The Witch’s Destiny

by Emma Glass

  Elliott began to glare. I sensed trouble brewing.

  An unlikely voice, one that quieted the room, dispelled the bubbling tension. “I know what’s in her dreams.”

  I focused on the speaker. Huh. That’s interesting…

  Valentine Vasiliev crossed her arms. Spreading over her face like a black scar came the unmistakable look of defeat. “During the trial. I sent her into her dreams. And I went in after her. I had to see it for myself… so, I did.”

  The others balked in an instant.

  Lord Lovrić launched into a tirade. “Such is forbidden! How could you betray the trial like this? We were all only meant to examine her, Valentine, not to magically delve into the depths of her psyche! Do you have any idea the damage you could have done to her? Or her to you?”

  “I knew the risks,” Lord Vasiliev fired back. “But I took them. We had to know what we were dealing with.”

  The others began to bicker and fight.

  After a few short moments, everyone was silenced by a question. The council impatiently turned back to the mage, who gruffly repeated himself in a huff.

  “Well, Lord Vasiliev? What did you find?”

  Valentine glanced over to the dazed witch. In her eyes, I saw a surprising level of humility, one fairly unbecoming of the dreaded lord of the Wastes.

  “Something… monstrous. It was terrifying.”

  The room stayed quiet. I could see why. The lord of the Wastes basically staked her identity on her pride. And you so freely admit something like this? Along with the rest of the room, I quietly studied her. You believe that, too. Huh. I could wager that such, in itself, is terrifying enough…

  “You tell us this now?” Eyes-Like-Fire folded her arms; as if a bitter cold had swept through the room, she stroked her shoulders with her fingertips. “Why did you withhold this information from the council?”

  Valentine looked away. “I trusted none of you.”

  Elliott and her shared a look. Oh good. You finally have something in common. Distrust and suspicion. That’s just great. Everybody else on the bloody council looked like someone had just come in and stomped their favourite toys to bits.

  “Was it really that scary?” Chandra swallowed.

  Valentine glowered. “I will not repeat myself.”

  I snorted. If I didn’t think we were in trouble before…

  “I am sorry, Lord Craven, but that’s all the more reason to let her sleep,” Ooktuk Krum offered his condolences. “I cannot stake the world on a girl. No matter her strength.”

  Studying the chamber, I made the realization:

  This is the breaking point. Over a dozen and a half vampires stand in this room right now. Each of them holding in their hands a key to the witch’s destiny… Her ever-expanding group of guardians, the surviving council, our old instructor, and the Arch-Magister of Seven Portals herself.

  In this room, we decide her fate.

  Assuming it is even ours to decide…

  * * *

  “There is something that you should know, before you all align behind such a hasty decision,” Elliott finally said. “It is something Clara told me about while she was on her home-world. A minor detail I have long forgotten.”

  I could feel the room bitterly brace itself for this.

  “From her recent trip?” Chandra Song asked.

  “No. In the past. In the beginning.”

  Brother Griswold nodded. “Go on, Elliott.”

  My brother cleared his throat. “Clara told me that there was an incident, one night. When she fell asleep.”

  Valentine thinly veiled her mounting irritation. “More omissions, and some of you question my lack of trust?”

  “She fell asleep at her table. Someone grabbed her arm while she was fleeing the force in her nightmares. As was pulled out from her dream, Clara brought it with her. The force was unleashed by complete accident, for a moment. It was enough… to destroy the room.”

  Even Lord Lovrić was visibly stunned.

  “Try harder, young Lord Craven,” Valentine glared.

  “There’s something else. I’ve been in her dreams too.”

  “Honestly!” Lord Lovrić glowered from face to face. “What is the point in even pretending we have a council—if we will always hide these things from one another? Should we even bother anymore?”

