I gasped for air as my lungs were suddenly under fire. I shivered in the sudden drop in temperature. My lungs fought to fill with air, and the violence of my coughing jolted me awake.
My eyes adjusted to the dim light of what seemed to be our living room, except it really wasn’t. There was no furniture in sight, and it almost felt like I had gone back into the woods. Nothing but darkness barreled into the room, and the tolling of the grandfather clock told me that it was close to midnight.
A small flicker of light grabbed my attention, and Ryia appeared before me, standing perfectly still with a vanilla cake in her hand. A single candle stood atop of what I assumed to be my birthday cake.
Something isn’t right here.
I try to move my hand up to my eyes, but there’s extreme resistance. The roughness around my wrist tells me that I’ve been strapped to my chair. I try to stand, but my feet have been bound, and I’m completely immobilised.
One flicker on the ground turns into another, and suddenly candles are forming a circle around me, and multi-coloured Zinnia petals have been scattered inside the circle.
“Ryia, what’s this about?”
It isn’t lost on me that this is my second time for the day being trapped inside a circle. I’m reasonably sure that this ominous bullshit is as much a ritual as the red circle from the ball unless Ryia has suddenly decided to be given to pranks which are not at all in her nature.
I tested how tight the rope around my wrist was wishing that this whole mess was somehow just a joke, but the pain that came from pulling told me otherwise.
“Ryia?” I silently begged for a response from my sister who, in the shadow cast on her face by the candles, looked like a completely different person. She wore a sleek navy suit having a white undershirt matched with a pair of perfectly smooth similarly coloured pants that I’ve never seen before, and I’ve shamelessly raided her closet many times. My Ryia does not wear pants suits. She wears long dresses that emphasise her femininity.
What the hell is going on?
Her silence felt like a sledgehammer being pounded into the walls of my chest, and her sharp eyes felt like an ice pick, tunneling its way through me.
Has Ryia been possessed? Oh crap, is there a demon inside her? What would a demon want with me? What in the hell is going on today?
I couldn’t hide the panic in my voice as I tried and failed to speak.
“Ry-Ryia?”
The long hand of the grandfather clock behind her struck twelve, and the sound of its gong echoed throughout the now empty living room.
Her hands revealed a small glass vial from the pocket under her suit. I watched in dismay as she effortlessly popped the cork out of the vial with her thumb before pouring the transparent liquid over the cake.
The horror show continued as the liquid evaporated above the single lit candle flickering in the centre of the cake. She stood before me, cake in hand, staring at me quietly for a moment before she pushed the cake closer to my face and blew out the candle.
The smoke lingered over my face, and I could feel a fog grow inside my brain. The long silence finally ended. “It’s such a waste,” sighs Ryia, looking down at the vanilla cake. Ryia dipped her long boney finger into the frosting before popping it into her mouth.
“The cake actually tastes amazing this year. I at least put some effort in baking this… even though you’re going to forget anyway. I don’t know why I bother.”
Whispers filled my ears as I watched her face distort beyond recognition. I fought to stay conscious, fading in and out as I desperately tried to come to grips with the madness around me.
When my eyes opened after what I thought was just a blink, the cake had disappeared from Ryia’s hands, and the room began to spin.
“You know, Liliwen,” she sounded… bored? That can’t be right.
“This is really becoming tiresome. Every year, I have to do this mundane two-hour ritual just to keep everything in that little head of yours fresh, new, and different.”
Ritual. There! Somebody finally said it. I’m not crazy!
Crap… I’m not crazy. This is actually happening.
The fog in my mind started clearing out. My thoughts began to align.
“I have to prepare every single tiny detail and do it at the exact time every single year!” She’s circling me, venting her frustration through her flailing arms and I secretly wonder if she’s going to hit me. At this point, nothing should surprise me.
“I mean… I guess I’ve been doing this for quite a while now,” Ryia continued, and I’m made mute by disbelief, “but still, It’s so boring, you know?” Ryia pauses before me as though asking for participation in her monologue. “Well, of course, you don’t know,” she grunts, sitting on the ground before me with her hands propped up on her knees. “You don’t know a damn thing, do you? No, you don’t.” She sighed and flopped back onto the ground, laying like a fallen star.
“That’s why I try to set it up for you differently every year,” she continued, and I want to chime in, but alas I’m at a loss for words.
“The last time, I was a White Witch” She sits upright before standing to her feet again, “Maybe this time, I should be an Arcane Witch, I’ve always wanted to be one… what do you think?” Ryia turns to look at me with expectancy written all over her face then slaps her forehead, “Oh that’s right…Paralysis and all. Sorry. No talking for you.”
Who are you? What are you?
“I can be whatever I want to be, at least in front of you,” she answered my unasked question, leaving me with more questions.
“But you,” she continued, with her left hand on her waist, “you’ll always be who you are: a nobody. The Catalyst Witch that can’t even save herself from a simple memory manipulation spell. That poor little brain of yours has no barrier against magic, does it? Your parents must have hated you when you were a child.”
My parents?
Aren’t we sisters?
