The Seed || A Madam Spellman Story

Mandrake

"Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly at heart, and you will find rest for your souls." 

Matthew 11:29

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It had been a few weeks since Lilith and Zelda had spoken last. 

Since then it had been a dance of passive-aggressive relays of information and battle plans, to which Lilith would send back Zelda's work in a flourish of hell flame with a simple "not this one" scrawled on the top, and Zelda was sick of it. 

It was not lost on the rest of her family, whom she hadn't told about her imminent death, that she was more than pissed off. Even Sabrina hadn't bothered her about anything, though Zelda almost wished that she would so she could have better distraction than the coming war, and the last few weeks of the life she would get to live. 

Zelda, not one to be outright in her affection, found it hard to ask her family to be around knowing it would be some of her last memories here with them. Only Judas and Leticia seemed unfazed by whatever energy she was putting out, and she spent every night since her argument with Lilith, with them. It was a better alternative than sleeping alone. 

Hilda was around her now, fidgeting with a placemat and staring into her tea with curiosity. Her sister had also been on edge, her empathic nature barely in restraint at the rush of Zelda's emotions. It had been much easier, Hilda explained, when Zelda only had her normal powers. But these new ones of the godmaker made it harder for Hilda to ignore, they acted as a beacon and pulled other magic towards her. 

Lilith had warned her that this was dangerous and that this was how the princes of Hell were able to find her. Zelda found the intensity of her family's magic a greater disturbance to her peace. 

"Are you going to tell me what happened with Lilith, or will you leave all of us guessing around your impossible mood?" 

"Nothing happened with Lilith, Hilda. The stress of the war and the protection of the coven and my family weighs on me if you remember-I am High Priestess. Lots of responsibility." 

"Responsibility that you are more than welcome to share with your sister and your nephew, Ambrose, who has been worried sick about you by the way. And Sabrina too." Hilda took a deep breath.

 "I know you're going through something much bigger than this, otherwise, you'd be sleeping in your room when Sabrina goes to find you at night, or Lilith would be there in the mornings when I knock on your door to call you down to breakfast, or you'd say more than a simple "thank you" with some strength in your voice when Ambrose brings you your tea to the study room. The only time we see you become remotely yourself is in front of the coven. But I've met the real, genuine, you, and I can tell when my sister is acting." 

She couldn't argue with Hilda. She could read her better than Zelda could lie. In the candlelit dining room, pushing back the shadows of the night time, she thought that maybe it was time to unburden herself. 

"Hildegard, there are some things I should come clean about." 

"Yes, you had better." They stared at one another for a few seconds, Hilda waiting expectantly for answers. But where could Zelda begin? At the prophecy? The argument? It was all the same, so she just started talking. 

"The prophecy by which I am tasked to kill the princes of Hell, my role as the godmaker, as her Athame... it's become... complicated." Hilda's blonde eyebrow rose in question.