"Your mother's name was Helena, beautiful as her name suggests," the Witch Mother said as they walked down the dark hallways, the rest of the coven right behind them. "She came from a long line of powerful warlocks known for their talents in necromancy,"

"Let me guess, they dug up graves and summoned demons?...Like you guys?" Ara murmured meekly.  

The Witch Mother made a low laugh, "Oh, these warlocks were special. Warlocks themselves cannot bear children, but your particular lineage was, told by legend, directly descended from the Princes of Hell and could therefore do so, and blessed by the Angel of Death," she took a sharp turn to the left, her staff thumping with every step she took. "Perfect juxtaposition if I do say so myself,"

"Angels and demons, how poetic..." Ara noted. 

"Your heritage would never be diluted, that constant power," there was hunger in her tone. "Generations past, and their descendants assimilated into all walks of life, including our lovely coven," she continued. "We thrived among others, people feared us, came to us for service and our numbers were fearsome. We could have created an army!"

Ara was unsure if the Witch Mother knew that in this day and age, there was no need for any sort of army. They entered a much bigger room of the underground lair, opening up to a dungeon-like hall dimly illuminated by lamplight; In the middle of the room was a pool, its water still like a mirror. And despite them being so underground, there was opening on the ceiling that revealed a slither of the night sky above, the moonlight directly hitting the water's surface. 

Ara noticed none of the other witches had followed them in. This was, Ara guessed, the Witch Mother's private room. 

"We had a name for your ancestors and their generations after, we hailed them as Corpsewitches," the Mother continued. "When we had to commit countless acts, they could do so with ease. Summon a soul on a whim, command legions of the dead with a flick of their wrists, revive the dead,"

Ara's face went pale, "We could do that?"

"Yes but even your remarkable abilities had limits, reversing the process of life, it has consequences worse than death. Still, your gifts are aplenty," she muttered as she circled the pool earnestly. "I knew it the moment you unleashed your powers, I haven't seen it in years. Since Helena..." 

She made a face, "You were...close to my mom?"

"I watched her grow up, lovely poppet of a girl," the Mother trailed. "I taught her to use her abilities, extraordinary prodigy she was," she looked directly into Ara's eyes. "And now her kin has returned to us, you can achieve just as much of greatness,"

Ara backed away a bit, "Hey look, lady, I can summon a ghost or two but I'm not my mom. You see, I barely knew her so I don't quite see how much 'greatness' are you talking about,"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" the Witch Mother said with an unsettling grin. 

On command, the water in the pool rippled. It gradually revealed moving pictures, like a beam projector playing a film, and Ara stared. It showed people not from this era, a maiden in a Victorian dress raising someone from the grave, another stood against a village, shielding herself with a legion of ectoplasmic entities, a girl barely older than fifteen leading a circle of cloaked individuals—the Witch Elm, into a forest as they laughed in maniacal bliss on a full moon's night. The pool rippled again...

And then the Witch Mother herself, with a girl that could only be Ara's own mother: Helena.

"Mother Edith, why must I look away from strangers?" little Helena asked the Witch Mother, who now had a name. They were sitting by a hearth, Ara vaguely remembered seeing it while passing by an abandoned dark room, outside this study, Mother Edith brushed Helena's hair gently, even planting flowers in between her dark waves. Unlike now, Mother Edith, she noticed, was once pretty as well, unlike the cursed being that stood before her now. 

"Because your heart is wild and untamed, little witchling. The world is a dangerous place, full of bad people who wish to take advantage of you and your little heart," Edith replied with the same light tone. 

Helena blinked, "Why would they do that?"

"Because you have power, my dear. Men are not to be trusted with that kind of power you wield," Edith carried on. "Tell me, are you powerful?"

Helena nodded eargely, "Yes! I can tell ghosts to do what I say, though they don't quite like it when I tell them what to do. I can help you, Mother Edith!" she giggled.

"Of course you do, my flower!" the Witch mother chuckled. "You help us in the Witch Elm so much, our treasure."

"I'm glad I'm helpful," Helena replied with the toothy grin, and Mother Edith carressed her soft hair with her fingers, like how Gothel did to Rapunzel. 

"So remember, little witchling, guard your heart and keep it unbroken."

The scene faded to blankness, and Ara's throat was dry. Mother Edith seemed a bit dazed, as if she was recalling a fond memory. "So I'm guessing my mom ran away from here," she gulped. "Why?"

Mother Edith was shaking with fury, "Why? She fell in love," she spat, as if it made foul. "Foolish girl ignored my advice, and instead laid eyes on a man whose name I could care less! That dog took her away from me, from us with empty promises of unrequited love and she believed his every word,"

Ara should have felt mad that Edith might have insulted her father, but she had never met him and so the only thing she felt for was for her mom. She feared the worst. "And the man, what did you do to him?" her expression was tight.