  Elliott guiltily continued when everyone stared at him. “I tried to stir her awake one night. Clara was having a fit in her sleep.” He paused, trying to recall the memory. “She pulled me in by accident. She grabbed my arm…”

  “Are you seriously suggesting that our human witch is not only capable of letting the things in her nightmares out of her head, but able to draw other things in?” Valentine did not bother to hide her laughter. “This is ludicrous! To what lengths will you go to force our hand, Lord Craven? There are more convincing stories in the fables of children—“

  “Cold,” Elliott cut her off. “It was cold. The forest stood half-dead, under a terrifying moonlit sky… the stars above barely shimmered. The trees. The underbrush. The bushes. The branches. Everything shone in a sense of… foreboding. I’ve never felt that powerless in my sleep. It felt though the entire forest was a living, breathing thing, and no different than our own world here. It felt real. It felt horrifying.

  “And when I took Clara’s hand, I felt the hatred of that force. I felt the terror in her heart as we ran. I wanted to get her as far away from it as I could—because no beast in our world can have that much malice inside it. But I never saw it. It came for us, descending like a storm, because I think that’s all that it was. A storm. Fueled by… rage.”

  He took a deep breath. “Sound familiar, Valentine?”

  Obviously, it did. She stood shaken. Her typical glare shown more violent than before, but her fingers trembled. I stared conspicuously at them until she noticed.

  Arch-Magister Vayne nodded sagely. “Then, whatever is in her mind will break free—and it will kill us all.”

  But my attention was on my old teacher. Noticing this, he quietly dug back under his seat, retrieving an old book that I recognized with a hint of curiosity. Isn’t that…

  “…Not necessarily.”

  * * *

  “I returned to Seven Portals to study my suspicions of her relics,” Brother Griswold explained, holding up an old tome. What? How did you get your claws on Clara’s spellbook? She didn’t bring it with her... He flipped through several of the pages, scanning for a relevant passage.

  “What is that?” Svetlana asked, leaning in.

  “This is a book that she brought from her own world. It is a compilation of magical history, complete with spells that defy our archetype system. I have been perusing this for some time. I could not read it, at first, but Clara found a way to make a copy that was legible…”

  My eyes flared. She made a copy? Impossible!

  Nobody seemed to pick up on that detail. The lords focused on the other part of that puzzle—the part I already knew. I found myself a little bored, as a result. That feeling wouldn’t last, I soon realized…

  “From her world?” Ooktuk furrowed his brows.

  “Yes. She apparently found it in a public library.”

  Chandra chimed in. “She told us magic did not exist on her world. How did she find this, then?”

  “There isn’t and she didn’t. This found her.”

  Valentine and Svetlana went stone silent. Though they barely agreed on anything, those two understood a gravity to this situation that defied the rest of us.

  Elliott stroked Clara’s hair but stayed attentive. “What are you telling us, then? That this book was sentient?”

  “To an extent. It sought a master, and it found one.”

  “How could a book do that?” Eyes-Like-Fire rolled one of the small, thin bones piercing her face. “It doesn’t sound like any magic tome I have ever heard of…”

  “This is much more than a book.” Brother Griswold set it down on his lap, closed. “I don’t kn
ow why this took me so long to see it for what it really is…”

  Elliott straightened up. “Is it an Illusion spell?”

  “Were it only that simple… I am afraid not, Elliott.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Tell us. What is the spellbook?”

  Brother Griswold lowered his head, as if he’d failed us. “This spellbook is an ancient relic of the Sanguine Ones.”

  Chapter 12

  Elliott

  Eyes-Like-Fire almost tore a bone out from her ear.

  “That is not possible. We have nearly no relics of their time. Nothing to suggest they were real. I do not understand why you would lie to us now.”

  The rest of us were frozen in shock. Except for two—Svetlana and Valentine shared a glance of despondency.

  “Then… she was right,” Lord Vasiliev sighed in defeat. “Lorelei Craven, all those years. My gods, she was right.” I thought she might actually burst into tears. “Not one of us believed her pleas. I thought them maddened ravings…”

  Lord Lovrić sighed. “My dearest friend. I’m so sorry.”

