80
The orange glow of the sunset slowly diminished into the violet hues of twilight, until the bedroom was shrouded in darkness. Distant drums started to beat, and I knew it was time for me to go.
When I arrived on the ground floor, I cautiously observed the torchlit path laid out for me through the village.
I proceeded along it, occasionally glancing at the closed windows of houses and the barred shop entrances.
There was no one in sight, yet I could clearly sense the frantic beating of the citizens’ hearts inside their homes or see them peering at me through the cracks between the wall boards as I moved forward.
The torches guided me out of the village.
The hems of my dress and cape frequently snagged on the thick underbrush, becoming dirty and damp.
Fireflies fluttered around me while the sound of drums amplified as I neared my destination, my eyes swollen with tears from the pain I could barely endure anymore.
I arrived in a wide clearing crowded with the entire coven of witches, including their elders, all dressed in light, loose-fitting tunics with veils covering their heads. Elf soldiers formed a circle around the edge, the glow of the flames flickering on their elegant white armors.
My father and Araton wore lighter-weight ones, white and lead gray with copper etching, respectively.
They stood in front of an irregular stone altar alongside Cousin Yelgnib—who, like me, had changed and donned golden robes—and Queen Aloiv, dressed in a tight white gown and adorned with iron jewelry that went up her bare arms to create a striking multi-strand necklace.
I stopped a few steps away from them, subtly peering at the bow and quiver my brother carried over his shoulder. Then I set my gaze on the Queen of the Witches. “Where is the Crystal?” I demanded, my voice so hoarse it sounded like I had been screaming at the top of my lungs for hours.
She raised her hand, snapped her fingers, and then moved aside to show me Calien’s Crystal, which had just appeared in the center of the altar, fluctuating over a silver plate with a purple stole.
My vulturine eyes sparkled like the core of the twenty-six-pointed starry gem. One spurt, and the Crystal would be in my hands. Another spurt, and not even Araton would be able to catch me again. I would run as I had never run in my life, and I would be out of the Forest of Witches in a flash.
Then, he would find me and take me away with him and . . .
Suddenly, Queen Aloiv seized my chin with her thumb and forefinger, forcing my attention onto her with such brutality that I instinctively bared my teeth and snarled like a wolf.
She suddenly pulled her hand back, as if afraid I might bite her, searching my gaze with fear. “We must start immediately,” she announced. “Hold her still.”
Simultaneously, Araton grasped my left hand while Cousin Yelgnib held my right. I watched their fingers, tightly intertwined with mine, as if I might cut them off or yank them so hard that their arms would be torn from their shoulders.
Father stood before me, taking all my anger onto himself. “The witches will carry out both rituals at the same time," he explained in a soothing tone. He placed his cool hand on my hot cheek. “Hold on, my daughter.”
I flinched, and only when I felt liquid coming from the corner of my mouth did I realize I had been biting my tongue until my mouth was filled with blood.
Father turned pale as he smudged the vermilion rivulet with his thumb. “Hurry up!” he ordered the queen.
A witch tied my wrist and my cousin’s together with a dark rope.
“Calm down, Sister,” Araton told me, placing his free hand over our clasped hands.
But I could no longer control my spasmodic breathing, nor the tremors of my burning body. “I . . . am . . . trying . . .” I panted.
Aloiv stood before me. Two taller witches, with stern expressions as hers, positioned themselves in front of my brother and cousin and pressed their index and middle fingers on my kin’s temples.
“Nauriel,” Yelgnib croaked with a groan.
Only then did I realize I was about to break his hand.
I met his pleading gaze, but I couldn’t stop squeezing his fingers. In fact, I tightened my grip and heard Araton let out a lament as well.
“Uncle!” our cousin yelled, scared.
“Quick, Aloiv!” my father shouted.
The queen clapped her hands, then pressed her palms onto the sides of the two witches’ faces, curling her fingers to drive her nails into their temples.
As tribal drums started again, each of the three began chanting a different spell in the ancient witches’ language.
Their magic passed through Araton and Yelgnib, invading me with the disruptiveness of a tidal wave.
And I began to scream.
It felt as if pincers had grabbed my soul, pulling it in opposite directions to tear it apart. As if they were injecting acid into my arteries to cleanse them of Mornon’s blood. As if they were uprooting every tiny root of darkness that had embedded itself in my tissues with its teeth.
They were severing mercilessly.
My bond with the Crystal.
My bond with the enemy.
They were stripping everything from me to bind every fiber of my essence to Cousin Yelgnib.
No, please, stop!
And when I let out a cry so sharp it cut through the night, a loud, distant bang made the ground tremble and the air shudder around us. The torches’ flames suddenly flared, causing Queen Aloiv and her adepts to fall silent and listen attentively.
I spat out a red stream, gasping roughly as my head lolled against my chest. I slightly smiled. “He’s here,” I whispered.
And he was trying to break down the barriers protecting the forest.
Queen Aloiv and the acolytes kept reciting the formulas with growing intensity to drown out the increasingly loud detonations and my screams of pain and despair.
Until, finally, with all the breath in my lungs, I managed to roar, “ No!”
The next moment, an invisible force exploded in the clearing with such power that it knocked us all to the ground.