A tragic secret.

Morning came all too soon, and Pan woke to birdsong as golden light filtered through the branches of the wisteria tree. The color of the flowers had long since faded back to their original amethyst - Kethaeros had explained that a permanent change required energy and time that she did not yet possess. Tasmin, who had made himself scarce during her rigorous 'instruction', was curled up against the trunk of the tree. Kethaeros' eyes remained closed, but the pressure of his aura in her mind indicated that he was awake.

Though loathe to leave his company, Pan rose and quickly washed herself off in the stream before retrieving her cotton shift. When she had dressed, Kethaeros presented her with a handful of blackberries, ones darker and juicer than she had ever seen. He explained to her that these berries were from Ashilon, the realm of Spirits, and that they would nourish her far better than anything that could be foraged here.

Pan's heart was heavy. She did not want to leave Kethaeros, nor was she keen on facing Mollina after her dramatic little screw up that put them both in harm's way. But still she swallowed hard and clung to Kethaeros, determined to set things right. As she felt the wind in her hair once more, she prayed that Celladryn would guide her back into Mollina's good graces.

***

The village was spectacularly normal. Pan was not entirely sure what she had expected - a large "PANPHREY IS NO LONGER WELCOME" sign, perhaps? The other witches were bustling about their business, and a few even offered tight smiles when they saw her pass. So they had heard, at least. She supposed that much was to be expected. With Tasmin at her heels, she pushed on towards Mollina's house.

Mollina's house was situated just a few yards away from Celladryn's shrine. It was no grander than anyone else's house, but the ivy that climbed the walls and the owl-feather talismans gave it an ethereal touch. As she approached, Pan caught the smell of mint; The only thing Mollina doted on more than the shrine was her own mint garden near the entry way. Sitting imperiously in front of the door was a large swan, its feathers white as snow. Pan would recognize Cirin anywhere - Illyna's familiar had chased her away from spying on rituals more times than she could count.

"Hmph. Take your troublesome self somewhere else, Panphrey. Now is not the time," Cirin huffed, fluffing his feathers as he did so.

"This isn't your house," Pan replied. "And I'm an actual witch now. You don't get to tell me what to do."

"Regardless of what you think you are, the fact remains that your matron is busy. Now shoo."

Pan frowned. "What are you talking about? Where's Lucen? If Mollina doesn't want to talk to me, I want to hear it from him," she demanded.

Tasmin, it seemed, would not be caught begging. His little red tail bristled as he growled lowly at the swan. Cirin stood and brought himself to his full height, ruffling his feathers and batting his wings in Tas' directions. Pan thought she would have to step between them when the door behind Cirin swung open. Illyna stood in the doorway, her rusty red curls unbound and hanging past her shoulders. Illyna was tall, like Tythere, with shapely curves and a pointed face. Her eyes were the blue of the deep ocean, and today there was an edge in her expression. Still, she offered Pan a small smile as she nudged Cirin away from the door with her foot.

"It's good to see you're back, Pan. Mollina will feel better knowing you're home," she said.

"Can I speak to her?" Pan asked. "I want to apologize, about yesterday..."

Illyna's expression softened. Pan had always known her to be aloof, but kind. She was also Mollina's closest confidant, though Pan had always wondered if they were more than that. Such relationships were not uncommon, though if it were true then the two of them kept it private.

"Yes, of course," Illyna said, stepping aside. "But keep your voice down, please. She's resting."

Pan walked inside. Tasmin followed behind, baring a fang at Cirin as he passed, who honked indignantly. There was a fire going, and the smell of lilac and chamomile hinted at tea. Mollina's house was always orderly, so the disorganized work table with herbs strewn across was jarring. Pan timidly passed into the bedroom, and a knot formed in her stomach.

Mollina was laying bed, her back propped by several pillows. She was pale, and her golden eyes were sunken in. A thin sheen of sweat made strands of dark hair stick to her face and neck. Her breathing was shallow. A damp cloth lay across her forehead. When she saw Pan, a brief flicker of light filled her eyes as she attempted to sit up, only to wince in pain and place her hands over her swollen belly. Pan was at her side in an instant, kneeling beside the bed. She clasped Mollina's hand between her own, and was taken aback by the clamminess. Mollina gave her hand a weak squeeze.

"I'm glad you're back," she murmured. "I'm sorry for what Maban did. He overreacted."

"Forget that," Pan said, squeezing Mollina's hand in turn. "What's going on? Are you sick?"

"She just hasn't been taking care of herself, that's all," Illyna chided. She removed the cloth from Mollina's forehead, tenderly tucking some dark strands behind her ear as she did so. "Babies are rough on the body."

Truly. Pan remembered Mollina's last pregnancy, three years ago. She had lost the baby, and had been inconsolable for weeks. Pan could still recall passing by Mollina's cottage in the late hours after dark, her muffled sobs marring an otherwise silent night.

Mollina, fighting to maintain composure, clenched her jaw at Illyna's words. But her eyes brimmed with tears, and her voice cracked: "I don't want to lose this one too."

"Oh, honey, you won't," Illyna cooed, drawing Mollina into her arms as one would do a frightened child. "All you need is rest, just rest. Stop worrying yourself sick."

"She's right, Mollina," Pan said. "What happened before was tragic, but misfortune rarely strikes twice."

A heavy silence fell over the three of them. Illyna looked as if she were about to slap Pan across the face. Mollina sucked in a shaky breath before locking eyes with Pan.

"That's kind of you to say. I wish I could believe that. But after losing three daughters, I don't think I can," she told her.

A chill ran down Pan's spine. Three failed pregnancies. Three lost daughters. Pan felt sick, her words coming back to bite her and shame her for a fool. Kethaeros' words echoed in her mind: Your kind cannot hold our seed without preparation.

"Mollina, I'm so sorry, I didn't know. I-"

"I know you didn't. It's okay," she cut her off. "Please. I don't want your pity."

"Then what can I give you?" Pan asked. She squeezed Mollina's hand again, firmer this time. "I'll give you anything you want. Just let me help you, please."

Illyna silently looked between the two of them before her gaze settled on Mollina. A stray tear slipped from Mollina's lashes, a silent testament to the burden on her heart. As quickly as it came it was wiped away, and Mollina mustered a small, but heartfelt smile.

"The Solstice is next week. As we prepare, keep everyone cheerful. You were always good at that. I'll be able to rest easy knowing that you'll have everyone in high spirits for the festival," she said.

The Summer Solstice, one of the Celadon witches' most sacred holidays. During the longest day of the year, the witches celebrated life and all its bounties with music and dancing and stories. Then at night, when the Unbound witches are sent home, the Spirits of Bound witches are permitted to enter the village. This would be the first time Pan would be able to participate in the night rituals, instead of masturbating behind a bush as she spied on the others. A blush colored her cheeks.

"I'll do it," she said. "Don't worry about anything. I'll help however I can."

"You can start by convincing Lorelai to actually prepare something this year, instead of just dumping her game at my doorstep and expecting me to cook it," Illyna chimed in. "Though I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to have a moment at home first, after being out all night."

Pan could take the hint. She bid the two of them farewell and took her leave. Cirin huffed at her as she passed, but offered no comment. As she walked beneath Celladryn's boughs, she thought she caught a glimpse of dark, star-speckled eyes watching her from up in the branches. Another look and they were gone. Still, she spoke to them as she walked:

"I know you don't like me. But I promise you, Maban, I will help her."