Through the hallway into the night. The sky was clouded and hid the moon and stars. She tried not to stumble as she followed the wall towards the stables. While she couldn’t see well, the primitive resonance was unmistakable. Not to mention she has done the exact same thing multiple times in the past. The stables were always locked from the inside during the night but that had never stopped her before.

She cursed when her foot crashed into a bucket, tipping it over and spilling out the remaining water on the ground. She backed off as quick as she could, trying not to get her feet wet. Silently she cursed at the stable boy for being sloppy. She was very careful not to step in the small puddle when she maneuvered around it. The stable door was just beyond. Simply for the sake of trying she tried to push it open, with no success. With her foot she drew a line a hand length away from the door. She grabbed the frame as not to fall when she placed both her feet between the line and the door.

She pressed her ear against the door and listened. She wasn’t listening for the common sound, or the noise. She was listening and waiting for... the window of opportunity. It is common knowledge that inanimate things do not move even if they are told. The wonderful thing about witches was that, if asked nicely, even dead things would what was asked of them. The tricky thing was knowing when, how and what to ask. Luckily, she knew this door well.

“Lift the latch,” she whispered. And so it did. She could hear wood grind upon wood as the latch was being raised on the other side. With a last soft thud, there was nothing to stop her from opening the door. Pushing it open she immediately went for one of the oil lanterns, or where it was supposed to be. The stable boy was going to get it when she found him.

Since it was pointless to shuffle around in the dark, she walked straight to the opposite wall and unhooked the less used lantern. A splashing sound was heard when she shook it, it was good, she didn’t need to refill it. She knelt and placed the oil lamp down on the floor. Fetching two stones she lightly knocked them together close to the wick. Without her needing to ask, a small flame flared up, finally giving her some light to see with. She put the stones back into her pouch, grabbed the lantern and she also took a shovel on her way out. She was going to come back so she didn’t bother to lock the door.

She walked away from the tavern and the center of the town, out into the fields. Her first stop was in the middle of the field straight south from her house, three feet below the earth. It wasn’t a short distance, and she didn’t have anything special to occupy her mind. There was nothing that could distract her when her belly made it perfectly clear that going outside without eating first was a terrible idea. She increased her pace and swallowed her regret.

After digging up the fist-sized box, that was buried within the soil, she carefully wiped it down with the sleeve of her tunic. She unlocked the clasp, sharpened her senses and slowly opened the lid. Normally, nothing big would happen. She would feel the standard wave of energy being released. Tonight, she didn’t feel anything at all. Feeling that nothing would come, she tossed the lid open. Immediately she tossed the container back into the pit, not even bothering to close it. Smooth stones that should be clear and hold different colored sparkles, fell out of the box, broken and lifeless.

Hungry and mad she shoveled the dirt back into the hole. She had spent a good fortune on getting the majority of those gems, and spent an eternity searching for some herself. If these were broken, the risk of the others being broken was high.

She walked in a circle around the village, stopping seven times to find similar boxes hidden around the place. One in a three, one she fished up from the town well, one hidden underneath loose planks in an abandoned shack, the rest a foot or two below ground. Every box containing useless gems.

When she returned to the stables the ruckus in the main hall had died down, there was still some people left but most had retired or passed out. The resonance wasn’t as strong. This was a good thing, not only because there was less noise, but because she could take the door leading from the stables directly into the house without needing to walk into the heart of others. She put the latch back from the inside, reattached the lantern to the wall and put back the shovel from where she had taken it. The door into the main hall didn’t have a lock, it was well-oiled and swung open without any resistance.

After she closed the door she looked at herself. The dying hearth didn’t provide much light, but it was enough together with the candle lights here and there. She was covered in dirt and dust, and when she climbed that three one of her sleeves tore. The night had been chillier than what she expected, so she was dirty, hungry and angry about her destroyed property. She craved a bath, but first a meal.

She maneuvered around the tables aiming for the kitchen. Her eyes lanced once over the room in search for her parents but didn’t find them. With the decreased resonance her necklace blocked out close to every wave, she couldn’t tell how many was in the kitchen from this distance. Reaching the counter, she walked around and passed through the doorway into the kitchen. Nobody was there. The stove was still on fire, but she could tell it hadn’t been fed. Reasonable, since it was so late.

She looked in one of the pots for something eatable, porridge was eatable. It wasn’t much left, but it was enough to satiate her until she had washed herself. No matter how much she wanted one, baths were often more trouble than they were worth. She grabbed the biggest pot she could find, put it on the stove, filled it with water and placed a rock from her pouch as close to the fire as she could.

She scooped up some porridge into a bowl and went to the main hall to sit an eat. There were too many delicate things in her room to risk eating there, she told herself. The room was calm and uneventful, the remaining guests didn’t even notice her as they quietly chattered on. She picked an empty table away from the people. She still hadn’t seen either her parents or the two employed workers.

Even though she was mad, she didn’t stop listening to the things around her. She’d done that mistake in the past and it was neither pleasant nor looked kindly upon by her parents. The tantrums had always ended in her protection losing effect, getting shocked by the unfiltered sounds, noise, feelings and the sixth sense of a witch. At the same time getting a real scolding from either one of her parents.

She liked her sixth sense the most, it was the least noisy and always being tuned in to it was good practice. She wouldn’t call herself a talented witch, she was too young to have any significant knowledge, and so far, she hadn’t found another witch other than the one who introduced her and showed her the basics. She guessed most witches were mostly self-taught. That man hadn’t met many witches himself and he had never heard of a group of them at the same place before either. The more witches that flocked together, the faster the churches would sniff them out apparently. Even two together had a much higher chance to be found than one.

She was suddenly struck with the idea that it might be because of the resonance. The churches loved their empaths for a reason after all, they made it easy to single out the unfaithful. She fanaticized about what life she would have lived if she walked up to the church a few years ago, announcing her “talent” and willingness to serve the gods. The porridge wasn’t very tasty, it was less so now. Thinking about all the people she had to meet, sermons to hold, and all that resonance made her sick. Even if she didn’t believe in what she did she was smart enough to know that pretending to be someone else could be potentially brainwashing.

She looked down at the bowl, it was empty. Right timing, she didn’t think she could eat another spoon of it. Looking up the room was still relatively quiet. Nobody had moved and there was no sight of the owners. She raised her hand towards her neck but hesitated. She didn’t want to, but she felt compelled to find out why. She cleared her head of unpleasant thoughts, grabbed the necklace and pulled it off.

Quiet, too quiet. The usual rush wasn’t there, everything was going at a snail’s pace. It was like someone had covered the place with a big blanket. The tones were muffled, the colors dulled, and there was no intensity. It was almost like everyone was asleep, including those she could see was awake. Since nothing was resonating that well, the range she could pinpoint people’s location was greatly reduced.

She stood up and headed into the kitchen. It was unnerving, but she tried not to put much thought into it. Whatever caused this filter, she couldn’t do anything about it as it was now. First, she was going to wash herself.