Patience awoke with a start. For a moment she thought herself back at home, but then she realized the bedding was much too nice. As the memories of the previous day flooded back into her mind, a grin stretched across her face. It was still very early, light had barely broken. She rose to get a head start on the day.

“Can we go see the sea?” bubbled Anax, braiding her hair.

“That’s the plan!” Patience polished off the last bits of her sandwich from last night and dressed.

The hotel lay dormant as the girl and skull made their best efforts to rush out the entrance as quietly as possible. A pale blue world greeted the two as the solid doors swung shut behind them. Heavy scents of sand and sea whirled through the air on the tails of dawn breezes. Patience rounded the hotel patio, certain there must be beach access at the back. She found a walkway leading between a range of sand dunes, and she bounded toward that coveted image of the sea. Frustratingly, the path wound a few turns too many for Patience’s liking. Seeking a straighter trajectory, she traversed the hills of sand.

Finally cresting a dune, her eyes met the blue-gray ocean dominating the horizon. As wide as the sky above, its cold waves billowed to the shore. Unlike the docile waters of the rivers near her home, these depths were broiling, alive. The waves seemed to lathe the land, wanting to consume it.

She shuddered at the thought of how much further the sea went beyond her vision. It made the girl feel very small. The gentle rhythmic roar of the water echoed the strong, excited beats of her heart. Patience inhaled, filling her lungs with the salty air. She noticed Anax condensing into slime at the nape of her neck.

“It’s MASSIVE,” Anax marveled.

“Right, you’ve never seen the ocean either.”

“Hmm, and the air … it feels so tingly!”

Patience took off her boots and stockings, feeling the sand between her toes. Charging toward the water, the rush of foam and brine stopped her in her tracks. It came all too quickly, the bite of an ice-cold deluge wrenched her ankles. Patience yelped, immediately skipping back. Her feet grew numb. She dug them into the sand, just a bit less cold, to warm them up again.

They ventured along the shore just short of the water’s reach. Off in the distance down the beach, long wooden piers stretched toward the horizon. A tangle of masts beyond indicated a full dock. A biting wind blew across the sand and the girl pulled her jacket tighter. She hoped it would warm up as the day progressed.

Weather aside, it was still early and the beach was mostly empty. Down the shore were a few figures undeterred by the cold. As Patience and Anax drew closer, dark tattoos became visible on the group’s arms and silver ornaments woven into their plaits of hair flashed. They were witches.

Patience watched them from some yards away. They stood several feet apart, one behind the other, sleeves rolled up, hauling long dark ropes out of the briny water. There were two men at the front: one tall with a complete sea lion pelt worn as a cape and a mask constructed of driftwood over his eyes, the other was well toned and dressed solely in a summer union suit. A hunched wispy-haired elder and a young woman appearing close to Patience’s age followed behind them, both in soot gray garments.

The toned man was closest to the water, his scant clothing exposing his darker skin and occult tattoos. Patience presumed he had dove in earlier, judging by the swaths of wet hair swinging around his face. As the witches coiled the black tethers into a mass, the girl realized they were pulling seaweed hundreds of feet long from the sea.

Words passed between the group, though Patience’s ear could only discern a few. It was amusing trying to decipher their dialogue. The man in his underwear patted the young woman’s shoulder. The tall man caressed him and offered his hide for warmth. A yelp. The young woman helped steady the elder after they stumbled over some seaweed. They appeared to be a family. A curious family, but that was to be expected of witches.

The witches piled the seaweed into a wagon. It was an odd piece of equipment; planks of wood were nailed around the wheels, connecting the rear wheels together into a nearly solid roller which was mirrored in the front. Once loaded, the men pulled it into motion, setting down the beach. It was built so as not to sink into the sand. The ingenuity of people never ceased to amaze Patience.

“Are you cold?” asked Anax.

“Yes. Maybe we should come back in the afternoon if the sun comes out,” the girl mumbled. Slightly crestfallen, she trudged back inland. At least there was the boardwalk and town to explore. Before she reapplied her stockings and boots, Anax cleaned her feet of water and sand, his extraordinary ability proving quite practical. By now the sky grew lighter, daubing faint colors over the buildings of St. Phocas. The town was waking.

To raise her spirits, Patience stopped by a kiosk on the boardwalk selling fresh doughnuts. They had just opened and were in the midst of frying the first batch. The enticing scent of fried dough and grease lured her over like a siren’s song. There was no food she liked better than any sort of pastry. The temperature at the moment called for the pillowy, golden brown rings. Patience ordered five of them. The vendor plopped them into a paper sack, followed with a dusting of sugar. He rolled the top to seal the bag and shook it vigorously. It was then that he proffered it to Patience who smiled with the glee of a child.

