Chapter Six
Witches and warlocks are bound by witch law.
A vast, intricate web of rules and rites that govern every aspect of our lives.
It is long, detailed, and at times maddeningly precise, but it is the structure upon which our kingdom stands.
It is forbidden for us to heal unless we are witch-healers, trained and prepared.
From a young age, we are taught the foundations of every kind of magic. Then, at sixteen, we choose our path.
Some choose to become healers, journeying to the city of Velmoria to study the sacred art.
Others become protectors, builders, or teachers.
One of my closest friends has taken an interest in poisons.
Though we all study them from childhood, it is possible to specialise in their craft.
We are, after all, renowned for our expertise in poisons.
Major exporters, in fact. Many kingdoms purchase from us, with the Desert Kingdom and the phoenixians among our most loyal clients.
I’ve often asked my mother why they’re so eager to buy them. She told me that Dunayans favour our poisons for their silence, killing without a trace. Phoenixians, on the other hand, prefer to use them for experimentation.
Once, I dared to ask whether we should stop selling to them, knowing full well how those poisons are used, how many lives they quietly end.
But my mother only laughed. She said one does not halt trade for such simple, sentimental reasons.
The coin is good, and if the poisons bring no harm to us, then why should we care?
But I wonder… if we all think this way, if we all turn our heads for the sake of profit…
Will there not come a day when it all comes back to bite us?
Tabitha Wysteria
Kai was beginning, somewhat reluctantly, to grow accustomed to the witch’s company.
Most of their days were spent in silence atop his shadow horse, the world slipping past them in a blur of dust and wind. At night, if he judged the land safe enough, he would stop and build a fire, offering her a measure of warmth, though rarely a word.
He should have stopped now. The light was dying, and danger walked freely beneath the cloak of dusk, but Dawn was fast asleep against his chest, and the thought of waking her stirred something unexpected in him.
His black eyes lingered on her throat, on the curve of it, wondering for just a moment what it might feel like to sink his teeth into that dark flesh. But the shadows were thickening, and instinct tugged at him to make camp before night fell. They’d seen no witches yet, but he wouldn’t tempt fate.
‘You’re poking me,’ Dawn murmured, her voice drowsy but edged with familiar sarcasm.
Kai rolled his eyes. So, she was awake after all.
‘I’m not touching you.’
‘You’re definitely poking me with something.’ She turned her head, peering over her shoulder at him with narrowed, amused eyes the colour of twilight. ‘I think it’s that mighty big warrior cock of yours, commander.’
Kai huffed, trying and failing not to laugh.
‘Big, is it? Thought you said it was tiny.’
‘I was just trying to be nice.’
‘That would certainly be a first,’ he muttered, bringing the horse to a stop.
He dismounted and held out his hand, offering her the courtesy of assistance.
As usual, she ignored it, leaping down on her own and flashing him one of her infuriatingly smug smiles.
‘You do realise refusing my help accomplishes nothing, don’t you? ’
Dawn began braiding her hair, eyes rolling in mock exasperation. ‘Oh, I think it accomplishes quite a lot, commander. I know how much it irks you.’
Kai shrugged and gave a short whistle. The shadow horse dissolved beneath the fading light, vanishing into nothing as if it had never been. He’d always wondered where shadows went when they slipped beyond mortal lands.
‘You think too highly of yourself,’ he said, turning away to gather wood for the fire. His attention drifted towards the horizon, to the place where the forest thinned and the land stretched beyond. ‘In a few days, we’ll reach the border.’
Dawn hummed softly, continuing to braid her long white hair with the casual elegance of someone entirely unbothered.
‘Are you going to help?’ Kai asked, frowning as he paused in his task.
‘Why would I want to spoil such fine craftsmanship?’ she replied, her smile curling into that wicked little thing he despised and, in some unfathomable way, enjoyed.
But her smirk quickly gave way to a sliver of irritation.
‘We really need to find somewhere I can wash.’
‘Why?’ Kai said, lips twitching. ‘You look rather charming covered in filth.’
He saw it coming, the handful of dirt in her palm, and moved before she could act, appearing at her side with the swiftness of instinct. His hand closed around her wrist.
‘Don’t you dare,’ he warned, voice low. ‘Drop it.’
