Whoever she is, she’s been expecting us.
Judging by the scarlet robe and the aura she emits, I’m sure she’s an Arcane Witch. A real one.
“So you have Ryia” she sounds very young and very apathetic. “Okay then. Let’s get this over with.”
Before any of us can move a red dome forms around the room, trapping us inside.
There’s a sensation of my muscles being torn apart. Something is stinging my head, and my ears feel like they’re about to explode.
The excruciating pain spreads through my entire body like the combination of frostbite and being burnt alive.
My scream chokes in my throat, and it blocks the air from coming out, suffocating me in the process.
As quickly as it begins, it ends, and I drop to my knee gasping for air.
A bloodcurdling scream rips through the room, almost deafening me.
In front of us, a large werewolf is bearing down its fangs on the neck of the small lady. The beast tears the flesh and blood spurts everywhere. Her eyes disappeared, and she drops to the ground. A pool of blood quickly forms around her.
Our werewolf saviour slowly transitions into a human form. A half-naked large frame falls to his knees with his head hanging low. I can hear a soft sob from him.
It is Dain.
“I’m sorry,” he hovers over her, his voice cracking with even the faintest whisper, “I’m so sorry. I had to do it,” his face drops to his hands, “I had to do it.”
The grief in his voice is raw as he stares at the dead body of the Arcane Witch.
His reaction to saving my life is unexpected. I would never be angry with him, even if he broke our pact to preserve life. He saved mine, and I’m grateful.
“No Dain, don’t apologise to me, it’s fine,” I whisper, the ringing in my ear slowly receding but he’s still sobbing, the apology flowing from him like his tears and I realise he’s not talking to me.
This makes no sense. Why is he mourning this Arcane witch? He doesn’t even know her. Did they somehow become allies in the short time he’s been here?
I highly doubt that.
Did he fall in love with her?
That seems even less likely. Dain’s heart is an almost impenetrable fortress with enough room for three of us at a time. Me, Bran and… no.
I rush to his side and stare at her.
Could it be?
“I’m so sorry,” he sobs, “Please forgive me, Alys.”
Oh my god.
***
We go deeper into the dungeon. Dain leads us to a room he saw where he thinks would be best to perform the ritual.
Stepping in the room, it looks like it was a torture chamber before. It’s a bit smaller than the round room we just passed. Chains and shackles hang around the ceiling, the walls. There were a few remains scattered all over, and I bet there are more on the side that the light doesn’t reach.
But I’m not too curious to brave the dark part just to see.
Dimia quickly jumps into action. She uses the burnt torch to draw the pentagram with a circle in the middle. It’s the same one used for the Paradise ritual.
I stare at Dain who remains quiet after his breakdown.
“I’m fine, Meghan,” he lifts his eyes to meet mine.
“Was that your sister?” Bran asks.
“Yes,” he mutters, but his eyes are now focused on the shapes and symbols Dimia is drawing on the floor. Bran puts a hand on Dain’s shoulder and squeezes it
“She was with them. She locked me up. I couldn’t find any hint of my younger sister in her. It was her but not her. I didn’t even know who she was anymore.”
There must be something deeper that made him do what he did. He searched for her, even though it almost cost him his life. And now that he found her...
Whatever the reason, I’m sure the coven is involved. I know how they poison the mind of other people to do their bidding. Dain’s sister could very much be just a victim. But we don’t have time to wallow in that now. If my estimation is correct, it’s just a few hours before the morning.
“It’s done,” just as the sorceress announce, the other part of the circle arrives which takes all our attention.
Faust greets me with an intense gaze as he says, “The war is waging outside. The coven’s attention is on the battlefield for now.”
“Great. We just have to make this quick,” I try my best to sound hopeful even if my nerves won’t quit at the thought that we’re finally doing this.
After hundreds of years of preparation and execution, we’re finally putting an end to this delusion brought about by the coven’s greedy and heartless desires.
“Two hours is not quick, mind you,” the elf points out.
“Yeah. Yeah. Let’s get on with it,” Bran settles the unconscious Ryia in one of the spots in the drawn circle and takes his own place.
The others take to theirs as they look at each other in anticipation. I enter the middle and begin reciting the incantations.
I start with Ulric’s language, the first to be the part of the circle. He wished to return to his human form after the Dryads had turned him into one of them when he got lost in the forest at a young age.
I move to Adara. She ended up within the circle when she had no choice but to save the enchanted forest of her kingdom.
Garth is next, the young tribe leader of the Silver Dragons was driven into a corner when the Red Dragons almost exterminated his kind. In the hopes of rebuilding their tribe and army, he turned to the ‘Witch of Wishes’. His language is one of the most complicated out of all the seven.
Next is Ryia. Opposite of Garth’s, her language is the easiest probably due to the fact that we have the same native language. She was forced to be part of the circle. Even now, I do not know what made her earn a place.
After that, I turn to Dain. The werewolves do not have a particular language used in the modern-day, but they do have a native tongue. I can’t help but feel a pang in my chest as I remember the reason why he’s here. The result is never a comfort to me, and so much more for him. He came because of her. He needed to save her… and now, this.
