There are eight women who live about the continent of Maybella, each in charge of a direction on the compass. They guard the continent against hostile magic, each keeping to a tower in their respective area. Most renowned are the main four: North, South, East and West. The other four directions are not as powerful but are as honoured by the people of the country as they keep it safe with as much power and confidence as their elder generation, as each minor point was the daughter of a major point, four lines of strong magical blood. The one that stood out from the others was North-East, the daughter of East. She didn’t stand out because she had more power or beauty than the other four but because she often left her tower and was found singing and spreading her magic through the forest that surrounded her home. The Witches of the Compass were not known to leave their towers but North-East did many things that people had not heard of before, like speaking to commoners and playing with animals. Some thought it an omen and others thought it a blessing. North-East moved through the woods like a ghost, her gowns billowing around her in an eternal light wind that was the rippling of her immense magic. Her hair was short, unlike her fellow witches, and silver, a mess that made her look boyish in some lights, and innocently charming in others. Her eyes were large and ever curious, wells of shimmering gold in the sun and waves of navy in the moon. She never wore shoes but her magic burned away any dirt that attempted to cling to her feet. She preferred to sit up in the trees and talk to the birds or lay in fields of grass that would bloom hundreds of flowers around her as her magic seeped into the ground. Calling herself ‘Nest’ to those who asked, which were usually animals rather than people. Though humans looked like her, Nest found it difficult to relate to them. She found them as different as they found animals. She didn’t speak often to humans, but none of them ever left her presence without having received a flower from her, one she would bloom specially in her hand based on how she perceived that particular person.

It was said, that one day a young man approached Nest and bloomed a lotus in his hand that glowed on the inside like a small star in her hands when she held it. When that happened, Nest’s body burst into illumination and her hair grew to a length that spiralled around her like a thousand threads of silver light, eventually curling about her as she clutched the lotus to her, shuddering with excitement before calming down and smiling. For a moment the man stood in awe of what had occurred in front of him, frozen by her beauty. Nest handed the lotus back to him before borrowing his sword and cutting her hair back down to the length it previously had been, leaving silver threads about the ground like gathered spiderwebs. She took the lotus back and then introduced herself, very curious about the first person who had thought to gift her a flower.