A Catalyst Witch?
What does she mean?
The questions mountain up inside me and I feel like I’m going to explode.
“It wasn’t easy to tamper with your brain, I’ll give you that. It was your perfect memory that made everything so complicated. One little thing off point is like a thread hanging from a dress. Pull-on it and everything comes apart… ugh, you’re so annoying!” Ryia poked my forehead before turning on her heels to resume her pacing.
Where is Ryia? There is no way this is her… this can’t be her right?
This confession feels like ice in my blood, painfully dragging through me with each word leaving her deceptive lips. Her high-pitched laugh rips through the vast emptiness of the room startling me. “It is kind of ironic, don’t you think Sis? Your only gift is having a photographic memory and yet you keep forgetting everything on your birthday.”
The ghostly whispers still buzzed in my ears.
“Such a pitiful witch you are. If I had any choice, I wouldn’t want to be intentionally related to a Catalyst Witch. But we don’t always get what we want in life, do we? Just as you don’t get anything at all.” She stops suddenly before me, and despite the chaos in my mind, I can see her clearly. This person, whoever she is, hates me.
“Anyway.” She claps her hands, and black spots gradually cover my sight. I could feel my lungs collapse, and I torpedoed towards imminent death. My chest tightened as I struggled to breathe, feeling my stomach grow taut across my ribs. As I’m about to collapse and cross over into the other world, she puts her hand on my shoulder and leans in to whisper into my ear.
“Happy twenty-fifth Birthday, Liliwen.”
Chapter 4
Just a Bad Dream… I Think
I opened my eyes to a morning innocent of the darkness that transpired in the planes of my dream.
I could hear the birds delightfully chirping outside my window. The sun’s warm light seeped through the silky thin chiffon curtain that almost completely covered the square-framed window.
The warmth of the air quickly started to melt away the deadly chills of the night. Under the covers, I let myself be hugged by the soft cotton fabric, light as the touch of an angel. Great. It was all just a bad dream. My sister is a loved and gifted White Witch, and everything else was just me dreading yet another meaningless birthday.
I drummed this little mantra into my head repeatedly as I got up from the pastel-coloured king-sized bed and prepared to start this new day. I would make this birthday count for something, and I’d have a great time doing it. I may not be a talented witch, but I can be useful in other ways… I just need to figure out what those ways are.
When I’ve changed out of my nightgown into a plain white blouse and a pair of jeans, I hum my way out into the dining room and my heart, like a weighted ball, drops to the floor. There are smoking vials with shades of purple and red lined up on a rack resting above the counter.
Why are there potions used for Arcane Arts in our house?
There are no Arcane Witches in this house.
I was wrong. Ryia emerged from the kitchen wearing a crisp maroon suit almost similar to the outfit she wore in my dream. Gone were the flowing dresses and healing colours worn by a White Witch. Instead, the woman standing before me is unmistakably an Arcane Witch.
No.
Dread descended like a hail storm.
That’s impossible.
“Oh, you’re up,” a brow raised with an unfamiliar arrogance in her tone told me my suspicions aren’t far off.
“Uhm, why-” before I could even finish my sentence, Ryia started stomping her obnoxious-sounding heels and made her way to the living room, leaving me standing at the side of the door. There was no sign of the White Witch Ryia in her at all.
I tried to keep the nervousness out of my breath as my clammy hands shook by my side.
There must be some sort of explanation as to why my older sister doesn’t quite seem like the older sister I know her to be. I quickly followed her into the living room carrying a red purse I’ve never seen before to the door.
“Where are you going?” the frantic question jumped out of my mouth in a croak before I had a chance to stop it.
She stopped in her tracks and turned to me with a sigh as heavy as the feeling in my chest.
“Where else? Don’t ask questions with obvious answers Liliwen; they make you look dumb.”
Her eyelids were heavy with dark eyeshadow, and her lips were matted with umber. Even the pungent smell of her perfume that wafted to my nose was unlike the Ryia I knew.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend with the Minister of Defense.”
She turned on her heel and marched out, leaving me staring at the closed chocolate-coloured ash wood door with my mouth wide open.
The evidence was glaring. Still, my brain refused to process what my eyes had clearly seen. Ryia had become an Arcane Witch overnight.
‘Like she said she would.’ A voice whispers to me.
No. That’s impossible.
That was just a horrible nightmare. Nothing more.
I reached for the nearest wall to find support, but the floor rushed up to meet me as I buckled under my own weight and fell flat on my behind.
How long has this been happening?
My cheeks were damp with tears.
How many twenty-fifth birthdays have I had?
Why has she been erasing my memories?
Why would she go to such great lengths to perform a memory resetting ritual and pretend to be a different kind of witch each year?
Every word of her confession comes flooding back into my mind. If everything Ryia said last night was true, then something has obviously gone wrong, and I don’t know whether or not I’m in grave danger, though I somehow suspect that I am.
Who is this woman?
Is she even my sister or did she just plant herself into whatever memories she let me keep?
