torn a huge gouge out of the log he had been cleaning. Closing his eyes with resignation, he shook his head. He was losing his mind, it seemed... and now it was affecting his work.

"Stan!" came a shout from several feet away, down near the water wheel on the bank of the river. It was the unmistakably gruff and bellowing tone of the miller, Hod Wellman. "Alright there, lad! You look as if you've seen a ghost." The blonde, mustachioed miller chortled at his little joke as he mounted the wooden steps to approach where Stanley stood. He moved with grace one might not expect from such a massive figure, all of it surely muscle. The man had to be in his 50's, and yet he seemed more fit than half of Accrington.

"All's well, Master Hod!" Stanley reassured him, cursing the older man's ironic choice of words. Stanley raised a weathered hand as if to tell Hod not to bother approaching, coupled with a wry smirk. His acting couldn't erase the cold sweat upon his forehead or the way his heart throbbed in his chest. If Hod saw what he had done to this log, he might very well get the sack anyway.

Hod did not cease his approach, unfortunately. He came right up to Stanley, stopping before him and looking past him at his work. Immediately, Hod's face fell into one of disbelief. Stanley closed his eyes and let the air hiss from his noise, expecting the worst reproach imaginable.

"Well, would you look at that!" Hod exclaimed, his voice positively overflowing with mirth. Stanley's eyes snapped open in surprise and his mouth widened slightly. "You're moving at a cracking pace today, aren't ya, lad?" He reached down and pat Stanley's shoulder with enough force to buckle the younger man's knees. "Excellent! We'll make a decent miller of you after all, Master Humber. Excellent indeed!" He then went off, humming a tune to himself excitedly.

"But..." Stanley stammered awkwardly and confusedly, brow furrowed tightly. He watched Hod go for another moment, wondering if his head injury had caused him to abandon the last of his sense before looking back at the log he had been working.

The gouge within the wood he had dug out when his hand slipped was gone. He reached out and felt over it, noting that it seemed even smoother than possible. He looked to the right and left and saw that every other log on the line was smooth as well, including some he hadn't even got to yet. Who could have done that? He looked 'round and noted that everyone else seemed busy with their own tasks. No one could have come over here and de-barked everything so quickly. What on Earth was going on here? Had he lost time again? Or was he officially going mad?

Maria sighed. She had gone nearly everywhere and her basket was starting to get heavy with supplies. Much more than it should naturally fit, it weighed down on her arm like a brick of gold. None the less, she carried on fairly certain her spell had not worked. Where else was there to go? She kicked a rock and watched it stir up dust as it bounced down the road. Perhaps she was trapped beside a village of simple folk, really and truly.

'What has you so upset?' came a soft purring voice behind her. She turned to find a little black cat, fat with kittens, grooming herself on the porch of a home. She was a lovely silken thing with bright amber eyes. She turned her large orbs upon Maria and seemed to be quite satisfied with herself. 'Not enough fun in your life?'

She frowned at the cat before coming closer. "Little woman," she said to the beast as she sat beside it, "I assure you I have plenty of fun."

'And yet no kittens,' she drawled, stretching and then coming to settle in Maria's lap.

"I am an unwed woman."
'Wed? What is wed? How does it matter?' She supposed she would never be able to explain such a concept to the creature. Instead, she stroked the soft fur as the cat purred.

"I am looking for someone but I've been all about this town. I haven't met them yet." There was a long silence as the cat enjoyed the attention she was getting, rolling and pushing herself into Maria's hands. At long last the cat seemed to have had enough attention.

'Have you tried the mill? You know, where the skin the wood?' the cat inquired as she hopped off of Maria's lap.

"I haven't yet. Thank you." She offered the cat one last pat as she began the process of cleaning herself once again.

'That is what we are here to do,' she stated blandly before sashaying away, presumably to hunt.

Maria was not sure where the mill was located. After asking some of the townsfolk she got directions. What she would make her excuse there to be, she was not sure just yet. However, she could not stop until she knew for certain her spell had worked. Lugging along her heavy basket she walked along the path until she came upon the site. She watched in awe as the men moved, processing the wood.

With his menial daily task quickly -- yet quite mysteriously-- finished, Stanley was sent here and there to assist the others with what they were doing. Before long, Stanley was sure the looks he was getting from his fellow mill workers were annoyed and to the point of being venomous. Some of them made offhanded comments about how he was looking to show all of them up, and Stanley was certain not all of them were joking. It didn't help that no matter where he went to help, the job was done quicker and more perfect than ever before. Each time, Stanley's work partner would look away do something else or speak with someone, and when they had turned back not seconds later the thing they had been working on was already done.

At current, Hod had decided to take Stanley aside and show him a thing or two about working the waterwheel down by the river. "It's tough work making sure these damned gears don't rust over, what with all the water splashing here and there," the miller was saying. "Pay attention, lad. You may very well be the next one doing this. I won't stay this young forever!" Master Wellman chortled again.

Stanley, who had been drifting through the day despite somehow maintaining the appearance of being hardworking, was too absorbed in his own thoughts. He had certainly developed some sort of brain injury from his fall the night before, he decided. His memories of work today were fleeting and jumbled. None of it was making any sense. As he mulled all of this over, he watched a strangely dressed woman hauling a basket make her way up the path to the mill. Once she had made her way level with the mill, she had stopped and begun staring. Her behaviour seemed so out of place, Stanley was certain she was a hallucination.

"Stan!" Hod called out again, a sliver of impatience present in his voice. He was not a man to keep waiting.

"Sorry, Master Wellman!" Stanley exclaimed, snapping his eyes over to Hod. Even that small of a quick movement made his stomach tumble and his eyes water. Putting a hand to his forehead, he pressed upon it as if that would dull the ache. "I just noticed someone over there; that's all. Do you think she needs any help? She's watching us." He was ready for Hod to retort that no one was there.

Hod squinted, looking over to where Stanley was pointing. He furrowed his brow and put a hand to his beard. "I think her name is Martha... Moriah... Maria! That's it. I suppose I should see what she's after." With that, Hod stomped past Stanley and went up the steps leading down to the river from the path. "God be with you, Miss Maria!" he called out as he walked, waving genially. "What brings you out here?"

Stanley looked past Hod as the miller went over to Maria, an overwhelming sense of dread creeping into his brain. It came unbidden and for seemingly no reason. Something about this woman was rubbing him the wrong way. In fact, for the slightest of seconds they locked gazes, and Stanley felt the most intense chill run down and back up his spine. It caught his breath in his chest, causing him to lean against a nearby support beam. Quickly, he looked away, eyes wide and gasping for air.