Chapter 28
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Istood among the enchanted trees with the carved symbols of fire, earth, water, air, and spirit.
I touched the pentagram symbol, the rough bark scraping my fingertips. There was a spark, a zap of sorts at my fingers, and warmth traveled through my arm and entered my chest.
I looked at the magic book that warmed in my hand as if it had awakened and had a heartbeat of its own. The book started vibrating and pulsating. Suddenly, it went quiet and lifeless.
I darted my gaze between the pentagram symbol on the tree and the book. Whatever was happening, the book, my dream realm, and me were all connected somehow.
I strolled to the next tree and touched the flame symbol, making the book come alive again. Now I wanted to touch all the remaining symbols to see what happened.
As I walked on the stone path, my gaze fell on the white daisies with bright-orange discs. Unlike the last time the flowers grew in the meadow, the daisies had taken over the entire forest. I smiled, seeing my favorite flowers scattered everywhere my gaze traveled.
There were no traces of ashes or the destruction Torin had brought to my dream realm last time. The enchanted forest had rebuilt itself.
Maybe I, like daisies, could be that resilient, too.
A familiar cackle boomed among the trees. The sky darkened, casting shadows over the flowers. Instead of the bright sun rays, the silver light of a moon illuminated the forest, bright enough for my human eyes to make out the contours of the tree.
The sunny day had turned into a dimmed night.
A dark figure walked behind a thick tree, and my pulse sped up. For a moment, I even wished for the person to be Torin, but the figure was much smaller and wore a black cloak. The slender shoulders and the curvy hips underneath the fabric told me this person was a woman.
Her hips shifted side to side under the velvety cloak, and as she closed the distance between us, her straight, black hair fell out of the hood and onto her chest.
“Hello, child,” she said, causing a cold chill to spread down my spine.
The same female voice as the one belonging to the witch who’d invaded my dream realm the very first time. That witch could be powerful enough to manipulate the elements in my enchanted forest. Why did the witch decide to come out of hiding? But more importantly, what did she want?
I didn’t know what to expect from her. Last time, she tried to warn me about my two dangerous mates. But still, adrenaline burned in my veins as I watched her carefully.
“Who are you?” I asked.
The woman lowered her hood. The skin on her high cheeks glowed as if she’d applied glitter on her face, or was this the reflection of the moonlight?
Her lipstick color was a dark red, almost a brown shade. Between her furrowed, thin eyebrows, she had a tattoo of a small crescent curved enough for the two tips to nearly touch.
Black dots started at the moon and lined down to her nose. Two stripes were inked above the bridge of her nose, completing the look of a fierce warrior. The skin on her face was flawless, like a porcelain doll.
Her brown eyes radiated wisdom accumulated over centuries. This woman exuded power and authority. Witches were not immortal creatures like vampires, but their lifespan was much longer than that of werewolves.
With every step she took, I studied more of her. The black velvet cloak reached all the way to her black ankle boots. The wind picked up, her cloak lifted, and it flew to one side, revealing ripped skinny jeans and a white shirt with a bird logo.
I gaped at her. Her outfit reminded me of Tammy’s gothic clothing before she was compelled to forget everything vamp-ish.
This witch was not what I expected, but my expectations were only based on fairy-tale witches who stirred some green slime in a cauldron.
She stopped only a few feet away from me, and her cold, supernatural presence rolled over me, contrasting with her warm brown eyes that watched me with curiosity and intelligence.
Her gaze lowered to the brown book at my chest. Some emotion flashed behind her eyes, her lips parted, and she narrowed her eyes at me.
I’m getting a bad feeling about this encounter.
She tilted her head and grimaced as if her thoughts were too painful. Her gaze kept darting between my face and the book, confusion written on her stone-cold expression until she spread her arms to the sides and let her head fall back, closing her eyes.
What was she doing?
A weird buzz sounded in the air—an energy I couldn’t detect with my eyes but could feel around me. The woman's palms opened and closed as if she tried to feel something, but all I could see were shadows.
Ignoring my presence, she let her arms drop to her sides and lifted her head, her gaze searching the trees around us. When she spotted the one with the carved flame symbol, she glided to it as if the wind carried her.
Her fingers brushed over the tree, almost touching it, and a spark flickered under her touch, similar to what I saw earlier.
She gasped and stepped back as if she had been electrified. She repeated the same gentle touch over each symbol and the pentagram, and every time her fingers came close to the bark of the trees, a zapping sound echoed in the forest.
My mind exploded with questions, but the woman seemed to have as many of her own.
She finally faced me, standing in front of a tree a few feet away.
“That can’t be,” she said, her voice loud and high-pitched, her eyes moving around the forest as if searching for more evidence.
I shivered as her dark, supernatural presence engulfed me again. I didn’t like her. More goosebumps pricked at my neck, and I placed my hands on the book's cover, shielding it from her view.
But she crooked a thin eyebrow.
