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Home›Fiction›The Witch’s Task

The Witch’s Task

By Shannon Richards
November 10, 2025
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Surrounded by smoke, a dark, hooded Sorcerer gives a menacing stare.
1tamara2 / Pixabay
This entry is part 3 of 3 in the series Aryn, Witch of Anacaris

Aryn, Witch of Anacaris

Rows of archaic spell bottles line shelves leading to a castle window

The Sorcerer’s Flock

September 8, 2025
A forbidding stone castle sits atop a wooded hill while lightning clashes behind it.

The Master’s Decree

October 6, 2025
Surrounded by smoke, a dark, hooded Sorcerer gives a menacing stare.
1tamara2 / Pixabay

The Witch’s Task

November 10, 2025
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“Yes, Master.” I choke out the words to relieve the pressure on my throat. Finally, Kaelthar releases me. I stumble back, gasping for air.  

He stands from the desk and stalks toward me. I slink away as he draws close.  

“The others won’t believe you if you tell them.” Is he reading my thoughts? “They took my word about the planet, and they’ll do the same now.”  

He’s right. They’re trained to trust him, have been their whole lives. Kaelthar is the most powerful Sorcerer in Anacaris. With that ability, the population assumes a slew of qualities, including benevolence. We’ve always imagined the skill was due to his natural talents; nobody knew he was cheating. It’s not just them; no one in the world will listen to me.  

His stale breath invades my nostrils. “Go; say nothing. The less your little friend hiding around the corner knows, the better. They’d have been fodder already, but they’re barely above a sub.” He flicks his wrist, and the door flies open.   

I need no further invitation to flee. As I burst from the room, the oak planks slam shut behind me. Ember rushes to meet me, and I collapse against them. A sob wracks my shoulders. They shush me and smooth my hair. I feel their jaw flexing over the top of my head as though they want to ask more, but they hold their thoughts.  

We leave as soon as I stop shaking, having no desire to encounter Kaelthar as he exits. Ember leads the way down the serpentine passages. We arrive at the lecture hall early, the empty space affording some privacy.   

“Everything is true,” I blurt. “He sacrificed her to use her body as spell ingredients.”   

They slump, jaw slack, eyes wide with shock. A shudder runs through their frame.   

“And he’s planning to kill more of them.” A sob wracks me. “It’s the source of his power.”  

“Why tell you?” Concern and confusion fight for dominance in their expression.  

“He wants me on his side!”  

We hear footsteps. Jelric leads the apprentices into the room. Relief washes over him and rocks the nine students who follow. Waser, Blava, Kaian, even Tyrak seems glad to see us. Alde’s face falls first, then the befuddlement becomes widespread.   

Kaian shoves the others aside. “Is Zeph with you?”  

I glance at Jelric. Pain clouds his icy eyes. The remaining rays of hope evaporate. “No…”  

“And where is Ortha?” Alde, her roommate and best friend, bursts into tears. “The last time I saw her, she was on her way to the library.”   

Kaelthar enters, wearing new royal purple robes embroidered with sparkling thread matching the soft gold of Ortha’s hair.  

“Take your seats,” he commands.  

“Master,” Waser squeaks, drawing a menacing glare, “where are Zeph and Ortha?”  

“They have left my tutelage.” He doesn’t look at Waser when he speaks; he levels his response directly at me, daring me to open my mouth.  

“They gave up and went home?” Alde asked.   

Kaelthar glowers in her direction, the dark energy gathering behind him, and she cowers.  “I’ve said as much. Now be seated or follow them.” He turns to the chalkboard and begins writing sums we’re meant to copy. No one dares to speak again.  

***  

I ladle my bowl full of the thick stew I find in the pot at lunch and carry my food to the table where Alde sits, her face red and puffy.   

“She didn’t even say goodbye.” Her tears well back up.   

I lean in close to her. “Don’t believe his lies.” I check our surroundings; our watchdog is blessedly absent. “Kaelthar killed her.”   

