Chapter 12 – The Witch’s Legacy

The woods were dark and damp, the trees clustered close together, moonlight barely able to flicker through the canopy. Alice’s footfalls squelched as she made her way carefully along the overgrown path, water seeping into her boots. Her focus was solely on what was in front of he as she walked, her arms held close to her to ward off the cold. Though the storm has passed, its influence could still be felt, and she was very much alone.

The trees abruptly ended, and Alice found herself standing at the edge of a bridge, old and warped, the timber barely holding onto frame. Bats screeched, disturbed, flying off into the night in a flurry of wings. In front of her, reaching out into the night, was a massive castle cast of black stone, eerie and ominous. Its spires spoke of dominance, the void in its windows of a never ending hunger. Its battlements were spiked, gargoyles glaring down from the corners of the roofs, challenging her.

What was this place?

A castle....

Alice crossed the bridge, and made her way into the castle. The portcullis was raised, rusted in place. The stench of death and blood tainted magic slammed into her as she entered the outer courtyard, bodies of innocents littered the ground in between the partial remains of wagons and carriages, their pale forms drained of what life they had, frozen in their final moments of terror. The scene made Alice feel sick, her heart torn by the mass loss of life. They hadn’t fought. They’d just fallen here.

Why did they have to die? No one deserves their end to be like that.

They were victims of circumstance.

Circumstance can be changed.

But only by those with power.

Funny that.

The door at the end of the courtyard groaned loudly as Alice pushed it open, dark, stale air rushing past her. The corridor was straight and long, moonlight shinning in through the stone windows, illuminating the worn red carpets. Unlit chandeliers swung dangerously from the ceiling, the walls adorned with paintings and suits of armour. Alice jumped as she was startled by a loud clang, a snake slithering away as one of the suits of armour fell in pieces all over the floor, a howl echoing in the background. She picked her carefully along the corridor, as the eyes of the portraits stared at her.

Ominous.

Alice could make out the sounds of battle in the background as she wound her way up one of the towers, which faded away when she reached the top. The smell of chemicals hit Alice as she pushed open the solid oak door, which swung open easily, revealing a dimly lit chamber filled with all manner of tools and contraptions, messily cluttered on the numerous table. Gear was scattered all over the floor as well, resting beside the fallen bodies of demons, whose still warm blood seeped out of them, pooling towards the middle of the room. They had been defeated, but not without cost. Slumped against the far wall, their breathing ragged and blood flowing from their wounds were Laphir and Shino. Alice ran to them, calling their names, but she was too slow, both collapsing just as she reached them. Alice cried out in anguish, holding them both to her, before then standing back up, her gaze intense.

I do not like this place at all, this hellish nightmare.

We were not prepared enough.

This is a price too high to pay. More circumstance huh?

One could say that.

Then we have a lot of work ahead of us. My friends will not die.

Another tower, another climb, Alice’s footfalls echoing on the cold stone stairs. Whoever had built this place had a bad sense of design. The rising winds whistled past the open windows, Alice shivering in response. There was no warmth here at all. Just soulless purpose. The door at the top of the tower was uncooperative, screeching loudly as she forced it open. Books lined the walls and ceiling, spines all dusty and faded. Alice walked cautiously along, curbing her curiosity to pull out a volume. In a place like this they’d be blank, or try to eat her.

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Once burnt, twice shy.

A blood curling howl echoed around the room. Mist rolled into the room, before the air split, claws appearing from nowhere, tearing a hole in reality. Black and purple energy spilled out as a demon came through, Alice holding herself flat against the nearby bookshelf as her instinct screamed at her to run. Scaled purple hide, ten feet tall, and claws dripping with poison that hissed on the floor. Each of its three heads scanned the area as it argued with itself. Draconic and demonic. Born of the earth. Alice quietly shuffled along the bookcase, before taking an opportunity to bolt for the exit.

