Hags.

Women who had sold their souls, their sanity and their mortality to nightmares which existed only in the depths of forests. And it was to do more than eschew the comforts of passable tea. 

They were fallen mages whose fascination with the darkest of the magical arts was matched only by their perverse talent to befoul it further, turning rancid rivers into running bile. 

Despite abandoning any claim to civilisation, they delighted in weaving the guise of beautiful maidens, conjuring an image of themselves had madness not taken hold of their mind. 

Yet it was more than illusions where their powers lay. 

In offering themselves to the forests, they gained the power to take from it in turn. 

First by using their foul magic, and second by placing the remains in their fetid cauldrons. Unholy containers shared by everything to be powdered, brined and stored in a jar. 

Which is why–

Bwrooooom!

As a blast of scorching energy turned the very air where my head had been into a simmering cloud, I held my stomach back from offering a deeply unseemly, if appropriate response. 

All I could think as I joined Coppelia in diving off my chair was of pickled newts, plucked eyeballs and poorly sourced bergamot. All the forgotten items which could be found languishing in a failed alchemist’s shop combined with the worst tea leaves to be discarded outside the Royal Villa’s kitchens. 

And this hag wanted me to join them.

Why, it was an insult beyond death! … Literally!

At least if I died to a fireball, my ashes could naturally spread to curse all my foes and leave the surrounding farmland an arid wasteland! Even losing my head would mean I could at least join my great-great-grandfather in terrorising the adventurers looting our ancestral tombs!

But to have my fallen body reduced to exceptionally high class reagents?

Grim. I had no doubt from the nightbloom essence that I would be utterly wasted on this failed apothecary. My heart alone would be what future tyrants sent their champions to find to fuel their ultimate weapons of doom. 

What would this hag do with me, other than use it for some brown stew?

No. I refused to consider it. As did Coppelia, who while lacking my look of disgust made up for it in the enthusiasm of her response. 

As I tumbled to the floor, she rolled back to her feet in a single, elegant movement, her lithe figure and zany smile reflected by the remnants of the hag’s magic lingering in the air.

Clap.

And then it was gone, hidden by the flash of darkness which no light could pierce.

She leapt against the momentum, a crack appearing in the wooden floorboards as the shadow of her great scythe twirled in her hands. It was the beautiful sight of my loyal handmaiden as she nobly rushed to my defence, her heart bent on nothing else but thoughts of protecting her princess.

“Ahhahahaha~ a hag! My first hag! I wanna know what happens if I stir a hag’s head in a cauldron!”

In … Indeed!

She was so noble that she was teaching our foe how to make threats correctly!

Forever redefining the common smile, her scythe swept the air before her, offering nothing more than a promise of a highly humiliating end to the figure now sitting helplessly upon her seat.

The green flame upon the hag’s fingertip ignited into a pale blue.

And then–she pointed it towards herself.

“[Lost In The Woods].”

A moment later, the scythe met a neck–and then the air past it.

Coppelia blinked as no blood painted her shadowy blade.

There was nothing.

No flickering of a magical weave or the billowing of some ghostly mist. Instead, both Coppelia and her weapon went through the hag as though she were not even present.

And then–

Poomph.

She smashed into the wall, creating a perfectly Coppelia sized hole as she neatly went through it.

I was incensed.

“H-How dare you! Only those with a modicum of weight to their presence may make Coppelia go through walls! Why, you don’t even have a name!”

“I introduced myself. I’m Eva.”

“Well, you nameless detour, you would do well to use a finer illusion spell to flee! It is not enough to merely mask yourself against our utter lack of regard towards collateral damage mitigation and understanding of the word proportional response!” 

The hag raised a brow, as troubled as the dazzling smile gracing her lips.

“An illusion spell?” she said, her voice faintly amused. “Now that’s quite the insult. I wasn’t born last century. Mages still mewling at their teacher’s robes use illusions. All you see is all that I am.”

“All I see is a lack of commission fees! Should you wish to use my loyal handmaiden as a mould to create modern art in your walls, you and all the others who continually do so will need to pay! You may begin with a grovelling apology!”

The false maiden crossed one leg over the other, eyelashes fluttering as she stole a look of puzzlement.

“Such an apology would not suit my fine features. I am a beauty more resplendent than any dream conjured by any artisan. Grovelling would darken the picture.”

I scoffed as I rose to my feet, patting down my hair and doing away with the dust upon my knees.

Then, I raised Starlight Grace, allowing its keen light to highlight the mistakes in her words.

“I have seen fairer maidens crawling while vomiting upon my floor. Notably, it always precedes them fleeing. Were you as wise as you are blind, you would be doing the same.”

