The Witch’s Destiny

by Emma Glass

  “Nikki!” I called after her.

  “We’re wasting time. Let’s go,” she called back.

  I spared a glance at the vampire lords. The rest of them were on her side; they followed suit. Soon, our group was darting across the countryside beneath the blackness. Each of us was afraid… and yet, we were eager to see what lay at the end of the path.

  * * *

  When we discovered the empty stables, we all climbed down from our horses and shored them up appropriately.

  Clara’s Knightly Trio helped her from her steed while I pulled Nikki aside, out of earshot of the vampire lords. My sister merely watched me quietly as I collected myself.

  “What do you see?” I asked her.

  “Be more specific, brother.”

  “Clara,” I replied in a hiss.

  Her eyes widened in recognition, then faded. “We have some trouble on our hands.”

  “I’ve noticed. I think the others have, too.”

  “The closer to Seven Portals that we’ve brought her, the further she seems to be drifting from us,” Nikki replied, her voice a low whisper. “‘I’ve been keeping an eye on her, Elliott. She is fascinated by this magic. I doubt she can even tell that it’s Malediction. We can’t lose our grip on her. If this magic draws her in any closer than it already has…”

  “I know,” I sighed. “I might lose her.”

  “And if that happens, we’re all dead.”

  “I’m starting to think that her presence here is a grave mistake,” I conceded reluctantly. “I don’t know what I was meant to do instead.”

  I cast a look at her—the Knightly Trio was entertaining Clara for the moment. She looked a bit more like herself again, even if only briefly.

  Nikki’s hand gripped my shoulder. I turned back.

  “We forged an alliance, she and I—and before you say anything, it wasn’t willingly. Our understanding was built out of necessity to survive her world… but I find it hard to tolerate her.”

  “Well, that’s grand. Good to see you two getting along again, but now isn’t quite the time,” I reminded firmly.

  When Nikki swallowed, I saw the look in her eyes.

  “…Something’s wrong,” I realized. “What is it?”

  “Elliott,” she whispered sadly. “When you went to the human realm, didn’t you… meet another human?”

  “Why is that important now?”

  In both fists, she grabbed me by my cloak. “Answer.”

  I brushed her hands aside, watching her. “I met one of her friends, yes. A boy.”

  My sister reflected on this. She stared to say something; suddenly, Viktor stood at our side. “Deepest apologies, my Lord. But you might want to check on Clara.”

  I kept an eye on Nikki. “Why? What’s the matter?”

  “You should probably see this.”

  “I’m obviously busy for a moment.”

  “Be that as it may…”

  I followed Viktor’s gaze. Clara was staring at her own fingertips as if they were the most interesting things in the entire world. She flipped her fingers over and back, gazing upon them with a smile.

  “That doesn’t seem too… strange,” I replied.

  “No?” Viktor arched his brow.

  “What is she talking about? I can see her lips move.”

  “That? Oh, that would be the dust…”

  “What dust?”

  My sister sighed. “Go. Deal with her before she draws any other attention. We don’t need the council turning on us at the eleventh hour, now, do we?”

  “I… I suppose not. Are you going to be okay?”

  Nikki rolled her eyes. “She needs you. Go on, then.”

  Reluctantly, I left her side and wandered over to Clara. The other two guards—Wilhelm and Asarra—were trying to talk to her. “I hear you’re keeping yourself occupied…”

  Clara smiled back up at me. “You’re back.”

  “Of course I’m back. I was only just over there.”

  “Oh. Right…”

  I looked at her fingers, front and back. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. “What are you doing?”

  Clara smiled sullenly. “She comes from dust.”

  My eyes widened. “Who comes from dust?”

  “When it’s time. When it’s over. We all go back to dust. Don’t we? I’ve seen what it looks like. I can see it now. On the… fingers… that’s where it… ends…” Clara glanced at her fingers again, holding them in front of her face—before looking to me with another wide smile. “These don’t look like mine anymore, Elliott.”

