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“Serves you right, you fucking psycho,” Willow gasped, still struggling to draw breath. Then she laughed, almost deliriously. She stared at the puddles of gold around her and whispered. “Holy shit. I did it. I melted it.”
Joy pulled a small Med Witch bottle from her pocket, taking her time uncorking it, before pouring the concoction into Lilith’s hands. Lilith unleashed a stream of creative swearing as the elixir coated her hands, soothing the burns, and licking away the pain.
“Fuck, that hurts,” she whimpered.
Rubbing the elixir into her hands, coating the burns and blisters there until they receded, Lilith reached over and took the jar of metal debris. She twisted it open, pouring the contents onto the carpet in front of Willow.
“Make it into a ball,” she demanded again.
Willow snarled, face contorting in anger at the command.
But she reached out to scoop up a handful of metal, and it purred and glowed under her touch. It pulsed with a warm glow and melted. Willow held the molten metal in her palm and closed her fist around it. When she opened it again, a perfect sphere of metal sat there.
Lilith smiled, red lips twisting up in a near sneer.
“See, little sister? You could do it, after all. You just needed the right incentive.”
Willow’s only answer was a growl.
Joy’s trial was next.
Mental.
This was where Joy truly excelled. While she may have been the most skilled Air Witch in history, her best strength was in her ability to look inside people and see them for who they really were.
Joy took them to her mediation suite—a large circular room, empty save for the hundreds of candles that lined the walls and a variety of cushions covering the floor.
“Sit,” Joy instructed Willow, motioning to a cushion in the center of the room. When Willow did so, taking her time to settle into a comfortable seated position, Joy waved her fingers and one by one the candles around them lit, bursting to life with a flick of her Fire.
Joy took her time, walking around the edge of the room, lighting incense, and humming to herself. Smoke drifted through the air around them, thin tendrils that carried strong, heady scents.
Even with the candlelight, the room was dark and far too warm. Fey wrinkled her nose and leaned against the rounded wall. Next to her, Lilith did the same.
“Close your eyes,” Joy instructed. From her seat in the center of the room, Willow closed her eyes, a hint of a smile tweaking her mouth.
This was not what she had expected. And this? Compared to Lilith’s test, this would be easy, the little Witch thought.
Fey fought the urge to laugh.
Joy paced in a slow, lazy circle around the room. She moved with a cat-like grace, unhurried and exuding calm. Her aura was gentle and soothing.
“Don’t worry, little one. I won’t attack you, like my sister. I just want to look inside your mind. I just want to know you. Breathe in, little Witch, and feel the air around you.”
Willow took a deep breath in. Incense curled around her, tendrils flowing into her nostrils.
“Breathe out and breathe out all of your troubles. All of your woes.”
It went on like this for a while. Joy moved silently around the room, circling Willow like a cat, and Willow sinking deeper and deeper into a trance. The heat of the room was overpowering, the smell of the incense cloying and thick. Fey fought the urge to yawn, fought to keep her own eyes from closing. The room wanted to pull her down, pull her onto the cushions, and lull her to sleep.
“Can you hear me, little sister?” Joy asked.
“Yes,” Willow responded, voice heavy. Relaxed.
“Good. Breathe in. Hold your breath with me. Three…. Two… One… release.”
Willow exhaled.
“What was your name, again, little Witch?”
