beneath the moon - part I.

Title: Beneath the Moon - part I.

Genre: Fantasy, witchy-bitchy, kinda angst, kinda smut, maybe hurt/comfort, I guess?

What to know: I watched the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina series, okay, I binged it, and I just wanted to write a story of... being witchy-bitchy. Since I was inspired by the Sabrina series, it influenced me, but I also mixed all sorts of witch-interpretations from current pop culture, but if you want to, you can see it as a story from the expended universe of Sabrina. No characters from the show are present though.

Warning: maybe a bit of swearing so far, but there'll be others in the upcoming parts

Category: T (teen&up)
Length: 2365 words

(if i managed to miss something, lmk)

B E N E A T H  T H E  M O O N

The massive darkness of the cell was suddenly disturbed by loud bangs that she realized as the unmistakable sound of running steps. Two pairs, one faster than the other. They were also gasping for air; a loud shriek signed when they turned to the corridor. At least one of them had to be a girl, most probably a young one. Who else would have been running around in a maze of a basement?

She slowly got herself up, her joints cracking, each movement hurting as they did every single time as she remembered. It’s been years since she even moved her body just as much as an inch. She stepped to the edge of the cell, and she already saw two fading lights rushing towards her. She didn’t get her hopes up; once or twice in a decade some fool found her, but nobody got her out so far.

Minutes passed until they finally reached her cell, and as they noticed her stoically standing there at the entrance of the cell, they seemed surprised, not to say shocked. They stopped immediately; they were young, a boy, and a girl, both dressed in former dresses, panting, sweating, holding torches.

‘What on Earth…’ the girl asked, stepping forward. They seemed to have forgotten about what they were running from, and Guinevere didn’t really care. She didn’t have the energy to care.

‘I feel “what under the ground” would be more precise,’ she commented, her voice sounded rather breathy and croaky. ‘But I assume you noticed when you came down.’

‘Who are you?’ The guy stepped even further along, but Guinevere put her hand out.

‘Don’t come any closer,’ she warned, ‘or you’ll be trapped in here with me.’

‘How long have you been here? You are pale as a… I don’t think I have ever seen something this pale!’ she sighed.

‘That is very kind of you,’ Guinevere rolled her eyes, ‘but if you can’t get me out of here, which I assume you can’t, then please, run on.’

‘She’s right, we have to go,’ the guy commented, patting the elbow of the girl, bustling her. ‘We have to go!’ He checked behind himself but didn’t see anything, so he sighed in relief, but remained nervous.

‘We can’t leave her here, can we?!’ she exclaimed, and she seemed righteously upset about the guy’s attitude. ‘Is there anything that would help?’

‘Getting me out of here would, actually,’ she responded, as her head got dizzy. She leaned her back to the wall, and slowly sat down. The girl squatted down beside her and wanted to touch her forehead.

‘If you touch me, prepare yourself for staying in here with me.’

‘Do you have anything to eat? To do? To drink?’ she questioned worrying. Guinevere realized she was getting more and more anxious and wouldn’t go away easily.

‘She doesn’t look like she someone that had the most glamorous dinner, Blanche,’ the guy commented ironically, and in response, he received a deadly glare. ‘How long have you been in here?’

‘If I’m not mistaken it’s been seventy or seventy-five years now,’ Guinevere responded, letting out a deep breath. This piece of information seemed to shock the girl, Blanche, so bad, that she fell on her ass and looked at her with her mouth ajar.

Guinevere saw on her face that she started thinking. ‘And when was the last time you ate something?’

‘Seventy, or seventy-five years ago’ Guinevere repeated.

‘Please don’t tell me you’re a vampire or something,’ the guy basically begged her. She looked up to him, noticed the little scar on his left eyebrow. ‘We’re just running from a werewolf, so, I would be a bit freaked out about running into a vampire.’

