“Even if you hate me, even if you never forgive me, I’ll always be there for you, whenever you need me.”

***

The words rang in Yseult’s ears as she stared out the window, gazing softly at the mountains. A thick blanket of fog obscured the peaks of the Brecon Beacons, and rain pattered gently on the windows of Yseult’s small cottage.

It was a gloomy day, like most days in Wales. Nothing Yseult wasn’t used to; she far preferred the cold over the heat. However, today, despite her ideal weather, Yseult’s spirits were low.

It was the tenth year anniversary of the event at her school.

Yseult had since graduated, but the event had left a scar in her mind. She didn’t want to spend long thinking about it; it was a painful memory to revisit. Instead, Yseult decided to do some activities to take her mind off it.

Grabbing her coffee from the brewer, she poured herself a cup and sat at the table in the kitchen. A book laid on the table, her place in it marked neatly with a magnetic bookmark. The book was titled Magical History in Scandinavia- a book Yseult had picked up from the school library and forgot to return before she graduated many years ago.

Yseult was a witch. Like most witches, Yseult came from a long lineage of witches, dating back to the Middle Ages. The school Yseult had attended was a witch school, one where students learned to master their craft. Yseult specialized in ice and cold magic.

Not that Yseult found much use for it now. People in this day and age relied more on technology than magic. While young witches still attended these schools, their existence was dwindling, and many schools were being shut down or assimilated into other schools.

Yseult had attended a school in Norway, called Seithr Relic Academy. The school was founded after the Christianization of Scandinavia, but was still one of the oldest witch schools still in operation- it had been around for over 700 years.

Yseult clenched her fists. An academy with so much history had fallen to the wrath of time, and Yseult had to finish her studies at another school. Seithr Relic Academy wouldn’t have closed if—

Yseult let out a heavy sigh. There was no use in revisiting the past. It was over, and there was nothing she could do to change it. Even so, she felt her hands growing chilly from the sadness, and ice began to form in her now-cold coffee.

“So much for the coffee,” she muttered to herself.

Yseult dumped the coffee down the drain, leaving the mug in the sink. She was too upset to even think about washing it. She felt weighed down, and her body felt chilled to the core. 

“Please remember me, Yseult.”

A headache began to throb in Yseult’s head as more words echoed in her mind. The same voice as before— a familiar one she hadn’t heard since her time at Seithr Relic Academy. It was the voice of someone very close to her.

“Why, Professor, why?” Yseult whined out loud.

The voice was that of Professor Kassmeyer, one of the teachers at Seithr Relic Academy. Kassmeyer was her favorite professor, and the two grew very close. Yseult often studied with Professor Kassmeyer outside of class, and the two even planned to work together after Yseult graduated.

That was, until, the catastrophe happened.

It had been ten years since Yseult had heard from Professor Kassmeyer, and her heart ached as she reminiscenced the good times they enjoyed together. Yseult didn’t know where Kassmeyer was, what she was doing, or how she was doing— although she always had the chance to. Before Kassmeyer’s disappearance, she left a communication stone with Yseult, a magical item used to communicate over long distances, able to reach places phones couldn’t.

The stone sat in Yseult’s bedroom. It was on the dresser, always in plain sight when she was in her room. Yseult entered her room, her eyes fixated on the stone. It was a rutilated quartz, copper in color, shiny and large. Her fingers slowly traced over the indents of the quartz, contemplating contacting her old professor. All she had to do was recite the spell, which would activate the magical connection and bring her into contact with Professor Kassmeyer.

“No,” Yseult stated, ripping her hand back. “Not yet.”

Yseult turned away from the dresser, hastily leaving her bedroom. The memories were returning, ones she had spent so long trying to repress. A pain flared up in her chest, and she felt her body grow even colder than before. Ice formed at her fingertips. 

Two faces sprung into her mind, faces from her time at Seithr Relic Academy. They were two students, Derych and Gracelynn. These two were her partners at the academy, and they were her best friends. 

Derych Graf was a witch from Germany. He was constantly getting in trouble, whether it be from talking during class or performing spells in his dorm against the rules. He was loud, brash, and even a little obnoxious, but Yseult cared for him deeply.

Gracelynn Young was a witch from Great Britain. Unlike Derych, Gracelynn was quiet and contemplative. She didn’t speak much, not out of shyness, but she felt her words needed to be chosen carefully to convey what she was thinking. She was definitely more of a listener and preferred to sit back and observe.

She had fond memories of them, but the expressions on their faces in her mind showed only anger and hatred. Those were the last expressions she saw before they cut off contact with her.

Yseult’s body was cold as snow. Her sadness and bitterness was manifesting through her icy magic, turning her body rigid and frozen. Even though the catastrophe happened a decade ago, it still felt so recent. The wounds it left behind hurt as bad as when the event occurred.

Yseult was yanked back into the present day by a vibrating in her pocket. She reached in and grabbed the vibrating object. It was her cellphone, and she was receiving a call.

Weird, she thought. She hardly ever received calls, unless it was from her parents, or her work asking her to pick up another shift. The number didn’t look familiar, not to her surprise. However, despite the odd situation, a force inside her compelled her to answer the phone.

“Hello?” Yseult answered. 

“Is this Yseult Wynne?” A familiar voice came from the other end. Yseult couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

It took a moment for her to muster the words to respond. “Yes…”

“Oh, uh, hi. It’s-“ 

“Derych Graf.” Yseult interrupted. There was a silence before the man replied.

“Hi Yseult.” He said softly. 

Yseult bit her lip and fought the tears forming in her eyes. She wanted to yell at him, question him, why did he abandon her when she needed him the most? The event at the school left her devastated, she needed the support of her best friends. Yet, he and Gracelynn cut off all contact with her after it happened.

However, Yseult kept her cool. “How have you been?” She asked. It had been years since she talked to him. Despite how hurt she was, she wanted to know everything.

“I’ve been well,” he responded. “Uh, Gracelynn and I are married.”

Yseult’s heart shattered. They were married? Yseult hadn’t been invited to the wedding, or even notified. Pain flared up in her chest, hurt from Derych and Gracelynn’s treatment of her.

“O-oh. Congratulations.” Yseult murmured. She bit her lip, trying to keep from crying. 

“Yeah.” Derych responded awkwardly. “And… she’s pregnant.”

The news hit Yseult like a truck. First the wedding, now this? Tears started to trickle down Yseult’s face.

“Really?” She sniffled. 

“Yeah.” Derych replied.

Yseult’s anger boiled inside her. She wanted to snap at him. Keeping herself under control, she took a deep, shaky breath. “W-why are you calling to tell me all this years later?”

“Well…” Derych’s voice trailed off, as if he was afraid to tell her the reason why.

Yseult’s body temperature was at the lowest it had been in years. Snowflakes clung to her eyelashes as she silently wept, trying her hardest to keep quiet. She didn’t want Derych to hear how hurt she was. Whatever Derych wanted to tell Yseult, it must’ve been worth reaching out to her after a decade of silence. 

“What is it?” Yseult asked sternly.

Yseult could feel the tension through the line. Derych stayed silent a moment longer before admitting what he had called for.

“Yseult, I don’t think the demon was fully exorcized.”