The Art of Living

Ophelia had never known there was a cave in the woods behind her childhood home. When she finally did come across it, she wondered why she hadn’t found it sooner. The island was small, and finding privacy was often a difficult feat. Alone in the darkness of a cave, she would have the peace and quiet she so often desired.

The entrance was hidden behind an overgrowth of vines and brush, and as she stepped through it, she had to yank her cloak free from the brand it had snagged on. It didn’t tear, but she could see that a thread was loose. When her mother saw it, she would surely have questions. That was a problem for later.

She could hear water dripping from the ceiling somewhere in the small space, the sound echoing off the stone walls, but the darkness wasn’t as complete as she had expected. She could see now that the cave went deeper, and from around a corner, a dim light was spilling out and drawing her in. She wandered toward it.

There was a small space with crystal and stalactites growing from its walls and ceiling and producing the mesmerizing light. The area was clean—far cleaner than should have been possible for a cave—and furnished. There was a bed, a table, chairs, shelves, and a countertop. Across the countertop, a variety of materials were scattered: a collection of herbs, glass bottles, a mortar and pestle, and several abnormally shaped and colored rocks. Like the crystals on the walls, the rocks were emitting a soft but brilliant glow. 

She wandered toward the countertop and took one of the rocks in her hand. It was green, and as she held it in her palm, its surface began to grow hot.

“It would be best if you put that back where you found it.”

The sound of a woman’s voice jarred Ophelia to the bone, and she whirled around, nearly losing her grip on the stone. She tried to hide it behind her back, but she knew it would do no good. The woman had already seen it.

She was standing in the room’s entryway, her full lips twisted into a slight smirk. Ophelia didn’t recognize her. She had lived on the island her entire life, and it wasn’t a very spacious place. She knew everyone on it. Except for this woman. She didn’t know this woman.

“I see you’ve found my home.” The woman took a step forward but kept her hands at her sides. “My name is Victoria. You are…?”

“Ophelia.” Ophelia shook her head. “I’m Ophelia. I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t know somebody lived here.”

“How could you?” Victoria said, smiling. Her eyes were a bright shade of pink, and they seemed shimmer, as she held out a hand. “If you don’t mind, may I have that back? Those aren’t exactly easy to come by.”

Ophelia drew the stone out from behind herself and placed it back on the countertop where she had found it. Victoria watched, her eyes trained on Ophelia’s hands. There was an intensity in her gaze, the kind Ophelia wasn’t certain she’d ever seen.

“Why have I never seen you before?” she asked. Ophelia swallowed, hoping Victoria couldn’t see the way her throat bobbed as she did so. “You live here—in a space that appears to have been lived in for quite some time—and I’ve never met you. I’ve never seen you. Because you hide here. Alone. Why?”

She thought she saw a hint of a soft smile creeping onto Victoria’s face, but she couldn’t be sure. “I don’t hide, I keep to myself,” Victoria said. “And I do it because the world isn’t always kind to women like me.”

Ophelia stared at her, and she gestured to the countertop. “What does that look like to you?”

Certain it was a trick question, Ophelia hesitated. “Witchcraft.”

“Precisely. But to me, it’s just art, and I’d like to be able to practice it in peace. I’m not hurting anybody. I’m just living.”

I’m just living. They were words Ophelia had heard before. She had heard them from the mouth of her twin brother as he’d prepared to sail the world. She had been angry at him for leaving her. She was still angry at him because she knew she would probably never see him again. Life at sea was dangerous enough, and the outward appearance of Orion and his crew greatly resembled that of pirates and raiders. They would be seen as villains wherever they went. It didn’t matter that her brother was just a young man who wanted to spend his life exploring and would never dream of hurting a soul. 

In the same way, Victoria looked like the sorceresses she had been warned of. But maybe she was just a woman looking to feel alive. 

Without Orion, Ophelia hadn’t felt alive in a long time. She didn’t know who she was without him, and she often felt that nobody else did either. To the people around her, she had never just been Ophelia. She had been one of the twins. Half of a whole. 

She didn’t know this woman, but she didn’t need to. Her heart was a hammer in her chest, and her gut was tugging her forward, itching to discover what Victoria was talking about. To finally discover what it meant to live. Maybe magic was like electricity. Maybe it was what she needed to finally feel like she was worth something.

Ophelia raised her eyes to meet Victoria’s, deep brown meeting pink like soil from deep in the earth meeting the petals of the flowers on her mother’s windowsill. “Teach me.”

Victoria raised a dark eyebrow. “Teach you?”

“Yes,” Ophelia said. “Teach me how to live.”