‘Relax, boy, I’m a witch. As I suppose you are, as well,’ she said, her voice shaking. She wasn’t used to speaking, using that much energy, focusing. Her eyes were squinting the whole time, the light from the torches hurt her eyes. ‘That’s why you can’t come in here,’ she explained. With as little movement as she could, she pointed to the doorway. ‘See those runes?’ The guy stepped closer, carefully enough so that he wouldn’t step into the cell. Inside it was nothing more than dust, dirt, a rug to sleep on, and darkness. But on the jamb, there were runes painted with red paint that started to fade forty years back. ‘The first two are there to bound a witch in the cell. The third one stops me from doing magic in here, which also stops me from setting myself free. The fourth is there so that I wouldn’t have to eat or drink, as long as nobody gives me anything to eat. Once I eat, it disappears and I’ll be famished,’ she explained. This time ‘round, the guy seemed more shocked, Blanche rather seemed sad.

‘So, we only have to… erase them?’

‘If it were that easy, it wouldn’t require being a witch,’ she chortled, sounding as mean as she could. ‘You’d need a spell that only that bitch Mallory knows,’ she spat but then her eyes went wild: ‘Please don’t tell me someone killed him before I could get to him!’

‘No, he’s still the duke,’ Blanche babbled, ‘how long has he been the duke?’ she whispered, turning to the boy behind her, and she seemed surprised. He shrugged, as he didn’t have a clue either.

‘So, go on now,’ Guinevere extolled, ‘get that werewolf.’

‘No. We’re not leaving until you are out.’ She seemed determined as she stood up to face the guy. ‘We’re not leaving her.’ He sighed, mostly because he knew she would stay determined until they would get her out.

‘This all seems very nice, but how do you think you would get a spell he used seventy years ago?’

‘I guess we’ll figure something out,’ the guy promised and hurried the girl to leave again. ‘But we really do have to leave.’

‘We will come back for you, I promise,’ she swore and started running with him again because, at the end of the tunnel, two bright yellow eyes appeared and started running towards them really fast. If she didn’t know the werewolf would know better than attacking her, she would have been against them leaving her alone.

As they left, she lay back down on the ground, in a foetal position, knowing well that there wouldn’t be another person to stumble into her for a good ten years.

Or at least she thought.

A couple of days passed, two, maybe three, when she heard footsteps again. Now they were calm, there was no panting, and she didn’t even have to wait for that much for the two people to arrive. She figured she heard them later, as they weren’t running and weren’t so loud anymore.

She frowned, were surprised, but forced herself up from the ground again, stumbling on her own legs, leaning to the doorway.

‘You really did come back,’ she sounded surprised, as she was, but her voice was still breathy and husky. ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’

‘I promised, didn’t I?’ Blanche smirked, poking the guy’s elbow with her own. ‘And we can get you out, this time. Really,’ she grinned so much Guinevere didn’t even think her head would stay intact. The guy seemed a lot more confident now, sly even, as he pulled a paper out from his pocket. Blanche put some candles down to the ground, and lit them, forming a circle around themselves.

‘I’ll be damned,’ she smiled, and now she got her hopes up. ‘I really suggest that you two get me out of here, or…’

‘You’re stuck there with no magic. What on Earth can you suggest that much?’ the guy asked, and he started to get fed up with the whole arrangement. They were preparing to unbind her, winding some thread on a stick so that they could unwind it while casting the spell.

‘In pythonissam maiorum auxilio opus, auxilio ei de carcere suo, tolle eam, dimiserunt eam nunc libertatem, quae passus est satis,’ they chanted in unison, repeating, again and again, their voices merged into one innocent harmony, proving they had worked together before. They were rapt, closed their eyes and unwound the thread from the stick, moving it a bit forward each time. Their voices became louder and louder each time as they ended their sentence, the fires on the candles became bigger and bigger. As soon as there was no thread to unwind, the candles sparked, a sudden rush of energy swept through the cell, causing Guinevere to fall back to the ground.

‘Did it work?’ Blanche asked worryingly. She didn’t really dare to step closer until she was sure she could get out. ‘Can we go in?’

Guinevere struggled to stand up this time, she basically crawled to the door to help herself up. Fearing the result, she reached her hand to the runes, and the paint smeared under her touch, she could erase it all. She chuckled, sighed because she couldn’t believe it, she had to hold her tears back.

