Prologue
One-Hundred Years Ago
Golden sands sparkled with sunshine as a young witchling learned from her mother, Iris—one of the most famous witches on the continent, revered throughout the land, and often sought for her power.
Since little Ella was born, Iris made it a point of no longer involving herself with politics, no matter how much they pestered her. The only thing that mattered in this world, was raising Ella to be strong. To be someone who might live a less horrifying life as Iris had, as any would want for their child.
The bay was alive with activity. Massive ships with skull-adorned flags glided in, their dark sails billowing ominously, and ready to pay Iris fortunes for her spells.
Ella would never want for anything.
Vendors called out wares, children darted around, and music drifted from the nearby taverns. Despite this, Ella and her mother found solace in a secluded spot, their haven amidst the chaos.
Their life, though surrounded by the roughness of pirates and traders, was a life of comfort and safety.
Ella watched, eyes wide with awe, as her mother conjured water into dancing shapes that shimmered in the fadingsunlight. The droplets catch the light, forming sparkling, fleeting constellations before splashing back into the sea.
Ella’s thoughts drifted to how her mother’s magic always seemed effortless, making her appear invincible. Though she never knew her father, Ella never felt lacking. Her mother’s strength was enough.
Golden sands turned sparkling black as the sun set for the night. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow that gradually deepened into purples and blues. Torches lit up the beach as the people migrated further down to the livelier taverns, and Iris was almost ready to take Ella to bed.
Ella molded sand between her fingers, shaping little castles, while her mother looked up at the stars, a serene expression softening her features. Just them, the sea, and the sky.
A sudden chill made little Ella shiver as a sinister voice cut through the quiet. The waves, which moments ago playfully lapped at the shore, now seemed to whisper a warning too late.
Two figures approached. A woman with sharp, calculating eyes, and a smile that doesn’t reach them. She stood beside a man with a bored, detached demeanor.
The woman, clad in dark, flowing robes with intricate silver patterns, exuded both elegance and danger. Her smile was a mockery, twisted with hatred as she stared at Ella’s mother.
The man stood behind her, dressed in rugged leathers, his expression weary as though this task were beneath him.
The woman stepped forward, voice as sweet as poisoned honey. “I’m Vivienne. I believe you know my husband?”
A tremor betrayed the hardened resolve in Iris’s gaze, her eyes widening with a flash of maternal panic before steeling once more, fierce and protective. “What do you want?”
The woman looks at Ella, making her throat bob with fear.
“That child is coming with me.” Her tone laced with mock gratitude as she sneered, “You should consider yourself fortunate she’ll live, unlike yourself.”
Vivienne’s voice wove a dark spell, the chant resonating through the quiet dusk. “Terra vinculum.”
Iris whirled around, her eyes pinned on her daughter as she shouted, “Run, Ella!”
“Animae claudentur!” Vivienne intoned, each syllable wrapping the air in suffocating power. Shadowy tendrils shot from an amulet around Vivienne’s neck, binding Iris’s limbs. For a heartbeat, only the thundering of Ella’s pulse could be heard, and in that terrible silence, Vivienne stepped forward.
Ella’s mind screamed in silent terror. The cold tendrils of magic wrapped around her, suffocating hope.
Silence.
One heartbeat.
Two.
Her muscles trembled as the unseen magic bound her in place. Panic rises, her small frame trembling with the effort to break free of the spell and run.
Iris’s eyes widened with realization.
Time seemed to stretch as a thin, silver blade burst through Iris’s chest, crimson droplets scattering in the golden light like shattered rubies.