  Wilhelm and Asarra shared a quiet, shaken expression. Viktor, forever the stoic, slowly shook his head and sighed. Ignoring them all as best as I could, I held a straight face. “Don’t be ridiculous, Clara. Whose fingers are they, then?”

  Clara’s smile faded. “What?”

  My eyes searched hers. “Your fingers.”

  She looked at them funnily. “What about them?”

  “You were saying…” I sighed. “Never mind.”

  Shaking her head clear, Clara glanced around the stalls. “The other lords are still struggling. Should we go lend the rest of them a hand?” She bit her bottom lip, studying her surroundings as if noticing them for the first time.

  I didn’t like what I was seeing here.

  Neither did they.

  Her three guardians turned my way for approval, their faces united in solemnity. The Knightly Trio were a proud testament to one of Clara Blackwell’s most curious talents: the power to make friends at every turn, even within those who might cause her harm. The witch had every reason to distrust and despise these castle guards in particular—but instead, they became her best friends and closest allies.

  Asarra originally captured her and brought her to me; Wilhelm and Viktor, on the other hand, left her alone at the hands of a vampire ready to drink her dry. In her kindness towards them, I knew any of them lie down their lives for her without so much as a blink.

  Barring myself, of course, they understood her better than anyone else in this world. I’ll be the first to admit that they consistently found a way to dance on my last nerve—but from the start, the Knightly Trio had served as Clara’s instructors, her protectors… and her dearest companions.

  “Lord Elliott?” Viktor asked, scratching his neck.

  I blinked away my thoughts, realizing that they started to look at me with concern. The witch furrowed her brow. “Good idea, Clara. You three, keep an eye on her.”

  “Of course,” Wilhelm noted, still a little shaken.

  Clara smirked. “I’m not a child, Elliott. I’ll be fine.”

  “Right,” I nodded, holding a brave expression. “Carry on then. We need to find our old friend here soon.”

  The four of them wandered over to lend Chandra Song help with her steed. Meanwhile, Eyes-Like-Fire—who was already helping out the other lords—watched her wander by… before sending me a sad, meaningful look.

  Nikki asked: “What do you make of all that, Elliott?”

  “I don’t know. But it makes me afraid.”

  “You know, if I didn’t know any better…” Standing by my side, she folded her arms and curiously tilted her head. We watched Clara help tend to the horses. “It’s almost as if your darling little witch is… dreaming?”

  Those were the last words I wanted to hear.

  * * *

  Viktor shifted uncomfortably in place. “This is eerie.”

  I couldn’t help agreeing with the sentiment. Ever since stepping foot in Seven Portals, we had not seen so much as a single robed caretaker. While I was used to my entourage being escorted in back channels, away from prying eyes…

  “Do not fret. I expected this, to an extent…” I assured the others as we strolled a freezing, bitter courtyard under the blackened night sky. “Centuries of magical protection have been layered here, one spell after another. There are contingencies in place, if Seven Portals ever fell under an attack from overwhelming force. I bel
ieve that the current circumstances qualify…”

  “Is this how people crossed facilities like this in the old days? On foot?” Chandra Song laughed. “How dreary…”

  “Chrysm is in its relative infancy,” Svetlana replied. “It took a great many years to expand it to the extent we have today. Only the castles and places of similar interest have operational chrysm networks.”

  “It beats walking,” Nikki muttered irritably.

  I glanced her way meaningfully. When she noticed my gaze, my sister nodded—and darted for the nearest steps. Her running jump took her up a stone pillar, up and onto an overhang, and straight up to the rooftop in a flurry of effortless acrobatics.

  “The mad one likes to show off,” Valentine muttered.

  “Trust me…” A proud grin alighted on my lips as I left Nikki to race across the rooftops. Without the nodes online to cross the academy at a reasonable rate, my nimble sister provided the swiftest solution. “When my sister decides to show off? You’ll know.”

  She gracefully leapt between buildings overhead.