"I killed him," Edith replied without any remorse. "A death sentence for stealing her heart, and punishment to her for betraying us,"

Ara wanted to curl in a ball, she didn't know what to feel other than anger. "Well, how did that end?"

"Instead of realising her mistake and repented, she fled!" Mother Edith bellowed. "Ungrateful brat, and she left her coven to wither when she knew the Corpsewitch's power is what keeps our bloodline strong!"

Chills ran down Ara's spine, she didn't feel like hearing the rest. "What bloodline?" she whispered. "Do you mean children? How could she have children if you didn't let her—"

"Witches don't need love to bear child, poppet," she laughed menacingly. "This is politics you are unaware of, having the Corpsewitch in our ranks was a symbol of power among covens, their strength in black magic unrivaled. Helena was always too soft, too vulnerable to emotion. She despised the thought of bearing children of something she could not come to love,"

It hit her, of course. "Demons," she murmured, her head spinning as she recalled what Jongho had once told her about twisted cults and covens. The image of the dark room, it's red bed and the pentagram haunted her mind. "You wanted her to bear children with...the devil?"

"When it was her duty!" Edith argued. "It's common practice and still her heart was more human than we wanted it to be, infallible to mundane feelings!"

"Because my mother was human!" Ara exploded. "It wasn't her fault she couldn't accept your twisted practices! She had every reason to run away, after how you hurt her!"

"And yet here you stand!" there was a flicker in Edith's gaze as she said that. "The wheel has come full circle, and you come tumbling back here asking about who you are. So tell me, Araminta," she said Ara's name for the first time since she arrived here. "Why is it that you have returned?"

Ara felt sick. If it weren't out of pure desperation, she would never have thought of coming here, regardless if it had to do with her identity, Serafia, and Yunho—a web of questions she didn't have answers to unless she stayed here with this awful Witch Mother. "I'll be honest, Mother...Edith," she decided to call her by her actual name. "I didn't come here because my mother asked me to, frankly the only thing I know about her is that she's dead," she said flatly. "So no, I don't know what 'sense of duty' to the coven you are talking about. And if there is even, I don't feel obliged to do so,"

Mother Edith glared, but her gaze was equally curious. Ara continued, "You see, I've come here not just to know about your depressing backstory, or how hurt you were when my mother decided she'd no longer yet you use her,"

"You rude girl! I—"

"Ah ah," Ara stopped her. Her walked over to the shelves and took the intriguing dagger on display. She trailed her finger carefully on its edge as she examined it, acting like she was hardly fazed by the sour look Edith was giving her. "I'm not that starry-eyed little girl you groomed, Edith, if that's really your name. Unlike my mother, I see through your lies even if you believe them,"

"You know nothing," Edith glared.

"Don't I?" Ara raised an eyebrow. "Let me see, once my ancestors were part of the Witch Elm, you all used their powers, our powers to leverage your advantage in your political schemes. And in order to make them stay, you groomed them even my mom and fed them lies and trapped them here so you all could leech off our power. And once my mother realized what you had been doing, she ran away and you got mad you could no longer take that power for your own.,"

"Not for me, the coven will die off if weakened!" Edith shrieked.

"And do I look like I care?" Ara snapped, even Edith was surprised. She walked over towards her, knowing she had the upper hand now, the old dagger somehow still in her grasp. "I'll cut to the chase, I heard everything, I know you're dealing with Serafia,"

Edith's eyes glistened, "So this is your motive? For that wretched ?"

"I gather you don't like her much either," Ara deduced. "So that makes two of us."

"What do you know?" Edith hissed back. 

"I know you want something from her, and you need it desperately. And in return, she's asked you for help," she said quietly. "So you tell me what exactly has she told you to do,"

Edith hesitated, "What would be in it for you? Why should I even tell you? You have already stated you don't care of what becomes of the coven—"

"You're right, I don't care. What I care, is that she doesn't get what she wants,"

"I can see there is more than dislike between you," Edith noted, as if she had discovered a rueful secret. "You have bad blood, a history, I reckon. Interesting...just what has our little witchling trifled with outside our humble coven?"

I went and fell in love with a ghost, happy? "So now you know the reason I've come. I'm proposing another bargain, maybe more beneficial than whatever Serafia has asked of you,"

"Hmm, I'm intrigued,"

This was the penultimate moment. "Revenge is a far better motivation than duty, don't you think? That is what I want and if I can give you what you want and you betray Serafia, I'll agree to your terms. I remain here, part of the coven." And the moment she said that, she could feel her pulse racing. There was no taking back her word.

"You ask me for betrayal? The irony, isn't it?" this time Edith did laugh. "Very well," she stood straighter, her beady eyes staring into Ara's brown ones. "We may have an arrangement."

"Now tell me, what did Serafia want you to do?"

Edith laughed even louder, "Oh why would I care about what she wants? Our precious Corpsewitch has returned, we no longer need a replacement!"