Somewhere around here, Jelric is having this conversation with Kaian, Zeph’s roommate. I filled him and Tyrak in with cryptic whispers in the hallway. Tyrak had scoffed, but Jelric understood the danger. Ember should have snagged Weser, their own dormmate, to bend their ear.   

Alde’s lips twist into a smirk. “The Master would never do something so vile.”   

My stare bores deep into hers. “We found her dead body.”   

Her brown irises darken.  “It can’t be true! The Sorcerer Kaelthar is-”  

“A murderer.” I cut her off. “He’s grown his strength by sacrificing his apprentices to add their magic to his own.”  

Her hands flail weakly. “No.”  

“I can prove it,” I promise her.   

“Don’t take me to Ortha’s corpse!” She jumps forward and clasps my wrist.   

Somehow, I doubt that’s where we found it. But the bone…. “No, I’ll show you something else.”  

Suddenly, Ember thunders over, bowl in hand. “What’s in this stew?” they demand, thrusting their lunch under my nose.  

I poke at the thick mass. The light brown goop consists of potatoes, meat, carrots, and onions. It doesn’t occur to me what they mean.  

They drop the dish onto the table. “That’s not beef. Not mutton either.” Ember would know.  

The blood drains from my skin. My stomach drops. With trembling hands, I gawk at my half-eaten food.  

“Venison?” Alde ventures, taking another bite.   

“Definitely not,” Ember assures her.  

“Rabbit?”  

Ember shakes their head.  

It takes everything in me not to vomit. I snatch the abomination from Alde. “Come on. We’re going to the garden.”  

Aldi makes no objection when I grab her lunch, toss it in the trash, and lead her out of the room. Ember stomps away, gathering Jelric and the boys. Weser is already in the hall, glowing a faint chartreuse. Our group proceeds silently through the passages, terrified in their emptiness. The bright sunlight outside inspires no confidence, as though the birds are spies. When we reach the rosemary bush where we’d left the bone, I part the woody stems, waiting for the long, ivory scepter to emerge.   

Nothing is there.   

I check the neighboring bushes. “Where is it?”  

“This is your amazing secret?” Kaian scoffs. “The plant roots?”  

Jelric turns to him. “It was here last night.”  

Tyrak can’t help but nod. “I saw it, too.”  

“Saw what?” Alde demands.  

“The bone,” we chant together.  

Ember balls their fists. “What’s happening here?” Glowering with rage, they push Kaian aside and search the rosemary themselves. Then they drop to their knees, digging for evidence in the dirt.  

Kaian snorts. “This is low, even for you, Aryn. You obviously hate the Master, but you don’t have to make up such baleful stories!”  

Alde crosses her arms. “My best friend is gone, and you turn it into a joke!”  

A deep groan escapes me. Convincing them is proving harder than I’d hoped.  

“She’s not lying!” Jelric jumps in to defend me.  

“Of course you believe her,” Kaian shoots back. “Anyone can see your little crush!”  

This is too much information to absorb. A crush? On me? Jelric deepens three shades of pink, and it doesn’t seem to be due to anger.  

Tyrak waves. “Really, it’s not-”  

“I don’t know why you’re going along with this!” Kaian flings his hand at Tyrak. “You, of all people-”  

“Everyone,” Ember’s voice booms as they rise from the basil plants, “look!” They cradle a smooth, round object. They turn it to reveal a gleaming skull.  

Silence strikes the group. We stare into the empty eye sockets. Alde shrieks and starts to run. Weser blocks her path. “Wait! We need a plan.” 

I pound my fist into my palm. “We have to talk to the others. Convince them to leave. Anyone who stays is in danger.” The stricken faces nod in agreement.  

***  

When we return to the main hall, chaos breaks out. With all seven of us attesting to the story, the other students panic and start grabbing their belongings. Within half an hour of discovering the skull, the twelve who remain gather in the atrium, preparing for our next steps.  

Ember glances at the frightened teenagers. “So, we just… go home?” they demand incredulously. “After everything that’s happened?”  