She took her treats to a secluded sitting area of the boardwalk arcade and opened the bag, releasing a wisp of steam. Unfazed by the searing surface, Patience pincered one of the doughnuts and brought it to her mouth. Her teeth breached the crisp sugared surface to expose the soft interior. Never had she tasted something so wonderful in such a perfect setting. Anax extended a tendril to sample as well.

From the cover of the arcade, she watched the winds rise and whip the waves into frothy hills. Under a sullen sun masked by a matte gray sky, gulls lazily drifted above the girl and the skull. Still, the ocean darkened into a threatening expanse. With the last of the doughnuts gone, Patience tilted the paper sack into her mouth. The final crumbs and crystals of sugar dropped onto her tongue. The girl rose, beleaguered, and headed back into town.

The even overcast diffused the sunlight into a bright wash across the sky. Even with Anax as a shade, Patience had to squint to navigate up the street. She perused the storefronts and imagined what life in this coastal town was like. It seemed more peaceful than Keaton. However, she could imagine the place suffocatingly crowded once summer came about. Patience felt a twinge nag at her scalp.

“Oh no! I didn’t bring any tea from home,” the girl groaned. She trudged along the sidewalk, staring at herself in the store windows she passed. “You said your mist has restorative and regenerative properties. Can’t you do anything for my burn?”

“I’ve already tried. Your tissue there is too long-damaged for me to affect it any.”

Patience exhaled a whiny sigh. “Two decades and a few years is a long time for a scar to settle …”

“There must be a drugstore or something in this town.”

By a stroke of luck, the two came across an herb shop just as they turned the corner of the street. Its tall windows revealed shelves stocked with a veritable library of goods. Hanging above the door was a wooden sign weathered by the sea air, so much so it was illegible. However, several sigils carved into the plaque announced this place as operated by witches.

Patience had never seen a permanent establishment owned by witches before. Between Keaton and Haverston, there might have been a handful of magic practitioners residing in the county, but whatever trade they plied in was neither in service nor retail. Out of necessity and curiosity, the girl entered the store.

Once across the threshold, a war of scents assailed Patience: aromatic fragrances fought with musty earthen stinks; and stringent clinical odors sought to slice through them all. The noisomeness forced the girl to breathe through her mouth as she gazed around her. Glass jars filled with a plethora of items lined the shelves up to the ceiling. Most contained dried leaves, roots, and strange clusters. Some contained preserved animal parts suspended in liquid. Hefty dried masses of fungus and other things Patience could not identify sat in crates on the floor. In the center were large bins of other dried goods, metal scoops shining in the piles. Above, bundles of herbs hung from the rafters. With every inch of the store offering some sort of remedy, Patience wondered what ailment could not be cured here.

Among the oddities was a lone figure dressed in a worn gray dress. Patience recognized her as the young female witch she spied on the beach earlier. Facing away from the front door, the intricate hair ornaments tucked in her pinned black plait were on full display. She brought a gloved hand to the back of her porcelain neck and scratched a red dot of a bug bite. The bite punctuated the tip of a design that barely peeked over the witch’s collar. Patience pictured the tattoo flowing down the length of her back. A jingle of bells brought Patience to attention again.

Another witch dressed in oxblood taffeta adorned with tiny bells at her belt emerged from a back room. She met the younger witch at the counter.

“Sorry, my dear Tandy. We’re fresh out of ambergris shavings,” sighed the red witch, her feathered hair-piece flapping with a shake of her head.

“Oh, that’s all right. S’pose I’ll pick up some other things for Papa and Da while I’m here, though.” Tandy shrugged and stepped off to the side to browse a shelf, scratching her itch once again.

“I’ve got some salve that’ll sort out that bite!” the red witch lilted.

“Got some at home.” Tandy winked.

The red witch then met Patience’s gaze and beamed, a bright smile flashing against her dark skin. “Welcome! Haven’t seen you around before!”

“Oh, I’m just visiting. I’m on vacation,” said Patience.

“Where are you from?” she asked with sparkling kohl-lined eyes.

“Keaton, Maryana.”

“Ah, Maryana, you say! You’ve traveled quite far to come here! I hope our town is treating you fairly. The name’s Heledd. Here in St. Phocas proper are my family and the Lusines,” said the red witch.

