She swallows before she starts to speak.
“There used to be White Witches and Blood Witches. We existed next to each other, a thin line of balance separating us. Our practices revolted the White Witches, and my kind loathed them for looking down on us. Because of that, there was always much secrecy around our methods and misunderstandings on the White Witches' side. Before the Witch Wars, my kind would only use the blood of willing participants. Our magic wouldn’t work otherwise; the human had towantit, to sacrifice their blood for us. After the war, many things changed, and with that, so did our magic. With the removal of light to balance our magic, the magic within us darkened, and the devilry deepened its roots. Instead of freely giving blood, we requiredunwillingblood. Forcing us now to spread terror and kill. Some covens went as far as to use violently obtained blood. Due to the differences between covens becoming more evident, to restore some form of balance, our magic turned into markings on our skin, depending on how dangerous or savage the coven was.”
She looks at me as I listen to her in silence.
“Do you want me to keep going…?”
I gesture for her to continue. She inhales deeply.
“As you might have guessed, my coven gains its magic from death, from corpses, necromancy. We are Death Witches. These shadows that lie on my markings have their own will; the older you get, the more they will listen to you. Witches from my coven can live up to hundreds of years. Our eldest member is now well over five hundred years old. I’m a youngling—a baby witch. I just turned 20, nothing compared to others in my coven. Myshadows are erratic, playful, and very much have their own will.” She laughs at that.
“That’s why Lucian decided to play his cards right and leave me alone. My shadows are unpredictable, but he knows one thing for sure. They crave death. But they might have gone after someone else instead. Like I said, incalculable.”
“That’s why you saw me taking that heart; that man was already dead. From time to time, I eat human organs to keep my shadows at bay in hopes they will not just go and kill someone at random, such as a witch from a different coven. Not all of us witches are insane.”
She gives me a smirk and stands up.
“I’ll leave you to digest all of this. If you still want to talk to me tomorrow, I’ll see you downstairs.”
With that, she leaves the room. I’m alone with my irrational thoughts, trying to comprehend why I enjoyed the company of a witch, a Death Witch. Part of me wants to call her back, ask her to lie with me, and let us try, but I'm unsure what I want her to try with me. Sleep with me? Date me? Start a relationship?
I look at the door she just left through, which is still slightly ajar; she confides so much to me without me even asking. She trusts me, and besides taking that heart in the square, she hasn’t done anything to betray my trust in any way. If anything, she came to my aid, scared of that vampire freak, Lucian, despite her not knowing if her shadows would obey her.
I sit back on the bed as I conjure up the image of Caria in my mind. Her breathtaking beauty, the alarm that flashed into her eyes briefly after Lucian mentioned the Aurum to her. Her inexperience is evident, and I can tell she dislikes it. She knows not to come close to me when my scent is too strong for her. It would burn her from the inside out. The magic clouding me works in peculiar ways, it appears.
When it comes to vampires, my skin works its way through theirs as if I am a reincarnation of the sun itself, strong enough to burn through whatever magic allows them to roam freely during the day, not bothered by the rays of light from the sun.
With witches, it works differently, albeit I have no desire to test my touch on Caria and see the effect my hold will have on her skin. Witches are repelled by the smell the magic conjures for them. Caria has told me it is so putrid it makes her almost throw up, and if I come closer, the burning sensation gets hold of her windpipe and lungs, making it hard for her to breathe, suffocating her. Yet, for unknown reasons, she can come nearer to me than any of her kin. Then it dawns on me: it is because I want her closer to me. I want to be near her and touch her.
I lie down on the bed. The thought of being able to suffocate witches if needed, simply by being close to them, is comforting.
DIARY ENTRIES:
She said her first word at 10 months. She said dada. How can you do this to me? How am I to survive this? HOW.
He, too, said his first word. Of course, dada. Keir is a proud father, and he dotes on them as he dotes on me. When I look at all three, my heart swells with pride and love. None of this is fair. How am I supposed to live my life like this? I hope you enjoy my wallowing.
Bonded in Blood
HARLOT
Chapter 6
I take a step into the forest, and its mossy ground softly groans under the soles of my leather boots. Tall trees loom over me. The trees here are much bigger than I’ve ever seen, wide with large branches. Wooden giants.