She had been bound before, for thirty years at the end of the nineteenth century, but this time around it was a lot worse. For the first time, she was held in her home, unable to leave the house – but it was convenient, she had food to eat, and a bed to sleep in. People could visit her, she wasn’t alone in the dark with her thoughts, her guilt and grief. This time around nobody knew where she was, where to look for her, and she had nothing, nought at all. Nobody visited her, nobody replaced her clothes when she tore them down in a mental breakdown. And it was only then when she realized that she only had a bra and her torn trousers on, not even her shoes were on her feet.

‘Tenebris’ she whispered, her voice merely more than a breathy prayer. The candles went out, only the torches remained lit so that they could see. It could have been romantic, but given the circumstances, it was only mystical at most. She laughed and cried at the same time, stepping out of the cell, or stumbling, rather, falling into the arms of the boy, who was ready to catch her. She was silently sobbing as he held her gently while Blanche covered her with a jumper.

‘I have brought you a T-shirt to put on,’ Blanche exhaled silently. She heard her but couldn’t collect herself for another minute. She was embarrassed by herself, even though they never made her feel that way, the boy even caressed her back while she gasped for air.

‘It’s okay,’ Blanche reassured.

For another couple of minutes, she just tried to regain her strength, while the boy sat down with her in his lap. Blanche managed to put the shirt on her; it was big, she basically disappeared in it, but at least it covered her body. She was dirty, sweaty, tired, trembled from every step she took, and her skin was covered in scratches; either from the ground or from herself. She never meant to hurt herself, but every time she had a breakdown, she had to scratch her skin to feel something, or because she was trying to get rid of her own body.

They both noticed this but decided not to say anything.

‘I’m Blanche,’ she introduced herself kindly, smiling to her gently as if she was talking to a child. ‘He’s Danny, there. What is your name?’

‘I’m Guinevere,’ she answered, her voice still cracking here and there. They helped her on her feet again, and only let go of her when they were certain she wouldn’t collapse again. She was shaking in every fibre of her body, but she tried to man up because she had plans, she’d been cradling them for years. ‘This is the basement of the school, is it not?’ They silently nodded, sharing a suspicious and somewhat fearful glance. Danny’s face gave it away that he was thinking. ‘Your name rings a bell, but why?’ he asked, but Guinevere wasn’t listening to him. She barely heard Blanche mention that it was the name of the wife of King Arthur, adding that she had doubts he would know the name from the legends. As they were busy teasing and chaffing each other, Guinevere stepped away from them with a torch in her hand, but she realized she didn’t know where to go.

‘Guys, I hate to disturb the lovebirds, but could you take me to the Duke?’ she asked, clearing her throat. ‘I have some unfinished business I’d really like to close today.’

‘First: we’re not an item, and second: what do you want to do?’ Danny asked fearing the answer, and that she would collapse again.

‘I really hope it’s daytime,’ she commented, mostly to herself.

‘It’s almost six p.m., but what do you want to do with the Duke?’

‘Greet him, darling,’ she said, her voice being the definition of ridicule. ‘What would you do if he’d lock you up for almost a century?’

‘I would be pretty pissed’ Danny chortled and crossing his arms on his chest. ‘I’ll take you.’

‘Good. Cause I’m pretty sure I’d need the backup’ she noted, as she was weaker than she thought she was. Blanche didn’t seem so sure, she was struggling with her conscience; remaining loyal to the highest possible rank of her community, to whom she was taught to be loyal, or helping the girl she just freed and who’d have her justice served.

Blanche remained a few steps behind Danny and Guinevere; Danny had his arms ready around Guinevere, in case she would fall apart and would need someone to collect her up again. Guinevere slowly, but firmly made her way out of the cells that were protected with the most complex spells and rituals, not to ever be found. Guinevere was essentially nothing more than skin and bones wrapped up in an oversized T-shirt. She was limping, dragging herself across every corridor, up every set of stairs, until Danny – with pounding heart in his chest – directed her to the Duke’s office.