“And why should I do that? You are trapped in my cabin.”

I raised a hand to my lips, barely covering the smile which surpassed any angel’s, let alone hers.

“Ohohohoho … incorrect. You are trapped with me.”

I stepped forth, sword in hand against the bemused expression aimed towards me.

A curious trick, that she could somehow see herself safe from Coppelia’s scythe … but where shadows failed to pierce, I had no doubt that light would!

Thus … utilising all the skill of swordsmanship put into me by my approximately half a lesson by Roland, and gathering all the knowledge of watching the knights sparring in the courtyard, I lifted Starlight Grace in a show of deadly intent–

“Hah.”

And then leaned forwards, before poking the nose of the woman before me.

A devastating attack.

Yet as the tip of my blade fell mercilessly upon her … so too did it fall harmlessly through her.

I was appalled! 

Why, neither light nor steel had any effect! My furiously slapping hand as I accidentally came across my father joining me in robbing the kitchen of snacks in the dead of night caused more damage than my fabled sword!

The hag leaned away, glancing at the deadly blade with little more than girlish curiosity before turning to me once more.

“The look upon your face speaks truer than your words, adventurer. Indeed, your sword has a hundred enchantments upon it, and yet none can hope to graze me. No weapon, whether a scythe forged from shadows older than any ink, or a sword bathed in starlight can harm me. I am no babe freshly stolen from her mother’s arms. I am the eldest of my coven. And under my spell, within my domain, I am ethereal. And that means–”

She raised a finger towards me, bathed once more in green flames as she allowed a quiet snicker to leave her lips.

“–I am utterly invincible.” 

I looked upon the smile of what was once a maiden, and the gathering death at her fingertips.

A spellcaster of untold years. Her forage into darkness had gifted her a spell impervious to any sword. And all she faced was a princess with no magic of her own to defeat it.

Starlight Grace shook in my hand as horror gripped me.

A hag in her cabin upon the cusp of victory. 

Yet more famed than any verses of toil and trouble, cauldrons and bubbles, were what truly defined these foul creatures.

The witchly cackles. The shrieks of joy. The cries of hags.

Even in such a tailor made situation … all she could do was snicker.

I was outraged. 

The original progenitor of the gloating laugh! And still not even a wheeze! 

This … This was a certain disqualification from her profession! Truly, if princesses were not around to pick up the slack, then mocking as a whole might as well be as dead as chivalry and tangible schemes!

That’s why–

“Oho …”

“Hmm?”

“Oho … oh …”

“Ah? Was that a cry of despair I–”

“Oho … ohhohohhhohohohohohohohhoo!!”

The false maiden paused, her eyes blinking as the green flame upon her fingertip faltered.

Instead, she watched as I lifted my chin, ensuring that within the confines of this tiny cabin, my voice would still break out and reach the far corners of my kingdom.

Indeed, for the crime of offering me tea aimed at murdering my taste buds long before it came even close to stopping my heart, I would offer this failure in expectation the finest reagent of them all. 

A lesson in mocking victory.

“Ohohohohho … very well, quite the forbidden spell you have there. I wonder what scraps of your soul you exchanged, to render yourself immune to my fabled sword. It is one which many to have faced me would desire. And yet–”

I leaned forwards slightly, offering her the sweetest of smiles.

“–it still would not have saved them. And so neither would it you.”

The false maiden blinked. 

For the first time in however many years since she had come to plague these woods, the smallest note of hesitation wrinkled her cheeks. 

I would ensure that more would come to dent them.

“How quaint,” she mused, the moment gone as she looked at me like a panther admiring a mouse. “And so very loud. But I’m afraid the fact remains you cannot harm me with that sword.”

“My sword is what I use when I wish to be merciful. But since you leave me no choice, I shall offer the most deadly weapon I possess instead.”

Indeed, it was finally time.

I would roll up my sleeves. Not literally. I was no farmer about to dig a potato. 

But I would unleash a nightmare which could turn even the darkness itself back towards the light.

They say the pen is mightier than the sword. They are wrong. A sword could stab things. A pen could not. But most pens weren’t held by princesses. And the words we wrote were bested only by the words we spoke before the tearful faces of those we lambasted.

Which was why …

I pointed at the brow of the false maiden, whose beauty was undiminished through the passing of the years. 

Yet beauty was in the eye of the beholder. 

And mine was not that of the wandering peasants and the demon children she mesmerised.

I was a princess.

And whereas my sword may sweep off a head, my words could disintegrate the soul.

I offered a tender smile.

“A question, if I may. Have you ever visited the Golden Blossomwoods to the south?”

The hag hesitated for yet another moment.

