Ana returned to the cottage as the light began to fade. The air was colder now, the evening closing in with thick shadows. She entered the house to find Mara seated by the hearth, her fingers twisting a string of dried herbs.
"Well?" Mara asked, not looking up.
Ana hesitated, her heart racing with an unspoken question. "I did what you asked. I drew the rune." She wasn't sure how to feel about it — had she succeeded? Failed? The mark had vanished so quickly.
"Did it glow?" Mara's voice was still soft, but her eyes glinted like the edge of a blade.
"Yes," Ana admitted, "for a moment. Then it disappeared."
Mara's lips curled into a small, unreadable smile. She set the herbs aside and stood up, slowly, as if considering something. She walked to the window, pulling back the curtain just enough to peer into the forest.
"It is good that it vanished," she said, her voice quiet. "A true rune does not remain in the world. It is a pulse, a breath, and then it returns to the earth, where it belongs."
Ana frowned. "I don't understand. What does it mean?"
Mara turned, her eyes locking onto Ana's. "Magic is not something you can hold. Not in the way you hold a stone or a coin. Magic is a language, yes. But it is also a part of everything — living, breathing. The forest, the stone, the sky, the soil... It speaks in a thousand ways, and it doesn't wait for us to catch up."
Ana's mind raced. "So... I can speak to it, then?"
"Not yet." Mara's smile faded. She moved closer, her footsteps almost soundless. "First, you must listen. Learn what it has already told you."
She reached out, gently taking Ana's hand. "Magic listens first to the heart. You must give it something in return, or it will grow quiet."
Ana's breath caught in her throat, her skin cold under Mara's touch. "What do I have to give?"
"Everything," Mara said simply. "Your will. Your memories. Your fear. And most of all, your silence."
Ana didn't know how to respond. She had no words. The weight of Mara's gaze, the knowledge in those ancient eyes, was enough to make her feel small. Unprepared. It was more than just magic. It was a bond. A trade. And she wasn't sure she was ready for it.
Mara released her hand and turned back to the hearth. "But for tonight," she said, as if the conversation had never happened, "you rest. Tomorrow, I will show you the fire that whispers."
Ana nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak. She moved to the small bed near the wall, the soft mattress not offering much comfort. The fire crackled and popped behind her, but her mind was too busy, too full of questions.
The night after Mara's cryptic lesson, Ana sat by the fire, waiting for the witch to speak again. The air was thick with silence, punctuated only by the crackle of burning wood and the occasional hoot of an owl. She could feel the weight of Mara's presence, like a shadow looming at the edge of her thoughts. There was something about the way Mara moved — so carefully, so deliberately — as if each gesture had been honed by years of practice.
Ana hesitated before speaking, the question pressing on her lips. "You said the forest speaks. How do you know what it says?"
Mara didn't answer immediately. She continued to stir the pot over the fire, her back turned. Ana couldn't help but notice the way the flickering flames made the lines on Mara's face seem deeper, as if they were carved by the passing of time itself. The witch seemed much older than she had first appeared — and, Ana realized, much more ancient than the villagers had ever let on.
Finally, Mara's voice broke the silence. "You think the forest speaks with words," she said, her tone distant. "But it does not. It speaks with memories."
Ana furrowed her brow, confused. "Memories?"
"Yes," Mara said, her gaze flicking to Ana, her green eyes sharp. "The forest remembers things. It remembers the people who have walked its paths, the animals that have lived and died, the witches who have come before. It remembers their hopes, their fears, their choices. And when you listen closely enough, you can hear their stories."
Ana sat forward, her curiosity piqued. "And what do you hear? What stories does the forest tell you?"
Mara's lips curled into a faint, almost bitter smile. "It tells me my own story." She paused, as if considering whether to continue. Then, with a deep breath, she spoke again, her voice softer now.
"I was born in a village much like this one, far from here. The people there were kind, but they feared the unknown. They feared what they couldn't understand. And so, when I began to show signs of my magic, they did what all fearful people do: they pushed me away."
Ana leaned in, eager to know more.
"I was only a child when I first felt the power in me. It came in dreams at first, whispers in the dark, the pull of the moon. I was drawn to the woods, just as you were. But unlike you, I did not run. I walked into the forest willingly."
Mara's eyes darkened as she spoke, and Ana noticed how her hands trembled slightly. "The forest welcomed me. It taught me its language, its secrets. It gave me strength. But it also took something from me."
Ana's heart began to race. "What did it take?"
Mara's eyes seemed far away, as if she were reliving something long buried. "It took my family. My people. The ones I had once loved." Her voice broke, just for a moment, before she steadied herself. "The forest gives. But it also takes. You cannot escape that."
Ana felt a cold shiver run down her spine, though she wasn't sure whether it was fear or empathy. She understood now why Mara was so guarded, why she kept her distance from the villagers, why she never spoke of her past. The witch had lost something — or perhaps someone — to the forest.
"And what happened to them?" Ana asked softly.
Mara's gaze flickered toward the fire, her expression unreadable. "They never returned. I called for them, but the forest answered with silence. The memories of my family became part of the forest's heart. And in exchange, I became its keeper."
There was a long silence. Ana felt the weight of Mara's words settle over her, the air heavy with the unsaid.
"You cannot choose the path of a witch," Mara said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Not really. The forest chooses you. And once it does, you belong to it. But you can never forget that it is not a kind master. It gives you power, but it demands a price."
Ana looked at Mara, her eyes wide. The story was beginning to make sense now, pieces falling into place. The mysterious, ancient woman before her was not just a teacher. She was a survivor, bound to a force much older than herself — a force that had both given her power and taken away her past.
"Why are you telling me this?" Ana asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Mara turned back to her, the faintest flicker of a smile on her lips. "Because, Ana, you are starting to listen. And soon, the forest will speak to you, too. You must know what you are getting into."