Tandy bowed her head with a sweet smile at Patience as Heledd spoke her family name. Heledd extended an elegant hand. “Miss Tandy, the heir to that line.”

Patience shyly dipped her legs into a conservative curtsey.

“There are also a couple others living in the area, but they don’t visit as often. Just know you’re not alone!”

Patience’s posture straightened. “Oh! But I’m not a witch!”

A look of embarrassment crossed Heledd’s face before she broke into a chuckle, “Ah! I’m sorry! I didn't mean to assume! Welcome to St. Phocas regardless!”

“Thank you,” said Patience. It was then that she noticed Tandy beside her. The young witch was studying her with wide blue eyes.

“Not often I’ll see drybloods wear skulls! If ever!” she commented.

“Oh! I’m wearing this—well …” Patience removed Anax to reveal her burn.

“Ah, I’m sorry, dear,” Heledd clicked her tongue.

“It’s actually why I’ve come to your shop. Do you have anything to soothe my old burn?”

“Got just the thing!” Tandy grinned.

She gently ushered Patience to a shelf with a large wheel of some strange, waxy substance. One might expect it to be a type of cheese at a glance. The young witch took a metal pie knife resting by the side of the wheel and cut off a large slice.

“Here you go. Just boil a portion in some water until it’s fully dissolved, let cool, and once it’s gelatinous, apply it to the area. Ya might feel some tingling, but the pain will go away and stay away for several hours.”

“Th-thank you!” Patience sputtered.

“It’s a mix of things, but seaweed is the main ingredient,” explained Tandy.

Patience brightened, “Is this what your family makes? I’m fairly certain I saw you this morning hauling seaweed out of the ocean.”

“Oh! Right on! Yes, that was us, and yes we craft and sell all sorts of things made from materials we source from the ocean.”

“That’s fascinating!” said Patience. “Do you supply other things to Heledd here?”

Tandy’s eyes twinkled as her rosy lips curled into a smile. “I’ll show you!”

The young witch placed a hand on Patience’s shoulder and led her around the store, stopping at various bins and jars, explaining each item and their properties. As Tandy spoke, some color came to her pallid face.

All the information was overwhelming, but it was interesting nonetheless. “And your family developed all these uses?” asked Patience.

“Some of them. A few are common knowledge—well, at least for witches,” chuckled Tandy. She paused at jar of jellyfish tentacles floating in green fluid. Her delicate finger traced the glass. “My Papa’s family—they’ve lived along the Carolus coast for generations. He doesn’t much care for the water itself, though. Haha, it seems everyone in my family likes the water besides Papa, even Poppy in his old age.

“My surrogate mother too, after she birthed me, she studied to become a wizard specializing in marine biology. And Papa met Da shortly after and he’s a great free diver.” Tandy suddenly paused and slapped a gloved hand to her face. “Oh, sorry! I must be rambling. It’s just not a lot of people show interest in my family.”

“It’s all right! I enjoyed hearing all of it,” Patience simpered. Just this simple conversation shared in pleasant company seemed to ameliorate the discomfort spreading across her burn.

“You probably want to pay and be on your way! Please don’t let me stop you,” Tandy warbled. Patience reassured her again before going to the counter. Leaning back, she flashed Tandy a smile. The young witch returned a grin in kind before resuming her browsing.

“I’ll give you some general pain-relief powder as well, for those aches you can’t treat topically. No extra cost!” offered Heledd. Patience expressed her thanks as the red witch reached below the counter and placed a few small paper packets in front of the girl. “Just dissolve one packet in a cup of water, hot or cold. Take no more than two packets a day. It won’t react with any other medication you might be taking.”

While Heledd wrapped the items in paper and tied everything in a burlap square, a man with a bag of produce entered the store. Sweeping a hand over his pale brow and short black hair, his almond eyes shone as they traveled to the red witch.

“I’m back, Lovely!” He announced. He stepped around the counter, planting a kiss on Heledd’s cheek.

“Welcome back!”

“Hi, Bing!” chirped Tandy from the floor. She had sat herself down to look over some enormous, crusty, fungal plates.

“Tell me, is the ginseng agreeing with Mrs. Phillips?” Heledd asked.

“She’s taken a liking to it,” said Bing while rummaging through his bag. “Looked really happy when I delivered her next prescription.” He placed a couple of oranges on a dish centered before a bearded, red-skinned figure in a small shrine on the back wall.

“Oh wonderful! Could you please start on Mr. Hall’s smoked mandrake roots?” Heledd requested, finishing Patience’s bundle with a neat twine bow.

