COLOURS || Seth Clearwater

ONE

October, 1303

Lucinda walked through the small thicket of woods that surrounded Harpoon, England. It was a small town, not large enough to be found on a map, though travelers found it one way or another. It was run by the owner of the large portion of land, Franklin Jones. He was a cruel man with awful intentions, though Lucinda managed to keep him in his place.

She was the resident witch, though she preferred to call herself a healer. Lucinda gave out curses and spells and potions in exchange for something much more dangerous and valuable; secrets.

She had dealt in secrets for as long as she could remember, and knew almost everything about everyone. Lucinda knew that Dottie Wright was having an affair with her sisters husband. She knew that Alexander Daniels was married to three women, and had a total of eleven children.

She knew everything.

Especially about Franklin Herbert Jones.

Because of that, Lucinda was the most dangerous person in their small town, and all of the villagers knew that.

As she walked through the woods, she picked things she knew she could use in her potions and such.

"Lucinda!"

She turned in the direction that the voice had come from, a wicked smile forming on her lips when she saw the source. Charlotte Jones; the Lady of Harpoon.

"Yes," she mused watching as the woman stumbled over tree roots and fallen branches in her ridiculous gown. Lucinda had been helping Charlotte poison her father for many months, having not wanted to go with the man he had married her to. She had completely fallen for the local baker's boy — Alec Bravel — and had been in love since she was fifteen years old, and he had loved her since they were eleven.

As a solution to her problem, Charlotte decided to poison her father without him knowing until he was too close to death to be saved. "It's nearly time," she breathed, clutching her chest.

Lucinda shrugged her shoulders. "That's nice," she shrugged, then carried on her way. After hearing footsteps again from behind her, she turned around with a sigh, basket clutched tightly in her hand. "What do you want from me, Lady Charlotte?"

"I want you there, because I want him to know what's happening to him."

Lucinda stared at the girl a moment, brows raising as a smirk twisting onto her lips. "You're just a down right psychopath in the making, aren't you," she mused.

"You of all people know that he's receiving what he deserves, Lucinda," Charlotte snapped, a frown settling into her beautifully delicate features.

"Alright then," Lucinda sighed dramatically. "Just let me take this back to my house and I'll be right over."

"Thank you," Charlotte breathed, and Lucinda let out a quiet scoff as she watched the girl walk away.

"They only ever do need me when it comes to the death," she sighed, then continued the brief walk through the woods to her small cottage. It was tucked away in the corner of the small forest, where the trees grew the thickest and blocked out the sunlight; the best atmosphere for her dark spells.

The animals that came out during the night were long since transformed by the magic that leaked from the large cracks in the stone, straw and wood, and had become her servants in their own twisted way. They killed anyone who entered her 'claim' of the woods and the bodies were never found, much to the villagers dismay.

•••

"Lady Charlotte, you paged?" Lucinda called sweetly as she entered the Jones household. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway caused her to fight off a brief smirk at the presence of Matilda Jones, Charlotte's mother.