It was late Saturday morning, and a watery grey light was seeping through the old house. Ella had had a tense breakfast with her mother, Emily, and father, Arthur, done her chores while yawning excessively--she had been up late on the roof, stargazing last night before being caught--and now sat alone in her room, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, frantically mixing potions.
There was a time limit with this one--she knew she had only ten minutes to stir the graveyard dirt, seawater from the Mediterranean (both haggled for when she snuck out to the magick market in the town over last month), and moonflower petals together. Otherwise, according to her book (swiped without much contemplation, for she would never have the money) the thing would react and become poisonous.
Just as she had gently crushed the last petal, hurriedly mixed it into her bottle and finished murmuring a spell over the potion, there was a cracking noise downstairs. Her mother, Emily, groaned loud enough to be heard all the way over in Ella’s room.

“Nan,” she sighed, “what a...nice...surprise.”

Ella’s heart leapt up in her chest. She set down her bottle and dashed toward her mother’s voice, bumping hard into her door on the way (she barely cared--going out into the woods after dark had made her practically desensitized to such bruises). Nan.

The old woman stood in the center of the living room, brushing the dust from her dress and cackling. Her silver hair was up in a bun, but surely making its way to its standard unruliness. Her eyes were brown and sparkling, permanent laugh lines etched into her face. When she laughed, her whole face crumpled up and one couldn’t help but laugh along--though her parent’s faces in particular were still like stone. As always.

“HA-ha-ha! For Pete’s sake, the Winds nearly blew me to China! Now what have I done to offend them, eh?” Nan appealed to an irked-looking Emily.
“Nan!” Ella exclaimed. The old woman whipped around.
“Ahh, Ella, my girl! Come here,” she said, walking somehow slower than usual, taking Ella in her arms. “I have something to give you,” she whispered, “Don’t tell your mother.” Ella grinned.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Why,” he sighed, “have you come here again?”
“Rude!” Nan sniffed. “Can you folks stop me from dropping in to see how my blood is doing?”
Arthur sighed,  running his hand through his hair, then letting it drop. “We can hope.”
“Now Ella, why don’t you and me catch up?” Nan winked. “Emily, then I want to know how the cows are doing.”
Emily groaned. “...Fine, Merida. No nonsense, please.”

Once inside Ella’s room, Nan reached into her pack to bring out several little bottles.
“Don’t you dare tell you parents. I know they’re bitter about all this, but I got you these in Italy. The witches over there are a hoot, very lovely, and I might have also gotten into a fight with an entire coven. But anyhow…”
As Nan explained the origin and purpose of each collection of leaves or sparkling liquid, Ella’s eyes lit up. She imagined everything she could make, the spells she could cast. Sure, she thought, her parents had power over her now--but who could deny how powerful she herself was becoming?
“Ella? Earth to Ella?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, Nan.”
Ella looked up at her grandmother and noticed a difference in her face. There was a redness in her eyes, a strain in her smile. Her hair seemed thinner than before.
“Ella?” Nan frowned, reaching up a hand to push back the girl’s dark hair. Ella’s eyes flitted to Nan’s wrist.
“Nan...what is that?”
Her grandmother quickly pulled herself back, covering the mark with her sleeve.
“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”
Ella’s eyes narrowed. “Nan, I’m not stupid.”
The old woman sighed. “Look, Ella. I’ve gotten into some trouble in my day, you know that. Sometimes trouble with magic comes back to bite you. Especially with spirits,” she grumbled. Ella stared at her, not comprehending.
“Basically, I’m cursed.”
“What?” was all Ella could manage.
Nan shook her head. “Yep. It’s not good, that’s for sure. The pain comes every night now. It’s nothing I can’t handle, but it’s not nice. And...Ella,” Nan took hold of Ella’s hand. “Please don’t be upset. But I have a feeling I don’t have much time left under this curse.”
Ella felt like she’d been punched. “What?”
“This is how it goes, darling. I’m sorry. I know the symptoms well enough to know what’s going to happen next. If I could change it, Lord, I would. So much trouble I have yet to get into, eh? So much you’re going to do that I want to see!” Nan said wistfully. “But this is higher-being magic. I can’t compete.”

