Chapter 8 #2
A demon would imprison a witch, keeping her alive but drained, like a perpetual well of energy.
The process left the witch hollow, weak, and defenseless—a shadow of her former self.
Magic wasn’t just a skill for witches; it was their essence, their life force.
To have it siphoned off repeatedly wasn’t just draining—it was torment.
Once the demon had taken enough power, they would venture out into the world to wreak havoc on humans.
With stolen magic coursing through their veins, they could unleash devastating spells, manipulate emotions, and spread chaos with terrifying efficiency.
The atrocities they committed left trails of destruction—cursed towns, plagued villages, and broken lives.
But they always returned to their captive witch. Once she’d recovered enough energy, the demon would drain her or him again, repeating the agonizing cycle. For the witch, there was no reprieve, no way to escape the slow, cruel theft of her essence.
For witches, this wasn’t just a threat—it was a nightmare. To be imprisoned by a demon was to be turned into a tool of destruction, your power used against the innocent, your life reduced to fuel for horrors you couldn’t stop.
And that, above all else, was why witches despised demons more than any other creature.
And demons didn’t stop at stealing power.
They thrived on it, growing stronger with every witch they drained.
This parasitic hunger had made them the most feared creatures in magical society centuries ago.
Back then, entire covens had fallen, their members left powerless and vulnerable to other supernatural threats.
The threat had grown so dire that witches across regions—many of whom were bitter rivals—had banded together to put an end to the demon scourge.
Covens, united by the sheer necessity of survival, banded together to confront the demon threat.
Rivalries were set aside as witches pooled their knowledge and power, forming alliances to capture the demons.
With careful planning and unwavering determination, they launched vast, coordinated sweeps, using their most powerful binding spells to subdue the creatures.
The effort was monumental—spanning regions and involving witches of every skill level.
High Priests and Priestesses led their covens into battle, weaving intricate enchantments to trap the demons and contain their power.
It was an unprecedented show of unity, with covens working together to ensure no demon escaped their grasp.
The captured demons were then transported to a magically fortified prison, it’s very walls pulsating with ancient runes and spells.
The prison became a symbol of what witches could accomplish when united, a testament to the strength of their shared purpose.
Yet, it also stood as a grim reminder of the horrors that demons could unleash if left unchecked.
But legends had a way of resurfacing. Apparently, at least one demon had escaped. And now, with every tremor in the sphaera, Sorcia felt the old fear creeping back.
A demon in their territory wasn’t just an inconvenience—it was a direct threat to everything they’d fought to protect. And the idea that one might be testing their defenses, lurking just out of sight, was enough to send a chill down her spine.
This wasn’t just about power or territory. It was about survival. And that was why witches hated demons above all else.
The tension in the room thickened, the air charged with a nervous energy that crackled like static electricity.
“Okay,” Sorcia confirmed, her green eyes sharp while scanning her council members.
She could feel the nervous energy crackling between them like static electricity.
But they were witches—her witches—and she needed them steady.
Her voice cut through the charged air. “If you saw flashes,” she said, turning to Jane, “then whichever demon was nearby was testing its ability to absorb our powers.”
Her gaze shifted to Zelda and Bethany, her tone measured but insistent. “Did either of you feel weak afterward?”
“No,” Bethany replied, her caramel eyes betraying the tension she was trying to suppress. Her shoulders were straight, her posture steady, but her fingers drummed lightly against the table as if releasing some of her pent-up energy.
Jane tilted her head, her blond locks catching the glow of the orb’s light as she considered the question. “The flashes were at night,” she admitted, “when I was getting ready for bed. So, I wouldn’t have noticed any weakness in my powers afterward.”
Sorcia nodded, her mind racing to process the pieces of the puzzle.
The crystal orb in the center of the table spun slowly, its light casting intricate patterns across their faces, as if reflecting their collective unease.
For a moment, she stared into its shimmering depths, feeling the weight of the situation settle heavily on her shoulders.
She straightened suddenly, her spine stiffening as resolve hardened her expression.
When she spoke, her voice carried the authority of a High Priestess.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” she began, her tone unwavering.
“I need everyone to cancel their meetings today. Gather your teams, and we’ll start searching immediately.
Demons can’t hide well—they emit too many strong emotions.
Someone is bound to sense them. We’ll comb through the city, starting with the most populated areas. ”
Bethany raised her hand, her eyes sparking with both nervous energy and a fierce determination to understand. “Why? Shouldn’t we start searching the abandoned places first? If we’re looking for a demon that’s hiding, wouldn’t they go somewhere less obvious, where people aren’t likely to look?”
Sorcia turned to her, her gaze steady, her voice calm but edged with urgency.
“Actually,” she explained, “demons need people to hide. If they’re alone, their anger and frustration are easier for us to track.
If they’re surrounded by others, human anger and irritation cloak them, masking their presence and making it harder for us to pinpoint them. ”
Bethany’s lips pressed into a firm line as she absorbed the information. “Got it,” she said with a sharp nod, her fingers tapping anxiously against the polished wood of the table.
The nervous energy in the room was palpable now, but it was matched by a sense of collective determination.
Sorcia could feel it—the rising power of her coven, the simmering readiness of her council.
They were scared, yes, but they were also prepared to do whatever it took to protect their territory and their people.
The orb in the center of the table pulsed faintly, its glow mirroring the intensity of their emotions, as if the magic itself was responding to their resolve. Sorcia’s gaze swept over her council, and she felt a flicker of pride. They were ready. This demon wouldn’t stand a chance.
Sorcia turned her focus to each of her council members, her gaze unwavering and commanding. “Get your teams together. If you run into a demon—even by accident—you cannot be alone. Groups of two or three are safer and stronger. Our magic is exponentially more powerful when combined.”
“What about spells?” Jane asked, her voice steady despite the faint movement of her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “Is there anything we can use to protect ourselves?”
“Yes,” Sorcia replied, her tone sharpening with authority.
“But we need to find the demon before we can use them.” She waved her hand over the table, the crystal orb spinning faster in response.
Its glow intensified, white and blue strands of magic spiraling outward like shimmering threads of energy.
“Here’s the spell to capture the demon, but you’ll need to be within fifty feet for it to work effectively. ”
Zelda, Jane, and Bethany extended their hands, their palms glowing softly as the magic from the crystal orb flowed into them.
The light splintered and coalesced, the warmth of the spell surging through their hands—a stark contrast to the cold, malevolent threat of the demon they were preparing to face.
“Send this spell to all your witches,” Sorcia instructed, her voice resolute and unyielding. “Tell them to start searching immediately. This isn’t something we can delay. A demon is a witch’s worst enemy, and we need to act now.”
The three women nodded, their combined energy radiating determination despite the undercurrent of nervous tension flickering in their expressions.
They rose in unison, the scrape of chairs against the polished floor the only sound in the room.
Without a word, each exited through separate doors that sealed behind them with a faint shimmer, as though the room itself acknowledged their resolve.
For a moment, Sorcia remained seated, her gaze fixed on the still-spinning crystal orb.
Its glow was steadier now, less frenetic, as though reflecting the clarity of their purpose.
She could feel the echoes of her council’s shared power lingering in the air, a quiet but potent reminder of their unity.
For the first time that day, as she stared into the orb, a small spark of hope flickered within her. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.