Malice filled Belamy’s chest, sneering as she curled her fingers and watched three souls wither across from her. Their bodies crumpled, falling into a heap on the creaky hut floor.

They had a deal with the witch, and she came to collect. 

Wisps of white light floated in the air before they were sealed in glass jars––now forever hers to do what she wished. Sometimes she ate them, sometimes she used them for spells. 

And right now, she was undecided. 

Her beauty hadn’t needed to be refreshed, not since she’d taken that pretty girl's soul the last time––the youth of a twenty year old. 

Stuffing the jars into her red cloak, she strode across the wooden hut and into the kitchen. With a wave of her hand, cabinets flew open. 

She scoured for herbs, spices, jars, and wooden spoons. And if she was lucky, she’d find herself a new broom to fly on. What a treat that would be.

A wicked grin tugged at her lips, her hand pausing its ascent into the cabinet when her eyes landed on a simple jar labeled,_ sap._

She cackled. “Oh, what do you think my mini friend? You haven’t had a taste of this in months. What do you say––should we take it?” 

Belamy slid her soulless eyes to her shoulder, eyeing the monkey as small as her finger. He gave her a cheeky grin and squealed as she reached for the jar, opening it on a soft _pop_. She dipped a finger, swirling the golden syrup with a claw before giving him a taste. 

He hopped, tugging on her feral, black curls. 

“I suppose that’s a yes?” She gave a dark laugh, watching as he dove back into the pocket of her cloak. “Very well, we’ll take it. It’ll be our little secret.”