The lithe Syli’ti shot up and covered the back of his neck with one of his hands. His slim face paled, and his eyes grew wide.  

“W-what do you mean by that?” 

All witches had a mark on their body indicating which marsh they belonged to: a circle associated with the color of their marsh that had little prongs sticking out to indicate with number marsh it was. Mine was dark blue with two prongs sticking out of the circle and other decorative marks that gave unique significance to my tattoo. All witches had been taught early on how to recognize those tattoos. 

“Your tattoo,” I knew I could trust Firr, since he was hiding his identity, same as me; I lifted my hair and revealed my own tattoo, higher on my neck and much smaller than his, but still proof of our connection, “It’s just that I have a similar one and mine informs other witches of my origins. I just thought yours was the same.” 

Of course, I knew it was the same; all witches found by a marsh and affiliated by their sisters were given these tattoos.  

Firr stuttered for a moment, his eyes fluttering and his hands wringing each other. It took him several minutes to regain some shred of thought that wasn’t purely panic driven and by that time, at least some color had returned to his face. 

“Y-you wouldn’t t-tell anyone, right?” 

His voice sounded so small, a complete turnaround from his earlier boisterous talk that kept me on my toes. 

“Of course not,” I shook my head and took on set of his hands in my own, “I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for you to hide it.” 

He chuckled, his tone warming and his volume retuning, “It wasn’t all that bad.” 

I tilted my head and made my way to one of his plush love seats, “Still, it couldn’t have been easy to hide your identity here...Actually, I have a few questions for you.” 

The Syli’ti nodded enthusiastically, and I smiled at the way his slanted eyes glistened. 

“What I learned in my marsh was that witches were only females because it was only females that warlocks preyed on…but Syli’ti are born male. I don’t want to seem narrow minded, Firr, but I do wonder how exactly you became a witch.” 

Firr sighed and folded his legs elegantly as he began to speak. 

“I was borne to a fay mother and a Syli’ti father in a small village just outside of Saint Cassaloma. My mother warned me that I was different, and she told me that I had to pretend I wasn’t a girl. Luckily for her, I never felt like one. I grew up as a boy, not knowing that my birth gender was unheard of within the Syli’ti population. But as I got older, I wanted to explore my sexual orientation, as any teenager would. My parents supported me, of course, but they warned me that until my body matched my preferred gender, I wouldn’t be able to…ahem, couple with another creature. They could have only imagined the horror of being shunned because I was born female to the Syli’ti species. 

Being a rebellious teenager with a passion for disruption, I spent my first night with an overzealous Elf from some island off the coast. We weren’t quite in our right state of mind at the time, but when both of us were well and sober, they freaked out and one thing led to another. By the time I was 19, word had spread around my village and most of Saint Cassaloma; there was a cursed female Syli’ti who hid herself as a man.” 

I looked into Firr’s eyes as tear began to whell, “You don’t have to go on if you don’t want to.” 

“N-no, it actually feels nice to talk to someone about it,” He smiled at me, even though it looked pained and saddened, “I felt like a man in every way. I had never wanted to be a girl or a woman, and it hurt to hear people say I was hiding cursed self when I was doing anything but that! Eventually, word reached the ear of a warlock, who wanted to see what kind of power he could gain from sucking the magic out of the only female Syli’ti to ever live. He kidnapped me and tortured me and killed me, leaving my body for the witches of the Celadon marsh to find.  

Even in the marsh, where women who had faced hardship after hardship resided, I was still an outsider. A freak of nature. I left ten years ago and came here to live my life how I wanted to live it, without the fear of being ostracized and shunned.” 

Firr took a deep breath and looked away, wiping tears from his face, “Sorry…it’s just been a while since I’ve been listened to.” 

I smiled and reached out, opening my arms for him to fall into with a sigh, “You’ve been through so much, Firr, and a person so loving and bright as you should feel like you have to constantly hide,” I stroked his hair as his tears dampened my shoulder, “All that’s important is that you stay true to yourself and live the life that you want.” 