  Meanwhile, I stared at the book in horror. A presence walked up and placed a hand on my shoulder. I didn’t react; I barely noticed Nikki was there as I shook my head. “Should’ve guessed something was off about it…”

  “That’s key to the relics of the Sanguine Ones. They are not easily found; their secrets are even harder to uncover. I have had a copy of this book for months, and I never once suspected, until a few days ago… and knowing now what it truly is does not mean I can decipher that enchantment. It is from an era that exists beyond the logic of our magical system. I could not begin to understand its purpose. ”

  “Did you say you copied it?” Svetlana turned her head.

  I felt Nikki’s grip slightly tighten on my shoulder.

  “Clara did, yes,” I replied unflinchingly, still in shock. “She copied that book near the end of her studies.”

  The shaman lord snorted. “Of course. Why not…?”

  “How…?” Svetlana muttered. Many of us struggled at these revelations—but her scientific mind, by far, seemed the closest one to a breaking point. “I don’t understand… How could she have managed the feat?”

  Brother Griswold sighed, lifting his head and studying his audience. “I donated an enchanted tome to the cause. Clara cast a Conjuration spell on her spellbook and made a copy—and then bound it onto the other one, overwriting it completely. She wove the spells together to form a wave of self-sustaining magic. It made the binding… permanent.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” Svetlana bitterly replied.

  “Sorry…” Wilhelm meekly chimed in. “Quick question here—is that, um, actually possible? Because, being honest and all… that really does not sound like it’s possible.”

  Each of us vampire lords replied in unison: “No.”

  “Right. Thought not. Carry on then.”

  Finally coming to my senses, I steadily rose to my feet and paced the room. “What do we do now?” I drew closer to the mage. “We have all gathered here. How do we save her? How do we save our entire world?”

  “You already know,” Brother Griswold replied.

  Startled, my gaze moved to the witch. She was drifting off. “No! Clara! Wake up!” I tried to shake her back awake; the others watched in broken stares and confusion.

  “Calm down, Elliott,” the mage admonished me.

  “I… don’t know what to do.” I held her shoulders.

  “Oh. I get it…” Nikki rolled her eyes. “Interesting.”

  “What?” I shot her a strained glare.

  “It’s too late, isn’t it? Clara’s sleeping now…” Her eyes darted to Griswold. “She isn’t going to wake up again. Not without becoming this ‘harbinger’ of the Calamity. And by then, it’s too late to rescue her. She won’t come back.”

  “No,” Brother Griswold shook his head. “I think not.”

  “Then… well. This isn’t going to be fun…”

  Svetlana quickly perked up. “But that’s… impossible.”

  “Are you joking?” Nikki started to laugh. “If you keep telling yourself that, you’ll just be left behind… None of this has been possible, but here we all are! Most of us, anyway. The rest were killed by the impossible. Want to join them?”

  I glanced sporadically between the two of them, trying to work out just what kind of insane plan was brewing.

  “Use your brain, brother… You’ve already given us the answer. You said it yourself, earlier. Or do I have to spell it out for you? You’re smarter than that. The pieces all lay in front of you.”

  The solution dawned on a few of the others. Spinning my mind, I couldn’t see what they saw, not until I glanced down at Clara once more, lovingly gazing upon the way she peacefully slumbered.

  And then I realized what had to be done.

  Reluctantly, I released my hard grip on her shoulders. “Oh…” I felt my sister’s encouraging stare; steadily, I looked back to her, watching the growing grin on her lips. It’s ludicrous. It’s insane. But you’re right. “But that’s…”

  “Go ahead,” she egged me on. “Say the word.”

  I stared loving at my witch. “Unprecedented.”

  “And there it is.”

  Eyes-Like-Fire growled, angrily unfurling her arms. “Is one of you going to tell the rest of us what’s going on? I do not like being kept in the dark. All you are doing is staring at each other and speaking in code! Tell us!”