They know who we are and assume what we’re capable of. We can’t take them lightly. Not that we ever could.

A mutant?

A child of madness. Or children.

This tower was alive. Gears, cogs, pendulums, chains. It ticked, perpetually moving. The architect had a sick sense of humour. She was forced to move within the giant device, standing on a massive gears as they turned, and catching lifts up on chains. She caught glimpses of other movement out of the corner of her eye, glints of silver on the fringes of the machinery. But she wasn’t quick enough to see what it actually was, and besides transversing this tower required her full concentration. At least there was no bodies here. She’d had enough of those already.

Just floating helmets that idly passed her, one per each of the six floors of the tower. Which of course she took pains to avoid.

There’s more to it than meets the eye.

No kidding.

At the top she found two figures peacefully sleeping against the wall, two Cat Ferals. Both battle weary and worn, one holding the other close to them, smiles on their faces. Kyla and Melody. Alice gently ruffled Kyla’s hair as she quietly made her way past.

Makes sense. They’ve earned their rest.

The tower opened up onto a large hall, pews lining either side of a carpet of white roses that ran down its middle. Shadows danced on the walls above tables laid out with a feast, and a sceptre floated above the altar at the far end, entrancing and enthralling. A loud clang brought Alice’s attention back to the now, a badly wounded Ruby dragging herself into the hall nearby, her halberd haven fallen from her hands. Her armour was shattered, barely clinging to her. She cough blood, leaning over another prone figure, trying to pour her remaining magic into them. Cammine. She wasn’t a fighter. She shouldn’t have been here in the first place, but obviously there hadn’t been a choice. Alice made to move towards them, but was interrupted by a pulse of energy from the sceptre that swept across the room, her view blocked as she shielded herself from it with her arm.

When she dropped her arm it was all gone, the hall bare and empty, a darkness seeping in from the edges.

It’s the pivotal point isn’t it.

Quite likely. Not the only one I’d wager tho.

But we are aware of it at the least.

True.

The sound of another battle erupted as Alice left the hall, and she found herself on a long flight of stairs that seemed to needlessly continue up in a straight line, each step covered in a piece of red carpet. Two figures fought near the top, black flames connecting with the blade of a formless shadow, bit by bit being pushed back. One was giving it all, the other had spread its power out, and right here, right now, it would cost them. But the question was, where was the rest of it?

That is the key question. If we don’t discover and deal with that, then he will return again, and our efforts will be for naught. He has always had a backup plan, and why would now be any different.

Where is Velvet?

The Dusk never sees the Dawn.

A wooden throne adorned the final room, old and well worn, it’s red leather faded and patchy. A pair of red velvet curtains hung behind it on either side. There was no exits from here, no windows, the only illumination provided by a pair of candelabra. Here Alice was alone with her thoughts.

What is a man? A miserable little pile of secrets.

Huh?

Just an old pop culture reference.

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Alice woke up in a cold sweat. Those types of dreams were always draining on her. She’d starting having them after she had been gifted Lyrissa’s magic, but that was the most vivid and detailed one yet, and what she saw still haunted her. It was also the first time that she had seen her companions so clearly. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. It was a little close to home. But as they say, forewarned is forearmed. As long as you can make sense of it, tho nothing was ever quite as it seemed. After all, in the end, magic was still a fickle thing.

She got up and got changed. There would be no further sleep for her tonight, as there was much to do.

She had accepted the Witch’s power because in the end she knew that she needed to. In the war against the Demon King they could not have afforded to let it reincarnate naturally as the power had for Myne and Velvet. They did not have the luxury of twenty to thirty years. Heck, they likely did not even have a single year. As with anything the power had carried a cost, but it had also come with an unknown side effect, for both her and for Lyrissa, one that had only started to manifest once the power had finished settling within her and she had started to get a grasp on its use.

It’s not all that bad.

It was still taking some getting use to. And it was becoming more difficult to keep it a secret as well.