  Snorting, the bitter old lord shook her graying head. “If you say so…”

  We continued onwards, from courtyard to corridor and back again. A thin layer of snow covered the citadel, which meant the unnatural winter that fell across Stonehold had overwhelmed the innermost barriers of the academy. All the while, there was little evidence that the grounds were abandoned in any sort of hurry. Nor did we find signs of any struggle. The entire citadel stood perfectly immaculate from one end to the distant other—almost as if it expected an inspection.

  “Well, of course it’s clean,” Wilhelm noted when I made that observation clear. “Whole place probably crawled with would-be initiates. Isn’t that what Orientation is all about? Paying your dues? Scrubbing every surface clean? Ask me, and I’d say it’s indentured servitude at its finest. It doesn’t even guarantee you a spot in the lessons!”

  “Dishonourable.” Eyes-Like-Fire soured visibly.

  “Is that true?” Svetlana asked, an eye narrowing at me. The scientist gazed at the colourful, blazing fires atop their pedestals with a renewed sense of disgust.

  “I have always been under the impression that passing Orientation secured a position as an initiate,” I responded. “If that turns out to be true, I may have to revisit the rules of this place some day…”

  “It’s true,” Viktor nodded. “Didn’t care for it either.”

  It was my turn to feel my face turn sour.

  It was fifteen more minutes before I heard the scuffle of boots on nearby rooftops. As we crossed another cloister, I held out an arm to halt the traveling party.

  As if on cue, Nikki Craven slammed into the snow just in front of us, spraying frost into the air—but her landing was careful to not douse anyone. My sister gracefully rose, her eyes locked onto mine.

  “What did you find? Is anyone here?”

  “The Arch-Magister awaits. This way.”

  She trotted off towards another gate. I caught up to her as the party trailed behind us. “Notice anything else?”

  “Not really. The place is deserted.”

  “No initiates? Nobody?”

  “Didn’t stick around to ask. But there are no footprints in the snow to be seen. How is our little dreamer?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. The Knightly Trio escorted Clara forwards, but Clara had gone quiet. Her face told me she recognized little of what she saw.

  “Passive. They’re keeping her engaged. For now.”

  Nikki snorted. “We’re in trouble here, aren’t we?”

  Barely, I fought a shiver. “Yes. I think we are…”

  Part II

  The Witch’s Dream

  Chapter 11

  Nikki

  Arch-Magister Vayne slid across to the door, taking it from me and holding it open for the group.

  “Welcome, my guests, to Seven Portals.”

  Most of them froze when they saw the ring of thrones; I had forgotten to mention the odd arrangement on our way up the tower. Eight high-backed seats rested in a circle that dominated the center of the room, each one facing towards an empty window that stretched from ceiling to floor. With the thrones in place, the room seemed much smaller.

  Overlooking their curious expressions, Vayne gestured the others into the room. “You’ll have to forgive me for not greeting you at the welcoming hall myself. I was not sure when you might arrive, and all of my resources here have been a tad… depleted.”

  Elliott nodded, ignoring the thrones. “Evacuation?”

  “Indeed. Last night, I oversaw the Magisters escort our personnel and pupils off the academy grounds.”

  “Excellent. Where have they gone?”

  “I’ve ensured they have a safe haven. Do not fret, Lord Craven—they are under the best protection I can offer.”

  Brother Griswold rested in one of the thrones, a bit out of place amid the grand opulence. He lifted his head to stare our way, clearly exhausted. The two Duelists were tending to him, but they took a moment to follow his gaze.

  “How is he?” I wandered to his side.

  “I’m fine,” Griswold grunted. “I’m suffering from old age. No magic can interfere with it. It comes for everyone, in the end, no matter the centuries we place behind us.”

  Bitterly, I thought back to everyone I had lost. “Some of us die early. Old age can never take them.”