I meet the gaze of the pair of golden eyes. Bran is not supposed to be here. He doesn’t have any reason to be here, but he did it for me. My heart swells at the thought of him risking everything he had just to help me.
And lastly, Faust. The language I use is unknown to any other being in this world as his language was made obsolete long ago.
After I finish each of their incantations, I proceed to the next part, which will be the longest one.
Let’s just hope no one comes before it is completed.
“My, my, my. What do we have here?” a woman wearing a long red cloak with embroidered gold drapes over her thin shoulders appears.
“I guess you won’t let yourself be stopped. Fine. Let’s do this the hard way.”
Without any movement or word from her, relentless waves of arcane forces hurl our way. My eyes grow wide as they close in and almost stop my lips from moving.
Luckily, we also have a sorceress on our side. A force field forms in front of us and serves as an invisible wall to keep the Supreme Sorceress from interrupting.
I let the words of the incantation flow through my lips.
Helewys, uses different elemental attacks to tear down the force field in front of her.
Dimia has a sharp tongue and argues with me at every turn, but she’s just as determined as we are. After what the coven did to her brother, she’s been seeking vengeance ever since. When she went her separate way from the coven, the anger inside her gave her the drive to do what she could to help us. It was as clear as day; her ruby eyes were blazing when she approached me after she learned I had a plan against the coven. It’s as if her eyes reflected the horror she witnessed, her brother being burnt alive.
No matter how different we are and no matter how much we argue, I know I can trust her. She’s not doing this for me.
Helewys displays her posit
ion as the most powerful being in the world by sweeping down the force field in one quick motion.
We don’t know what happened, but it must be an impact of a greater force that shatters the invisible wall.
“I’m done playing games,” anger colours her voice as her eyes shoot to Dimia who struggles to breathe as if hands were coiled around her neck.
“Stop what you’re doing and don’t recite the second part or she dies.”
“Don’t stop,” the elven sorceress tries to croak out, “Continue!” I can’t believe she still has the energy to be demanding.
Even if I want to save her, I’m pretty sure Dimia would not want that. We’ve come a long way with lots of sacrifices, losses, and burdens in our wake. Stopping now will put all of that in vain.
So, I do what I have to. I continue.
There’s nothing else I can do but to pray my dark elf friend has tons of guts and strength about her to last long enough until I finish this.
I can see her losing consciousness even from here, and I want to stop. I want us to save her. And like an answered prayer, something swift slices through the room. The Supreme Sorceress screams at the top of her lungs as she holds her arm where it’s been sliced open.
Dimia drops to the ground and coughs.
Where did that come from?
As to answer the lingering question in our minds, Ryia props herself up to give another menacing glare at me and say, “Don’t you dare stop, Catalyst Witch.”
Whatever it is that changed, I have to take advantage of the shift in energy.
Dimia restores her force field, and I can hear a celebrating mutter from her as she watches the proud Helewys writhe in pain.
Even with so much power, Helewys can’t avoid pain. Pain is one thing that never discriminates.
We were able to keep our set up for another hour and a half. When I reach the three-quarter part, the ground starts to shake violently.
The grand sorceress is now unconscious and might die due to blood loss. It’s probably for the best.
Pushing any thoughts aside, I try to stay upright, to manage my breathing, to see this through.
This is it.
Something within me pulsates through the nerves and muscles, an unexplainable energy surging through my chest.
As I recite the last remaining words, my eyes are blinded by a light coming from somewhere.
I then find myself facing a double stone door. A crack starts to form from the top and continues until the bottom. After a few seconds, the whole door crumbles in front of my eyes.
Another bright light descends upon me as an indication that my time to think about it is over, consuming me and hurling me somewhere else.
“Meghan!”
Someone yells my name, pulling me back to the present only to be greeted with the vision of a large stone panel falling from the ceiling, hurtling its way down towards me.
Chapter 6
Maybe
Was it really over?
Were we able to end the scheme of the world’s destruction?
Did we do the right thing?
Was there a mistake?
After the vision, doubt starts to spread in my chest, and a certain kind of fear builds within my being.
My mind whirls in confusion as a numbing pain hits.
I push myself to try and focus. Maybe I’ll get my answers. I just have to find a way to make all the pain stop.
“Do you see it, Dain? She’s waking up.” I hear a familiar voice. He can’t hide the excitement and anticipation within his voice.
“We should tell the master about it,” the deep voice exclaims.
“Her vital signs are in good condition as well,” there’s giddiness in the young lady’s voice.
I still can’t feel any part of my hands or feet. My head is pounding.
Oh my god, I want to die!
“No, you can’t,” another voice speaks, its calm, yet there’s a tinge of assertiveness in his tone.
“I take it that there’s something going on in that pretty little head of hers,” the first voice concludes.
“What’s she saying?” the deep voice asks, filled with curiosity.
No one responds.
My head feels like it’s going to be torn apart. I try again with all my might to open my eyes.