“You got it.” He sauntered over to a small glass jar, retrieved two tiny roots, and left for the back room.

Patience paid for her items. She reapplied Anax over her head.

“Thank you for stopping by! Hope you enjoy your time here in St. Phocas!” The red witch sang.

“Thank you both for your help!” Patience waved her farewell to Heledd and Tandy. On her way out, Patience took note of a storm glass on a side table. It was cloudy, reminding her of Anax’s mist. The girl left the shop with a sliver of hope that it was wrong and rain was not in the forecast. Relieved to be surrounded by fresh air again, Patience enjoyed a few deep breaths before turning away from the shop entrance.

Outside in the alley next to the store was a smoking shed. Bing stood facing its door, rubbing his head in frustration. Patience stepped a bit closer to peer around the man’s linen-clad back. The door of the shed sported graffiti scrawled in dark charcoal. It read: Burn Hags

“Oh for gods’ sake,” tutted Bing.

It was rather surreal to think these two flippant words could encapsulate hundreds of years of persecution and bloodshed. But that is often the case when humanitarian atrocities are distanced by history and time. As with other religions in the world, the Church seemed to have finally accepted that witches would persist in spite of the quixotic efforts to snuff them out, and perfunctory respect and tolerance had been shown the past ninety years.

Of course even with the quelling of public denouncement championed by religious heads, it did not stop individual congregations from perpetuating the condemnation of witchcraft and other so-called sinful lifestyles. Nor were particularly ardent believers any more open to tolerance, regardless of the standings of the Papacy.

“Do you need help cleaning it off?” asked Patience. Bing turned his head toward her, surprised. He chuckled.

“Not at all. These hoodlums have tried writing their messages in everything. All washed away with one thing or another from our store or supplies we had at home. Now they just write it in charcoal. Easy enough.”

Bing put a thumb into his mouth and took out a globule of spit. He mashed it between his hands and rubbed his palms together. Spreading his fingers, the globule expanded into a wide sheet. With this sheet suspended between his hands, he pressed over sections of the graffiti and lifted the charcoal off, the wood beneath looking exceptionally clean. He repeated this until the phrase was all gone.

“See? Easy,” he repeated, giving her a wink. Patience shrunk into her shoulders and nodded, feeling a little foolish as she left. Witches proved time and time again they could find solutions for themselves. It was no wonder they had a strong community disinclined to openly seek an embrace from other humans outside of business and formalities. She should have known better than to naively ask, but something in the man’s demeanor suggested he appreciated the kind intention.

“Witches are fascinating creatures,” Anax spoke as they turned the block. “They’re like you, but can do interesting things like me.”

“I suppose that’s true,” said Patience. “Have you come across any witches before?”

“No. Never.”

She nodded. It had been a while since Patience last glanced through a history book, but she surmised Vyugary experienced an inquisition. Eureba saw the greatest eradication efforts due to its deep-rooted history with the Church. If not killed or forced into hiding, many witches left the continent entirely, seeking refuge in Assuwa, Afari, or the New World. But as that period passed, some began to flock back to their homeland, ever proud to practice magic on the soil of their ancestors. A thoughtful hum passed her lips as she thought of the various people scattered across the globe for one reason or another, like the dust in the sea breeze hitting her back.

As Patience wound her way through the streets, she noticed the overcast had thickened and the air chilled. A few droplets of water struck Anax, softly echoing through the cavern of his skull. The girl cursed the storm glass as if it were the one controlling the weather. The day at the beach looked to be hopeless. She made her way back toward her hotel, seeking a pastime closer to her lodging. A gurgle bubbled from her belly, whining to be fed.

When she found an eatery that promised the cuisine she sought, the water came down in sheets. It beat into her poor jacket and soaked it through. If she were a more dramatic person, the rain might as well have been her tears lamenting her lost day at the beach. Patience kicked her boots of water before pulling open the heavy door of the Salted Strop pub.

A hug of muggy air greeted them inside. The stale, damp smell of fabric and bodies accompanied the warmth. The dreary weather had driven many souls inside. A cursory glance at the place revealed the types that felt comfortable in the dark, smoke-stained interior. On any other occasion, the girl would have gone elsewhere, but her stomach loudly protested her apprehension. At the very least, one boon of musky establishments scant of women was that they often served the healthiest of portions. Patience closed the door, shutting out the cold and rain.

“Do you think the clam chowder is good here? Or should I go for a whole fish …” Patience pondered aloud as she stared at the weekly menu on a board by the entrance.