As I frantically wade throughout the mire of last night’s confession, I remember her saying something about why the memory resetting was needed. What did she call me? I struggled to find the words in the clearing maze of my mind until it appeared.
Catalyst Witch.
What in the hell is a Catalyst Witch?
I’ve heard of different kinds of witches. There are White Witches, Dark Witches, Green Witches, Arcane Witches and the Witch of wishes, but I’ve never heard of a Catalyst Witch.
It could be another one of the things she made up.
How much of what I know is the truth? I asked these questions to the void. Urged by my growing panic, I walked across the carpeted hallway from the entry to the living room and paused at the sound of the grandfather clock. Something about it holds my attention, and I turn to stare at the ticking hands.
What is it? What are you trying to tell me?
The sound of shattered glass echoed from the kitchen. I grabbed the nearest item I could find to use as a weapon to protect myself: the golden tower-like trophy awarded to my sister for being the best in her fake profession. I don’t suppose she’d mind if I destroyed this. It’s not like she’s being recognised for real anyway.
With a deep breath, I poked my head around the door and peeked into the kitchen to find it empty. I saw shards of the back door’s broken glasses scattered on the floor.
That can’t be good.
The stench of soil and wet dog hair filled my nostrils, and the hairs on my neck stood on edge. Whatever was in the house was right behind me, and I didn’t get the feeling that it wanted to be my friend.
The deep low snarl triggered every panic nerve in my body, and I turned to take a swing at whatever it was. The block base of the trophy in my shaking hands hit the 6-foot tall creature in the face. His eyes became pitch-black, and his canines extended as his ears twitched and I could tell he was ready to tear me apart.
It’s my bloody birthday. I don’t know how old I am, but this gift is unacceptable, and I have no desire to die today, so I ran as far and as fast as my legs could take me. I sprinted out the backyard and down deeper into the trees.
* * *
What had I done to deserve this?
First, I discovered my sister, if I can even call her that, had been lying to me for heaven knows how long. Now, there’s a werewolf chasing me with intentions to kill. Could this day get any worse??
Some birthday this is.
I was pretty sure Ryia put up protective spells outside the yard to ward off any kinds of creatures. Was that some fake fragments of my memories.
I could no longer tell what was real and what wasn’t where Ryia was concerned. At this moment, there was only one thing that I was sure of… I needed to lose the canine on my tail fast.
Pain scorched through my lungs and my feet burned under me as I found myself running further into the deep woods.
Why the woods? Nobody goes into the hangman’s woods Liliwen.
I rummaged through my brain to come up with something… anything I could do to get away from this relentless chase.
The never-ending line of trees triggered a memory, “Learn a Street Spell to Save Your Life: A Book for Humans in a Witch’s World.”
It’s better than nothing.
“The Forest is the best place to start a fire”, it said.
Okay… “Ignis, Φωτιά, אש …”
I chanted different variations of the word “fire” in multiple languages: Latin, Greek, Fae, and Elven. They had to be recited in the correct order, and being out of breath didn’t help.
After a couple of rounds of breathless chanting, I could feel the heat in my hands slowly building. I remember the book explained that this spell accumulates body heat to materialise fire. It won’t gather the energy in nature as traditional spells do, but it uses a source readily available to a human without any supernatural inclination. It was something even a non-magical witch like me can perform. Thanks to all the Gods.
I recited the words despite the pain in my chest and soon found myself in awe. Excitement cou
rsed through my veins, and I suddenly felt powerful.
I hastily tried to aim at the creature who was quickly closing in on me but missed. My inexperience in combat, and lack of knowledge relating to the use of magic, had me at a disadvantage. It didn’t matter. I wanted to live; I can’t give up.
I kept aiming and tossing fireballs, and it kept dodging, leaving a trail of burning shrubs and tree roots in his wake. When he vanished from my sight, I thought I had lost him. I turned to peer up into the trees and spun wildly with my arms outstretched, loaded and ready to fire, but he was gone. I had done it. I had used magic to save my life!
I leaned against a nearby tree to catch my breath, and panicked laughter gave way to tears as I sobbed against the tree. Suddenly, a large black shadow threw itself at me.
I had somehow managed to duck out of the way in time to miss having my neck ripped wide open. With enough distance between us, I spun around in a last-ditch effort to save myself and joined both of my hands together to generate a large flame.
After a swift recital of the incantation, I lifted the largest ball of flame I could make over me. I could see his teeth as I cast the flame upon him, and the explosion sent waves through the woods.
The blazing red, yellow, and orange had engulfed the trees and was rapidly spreading out all around me. The path behind me hadn’t been lit, and I wasn’t about to wait for ignition. As I ran out of the blaze, I heard angry growling trailing me with gaining speed.
I tried to look over my shoulder to see how close it was, but my right foot got caught, and I tripped and fell, hitting my head against something solid enough to send me hurtling into the void with a vision of what seemed to be certain death.
Chapter 5
Resurrection?
I couldn’t feel my body. My consciousness told me I was awake, but the darkness outstretched and covered my sight entirely even when I tried to lift my lids.
Witch's Cursed Circle Complete Collection Page 3