  When I finally locked my gaze with Brother Griswold, he nodded in acknowledgement. Straightening my posture and walking into the middle of the group, I offered Clara one last mournful glance. Couldn’t make it easy, could you? Was it because it’s you? Is it that you’re human? Or is this the sheer complexity of what has been in the shadows all along?

  The warrior maiden repeated: “Elliott?”

  “…We have to dive into the witch’s dream.”

  * * *

  The ring of thrones finally made sense.

  Naturally, I chose the one next to Clara Blackwell. With her soft breathing and the the barest flutter under her lids, one could be excused for thinking she slumbered restfully. I understood the truth—if she was back in the forest, then she was fighting for her life.

  The immediate fallout had been difficult. Many of our allies didn’t agree with what had to be done. Even so… we all found ourselves seated in the circle.

  Griswold examined Clara briefly. While the other lords were busy murmuring among themselves, I drew his eye.

  “You knew what had to be done.”

  He nodded gravely. “I did.”

  “But how did you know?”

  “I pieced it together. Her spellbook helped me figure a few things out…” Griswold opened Clara’s eyelid with a finger, frowning. “If my pupil was to be at the heart of this, I knew her dreams would take center stage. She has told me of these nightmares. I knew when they started, and when they came back. They can’t be a coincidence.”

  “You didn’t know her dreams blurred existence.”

  “I did not. There were many things that were kept from me. I didn’t know that she has worn a very curious amulet around her neck for years—one that is filled with a power that defies my lifetime of expertise. I also didn’t know that she brazenly carries a relic that belonged to the Sanguine Ones. Perhaps, armed with that knowledge, we could have addressed our true enemy sooner…”

  “Our enemy. The thing beyond the Calamity.”

  “Yes, Elliott. It will use her dreams to break free.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “This is unreal. How can any of this be possible? Dreams that break the barrier of reality. A witch from another world who ignores the fundamental tenets of our magical laws. A spellbook from an age once considered fiction. An amulet from between the realms…”

  Brother Griswold climbed wearily to his feet.

  “You know… I gave up a perfectly good retirement for all of this. Could have stayed away from
all this nonsense! Caught up on some reading. Written my memoirs. Finally seen a Tarandos. Rare creatures, you know! Tricky to spot. Their fur changes colours, you see, for camouflage…”

  “You would have been bored out of your mind.”

  He nearly smiled. “Perhaps.”

  “Griswold…” I started, but I thought better of it. Maybe I don’t need to know…

  “Eh?” As I stayed silent, he grunted. “Out with it.”

  “The spellbook guided you here, didn’t it?”

  “Yes, it did. It showed me what I needed to see.”

  “See, that’s what worries me…” Nikki sat in the throne on my other side, clearly listening in on the conversation. “If the spellbook is a Sanguine One artifact, and it showed you all of this to guide us into her dreams… does it oppose the Calamity? Or is it merely leading us into a trap?”

  “The world is falling apart,” Griswold replied. “I can’t promise that this isn’t a trap. But if we choose to stray from this path, I feel that we are doomed anyway. Tell me, my Lord, do you prefer your death to be fast… or slow?”

  Reflecting on his words, I nodded.

  “The thrones. How did you know how many to set?”

  He merely smiled. “I felt a nudge. It just seemed right.”

  With those cryptic words, he left my side to administer the vampire lords in their own thrones. Idly, I let my stare drift forwards, out the glassless floor-to-ceiling window in front of me.

  “I love you.”

  I snapped alert. But it wasn’t Clara’s voice.

  Reaching my hand, I took Nikki’s in my own, giving it a tight squeeze. My head rolled to the side to stare into her eyes. “I love you as well, Nikki.”

  A soft, widening smile. Tearing eyes.

  “Whatever comes of this,” I told her, “we are together.”

  ““Oh, you’ve got your witch to worry about. You let me take care of myself,” my little sister sniffed. “But we’ll find a way to stop this, Elliott. The Calamity in the sky doesn’t stand a chance against us, not like this…”