“No, I have not. Though I’ve heard it is a beautiful woodland. I was planning on perhaps residing there for one century or two.”

“You should. It is a marvel. A place of lush and dense shrubbery, teeming with nature. Why, seeing the lovely fullness of your brows, I could not help but be reminded of the sight.”

The false maiden opened her mouth in horror.

Ohhohohohoho!!

Here it was!

My most powerful, ultimate ability!

[Princess Slander]!

What need did I have of sword instructors or mathematics tutors?!

My weapon was neither the blade in my hand nor the equations I could very well do but simply chose not to!

I had been forged in the flames of high society! Soirées, galas and formal functions since I could wrinkle my nose! I could hone in on the most superficial of imperfections and magnify them until they were as large as gaping chasms! 

A single blemish as large as an errant eyelash was now a hole for my lessers to fall into! With but a turn of my head, I could conjure a darkness deeper and further than the abyss! Those who earned my judgement would go through their life struggling in vain to crawl out!

This is the ability which made noble girls quake in their poorly sized heels! Whereas they picked upon the stray cuffs of my maids, I picked out the very weave of their soul! 

“How … How dare you,” came the stutter, the wide eyes remaining even after she caught her open mouth. “I am quite fond of my brows! I am not the fairest maiden on a whim! I have enacted forbidden spells and drank balms which guarantee my beauty! The matter of my brows is a reflection of that!”

Still, her finger twitched as she held herself back from touching them.

I smiled at the sight.

“Indeed, the farmboys must fall at their knees when they see you amidst the cattle.”

“I … I bloom like a night orchid amidst the weeping greenery!”

“You do more than that.” I glanced at her flower vendor’s attire. “And clearly not all of it is due to your magic and balms. I must commend you on your wardrobe choices. A tapestry of warm, blushing colours, conjuring forth images of a garden basking in summer’s blessing.”

The hag peered down at her garb, focusing particularly at the myriad of colours.

“Yes, well, I chose it for that very purpose …”

“It is a bold and audacious choice, to so clearly allow every eye to be drawn to the striking contrast between the rosiness of your dress and your natural complexion.”

The green flame upon the hag’s fingertip was extinguished as her eyes further widened.

“Don’t be ridiculous. My cheeks are …”

And then–

She touched her face as centuries of insecurity was suddenly allowed to resurface, dredged by a princess whose own beauty only highlighted the chasm which existed. 

A moment later, she touched her nose, tracing her finger across its length.

And then, she pressed down as though to shape it, flaring her nostrils as she did so. She squeezed at her chin until it became an unseemly red button upon her face. She scratched at her cheek, bringing to life a blotchy itch which had sought to be forgotten.

More and more, the imperfections came to life as she became more fidgety, until her hands began to wander over every part of her which she had once deemed acceptable. 

She pressed and shaped. And then she scratched and clawed. Pale streaks running across her face until something was stripped away entirely–leaving a thin streak of mottled skin.

I offered my sword as a mirror.

“No …. no … wait …”

The hag fell to her knees, panic upon her as she sought to fix what was only becoming more twisted. Her entire frame began to smoke as her greatest source of magic failed her.

That of her appearance.

The former maiden twisted on the spot, panic upon her stricken face as pieces of her melted. Not before the burning sunlight. But the brutal eye of modern beauty standards.

I leaned in, offering a gentle smile as I whispered the coup de grâce.

“You have a prominent forehead.”

“Noo …. Nooo … nooooooooooooooooooo!!”

The next moment, I was forced away as the hag was fully engulfed in searing flames.

Her form twisted and bent as centuries of foul alchemy failed her. Hair burned away to ashes. Eyes, nose and ears fell away entirely. And what had been a beautiful maiden now became a gelatinous ooze, a green puddle sizzling upon the floor.

A moment later–

The sunlight rushed back inside, windows falling open to the breeze as the magic faded.

Pwoomph!

Then, a wall previously showcasing Coppelia’s silhouette burst open as a cauldron was thrown inside. 

My loyal handmaiden peeked her head through, blinking curiously as she peered around.

“Did you defeat the hag?” she asked.

I pointed at the ooze on the ground. Coppelia clapped her hands in excitement.

“Great! Because I found her cauldron in her nest at the back! Plus a whole bunch of dead stuff! We should mix her puddle with some of the rarer stuff and see what blows up!”

Suddenly, we were drawn to a chorus of gasping at the door.

An entire group of children were looking in through the now opened doorway, their wide eyes staring at the cauldron tossed in and what had just been their matron. Several toys dropped down. 

Coppelia lifted a ladle from within the cauldron.

“Hey, who wants to learn about smoothie making today~?”