Monochrome Witch

“Master. What. Is. Outside. Night. But. Bright?”

The broken words of her creation gave the young witch pause. Zinnia watched as the ethereal shadow lingered before the circular window of their shared tower, their home and shelter from the world outside.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, dear. Aren’t you happy here with me?”

Snapping its head back (or rather, what would be its head if it had one), the misty blackness seemed rather irritated. An odd emotion, she found, for a creature so devoid of anything human.

“Of. Course. But. Curious.”

Zinnia closed the book she was reading, one she detested above all else, and walked towards the window herself to see what all the fuss was about. And what she saw gave her an ugly feeling of jealousy.

Her heart skipped a beat that night.

When she created the shadow she called her familiar by accident, she tried her best to make its new home as comfortable and pretty as possible. Their tower was quite tall, but still made out of old cobble she foraged from the broken war-torn streets of the kingdom. Yet inside it was as comfortable as could be. Libraries filled with all manners of knowledge she could salvage, a fireplace to warm the non-existent heart, and several soft beds. Just in case she accidentally created more companions.

And despite that, the shadow always found its way to the window. Day in, day out. And even worse so at night. Zinnia regretted building her home so close to the castle, but she never did have the strength to completely tear herself away from the royal family. A decision which was coming back to bite her, it seemed.

A pristine castle, its structure painted with the color of green to celebrate the newest victory of their greatest knight, Narcissa. Oh, how the witch detested that egotistical little rat! The power she was born with was undeserved. She was lucky, Zinnia was not. Even at night, the castle seemed to glow.

Her heart skipped a beat. Zinnia relaxed, her face turning gentler.

“Do you wish to go there, dear?” She asked her familiar, a sad tone to her voice. “To the beautiful emerald castle?”

The shadow seemed to hesitate, which made the sorrow in the witch’s heart grow deeper. But its response eased her mind, even if for just a little bit.

“Will. Stay. Just. Watching.”

After it said that, the shade floated to the library once more, looking at the covers of certain books. Zinnia joined it, curiously observing its movements.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Nerd,” she said with teasing malice. If the shadow could glare, it definitely would have, she was certain of it.

“Knowledge. Power.”

“Sure.”

It was always a fascinating sight for her, watching as her creation grasped a singular book with its nigh invisible tendrils. It showed the book to her. Of course, it was the one she had just put away.

“That one? Psh, the author is an idiot.”

But the shadow insisted and almost pressed the book in her face. With a haughty chuckle, the witch took it and read the story once more. Why it was always so fascinated with that story, she never figured out.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The tale spoke of a great queen born under a bright and shining star. Though she entered the world as a peasant, nay, a servant of an existing royal family, her mother knew that she was born to be great. Indeed, from a very young age she had the love of mother nature itself, Gaia. All wildlife bowed to her, from the tiniest of insects to the greatest of dragons. There was no exception. Her parents told her that she was imbued with the spirit of a once great king, and that she was his destined reincarnation. Young as she was, she didn’t quite understand, but she still wanted to do good. Because helping others above yourself was a feeling incomparable to any other. It was a blessing to be born with the power to help others.

The great Cynthia grew up as a respectable woman and warrior, learning the ways of the sword and elegance and noble bearing. There was nothing that could impede her rise to the throne, for even the king himself was enamored with the lady. She was beloved by all, the wonderful queen Cynthia.

Tales of her began to rise, how instead of defeating the wild beasts evil sorcerers would send the kingdom’s way, she would befriend them, make them their ally. And soon enough, none would even attempt to attack and conquer their homeland, for they would have to face the wrath of one of the many beasts, at times even a dragon. Cynthia Fey was to be the greatest queen in all of the land.

It was a short story, incomplete with missing pieces here and there. But that was all that was written. The shadow who’d been reading alongside her over her shoulder purred like a satisfied cat who just had a hearty meal. It seemed to enjoy the simple stories over epics that spanned pages upon pages. It had a simple mind, which Zinnia couldn’t complain about. As soon as the witch stood up, she heard it. A faint, tiny humming sound. So quiet you almost couldn’t hear it. But it was unmistakable.