He nodded and sniffed, letting out a sort of sodden half-laugh, “What about you, my lovely Asajj,” He sat up and rubbed his face, “Why are you hiding as a Fay in Paristol?” 

“Oh, I wasn’t lying about that; I am Fay,” I settled back against the couch, “It’s a long story…but a warlock attacked my marsh and I was injured, so my friend, the one from a few days ago, he brought me back to his home so that I would be safe.” 

Firr nodded slowly, “Right, the menacing one with the silver eyes…He’s not Fay too, is he?” 

“U-um, no, he’s not.”  

We talked until the tolling of the bell could be heard, informing the city that the time was 5:00 in the evening. Firr sent me off with an exaggerated good bye, several new garments, and a wrapped package that he instructed me not to open until tomorrow for the party.  

“I will not be in attendance, but I have no doubt that you will look stunning as always, my darling.” 

And with that, I set off to the palace, greeting the guards with a smile before heading straight to my room.  

I hummed a random melody as I opened my door and laid my gifts from Firr onto my bed, letting down my hair as I slipped out of my shoes and plodded towards the bathroom. I was so lost in thought (not so much thought as it was daydreams), that I almost didn’t notice the small servant girl standing awkwardly by the large desk, a sealed envelope held out in her tiny hands.  

“Oh!” I startled when I saw her, “Can I help you?” 

She held out the envelope and spoke in a quite tone, although I could still hear the chorus of voices in her own. 

“From his Majesty and The High Witch,” I took it from her and opened it as she continued, “The High Witch requested to speak with you...that is the formal invitation.” 

I scanned through the short letter, my mood souring as I recalled the manner in which The High Witch had spoken to me when we lest met. 

----EIGHT YEARS AGO---- 

Madam Bell had requested my presence in her office. Again. 

It had only been a year since I became a witch, only a year since I had been taken from my home in the night by six men and nailed to a board and tortured for a power, I didn’t know I had. It had been only a year since I had looked up into the eyes of my aunts as they washed my broken body and took me to a faraway place. It had been only a year since a tall woman in red whispered the words that turned me into the same thing she was. And it had been a year since I had been told that I had died, and that I shouldn’t be able to remember the events surrounding my death. But I did. And for the past year, I had been waking up from nightmares in which I was nailed down, cut open, and murdered, all with my eyes wide open and seeing.  

“Miss Asajj!” 

I jumped in my seat, swallowing hard as I looked up into the cold glare of Madam Bell. I chewed the side of cheek and picked absently at my fingers, trying my best to avoid the stare of my Headmistress.  

“Did you hear what I said?” 

“N-no ma’am, I’m sorry.” 

She sighed loudly, and leaned forward onto her desk until her face was just inches from mine, “You, my dear, are in very deep trouble,” she sat back slightly, “It has been nearly 30 years since The High Witch has visited our marsh...and the reason she will be joining us today, is because of you.” 

“M-me?” 

She spoke with the force of a commander, addressing me as though she were speaking to a mere child. Madame Bell was usually calm and kind to her young witches in the marsh. But when it came to me, she was impatient and cold. I had done everything I could to keep up with the other girls; studying for hours on end and seeking extra help when I needed it. I had even tried to stay quiet and out of the way so that I wouldn’t be seen as a nuisance. But in the past year, I had been called to Madame Bell’s office 32 times, and been yell at, scolded, and punished for things that I didn’t quite understand. 

“Are you seriously going to make me repeat myself?” she sighed dramatically and drew a circle of patience on her temple, “Yes, The High Witch demanded to speak to you. She will be here soon, so remember your manners and don’t make a bad impression under the name of the Second Cerulean Marsh, understood?” 

I nodded and let my eyes drift to the window behind her where I could see the courtyard of the small academy I attended. Outside, witches of all ages wandered and conversed, going about their lives as if they didn’t have that heavy weight of expectation sitting on their shoulders. As if they didn’t feel the prickle of dozens of eyes on them, or hear the hushed voices around them, calling them cursed. Calling them unnatural. As if-- 

At that moment, there was a knock on the door to Madame Bell’s office and a tall woman strode in, not bothering to wait for an invitation to enter. My headmistress rose from her seat, and I did the same, bowing my head and offering up my hands in the shape of a circle.  