“We can come back again to try something else for supper,” suggested Anax in a low murmur. While the pub was generally crowded with people all lost in their own conversations, Anax kept his voice barely audible, mostly projecting inside his skull for only Patience to hear.

“This place is such a short walk from our hotel, I suppose we could!” said the girl. She was not as cautious. If people perceived her to be talking to herself, perhaps there was a chance they would grant her more space. Unapproachable was a desirable thing to be in a place like this.

Her vision tunneled toward the bar where the staff hurried to take orders, fill glasses, and serve meals. Patience squeezed herself between musty woolen bodies to reach the bar. The clusters of people became much more dense the closer they were to the bottles of alcohol. Confirming there were a couple of empty tables on the periphery, Patience caught the attention of a barmaid before the seats were filled. The girl ordered a bread bowl of clam chowder.

“I’ll be sitting over there in that corner! Well, I’m sure you can find me,” laughed Patience gesturing to Anax. Suddenly aware of herself, she cleared her throat and paid. The barmaid smiled back and left to put in the order.

Patience meandered through the space to the empty table she had spotted earlier. A grimace flashed over her face as she heard and felt her soaked jacket squish against the chair. Leaning forward, the girl idly scratched at the various bits of graffiti carved into the worn tabletop. The barmaid came by and set a cup of water in front of her. Giving her thanks, Patience then poured in one of Heledd’s packets. Anax mixed it into the water with a slim tendril. The girl’s eyes traveled around the room, scanning the male patrons. Might as well enjoy the view while she waited for lunch.

The pub currently presented a few individuals who stirred her interest. One, a sharp-faced fisherman sat hunched over his meal protectively, his mouth downy soft in contrast to his other features. Another man had emerald green eyes set like jewels against his copper skin, his jaws smoked with a hint of stubble. Easing her gaze toward the bar, she skipped a breath when her eyes fell upon quite the striking figure.

Every hair from the man’s neatly combed head to his stiff jaw glared a silvery white. He sat upright, with more propriety than most of the brutes and blokes here. A long coat cascaded over the back of the stool, draping regally. Under a low brow, he intensely stared at the bar’s display of bottles. Patience ogled him long enough to force a grumble from Anax.

“He’s a hunter,” warned the skull.

Patience looked the man over, sensing a stringent aura surrounding him. “How can you tell?” she whispered from the side of her mouth.

“He bears a blade constructed with the shell of one of my brethren.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, diverting her attention back to her table.

“Yes. I saw it when we passed him to order. I didn’t want to mention it until we were well away.”

“Maybe he got it as a gift?”

“I would not take any chances.”

“Should I take you off? So that he doesn’t—”

“The moment we walked in here it was too late. He’s spotted us.”

Through the boisterous crowd she saw the older man as still as could be, with his head tilted her way, glowering into her soul. She whipped her head, and Anax, down to their table.

“Dammit. Should we go? But I just ordered my food—”

“Wait. He’s—leaving …”

Patience slowly turned to see that indeed was the truth. The man wove between patrons to exit through the front entrance.

"Curious, that," murmured Anax, "—to see the shell of my kind used as a hilt."

"Do we need to worry about him? He did see you …"

"What good am I to him? I've already died once. If he wanted a trophy, it's too late. I'm yours."

Patience warmed at Anax's last sentence, surprising herself. She gently stroked his jaw before breathing a sigh of relief. It was a small scare to her day, but she calmed with the skull's consolation. Eventually her meal came to their table and she was able to fully enjoy the chowder.

After lunch they emerged from the pub to find the rain pouring down even harder. The clouds had thickened so much they brought an early nightfall. Patience sighed and trotted back to her hotel. Anax slipped a small tendril under her jacket to stroke her back reassuringly. He was content and did not mind retiring early.

The jacket and the rest of her clothes hung over the dresser and writing desk to dry. Stripped to her undergarments, Patience drew a seat up to the small table in her room. She inspected her purchases from Heledd’s shop. The paper used to wrap the items were watermarked with several insignias. She wondered if they had any magical purpose in regard to the items they protected or if they were simply decoration. Regardless, she arranged them neatly on the table, ready to be used at a moment’s notice.

The chowder was hearty enough Patience could skip supper. Without any other plans for the night, the girl indulged in another bath. Soaking in the water, she recollected the memories forged that day. Despite the rain, meeting witches, eating good food, seeing some attractive faces, and relaxing in a hot bath brought a smile to her face. These simple pleasures were enough to justify this trip, she thought.