“Why are you in my dream realm?” I asked.
“The question is, how are you still alive, Princess Breanna?”
I gaped at her. She knew me, but she also thought I’d be dead. Why?
“Why should I be dead?”
“Because your destiny was altered twenty-five years ago,” she said.
“W-what?”
The woman waved her hand in front of her face as if she swatted an annoying fly. “What are you hiding, Princess?”
I swallowed hard. “I’m not interested in your questions,” I said and considered my next words. Perhaps I shouldn’t set her off. “You invaded my dream realm. Who are you, and why are you here?”
“I wouldn’t have guessed you’d turn so feisty, Princess.”
Her words made my brain only mushier.
“Did you wish me to be dead?”
The air stood still and turned suffocating with tension.
“Hummm. It wasn’t me who wished for that,” she said.
I sighed. Talking to her was worse than talking to Torin. “Are you a witch?”
As she frowned, the crescent between her brows wriggled. “My child, you’ve grown sheltered, but that’s understandable.”
I scowled. She called me my child when she didn’t look more than thirty-something herself.
She extended her arm out and started toward me. I took a step back.
“The book, Princess Breanna.”
“No.” A sheen of sweat covered my forehead.
“Don’t play with a witch book, child.”
“It’s mine, and the book won’t open anyway.”
The woman laughed and halted too close for comfort. “With a witch opening spell, it will open. Now, Princess,” she ordered.
“I’m telling you, it’s mine. This is not the book you’re looking for.”
The witch could be as mistaken as the hunter leader was. She could be looking for a powerful book like The Book of Thoradis that promised great power and immortality.
I kept stepping backward until my back hit a tree.
The witch muttered something and lifted her arms up and down. The branches of the trees creaked, snapped, and bent toward me like snakes.
A branch wrapped around one wrist, and another one grasped my other hand, pulling my arms apart. The book fell to the ground.
“No,” I said, my breathing accelerating.
The witch picked up the book and studied it. The grip of the rough branches around my wrists tightened painfully.
“It’s not the one you’re looking for,” I pleaded.
She didn’t look up, but the bark of the branches dug deeper into my flesh, for sure leaving bruises behind. My fingers went numb. I kept struggling and pulling on the branches around my hands, but the more I moved, the more it hurt.
The witch whispered words I couldn’t understand, and then she lifted the book to her lips. I gasped, reminded of what I had done similarly. She blew a hot breath over the front cover, and her eyes grew wide.
“The Grimoire Book of Athame?” Her voice turned cold and menacing when I hadn’t done anything to this woman.
The branches lifted my body until I hung suspended in the air. The throbbing pain spread from my arms to my chest.
Any warmth in the witch’s eyes had left, and now there was a firestorm promising destruction.
“Where did you get this book? Have you found the athame?”
She spoke fast and didn’t give me a chance to respond. The scary woman stepped into my personal space, holding the book in one hand, and waved her other hand.
A thin branch wrapped around my neck and squeezed. Little dots of light sparked in my vision. I coughed and wheezed. I couldn’t swallow.
The forest air crackled with tension as my heart pounded behind my chest. The anger scorching in my veins mingled with the pain radiating from every inch of my body.
I ground my teeth. The book belonged to me. I had the matching birthmark to prove it. Not only had this woman invaded my dream realm, but she also stole my book and controlled the elements in my environment, making me feel like a captive in my own mind.
I had to act. My air supply was cut off. I didn’t plan on dying in my dream realm tonight.
The branches held my arms prisoner but not my legs. Summoning every ounce of strength, I kicked the witch directly in the chest in one powerful move. She flew back a few feet, wide-eyed, like she couldn’t believe I’d dared to hit her.
But she didn’t crumble to the ground as I imagined she would.
The grip of the branches loosened as the witch lost some focus, granting me an opportunity for escape.
I should have been in command here. Dad taught me that my mind controlled my dream realm—the images and elements only appeared when I wished. Except I didn’t know exactly how to do that.
I squeezed my eyes shut and willed the tree to release me now. It was more of a mental prayer, a desperate plea, than a demand, but it seemed to work. As the branches unwrapped, I reopened my eyes, dropping on my feet. Freed.
But before I could rejoice, my gaze fell on one angry and powerful witch before me. Sheer terror filled me at the thought of what she was capable of. It was as if time slowed down, and shadows deepened around us, casting eerie silhouettes against darkened trees.
I took a long, slow breath, and with it, the faint scent of damp earth infiltrated my nose. As I stood there, facing the dark witch, I realized this encounter would shape my fate.
Death in the dream realm meant death in the physical realm.
That was my reality. The same could be said for the magic book I’d brought with me, having fallen asleep with it.
If the witch took it away from me now, I wouldn’t have it in the physical realm upon waking. If I survived at all, that would be.
Extra adrenaline fused into my veins, surging my fight-or-flight instinct.
I had to choose if I would run away from the witch in search of safety or toward her to retrieve my book.