Chapter Text
All witches were byproducts of the medium, they came from the medium. It was a part of them, the medium saw all. It knew all.
The medium watched as a girl, still young with wide eyes, attempted a rune, one she had never done before. It watched as she made the line perhaps just a bit too small and her shapes too shaky. It watched her ask for the blessing and decided she had not respected the world enough to deserve it.
Hirai Momo, second-born daughter of the current coven leader, was anything but what she was supposed to be.
She was supposed to be the Coven’s leader’s talented daughter, only struggling against the likes of her own eldest sister. She was supposed to be respected. She was supposed to be mastering the last of the coven’s own master book, full of all wonders and curiosities of the one thing the coven excelled in: rune magic.
Not all witches could just make magic appear out of the tips of their fingers. The medium was full of wonderful power, witches of all sorts developed magic here, from garden witches to healers. Whatever your niche be, it was to be developed, and created by the will of a coven into a full-fledged ability. Its why healers used a stick and kitchen witches made food, how else was the witch being supposed to release it all? There needed to be a buffer, something to help keep the wild in place of a natural witch’s soul. At least, that’s all Momo had ever known. Covens helped mold the power into something more. Something useful.
But Momo just never tended to be any of the things she needed to be.
Now, what was rune magic? Momo may have learned it in lessons, or perhaps walking with her father, but at this point, it did not even matter anymore. All she could ever gather was it required a lot of symbols, some as ancient as before the medium could even breathe, before the first Wendigo and other-beings came to be. Before the first witch-beings. It was as old as time, maybe even farther. It was writing, symbols, and creations that was essentially the permission the coven needed. It was asking permission to the medium, to the magic, for whatever it was they needed.
Maybe that’s why Momo’s coven was so widely feared. Because unlike kitchen witches, who harnesses simple healing abilities and maybe some fighting skills, rune magic allowed for almost anything to be granted. As long as you performed it right. Because let’s be real, if the medium did not appreciate your creation, it could very easily reject it. A rune required effort and care. Two things Hirai Momo just could never get right.
She never could pin what it was. Was it her scription? Was it her lines? Was she just plain wrong? Or perhaps the medium just hated her, hated her and her wandering mind, and slightly thick skull.
Hirai Momo was nothing she was supposed to be. She was not talented, hardly a recognized daughter. She was most certainly not respected, and she would probably never master the coven book of runes. She was going to amount to nothing, and nothing was certainly her fate.
Hirai Momo was the worst of all witch-beings. She was utterly useless.
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Sometimes, every few moon cycles, the almost permanent sunset was no longer there, on the moments when darkness appeared (quite rare, even more rare than Dragon Tears), where everything became coated in black and purple, Momo would venture. It was childish, she assumed, to think that maybe if she explored at night, she had a chance for her runes to work, because the medium may be asleep to decide she did not deserve the wish. (She had learned long ago that the medium was never asleep, it saw everything. It always watched.)
But she still liked to venture out during the dark days. She loved seeing the planets that surrounded the medium, cosmic entities that seemed to grant the medium beautiful dark colors that hardly ever existed in the orange light that was its norm. She loved being unseen, when all her coven kept her under their watchful scornful eyes.
She would fly around, through the trees and the hills, watching the entities covering the sky. She learned them to be celestial bodies. She would let the wind whisper, tickling her hair in the front of her face. She learned all the ins and outs of the caverns she lived nearby, writing all her discoveries in leather bound books that she hid beneath her bed. The crystals of the caverns were always glowing, pure life pulsating, of every color in the rainbow and more. Momo would then observe the stones. The coven stones. Blessed to her coven when the medium was first learning to breathe. The stones and ancient inscriptions her predecessors had created as a claim. She would run her fingers over the rocks, where the massive spell laid. So large, it overtook six giant stones, all lined up, side by side. Brown in color, a dull blue glow sometimes passing through the symbols. Magic, still living like blood in its veins.
‘Continue blessing this coven with wishes to their hearts’ content, so as they deserve.’
Coven life was not simple.
Coven life did not like Momo, simply put. She was an embarrassment, unable to produce even the simplest blessings. It was the damn lines, those damn patterns. Things Momo could not reproduce to the sheer perfection the coven required. And what was even a witch being who could not bless her coven? The ones who raised and protected her.
She heard enough times to know she did not belong. But the imprints that had burned into her arm during her ceremony demanded otherwise. She was linked to this life, her life. To the coven that she did not quite like. But she would lay on the grass, staring at these celestial entities when the dark decided to pay a visit, and wish. She’d wish without a symbol, without a rune. Just with her thoughts, her mind. She’d wish for another chance, another life. She’d wish to be exactly what the medium wanted, so that she may provide the blessings she desperately longed to create.
