CHAPTER 2

THE PROPHECY BORN?

Later that night, northeast of the castle and a lifetime away from the horrors of the befallen Bubastis stood a singular wooded home nestled on the shores of Lake Windemere. A faint lambent glow emanated from within, as candles flickered atop the fireplace mount.

Logged walls stayed some of the chill of night as Helen Deus meandered about the glowing room. A gentle-looking thin woman of small stature, with skin seemingly untouched by time, as un-aged smooth porcelain. With long, blonde, and wavy hair floating down to tickle the bottom of her back. What eyes…eyes as blue as the ice of Hellwyn itself. A pale hue, a kin to the translucent blue of glaciers that absorbs the cerulean essence of the sky above

A gentle radiance surrounded her in a pulsating warmth that encapsulated anyone who has had the pleasure to be in her presence. She knew you were there and she made you feel wanted and special. Like you were the only two in the world.

She had just returned from the magical forest and a meeting between her and her sisters. A meeting of the white witches.

Even though she looks docile and sweet she is in fact considered the most powerful of the white witches and could have easily been named Queen if she so chose. Not just because of her extensive knowledge of the arts, but because of her convictions and devotion to the land and her sisters, who all admire and respect her. Yet she would just rather be just a sister, to not have to make decisions on their behalf, to just be…her.

It was the time of mating where only a select few men are chosen. Men that over the millennia, and through generations of incantations, supply the seed for a girl to be born and eventually become a white witch.

For no man is allowed entrance to the white witches’ village or the knowledge of their ways, so she waited in the cabin, away from her hidden village. Witches believe man is a destructive and vile swine, unworthy of a woman’s touch. Except for mating. Then they see them no more. All the better, the witches would say. For man's edacious desires stem from within their britches and should not be given any more affection than what is needed to keep the line of white witches.

Only a select group of men are given quarter, and for one purpose, one night. As she waited nervously for her chosen mate to arrive a shiver enticed her to raise her hand and utter “Ignis” at the stone fire-pit, engulfing the tinder and logs within.

Moving a rocker by the fire she took from her worn leather satchel a quilt of her making. Draping it across her shoulders and chest, the pink and white cotton soft quilt cuddled her as she rocked with the flames of the fire-pit mirrored in her transfixed blue eyes. A calm came over her as she slowly rocked and stared deep into the gentle flames, becoming one with the tranquil warm room.

After an hour or so she was awoken from her peace by the faint trot of many a horse in the distance getting closer, moving her from her awakened dream to look towards a small window at her right. Thinking nothing of it, maybe just travelers, she shrugged her shoulders then turned back to the fire. Many travelled by due to the proximity of the lake.

Suddenly a flame shot by her window, followed by an eerie scream of excruciating pain from a man outside her door. Jumping to her feet, dropping her quilt to her side she rushed towards the window just as a thunderous crash flung open the thin wooden door, followed by a gust of cold wind.

Her jaw tightened and her eyes widened to stare intensely at the doorway preparing for a trespasser. Raising her hands to defend herself, a black leather boot firmly stepped forward, accompanied by its owner.

A towering figure with broad shoulders and skin as pale as snow, dressed in black and holding his black crystal staff. His eyes were a pure-full-black and empty as if no soul has ever resided within. She recognized him immediately; it was Malus.

On his way north to hunt for more Bubastians, he noticed the flickering light inside the cabin. Curious and intent on finding strays he made his way to investigate.

He stood there sizing her up and down as she lowered her hands to stand akimbo. With a subdued chuckle, he looked around and said, “I see it is the night of mating witch?” Stepping aside he displayed the inflamed body burning on the ground behind him. “Unfortunately, your mate-to-be is no longer interested.” He exclaimed with a conceited chuckle.

Helen bowed and shook her head in disbelief “Why Malus? He had done no wrong to you! Nor have I for that matter. Leave now!”