The moment Mother awoke, I was awake as well. When I saw her stowing the books in her bag, I had already decided last night that today would be perfect for venturing into this fortress with Mother gone and Fynn hopefully sound asleep. He barely even stirred as I clothed myself as still as a mouse and exited the room shortly after Mother. When she was out of sight, and I was certain the coast was clear, I checked the bar at the Inn. The female witch behind the bar gave me a curt, cold smile, and I sensed she would not tell me anything. That’s when I spotted him. The male vampire I spoke to this morning was amused when I asked about The Silent Fortress. He sat there by himself in solemnity, and I knew he would be able to tell me how to get there as if unseen forces guided me. He mocked me instantly and said only fools with a death wish would seek out the castle, and even the abomination of magic that clings to me could notkeep a petty human like me safe. I cocked an eyebrow at his wording and demanded instructions on how to get there. He had shrugged, not daring to taunt me further, and told me how to find it. A human, more or less, was not of his concern.
Despite the warning, I set foot on the path that should lead me to the fortress. It’s still early morning, and the sky is a light tint of pink with hints of orange. Drops of dew are present on the leaves of trees and the grass.
As I walk, a path forms in front of me, as large oak and birch trees seem to bend out of my way, their branches moving along. As I look in amazement at the forest coming to life, paving my way, not long after, I see gigantic arched towers painting the line of greenery. A flying gargoyle lands on top of one of the pillars while more are already seated on the eaves, its clawed feet planted firmly. I stare at it for a short while, but it turns into a dark stone, its grotesque features frozen. It no longer moves as small rays of watery light filter through the thick clouds, coloring the sky.
Determined, I stride toward the looming building. The architecture is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, its features full of intricate detail. Tower after tower appears in front of me, surrounded by pillars and columns. As I near it, a large drawbridge comes into view. Seeing the entire castle is breathtaking; the water in the moats surrounding it is clear turquoise, just like the lake in Sadelaer, and I wonder if all of this is a veil of allure, too. Large, colorful Koi fish swim in the clear water, minding their own business, with pink and white water lilies covering some of the surface. Dark red roses with thick, sharp thorns cover the stone walls, as if they protect the building. The doors leading into the castle are surrounded by blooming wisteria, a poisonous threat in itself. Remnants of fog cover the lower half of the building, directing the way to thelarge wooden doors across the bridge, which open, their hinges squeaking in protest. I take the invitation and go inside, the wisteria slowly crawling away from me, almost as if it’s afraid to hurt me accidentally. Even the thorned roses stay clear of the door.
The fortress's interior holds an even more intricate design than its exterior, and I don’t know where to look. I venture further inside the building and hear the doors close silently behind me. The thick carpet on the stone floors muffles my steps. I see art, antique furniture, tapestries, and marble statues everywhere my eyes travel. After inspecting the ground floor, I slowly ascend a swirling staircase that leads to the second floor. Antique paintings, covered in layers of dust and framed in ornate frames, most of which depict the ever-ongoing struggle between the Light and Dark realms, adorn the staircase walls. I stare at them in awe, as I presume they are depictions of how life once was before the Witch Wars that ended it all, forever changing the world we live in. I hum to myself as I enter the second-floor hallway; more paintings cover the walls here. I admire the beauty of each before I continue my trek, passing closed doors. I dare not open any of them, afraid of what might be lurking behind them.
As I drive myself deeper into the still castle, I notice the door to a bedroom is ajar, and I can’t help myself, my curious nature taking over. I cautiously crane my neck around the corner, but no one is there. Once the relief wears off, a slight frustration creeps into me. Why did that stranger call out to me and want me here when he had no intention of showing himself? It’s not like he can access me, touch me. With newfound confidence, I push open the door and step inside the dimly lit bedroom. Rows of burning white candles on a shelf lighten it, and candlewax drips on the floor. Besidesthe furniture you would expect in a bedroom, the large canopy bed that is positioned in the middle of the room catches my immediate attention. Like all the other furniture, this one is also made of dark mahogany wood, the pillars carved with baroque ornaments. The drapery is made of thin black lace; the imagery features a pattern of thorned roses, similar to the ones on the walls outside. I walk around it, touching the black silk fabric of the sheets. It is enormous, and it could easily fit five or six people.Or vampires.
“Do you like how that feels… human?”