“What do I wrong?” Momo had asked one day, when the orange rays had burnt out. She knew her time was short, she knew eventually the rays would decide to show again. But still, she found herself sitting, watched the giant white celestial figure that clouded the sky, unable to be hidden by clouds. It glowed a gentle white, almost like a halo of an angel. Except angels resided in heaven, with restful souls and those who provided good to their world.
“Why am I like this?” Momo asked aloud, to no one in particular. She figured the medium wouldn’t bother listening either, but the big white round cosmic entity she knew as the moon seemed to be a very relaxed listener. She hoped at least, lest she anger another entity. “Why can’t I just do the stupid shit I need to do?” She asked, bringing her knees to her chest, feeling the wind crawl up her spine.
If anything, Momo wished for nothing more than to just not exist in this stupid place, maybe far away. Maybe on the moon, since she wouldn’t be welcome in heaven and wasn’t very fond of the idea of hell.
She wished, she wished so desperately for a moment to escape. To pretend that this place did not hate her existence, to pretend the coven didn’t despise the fact she was blessed with breath. Shutting her eyes, Momo sighed. No will could ever bend to what she wished. No entity could come and recover the damage Momo had created simply by existing. Feeling the dark fade, hints of orange coming to her vision, Momo sighed.
Opening her eyes, Momo bid a goodbye to the moon (thought she doubted it would listen) and gathered her bag. Her coven would beckon her, she could feel the slight tingle in her arm. She stood up, giving one last pleading look to the sky (could the sky understand?), letting the whispers fill her ears. She closed her eyes, enabling herself to be one with the medium.
Just as she was about to open her eyes once more, to be greeted by the light, it suddenly became quite dark again. Momo peeked an eye open, only to be met with a pitch-black tone. She blinked, trying to adjust her eyes to the sudden change. She looked around.
The orange rays peeked from the corner of the building she now stood in front of-
She stopped again.
A building…?
Scrambling back, trying to get some sense in what just happened, Momo looked up, right before her, where nothing but the trees used to be, there was now a building. A gray bricked building, like that of the building in the town nearby. Momo let the realization settle for a moment, observing how this building even came to be.
There was no noise when it fell, so it could not have possibly been dropped from heaven. She heard no cracks from the ground, so this could not have been regurgitated from the depths of hell. She looked around. Reaching a cautious hand up, Momo brushed her fingers against the dusty brick, a layer of dirt gathering. She wiped her fingers against her leg. It was dirty, it was visible, it was real. It couldn’t have been a trick of the fae, or an illusion from a witch.
It just simply existed.
But how?
Momo felt the tingle on the familiar marking on her arm, knowing the coven was summoning her to return. It burned slightly, she was never really out this long. She continued staring at the building. Perhaps a few more moments wouldn’t change the fact she was already late.
Instead, Momo slung her bag around her shoulder, securing her items, and walked around, trying to find some sort of idea of where the hell this place appeared from.
Eventually, turning the corner, she noticed the sign, a bit worn out, which took a moment for her eyes to adjust to. The paint was faded, almost completely gone.
‘Tunnel to Hell.’
Momo squinted. “This isn’t right,” She mumbled, to no one in particular. This didn’t seem right at all. Sure, Momo may have not been the best witch in her coven, but even beginners knew the only way to enter Hell was with a ticket. And sure, you could summon a demon on your own terms (which was a whole other lesson that needed to be learned.), but to just carelessly have a strangely convenient entrance did not seem right at all.
(Then again, Momo didn’t really know much about demons. She was a rune witch, not a necromancer, nor did she make deals with the under-beings).
But maybe there was just things Momo did not know. Maybe you could reach Hell with more than just a ticket. Maybe there was a tunnel that led wanderers to its depths. Momo never knew anything, if the words of her coven were any convenience.
The brand of the coven began to move from a tingle to a dull burn. She continued to ignore it.
The entrance stood right before her, with glass doors that obscured the inside. Momo took a breath.
She could not explain why she felt the desire to go in.
With a gentle push, the door opened, echoing a small ding. There was nothing quite peculiar about the inside. The walls were faded gray brick, the same color as the outside. The lights were dim. A few other beings wandered idly, sitting at the counter where a bartender served glasses of concoctions Momo didn’t quite know. She saw a fellow with horns and maybe even a woman with wings. Witches chatting about, lightly laughing so as to not disturb the mood.
It was just a bar.
A plain simple bar.