“Pitiful witch!” He seethed “You and your kind are not welcome on my lands.”

“Your… lands!!” She replied in anger. “This is Bubastis lands and King Jyl knows of our rituals. You’ll have to answer to him for this crime.”

Nodding his head, a smile formed upon his face as he raised his eyes towards her “I answer to none! Especially a dead King.”

Placing her trembling hand to mouth, her eyes moistened and displayed hatred and sorrow all at once. She had known the gentle King and his family for many years. She grimaced then angrily shouted “The King is no more? What of his wife and children?” Praying to her trembling heart that they somehow survived.

Standing firm, Malus leaned on his staff in front of him with one hand atop another he looked straight and deep into Helen’s eyes, he glared with a grin” There is no more Jyl bloodline!”

Helen’s jaw dropped as she fell to her knees and clutched her knotted stomach. Her throat swelled as she wept and covered her face with trembling hands. Her heart and gut burned as though a flaming hand reached in and is ripping them out.

“Now witch since your mate is not here for this sacred night, here I stand, in my house, on my land and you the trespasser. Whatever is on my land is mine to do with what I see fit. Count yourself, fortunate witch, for I see fit to accommodate you this night.”

Enraged, Helen stood to face Malus, pointed at his face, and hollered “You animal! You shall never have me!” Before she could finish Malus roared “Ventus,” a powerful wind grabbed hold and threw Helen across the room, hitting the wooden wall at the other end. Dazed and bleeding from her brow she managed to cry out “Custodia” and was instantly surrounded by a translucent blue glowing shield bubble.

Smiling, Malus walked towards her. A dark grin occupied his face as a snarl formed upon his upper lip. He asserted “Do you think your witch’s magic can stop me… Pathetic. Ha…. I have a message for you and your witch sisters. I will find your village in the forest and destroy every witch. None are safe, this, the land and all who dwell within are my subjects to do with as I see fit. Starting with you witch. Be thankful… for I may let you live…. a while longer” he laughed, then uttered “Domito,” as he raised his hands and slowly penetrated the force shield protecting her, viciously grasping her throat.

She wheezed for air as he carried her into the back bedroom, waving his hand behind, the door magically slammed. With her will no longer hers, he had his way with her; And the future took root in the present; the seed was sown; the immoral done.

Morning broke as Malus swung open the bedroom door. Behind him lay Helen, her weary from bearing the marks of a brutal struggle -torn clothes, bruised limbs, a body broken. The stench of forced sweat permeated throughout the room, a bitter reminder of the ordeal she endured, sprawled across the bed.

Disgusted and violated, Helen, furious with death on her mind, tried to stand. But her body betrayed her, she was too weak, the pain too great. With a stifled cry, she doubled over, clutching her stomach. Curled into a fetal position, tears streamed down her trembling face, wetting the bed with the salt of her suffering.

“You should be careful with who you lie, filthy witch, huh-huh-huh.” Said Malus turning to walk out of the room. As he stood at the doorway he paused then raised his hand and uttered, “Ego vomica vos ut nex.” Grinning, he turned to look back and see Helen, now unconscious.

Continuing outside, he mounted his horse and ordered: “We go.” His small troop who had waited all night mounted to follow him south.

Days turned to weeks for Helen as she tried to forget that horrible night. She had stayed in the cabin concealing herself from even her sister’s. Not returning to the magical forest and her home. The faultless embarrassment and shame of what happened haunted her every thought, while sharp agonizing pain in her stomach and vomiting accompanied her waking hours. She had grown extremely weak from vomiting and lack of food or water and as the pain intensified she thought to herself, ‘Is it the evil seed inside me, or is it the words Malus spoke upon leaving?’

Holding her stomach, curled on the floor by the fire she cried herself to sleep, hoping the pain and thoughts that enveloped her every minute of every day would dissipate, they did not, they only grew in intensity and longevity, taking what remained of her strength.