Her smile widened, inch by delicious inch, as she unfurled her fingers in slow, deliberate defiance. The dirt crumbled between them, falling like dry rain to the earth, but Kai didn’t release her.
His grip lingered, tight but steady, his gaze locked onto hers.
Those purple eyes. Eyes that should have meant nothing.
But in his world, they meant everything.
They were the eyes of the enemy, the ones who had torn his sister, Haven Blackburn, from his life. The eyes of those who had razed the Kingdom of Fire, who had slaughtered its princess, Alina Acheron.
But they were also Mal’s eyes. The little sister he’d grown up with. The one he'd sworn to protect, no matter the cruelty of the world.
‘Are you imagining me naked right now, commander?’ Dawn asked sweetly, cutting through the stillness.
Kai let go as though scalded, the hiss slipping from between his teeth. He turned at once, bending to gather more kindling, silently cursing both her and himself. He made a point of not looking at her, though he could feel the witch watching him as if she had all the time in the world.
He still couldn’t decipher her. Not entirely. But whatever game she was playing, he would follow her. He would follow her south towards the dragons.
When the fire was finally built and burning steadily, Kai drifted away from its glow, settling against the trunk of a nearby tree.
The heat of the land was more than enough for him.
He had no desire to sit too close to the flames and their cloying warmth.
Dawn, however, seemed to relish it. She settled beside the fire, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them tightly, her stare fixed unblinking on the dancing embers.
‘What was it like for you, growing up?’ she asked suddenly, her voice low, eyes still trained on the flickering blaze.
Kai rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Normal.’
She turned to glare at him, irritation smouldering behind her purple eyes. ‘Then tell me something about it.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m bored.’
‘Well, I’m not here to entertain you, witch. Find something else to do.’
She gave a soft snort and returned her attention to the fire, resting her chin atop her folded arms. There was something in her expression, a quiet sadness, a weariness she didn’t bother to hide that stirred uneasily in Kai’s chest. Something he wasn’t ready to feel.
‘I spent most of my life training,’ he said at last, his voice quieter than before.
The surprise that crossed her face was fleeting, but he saw it.
‘In my land, secondborns are raised to become the protectors of kings and queens. From childhood, we’re trained, body and mind, to be the strongest, the fiercest warriors in the realm. ’
‘So your father has a protector?’ she asked, frowning slightly.
‘He did,’ Kai replied. ‘There were three brothers. But something happened, years ago, and they stopped speaking. My uncle—the thirdborn—lives in the north now, in a small castle he rarely leaves. He spends his days reading scrolls and books, buried in words.’
‘And the other?’
Kai’s jaw tightened. ‘Being secondborn is more complicated than it seems. If you fail in your duty to protect your monarch, it’s a disgrace. A stain on your bloodline. My other uncle... He was stripped of his title. No one knows where he is now.’
‘What happened to him?’
Kai shrugged, the movement heavy with disinterest. ‘I’ve no idea. I never asked.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because my duty is to protect, witch,’ he said, meeting her gaze, voice edged with steel. ‘Not to ask so many bloody questions.’
Dawn chuckled, the sound light yet cutting, enough to make Kai tense. ‘I think you don’t ask because you’re afraid.’
Kai scoffed. ‘Afraid? Of what, exactly?’
‘Of the truth,’ she said simply. Her voice was calm, but laced with quiet challenge.
‘You’re afraid that if you ever discovered what really happened, the truth behind their quarrel, the reason your uncle was cast out, you might agree with him.
And that frightens you, doesn’t it?’ She leaned in slightly, her stare unwavering.
‘Because perhaps, one day, you’ll find yourself in the same place, standing alone, judged by those you once called your own.
Cast out for making a choice you believed was right. ’
‘I already have been,’ Kai muttered. He turned his face from the surprise in hers. ‘My sister died. I was meant to protect her. That alone is enough to strip me of my title.’
‘But it wasn’t your fault.’
‘I know that.’ His voice trembled with restraint, the anger thick beneath it.
He tried to keep it at bay, but it clawed at the edges.
‘It was your people’s fault,’ he said bitterly.
‘But to wyverians, that doesn’t matter. I failed in my duty.
I didn’t protect her. That’s all they see.
And for that, I deserve to be banished.’
He heard the shift in her breath, the quiet inhale, the soft sigh that followed. There was something reluctant in it, something heavy.