Chapter 22 #2
A delicate soul rose amongst the crowd. It floated, unsure of what to do or where to go, and Imani had the strongest urge to not just consume the soul but save it. She wanted to direct it to leave this world and enter the Under.
Kiran went back to his conversation as if nothing had happened, but Imani watched in horror as a dead man was pulled from the trenches and dragged to the ground under a large tree.
Lying next to him was the woman in blue, and she was quite dead, too.
Deader than dead, her body looked like it had been in the same position for days.
The sight filled her with a creepy yet loathing feeling that, despite her confusing feelings for the elf prince, she didn’t know whether to vomit or slit Kiran’s throat.
She wasn’t sure how long she stared at the bodies, wondering what in the fuck was going on, before she realized she was breathing hard. In fact, Imani was barely hanging on and wouldn’t be able to stay in control for much longer. She needed to escape before she did something she’d regret.
“Always putting your nose where it doesn’t belong, aren’t you, my darling?” The quiet tenor of Kiran’s voice sent a shiver up her spine. An unspoken threat laced the air.
Imani’s hands were small enough to fit between the barbs on the wire fence. She hadn’t even realized she’d started grasping them tightly, squeezing them at the sight she took in below. Imani didn’t remove her hands from the fence, nor did she turn around.
“Kiran … what in the Six Saints is going on down there with those witches?” she whispered, an icy timbre to her words.
“Something you wouldn’t understand,” was all he said.
Braid flying behind her back, Imani whipped her head around to glare knives at him. “I’m not some simpleton. Now, tell me.”
“We pride ourselves on our covens. They aren’t about building up one leader, with the remaining witches subservient to them. They’re about the unity of combined power. That’s what makes our witches great. They develop a community and share the bounties.”
Imani pursed her lips. That was indeed quite different from how things worked in Essenheim.
“But not everyone is a good little witch. I’m sure you have criminals in Essenheim, and I’m sure you have places to house those criminals. Prisons, and jails, and the like. This is no different. These witches committed crimes with their magic—they broke the law—and now they’re being punished.”
Imani recalled Esa telling her how regulated magic was here. How many rules there were for practicing. But this was beyond a simple punishment—this was an extermination.
“For a country that prides itself on being more open with practicing different types of magic, you sure seem intolerant of its general use.”
“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, the Fabric here requires a different method of control than the one you enjoy in Essenheim,” he hissed.
For a man so elven on the outside, there was always something distinctly bestial about him that reminded her he had shifter blood.
“Which is why our covens work so closely together.”
“You’re killing them, though,” she stated flatly. “As First Witch, you have the power to stop these atrocities,” Imani whispered.
“You have no idea what I can and can’t do as First Witch.”
“Magic is disappearing, and so are witches—we need all of them to save it. You control all of the magic in your realm—the policing of it, the use of it. Esa told me your father gives you free rein over all things magic. Why haven’t you stopped this?”
At this, Kiran quirked a dark brow. “Maybe I just like it. Maybe I just want the power.” If he had said that to Imani a few months earlier, she would have believed him. It was easy to think the worst of Kiran.
But she didn’t believe that anymore.
All she wanted was the godsdamned truth.
Kiran stepped up to the fence and leaned against one of the wood stakes holding it up.
“Esa doesn’t know the things I’m required to do in order to hold onto even a modicum of that power.
If I didn’t have that power, things would be much worse for our witches—much worse.
At least, with the camps, some eventually get out alive. ”
Though Imani knew all too well that being alive was far from all right, hearing such a statement made her want to lose her fucking mind, but she understood what Kiran was saying.
“This is Magnus.” It still didn’t excuse Kiran’s complacency, but she knew he would never do anything like this to other witches. He loved magic too much.
Kiran didn’t reply. He didn’t need to.
“What’s he planning to do with them? Kill them all?”
“Some will prove useful to our armed forces. Others won’t.”
“Why did you kill that man earlier?”
“He was about to use his siren compulsion on me. It’s strictly forbidden here, and anyone caught doing it is killed instantly.”
“Hasn’t this kingdom done enough damage to magic?” A small feeling of guilt swirled in her gut—Dialora hadn’t been too far from implementing such a solution to consolidate magic in Essenheim.
“Hasn’t yours?” Kiran shot back. “Don’t tell me you knew nothing of Dialora’s plans.” He’d practically read her mind.
Imani didn’t reply.
Kiran continued, “I know you blame us for the Fabric, but it’s much more complicated than that. Essenheim merely got lucky to avoid the Fabric events we experience here. Truthfully, you’re not even avoiding them—you’re simply lying to us about how many are happening.”
He was right.
She paused, feelings of shame at her hypocrisy spreading through her. “Do you plan to do anything to stop him? He’s committing genocide against witches.”
“Imani, darling. When don’t I have a plan?”