As they speak, thick, dark smoke coalesces behind them, weaving between our group and the door. Tendrils of the vapor swirl to form Kaelthar’s visage. “None of you are going anywhere.” The Sorcerer appears, trapping us between himself and his apparition. The force wraps around my throat again, constricting my airway and lifting me off my feet.   

Ember darts straight at Kaelthar, pounding him with their fists. Fierce flashes erupt from each strike as though they were hammering against a diamond barrier. He laughs at the effort. “Foolish twit! I’d have sacrificed you long ago if you were any better than a sub!” With a backhanded swing, he throws them to the ground. Everyone scatters, looking for escape. I struggle for breath, still hovering.  

Above the random screams, Jelric’s voice calls out, “We have to work together!”  

As darkness seeps into my vision, I hear a sharp crack, and suddenly, I hit the floor. I choke on the air, my greedy lungs gulping too fast. Weser stands over Kaelthar, a chunk of firewood in their hands. Before he can get to his feet, Jelric and Kaian charge him from opposite sides, each wielding the dowel from a nearby tapestry as a staff. Kaelthar lashes out at both of them with the choking force. Blava and Teth launch a frontal assault, wailing on him with our heaviest bags a few times, but he catches them too.   

Ember approaches me, glowing red-hot from head to toe. “Our turn.” They take my elbow and drag me into the fray.  

With no other resources, I call on the depths of my will. Beside me, Ember burns with rage. Kaelthar’s power is stretched thin. He can’t grab us without releasing the others. I create a brilliant blue burst of energy. It crackles three feet through the air, growing as it flies.   

A fierce, green wall of flame shoots up to shield Kaelthar from the force as he drops the rest of his holds to block my spell.   

Ember thrusts their arms forward, as if throwing an invisible ball. A single stream of red lightning streaks into Kaelthar, and he bursts into flames. His magic melts as he collapses onto the floor, screaming soundlessly in the milliseconds before the combustion is complete. His bare skeleton chars and withers into a smoking heap.  

“Teach him to discount a sub.” Ember spits on the ashes.   

A cheer rises. I hug Ember. Jelric pats them on the back. As soon as I release them, Weser wraps them in an embrace. Kaian and Teth cross weapons, and everyone joins in celebrating.  

Jelric takes my hand. “You were great.”  

I wrap my arms around him. “It took everyone to beat him.” He presses his lips to mine, holding me close.  

Gradually, the raucous roar dies out. Ember’s hazel eyes train on me. “What now?”  

I gaze at my companions, chewing my lower lip. “I might have an idea.”  

***  

We stop for the night along the trail, a motley crew ripe for robbery but for the little we carry. About the time my stomach grumbles the next morning, I am leading the way through familiar forests. The scent of my mother’s bread reaches me before I see home. She steps to the window to bring it in and catches sight of our caravan marching down the path. She meets the entourage at the entrance. “Aryn, what’s this?”   

“Kaelthar was evil. He grew his magic by killing his students.” I give her a meaningful stare. She searches my aura and finds my words true.   

She embraces me with tears. “My darling! What a horrible experience!”  

I indulge for as long as possible. When I release her, I motion to the other apprentices beside me. “We need you to be our new Master, Mom.” 

“Oh, but everything I’ve imparted to you took a lifetime!” she protests. “I don’t know how to teach structured lessons. I’m no Sorcerer!”   

“We have faith in you.” Ember bows with respect. “We’d like to learn from someone capable of love.”  

My mother searches the faces in front of her. Her smile blooms. “Let’s go inside for lunch.” She waves toward the door. 


Editor: Lucy Cafiero

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Aryn, Witch of Anacaris

The Master’s Decree
Tagsmagicshort storyserial fictionYoung Adultspooky seasonDark Fantasy
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Shannon Richards

Shannon lives outside of Cleveland where she homeschools her two children. Since she was young, she has loved running off into the woods to write stories and poems, look for space ships, and dance fairy rings.

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