The High Witch needed no introduction. Power radiated off of her in waves, chilling my to the bone as her gaze settled on me. 

“Rise, child,” She commanded in a tone that was as sweet as honey, yet still deadly with venom, “let me look upon the face of the cursed Fay Witch.” 

I swallowed hard and slowly lowered my hands as I stood up straight.  

She towered over me, a fact that was quite extraordinary given the fact that I was tall for my age. Her eyes were dull and a deep shade of brown that made my stomach turn. It felt as though the longer she stared at me, the further into my soul she could see. Maybe that was the truth. Maybe she really could see my past and the life that I so badly missed.  

“Sit.” 

I sat. 

“Your name.” 

I told her. 

“Do you know why I’m here, talking to a nobody such as yourself?” 

“No, ma’am.” 

She made a noise that bordered disappointment. 

“I saw you in my dream.” 

My eyes widened and my mouth went dry. 

The current High Witch was revered as one of the most powerful clairvoyants to have ever graced the continent. It was rumored that she had once dreamt of her own death and using the power that she had accumulated over 200 years of traveling from marsh to marsh as a prodigal witch, she avoided it, and rose to power as The High Witch only 50 years before.  

For her to have seen me in her dream meant one of two things; That I was more cursed than I realized. Or that I was blessed by the new gods.   

“In my dream, there were nine pillars of light, all rising into the sky from a sea of pure green. I turned around, and there you were, much older than you are now, but still you, robbed in a gown of shadow. In your right hand, you held a filigree soaked in blood. Your left hand was offered out to me.  

You said to me in a voice that held old power: ‘Our world will shift, tradition will fall, and all that will be left is a god in the marsh. Her army will rise from the ash of salvation as warriors of the Ole Gods.’ And as you finished your prophesy, the sea parted, and I fell into hell.” 

There was a silence that followed, and it rang in my ears, bringing with it horrible whispers that only I could hear. 

The High Witch observed me without emotion, her breathing even and her posture immaculate. Madame Bell, on the other hand, had turned an embarrassing shade of plum.  

“S-she—What does it mean?” 

“That’s why I came to see the girl myself...I have no idea.” 

I could feel my heartbeat behind my eyes and my togue felt like a stone in my mouth. It took me several tries to force the words out of my mouth. 

“M-ma’am,” I tried and failed to swallow, “I-I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.” 

She sighed dramatically and plopped down into the chair next to me, all etiquette abandoned as she crossed her legs and pulled a thin notebook out of thin air.  

“What it means, is that in some way, shape, or form, you are directly connected to the fall of everything we have ever known...at least, I think that’s what it means. It was a very difficult dream to decipher.” 

My pulse pounded faster and louder until all I could hear was the iambic pentameter of my wretched, cursed heart.  

They had all been right about me.  

I was cursed. 

I was unnatural. 

I was nothing. 

NO. I WAS WORSE THAN NOTHING.  

“I’m something horrible.” 

It took me a moment to realize that the words had come from my own mouth. The High Witch just stared at me, while Madame Bell started seething. 

“I told those Fay whores that I would never resurrect one of their own. But they threatened me with the words of the old gods until I brought to back to life and gave you the power vested in me!” 

A single tear slipped down my cheek, betraying the hurt, and sadness, and frustration, and pure rage that I felt. The Hight Witch clicked her tongue and sighed in her theatrical manner one more.  

“Yes, yes, you are a beastly creature, Asajj; one of Fay, God, and Witch. But you are harmless on your own.” 

The High Witch then turned her attention back to Madame Bell, “You will keep her here, in this marsh, until I say otherwise. It is hard to tell how old she is in my dream, but she is much older than she is now, of that I can be sure. If she causes trouble, I will personally see to her punishment...Afterall--” she cast a cold stare at me as her lip curled in a look of disgust, “--there is nothing in this good world that I despise more than a fool who does not know their place. And there is no place in this world for Fay.”