Her gaze was directed towards the circular window where a tiny speck of black could be seen frantically zipping around, trying to find entrance. Shelter from the storm that was soon to come, Zinnia realized. Immediately, as to not waste any time, the woman walked towards the window to open it. The bee couldn’t speak, but she could feel it thanking her nonetheless as it flew in and took refuge near the warm fireplace. It was an adorable sight.

Watching it all unfold, the shadow made an odd choking noise of frustration and vanished into its private chambers, which consisted of literally nothing but a singular light and a mirror. Zinnia couldn’t help but chuckle.

“There is no need for envy, dear!”

But it didn’t respond. Which was just as well, because Zinnia knew that her familiar’s bursts of jealousy didn’t tend to last long. In due time, it would come to befriend the bee as well, she was certain of that fact. Speaking of that little insect, it was now happily buzzing around the room after having warmed up, curiously flying around the few flowers she had on her table. There were four of these flowers, each having a special connection to her. For better or for worse.

There was a purple one, its petals formed into a dome shape. The bee glanced at it and took to flying to the next one.

The one that followed had a white, almost pink cluster of petals growing out of its stem. Though poisonous, Zinnia never had any problem with it. This one too was only gifted a passing glance.

There were only two left. Dread set into the witch’s heart.

The second to last flower she had on display was a red one with a star-shaped flowerhead. And when it too was given no more than a sniff, Zinnia’s heart skipped a beat.

Before the bee could even so much as look at the simple white daffodil that was the most cared for, it was flung against the wall with an unseen force.

Her hands glowing a purplish hue in color, the witch stared at the bee, her blood boiling dangerously.

“My, my, even the insects that were promised to be my undying allies have forsaken me, have they? What is so special about Narcissa anyway?”

Again and again, with every syllable spat from the witch’s lips, the bee was flung against the wall, its weak buzzing noise inaudible to the wrath of its attacker.

“She’s nothing compared to me, nothing! I have the power of a king on my side, she has nothing but a gorilla of a knight!”

Again. Again. Again! Again! Zinnia continued to throw the tiny insect against the wall, not even caring as its wings were torn off one by one, its buzzing weak and almost crying.

It took a gentle ethereal hand(?) on her shoulder to stop her. Only then did she realize what she’d done.

“I….”

Zinnia’s heart skipped a beat one final time. As she looked at the broken body of what she would have considered a friend, she broke down.

A queen must always be strong for her subjects, never to show a single sign of fault in her step. But Zinnia was not a queen. She was never meant to be one. So she allowed her weakness and grief to break through her emotional walls.

That was what had become of her. Nothing more than an evil witch living in a tower, killing innocent animals and using them for experiments.

“Master. No. Cry.”

And so Zinnia’s sobbing reduced to sniffles as she accepted the cold tendril on her shoulder.

The bee was later unceremoniously buried near all the other animals she’d killed in her fits of rage. The dirt in front of the tower was beginning to look like a tiny graveyard.

It was later in the night when the shadow was resting. Zinnia looked out the window, watching as the serfs merrily scrubbed the paint from the castle to return it to its former white once more. It had begun raining, but they didn’t seem to care. They were far too happy serving their kingdom and Narcissa.

A single raindrop made its way to the window, running down the glass. Zinnia watched as the reflection of her split in half. When she blinked, all color drained from her vision. Black and white, such was her divided face.

What had gone wrong that made her into the woman she was today? She was born with the powers of nature’s king and was to grow into the woman she’d written about when she was but a naive young girl.

She lost track of time watching the happy workers do their job. So much so that dawn broke and the sun rose from behind the mountains.

Zinnia couldn’t help but wonder. Would things have been different if fate had birthed her as a mere powerless human? Would she have been able to befriend her sister and the two twin brothers? Narcissa was an arrogant fool, but perhaps Zinnia could have changed her, raised her to be a noble lady, kind such as her.

Maybe she could still attempt it. The witch stood up from her seating position near the window, giving it another glance. Somebody had walked out, her unmistakable green cape billowing in the wind. Her boisterous merry voice could even be picked up far above in the tower.

Zinnia’s heart skipped a beat.

Of course not. Narcissa would live an arrogant fool, die an arrogant fool. And Zinnia wouldn’t miss it for the world.