One wet and windy bitter day her dear friend Victoria Nobal, Queen of the white witches, happened by on her search for her lost sister. A truly beautiful woman standing almost 6-foot-tall with long black wavy hair, and eyes green as jade. Wearing form-fitting white leather pants and a buttoned-up leather V-neck shirt that emphasized the perfect curvature of her slender body. Adorning her long silky-smooth lilac scented hair, placed slightly tilted to the right, was a large white leather, wide-brimmed, and conical witch’s hat. This is the typical garb of the white witches. None wore the garb as well as she.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

As she entered through the charred doorway the scent of wet wood tickled her nose to look over towards the fireplace. That was when she noticed her friend lying cold and curled by the dead fire. Rushing to her knees to grab hold of the motionless body before her she took her friend’s head in her arms and moved aside the sweat-drenched tangled hair from her face. Her eyes moistened as her cheeks twitched. Looking down Victoria murmured “Sister!… Sister!”

Helen forced her eyes to slowly open and look upon her best friend's jaded, moistened eyes staring down at her. While her heavy head rested in her friend's arms, she sobbed a reply “Victoriaaaa.”

Sniffling as she held her friend closer to her breast, stroking her hair, Victoria asked “Sister what has happened? Who did this?” She looked on at her dear weak friend and a worried look crossed her face as she continued to brush her friend’s hair away from her face.

Garnering strength, Helen grimaced and looked up with sorrowful diminished eyes as she sobbed “My Queen; my friend. I am…with child!” She then dropped her heavy head back into Victoria’s lap and her eyes fell shut.

Relieved that this is the reason her friend lays ill, Victoria grabbed Helen's hand. A great smile engulfed her face. “This is wonderful news sister,” she joyfully said. “Why sob Helen, this is indeed a great day! And I am sure this is only the morning sickness you feel.” Helen looked to the side in shame as she relayed that horrible night some moons ago, and how Malus came to her.

“The child is his?” queried Victoria, as she looked to the heavens…shocked.

“Yes. And what’s more, he has cursed me as well. With ego vomica vos ut nex.” Horrified, Victoria looked straight into Helen's eyes “The curse of death upon life. I thought such a spell was only an ancient fairy-tale to scare witches, it cannot be real. I’m…I’m sure the spell did not take and was just to scare you, sister. We all know Malus despises the white witch, so why not make you even more scared with a pretend-ed curse?”

Helen sadly opened and closed her eyes. As a tear ran down her cheek she looked at her undecided, optimistic friend above her, she knew not if the curse was real, but the way she feels cannot be a good omen. People know their bodies she thought, and this was not normal, even with child.

“Oh sister, it mustn’t be real!” Said Victoria with conviction. Trying to convince her friend as well as herself. Victoria hung her head as un-held tears rained down her face to soak the shirt of Helen.

Wanting to comfort her friend and change the subject, Victoria added, in an upbeat tone “Helen, I shall stay with you until the time has come for the child to be born. It will be as our sleepovers when we were children.”

“Thank you, my Queen…my sister. I do pray the child is not cursed as well? And I so pray the child has not his father’s deportment,” remarked a pessimistic, saddened Helen.

Wiping the tears from her face Victoria stood, looked at Helen, and in a blissful sound of optimism said “I will look in the grimoire to see if we cannot reverse this supposed curse set upon you. If it is, in fact, real, even. We will! Beat this. And you will raise your child to be not his father, but as you dear sister.”

Seasons passed. The honeyed warm sun had been replaced by the cooling rust, red, and gold leaves of autumn. In that time, Victoria has cared for her dearest friend and has searched high and low for anything relating to this curse. From asking her sisters to travelling to Tanis. Each time she had been told the curse is not real. Each time, it’s just a tale, giving hope to a desperate friend.