Ella felt as if the air was being sucked out of her bedroom.
“Well, we have to do something, then.”
Nan sighed deeply. “No Ella, you’re not going after this spirit.”
“Why? Why do you assume I can’t handle it? I’ve been working on magic for years. I know more than you think.” Ella’s heart was racing, her face burning. She needed to stay angry, keep above the waves, or she would cry.
“You think I underestimate your power? Gods. These eyes have seen so many eager, powerful witches, Ella. No one can master it all, but I’ve come damn closer than most. If I knew you would be safe, I’d have no problem. But if I myself wasn’t, how could I guarantee it for you?” Nan ran a hand through her unruly hair. She smiled in spite of herself.
“You know, you remind me so very much of myself at your age. So willful. Jumping into danger every chance you get, never mind the advice of anyone else. Actually, you remind me of me now,” Nan chuckled. “Haven’t learned much, me. And that’s just how I got into this mess! But I’m old. I’ve had a life beyond what most would dream. And you, Ella, you’re just starting. You’re a bundle of energy and potential. You’re gonna need to live and carry on this legacy. You need to live.
“So please, just forget about it.”
Ella felt as if fire was coursing through her. Nan was asking Ella to let her die.
“Ella?” The voice seemed watery, blurred, coming in from a great distance. The walls of her room were closing in. Ella turned around and ran.
“Ella!” Three voices now shouted from inside the house. But Ella was faster than any of them. She ran out the door, over the field of grass, stumbling over mossy roots in her path, blurring it all at the edges of her vision, through the forest, away, away, away.
She ran until she could not anymore, dropping down to her knees, taking deep, stinging breaths.

Nan is all I have. She’s my teacher. My guardian. My best friend. She’s the most powerful witch I’ve ever known. She can’t die. I’ll be alone.

Ella bitterly wiped tears from her face, smearing it with forest dirt.

She can’t die. She deserves to live.

Ella breathed deep, steadying herself. The forest was dark and tall, noises of little animals and gusts of wind echoing around her.
Almost before she was conscious of it, she began to plan.

***
A month had come and pass when Ella stood with the witch from the town over in a small clearing of the forest.
“So...this is it?” Ella said, looking at the circle drawn around her. There were crystals lining it and symbols which she half-recognized.
“Just about. Got the chant right here for ya. Best to do this at new moon,” said the witch from the town over, taking a drag on her cigar. Ella looked at the sky. A thin crescent--close enough.
Nan had been getting worse and worse over the time that Ella had been watching, studying, waiting. Every time the old witch stood, she complained of a horrible pain shooting through her body. She was exhausted all the time. She was weak. Ella saw her less and less.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, girlie.”
“Yeah.”
“Look, kid...the most important thing here is respect. You’re not in control now, and this is not the time to cause trouble.” The lady looked at Ella concernedly.
“...Yeah.” Ella mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear as she stared at the circle on the ground. She turned to face the woman. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Has any other witch talked to this, um, Phanto...and come out okay?”
“Sure, girlie. My friend Nora did it--she’s the one who taught me the summoning. Probably plenty of others too, he’s not the worst out of ‘em all.”
Ella’s brow furrowed. “Huh. Alright.”
“Look, what you need to remember always, is this. There is no being of solid evil or solid good. Okay?”
“Yes,” Ella said. “Yes.”
Ella had read about this particular spirit, Phanto, all week while her grandmother’s enchanted letters came less and less. He did not seem very scary to her--sometimes witches apparently went to him to ask for help with their spells that they alone did not have the power for.
She could take him, if needed.

Ella bid farewell to the woman and stood in the middle of the circle. She knew the chant by heart now. She closed her eyes, opening up her mind, focusing deeply on this Phanto. She hummed the ancient words, trying, trying so hard to bring him to where she stood.
She focused on nothing but the magic, until she could barely remember where she was.

Suddenly, there was a boom that bounced off of every tree in the forest. Ella was thrown backwards, and for a second, could see nothing but blackness.

“Who? Who is it now? Out of all the bloody--”
Ella held her breath as her vision came back to her.
“Hel-hello--” she stammered, “Phanto? My name is Ella.”
The spirit’s form suddenly flew over right in front of her nose. He looked like a relatively normal old man, bearded and long-haired, besides the fact that he was rather translucent, his form shifting sometimes like smoke. His eyes glowed yellow against the dark of his body, and they looked right through Ella.
“I would recognize you in a heartbeat. Merida’s blood,” his voice boomed like thunder. “Come to ask for the whole graveyard to be resurrected? Come for the entire moon? Come to kill me?” He examined her. He shook her shoulders violently as he talked.
Ella steeled herself, remembering her plan to fight.
“Phanto, I have one request, and one request only. That you leave my grandmother be.”
The spirit rolled his eyes, and suddenly swept himself away from Ella, his smoky form slumping down to the nearest tree stump. “Of course. ‘Let her go’. Do you know anything that happened that night, blood of Merida?”
Phanto’s words seemed to have changed quickly. He was not attacking her as he had been at first--he seemed to be simply taking. Ella remained wary.“What do you mean?”
Phanto rolled his eyes again. “You think I just go around and curse witches like you for the fun of it? It’s taxing work. I deal in justice. Merida wronged me.”
Ella blinked. Nan always told her to love the earth and never do it wrong.
“What did she do?”
Phanto groaned. “She asked for me to give her the ancient, dark spell that brings people back from the dead. It was for her mother. I said no, of course not. It’s not human’s business to decide fate. But she would not stop. She insisted that she needed to bring her mother back, or her family would be in ruins. She said her father was violent, dead to the world, her little siblings so scared. I said I could give her a hand in a spell for healing, sure. I am not an entirely unkind spirit. Whatever it took, but for the sake of Pan, no resurrection business.”
Ella listened, mouth agape. Nan had told her about her parents, but never, never about this.