  Something changed in his eyes, but I didn’t care to see it. When I turned away, he changed gears. “I hear you’ve been busy. The Arch-Magister tells me about your mission to the Falvian Badlands…” His gruff expression broke into something like sympathy. “Couldn’t have been an easy road. I am sorry to hear of your troubles… and your loss.”

  Well, he didn’t change gears too far.

  “I have lost more since then,” I commented quietly.

  He looked me in the eye. “I don’t doubt that.”

  After a moment of brief commiseration, he climbed up from the throne to get a better look at me. To my surprise, the hunched mage threw his arms around me in embrace. I found myself leaning into it.

  When he pulled back, nobody else seemed to notice.

  “All these bloody people… Bah! You would think we were throwing a celebration for the Calamity itself. Where is Clara Blackwell? Did she make the trip?”

  I nodded behind me.

  “Let me see her,” he grunted. “Has it started?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t bother asking what he meant.

  Something subtly shifted in his hard and haggard face. “Then I was right. I feared this might happen. We have little time…”

  “Time for what? What do you know?”

  Griswold muscled through the vampire lords, ignorant to their indignant glares. Snatching her from Elliott’s side, he whirled Clara around on her heels to face him, peering deeply and studiously into her eyes.

  “Brother Griswold?” Elliott rebelled. “What are—“

  “Silence!” The mage demanded. “All of you, silence!”

  Chandra Song, the vampire lord over therapeutic temples and soothing back-rubs, looked amused but concerned. With a hand on her hip, she shared a look with Eyes-Like-Fire—arguably, the most outwardly ferocious of the lords.

  In the few days I served in their ranks, I was newest of the lords in both age and seniority; but those two were the youngest in general. As the ones who to outlive the others, I always wondered why they never made a solid alliance. It would have made a practical relationship for centuries. They had more in common than one might guess—though their hobbies, in hindsight, didn’t tend to overlap much… Chandra felt right at home in soothing oils and fragrances, whereas Eyes-Like-Fire was most in her element caked in the blood and glory of a fresh hunt. I always considered it a shame that those two hadn’t become closer allies.

  Or better yet, why they never approached Elliott…

  Together, those three were the inheritors of the vampire lords. As the others died or abdicated,
their holds, which were spaced across the world from each other, could stand to become the authorities on the council. Assuming, I guess, the warrior maiden lord of the Timberland Plains isn’t slain on another one of her war hunts…

  When I stirred from my thoughts, I realized that order had come to the room. Brother Griswold, the shortest of us all, held everyone’s attention. Briefly scanning the others, I could tell that he had left quite the impression over them. But they scowled, most of them—my old teacher was speaking of Clara Blackwell. It sounded grim.

  I listened in on the tail-end of his little speech.

  Lord Vasiliev examined her nails for a moment before cutting him a filthy glare. “What are you saying, mage? Do you mean to imply that the witch has gone mad? We’re already dealing with that kind of dead weight…”

  Gazes drifted my way. Cheap shot. I nearly laughed.

  “Something dangerous resides in her dreams,” Brother Griswold stroked Clara’s hair. The witch rested in one of the thrones, her eyes opened but clearly lost in a daze.

  Elliott stood at her side, his face contorted with grief. “I suspect something has been slumbering there for many years… but it has begun to awaken. The more it stirs, the further it drags her into this strange state…”

  Lord Krum cleared his throat. “Then let her sleep.”

  “Excuse me?” Elliott lifted a glare. “What was that?”

  “If there is something lurking in her dreams, we should let her sleep. It cannot be freed so long as she slumbers. Let her body serve us as a prison until we understand what we are dealing with. When we have more answers, we can help her.”

  “You are not going to make a prison of my…”

  Ooktuk Krum leaned forwards over his shamanic staff, his eyes simmering in irritation. “Your what, Elliott?”

  Lord Lovrić sighed. “We have all accommodated your claim over the witch for years, Elliott. This was never the plan. We sanctioned her studies, but you agreed that her fate would be left up to the entire council when her studies were complete…”