Then, on the ninth month and the ninth day, and nearing the ninth hour the seed had finally outgrown its shell, it slowly began trying to purge itself from the womb to take its first true breath. The skies around the cottage have suddenly turned foreboding black and the rain-infused air swam throughout the cabin making each breath that much thicker to breathe. As ominous clouds scurried high above, clashing with each other, they created violent thunderstorms that stabbed the sky with bolts of lightning, strobing the whole of Pangerath. Strong winds and heavy rain soon followed. Rain as dense as the magical forest itself, as though the heavens opened to cry an impending doom.

Helen lay weak and sweating in her bed, pleading for the pain to stop. Her dear friend Victoria sat shaking on a chair beside the bed, trying to soothe her friend with warm compresses and reassuring words, to no avail; the pain was too great. Her best friend's agony brought forth constant thoughts that the curse may indeed be true.

The agonizing pain screamed and shown on the face of her friend, on that day, was too much for Victoria to bear. It was as though she felt every contraction, every tightened muscle, every fear of the unknown but could do nothing except hope her breaking heart would hold out to care for her dear Helen. It would seem this cursed birth may truly demand a charge of death. Somehow, Malus has seen to that.

Terrified eyes bulged to a lined face of agony as Helen’s mouth stretched past its limits as she screamed in bloody torture, accompanied by heavy panting and profuse sweating. Her pain had far surpassed the normal distresses of child-birthing. Victoria could only hold her dear friend's tightly clutched hand and wipe clear the sweat from her brow with cold compresses, as Helen’s nails dug hard into hers, grating and bloodying Victoria’s flesh.

She watched Helen’s body twist and hunch-back with each laboured push. Blood started to spot between her sweat-drenched bent legs. Her white gown became soaked with the bloody discharge from her body, the bottom of which had been pulled up and tightened about her knees as she pushed, marking the bottom trim with not only perspiration but a ribbon of blood that cascade droplets onto the once-white sheets beneath her.

Hours later, Victoria urged Helen on “One more, Sister! One more push and it's over!” Helen let loose her friends’ hand and grabbed tight the sheets “Ahhhhhhh…Ahhhhhhh...please…. Godessssss!” she cried out in horrible pain. And with a final laboured, life flashing push and scream, the child, at last, is born.

Exhausted, Helen fell back, huffing, her head lunged back on the pillow along with her rolling eyes.

Victoria moved to the child to free it from the feeding cord, and as she looked upon the newling lying in bloody sheets on its back, she found it strange that the child had not made a sound. ‘He is breathing’ she thought, but not crying…strange? Grabbing some warm fresh white woollen blankets she wiped clean the afterbirth then wrapped the bundle tightly within.

Victoria smiled as she sat down beside her exhausted friend then handed her the baby, placing him upon her bosom. “It’s a boy, my dear sister…a boy!” Hardly able to hold her baby, Helen looked down on him lying upon her breast. With a gentle motherly smile, she huffed “Tristan!” And as she said that Victoria stood abruptly, “Who is that?” She shouted as a chill pimpled her arms to rub warm as she looked nervously about the room. Not seeing anything, Victoria returned to sit by her friend. With all the talk of Malus and the curse, she figured it must just be jitters.

Looking down at Tristan upon her dear friend's breast, Victoria remarked as she smiled at Helen “He has your eyes and golden hair, Helen.” Then she sniffled “He is...beautiful!” Helen turned her tired head to look at Victoria. With a drained voice, she whispered, “I pray all will be fine with my son, for I cannot forget the words of Malus nor the curse put upon me.” Victoria lowered her head into her hands, painfully she cried “I have looked at the book of spells sister.” Victoria wept. “I am so sorry but I couldn’t find anything to annul this nefarious curse, should it be true. Most likely only the caster himself can nullify it.” She then lowered her head to her cupped hands resting on her knees as her tears wet the wooden floor beneath her. She is the Queen, but most importantly this is her best friend, she should be able to do something, anything.