“And you’d think a sensible witch would accept my offer, no? No. She turned around like all was done, and the very next day, she summons me back, and this time, she attempted to trap me with stupid little force fields and barriers she’d magicked there. She tried to steal my spell, my power.”
Phanto was suddenly more grim than before. The air around Ella and the spirit was growing colder and darker by the second. Ella could see her breath silvery in the blackness, and she felt very small.

“She thought she had succeeded,” Phanto rumbled. “But I captured her just before she wind-traveled away. I took back what was mine. And I cursed her, so that when she was least expecting it, she would feel the honest, unchangeable pain of mortality that she refused to believe in.”
Ella stumbled back as Phanto closed in, falling to the ground. The spirit held back, but Ella still sat.
Phanto looked at her. “Sorry, I need a second,” she breathed.
He cleared his throat. “Take your time.”
Ella sat in silence, thinking. She had come here prepared to fight, to steal, to force. Her fists had been clenched, and she had had a knife in her dress (what good would that do? Phantos was a spirit, she realized.)
She needed a new approach.

“Spirit, this is news to me. But I have a question...why did you cast a curse that waited until she was an old woman to act?”
Phanto drew back, glowing eyes narrowed. “Well...one can panic in a situation like that.”
Ella stared at him. “Okay.”
“And she was quite young. I didn't...it would have been wrong to end her right there.”
The great spirit who dealt in justice, holding back? Ella squinted. Phanto blurred at the edges of her vision.
“Well, have you checked up on Merida at all since then?” She asked carefully.
“No. Why should I?”
“Well, she’s not the same as that teenage girl you met all those years ago. She’s become a master of her craft.” Ella smiled in spite of herself, recalling her grandmother appearing in the living room all of a sudden--fixing good mood potions to put in whiskey--using location spells to help lost children find their parents--her journeys to lands like Italy, Iceland, China, just so she could learn how witches lived out their lives there.
“She taught me everything I know. She taught me to always respects the spirits and the earth. She didn’t even want me to take the risk of calling you here.” Ella cast her gaze down. “She’s like my real parent, you know. Because my mother and father don’t want anything to do magic. She’s the best thing I have. ”

Phanto narrowed his eyes. “That is...interesting,” he said. “That is not what I had expected for such a disrespectful girl to become.”
Ella felt a surge of determination. The spirit had heard her, and listened. “Phanto, my grandmother is in excruciating pain. I don’t care what she did when she was young. She is a different woman.”
Phanto then, to Ella’s surprise, sank down to the ground, level to where she was.
“You know...I don’t really care. I don’t care about her anymore. I have my dark magic safe and sound. Have my security. I’m millions of years old. It wasn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me.” Phanto ran his fingers through his smokey hair. “But I can’t just back out of a curse.”
“Why not?”
“It...isn’t done. Justice doesn’t stop halfway.”
“What justice?” Ella stood up, looking down at the spirit. “If I’ve ever learned a thing in my life it’s that you need to break the rules sometimes. Even your own ones,” she said, as her mind flitted to the fact that here she was, having a chat with a spirit she had sworn to fight.
Phanto sighed. Ella dropped back to her knees, looking the spirit in his glowing eyes. “Please,” she said. “Just let go of it.”

Phanto stayed unnervingly still for a few moments. Then, all at once, he floated up off the ground to a few feet in the air, cracked his knuckles, and turned to face Ella. “I hope you’re right about this, little girl,” he said. Ella nodded. He began muttering words she didn’t understand, guttural, slow, musical, old. His eyes flashed with light that lit up the whole clearing for a moment, and then, he returned to how he had been before.

Ella gaped. “I don’t normally do that. Strange,” Phanto mused. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Thank you,” Ella bowed. And, to her utmost surprise, Phanto bowed back to her.
“Thank you, blood of Merida.” He said, and his words were said through a small smile. “Do not do anything stupid. Keep an eye out for your grandmother.”
Ella felt herself grinning, happiness and relief bubbling up in her chest. “Go in peace, Phanto.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the spirit was gone, and there was a ring of mushrooms where he had departed.

Two miles away, Nan gasped, as fresh air passed through her lungs and the pain racking her body faded away in seconds. She looked to her wrist and saw the mark that had been blistering to be flat and still as it had been a year ago.
“Mother? What happened?” Emily asked breathlessly.
Nan sat up in bed, looked around, and began to cackle until there were tears in her eyes.
“Ella.”
Emily and Arthur looked at one another, eyes wide. Something in their minds shattered that day. There were endless thoughts about to be spoken, to be wrestled with.

But most importantly, Ella was making her way home.