The bar goers did not even pay her any mind. Something about the revelation made Momo’s soul twitch, just a bit. Perhaps out of disappointment. Maybe it was foolish for Momo to think perhaps this Tunnel to Hell would lead her to a moment of peace. Her stomach dropped, the hopeful adrenaline having been drained of her like a soul sucking of a vampire. Her shoulder began to shoot pains down her arm. She felt the heat, a small bit of steam beginning to rise. Damn, not even a chance for sit and drink a sip.
Coven life was never simple. And right now, they demanded Momo return, having already broken her curfew. She’d be in trouble, get a scolding, and go about her day within the barriers of the coven territory. Nothing special, nothing new.
With a heavy sigh, Momo turned around. Looking back once more, taking in the plain bar and plain beings, she once more faced the glass. Pushing it open, ready to return.
The first thing Momo realized was how much the light burned.
It was almost radiant, shining a white like light not typical in the medium. It was not the soft burnt orange tone that overtook the forests and seas, a rainbow of colors that existed simply because the medium decided it would. This was painfully bright, so much so, Momo could not help but hiss in pain, squeezing her eyes shut, feeling a dull pang of pain shooting behind her eyes.
Blinding light? Momo would’ve assumed it was a trick of the fae, had it not been for the other thing her senses were flooded with.
The noise.
Loud, almost completely deafening white noise. She could barely make it out. Footsteps echoing, the sound of something rubbing against the ground. Voices, so many voice all at once, her ears throbbed with the overload. Unable to open her eyes and unable to hear, Momo did what she knew best. She ran.
That proved to be a mistake as well. A mistake that caused another sound to echo in her ears. Similar to that of a cry the Wendigos made, or perhaps the kitsune cries. A thunderous roar, a screech that made Momo want to rip her ears off, it was loud, suddenly piercing into Momo’s ears. The panic settled in, and Momo opened her eyes in shock, her eyes barely having time to take in the scene.
The beast was low to the ground, but massive. It rumbled, the smell of dragon’s smoke hissing from what Momo assumed to be perhaps some gills? The loud cry came again.
Momo was panicking. Her throat was dry, and her voice was nowhere to be found.
“Get out of the street bitch!” A voice called from within the confines of the rumbling beast. Momo backed away, a series of cries and howls now overtaking where she stood. A forceful hand grabbed her sleeve, nearly knocking her down as she stumbled back.
“Are you fucking crazy?!” A woman who looked to be an elder witch scolded, throwing her hands up in anger. Momo found herself shrinking back.
“You’re a damn adult, stay off the street!” She continued. Street?
Momo could not respond. Not with her eyes catching onto the buildings that stood before her.
“Are you even fucking listening? What, are you on drugs?!” The woman continued tearing into her, but Momo had long forgotten her.
Sure, the medium had buildings. Stone casings where other beings rested. Sometimes it would be the hallowed grand oak, maybe the higher ups resided in rowan oak cottages. Just enough to lie in, sometimes the underground was unexplored.
But this…
Her eyes caught onto a specific building, reflecting the rays of the sun through the glass. Momo’s eyes studied it, looking up, and up, and up.
And up.
Till the tip of the fortress nearly reached up into the clouds. Perhaps even the heavens.
Momo’s jaw dropped, feeling her chest tighten at the sheer sight of the massive, metallic building, one after another.
Every building reached the heavens, leaving her to be nothing more than a miniscule piece of dirt among them. Her eyes barely able to focus on them, as if the size was never something she had never experienced in her life. She assumed celestial bodies to be this size, distances away for where she could never reach. Yet, here she stood, amongst a busy path, right before something she felt needed to be worshipped.
What in the world?
She heard something crush into gravel. Her eyes dropped, no longer observing the fortresses, instead landing on the beasts from before, though they seemed to pay her no mind. The simply pushed, going east. At speeds that only shifters and few witches could reach. They sped through, hundreds of them packed into the asphalt. Her shoulder was bumped, she stumbled.
“Move,” A voice muttered. The place she stood was full of beings, maybe witches?
“Where am I?” She asked out loud, overwhelmed with the idea that she was somewhere not the medium. Her heart raced, hands shaking, when another painful discovery came across her.
Why was her branding no longer burning? Her skin was no longer hot, the marks looking a bit more faded than before, where her magic would constantly pass through it.
She backed up, ignoring the sharp comments that rolled off the being’s mouths as she bumped and stumbled. This was not right. This was certainly not right. It was bright like heaven, but smelled of burning metal like hell. With creatures like the medium, but not nearly as calm, no simple breeze and quite forests. Momo couldn’t see a tree for ages.
This wasn’t right at all.