Feeling lucky, I take another try and gradually open my eyes. I’m forced to take a sharp breath when pain shoots from my head as I try to prop myself up. I feel hands from both sides, trying to help me up.
“Easy, Meg,” the familiarity of the concern in his voice and the cold touch on my right arms tell me this one is Bran.
Yay, Meg. You’re making a fool out of yourself yet again.
“I think you should take some time to rest until you fully recover” Said Bran.
My eyes are wide open, yet even after some time, the fog covering it won’t seem to go away. Panic finds its way to my chest.
“W-what happened?” I make an effort to avoid focusing on the current issue and try to calm myself by shifting the topic.
“We’ve done it, Meg. You’ve done it. The ritual was complete,” as I hear the joy in Bran’s tone, dread starts to join the panic in my chest.
I only realise I’ve already gained control in my hand when I feel my temple pulse throbbing.
“After that...?” I purposely trail off as I don’t have an idea of what’s the aftereffect of our efforts.
“Well, you’ve been buried under a part of the ceiling, but with brute force, we were able to drag you out as soon as we could,” Dain explains.
“We have no obvious indication of what our current status is. The curse might be lifted, but we couldn’t take a chance on your life,” I feel my right hand enclosed in Bran’s cold ones.
Silence fills the air. It’s as if they’re waiting for my next words.
The haziness in my vision is starting to get to me. I feel my hands tremble as I repeatedly blink, hoping the next time I open my eyes, my vision becomes clearer.
However, it doesn’t.
“I…” I can’t find the right words to say. Do I tell them? Or should I wait for more of a right time?
I suddenly feel a light kiss on top of my head.
“Relax, love. You’re going to be alright,” this time, both my hands are held by one person with so much gentleness, I feel comforted and warm.
“Faust… am I blind?” I ask in a whisper, a tremor tumbling throughout my body.
“No, you’re not. It’s only temporary as the doctor says. But you’ll be fine eventually.”
I nod as I entangle my fingers with his, resting my heart to trust his words.
***
The months that passed by were miserable. My vision returned in increments.
I try to stay sane, replaying Faust’s words in my head for comfort.
Bran sometimes takes visits, and Dain often tags along with him. Allyn brings me news about Dimia and Adara. According to her, Dimia continues her own research and widens the scope of her ability. She was elected as the new Supreme Sorceress after Helewys died. I am really pleased for her.
The Fae helped her in maintaining the old castle which they plan to open up again once Dimia’s powers increase.
I feel like there’s still a lot that needs closure. There’s still a looming fear inside me whether we did the right thing or not.
A click from the door announces an early visitor. Whoever the person is, puts a cup of tea on the table. I turn to thank the person, expecting it to be Zoren, but something about the loose top button shirt and seemingly straight pants tells me it’s not the prim and stern man that brought my breakfast today.
“I see you’re having a good morning?” Faust takes the seat across from me and sips the mug that contains what I smell is coffee.
It seems like it has been an eternity since we talked, “Yes. And you?”
“I don’t think I need to answer that now that I’m here with you,” I can make out a smile in his gorgeous face. Hi
s piercing blue eyes are the only shape I can very well distinguish from his perfect features.
A cheesy grin easily forms on my face.
“How is it?” he asks as he shifts his gaze to the same view that has been taking my attention. But I know what he’s trying to ask.
“Getting better... I think?” I mumble mostly to myself as if I need the assurance more than he does.
“Mmm.” He bobs his head absent-mindedly, the mug still in his hand.
“Faust,” I settle my clouded sight to the same place he has his eyes on.
“Hmm?”
“Is the deal still on?”
He answers with silence. It’s already hard enough to guess what’s on his mind, but being unable to see his expression clearly makes it a lot more difficult.
The silence drags on for about a few minutes until he speaks with obvious fondness, a rare chance from him, “As long as you live, the deal still stands,” he states.
“I know you’ve been itching to ask,” he pauses, “We won the war, and the coven is no more. Instead, a council has been formed to lead the world and the government. Every leader that participated in the war earns a seat in the council. They’re trying to bring democracy to the whole world.”
Relief washes over me as I confirm that somehow, peace is starting to make its way into the tangled worlds of different races and beings.
“So, are you part of the council?”
“Yes. But it would be to keep the other demons under control,” he says as a matter of fact.
“Demons are still as uncooperative as ever, I see. It’s a good thing they pushed aside prejudice and let you in.”
He takes my hand in his large one and traces shapes on the back. “It’s thanks to you.”
“Don’t credit me too much, Faust. We all know you did almost all the work here.”
“Without you, I’d be much like the other demons out there.”
“Hmm. I don’t think so,” my casual response earns another chuckle from him.
“I don’t think you see this clearly, literally and figuratively,” he says, sounding amused.
Gee, Faust. Thanks.
I roll my eyes at him. Sometimes, it doesn’t help that he knows how to joke his way into serious conversations like this. Are all demons like this?
Witch's Cursed Circle Complete Collection Page 18