Placing her shaking hand upon Victoria's sad head, Helen said, in a comforting voice, "As long as my son is safe, that is all that matters, dear Victoria…my friend. As long as he’s safe!” Helen’s eyes widened, she knew something is not right. Painfully she handed Victoria her baby and begged: “Please promise me you will love, protect, and watch over him. Tell him about his mother and how much she wished she could have been here with him. To love him and protect him…herself!”

Victoria, in dreaded tears, looked on her friend. The veiled shadow of death has come over her. As the bane takes root Helen gripped the sides of the bed, raised her head in absolute agony, and with her last laboured breath, she cried in a hurried and strained voice. “Please….do not! Tell him… of how… he came-to-be, or…of his father! He… does not need… to shoulder… such a… BURDEN!”

Victoria looked at Helen and gently nodded in agreement as she wiped her eyes, then Helen’s. Placing her hand to mouth as her jade eyes lightened to blurred tears, Victoria, looked on and gasped for breath as well. Her stomach reared in and out trying to catch her breath realizing she cannot do anything to help her dear friend who lies in piercing pain, dying at her side.

Victoria then looked up and out the window, as a strange calm resonated in the air, the storm once violent and unrelenting, had, upon this child's birth spontaneously dissipated. A nomadic storm to be sure. One minute it is here, then it moved on, so it was to be with Helen. So full of life and joy at the birth of her child, an energy-filled soul, electric and full-of-life one moment, then in a blink, subsiding to move on. Looking back down at her dear friend’s now stoic, greyed face as she struggled to grasp a final breath, Victoria lowered her head to the bundle in her arms. She cannot look at her friend like this. She closed her eyes and whispered to her thoughts ‘Please go in peace, my beloved friend. Please no more pain for her…please, Gaia, help her!’

As though her prayer answered…Everything turned deathly quiet, Sadly, Helen is no longer.

As Victoria stared at her friend's doleful face a bright white orb of light slowly began to materialize and rise from within Helen’s body. It hovered above the now motionless Helen as it gradually floated towards the ceiling above the bed. There it paused and spiked upwards like it was looking at and acknowledging the infant Tristan.

Before it vanished into the wooden beams supporting the ceiling a faint yet constant weeping emanated from the orb that continued to be heard outside, becoming ever more distant. Peering past the window towards the direction of the dissolving sound, Victoria held Tristan at her breast, then lowered her tear-filled head to drip on Tristan’s pink cheek. She wiped his face clean of her tears and whispered “You shall know all my magic, Tristan and all the magic of the land. Then…you will bring justice!... To him! His evil ways shall no longer ravage the lands and its people. Your mother shall have a son’s revenge. I promise you! Tristan!… One day he will stand in judgment and pay for this.”

Victoria’s rage subsided and she smiled at Tristan, her eyes twinkled when he finally cooed and gurgled, blowing raspberries. Unable to yet see…he smiled his dimpled smile. With a subtle laugh, Victoria continued “I will love you as your mother would, protecting and cherishing you forevermore. Then she kissed his rosy wet cheeks, snuggled her nose deep into his baby scent and blew her own raspberries into his stomach which sparked Tristan to flap about his arms and kick his little legs as he gurgled feverishly. ‘Thankfully he will not remember this da,’ smiled Victoria.

After a time cuddling, she stood up, with Tristan in her arms, she grabbed her hat off the chair and walked to the bed to gently kiss the top of her friend’s head. Folding Helen’s arms onto her chest, she whispered “I will miss you, my sister…my friend. And I will remember you always. Be in peace Helen, and know I will raise him as you would have, as though he was my own.”

Heading outside Victoria stood facing the wooden cottage, a breeze hinted in lilac, Helen’s favourite flower, brushed past her. Closing her eyes, a chill came over her as she raised her head to take in the beautiful aroma and imagined it was her friend’s final goodbye. Then looking down at Tristan she extended her right hand towards the house and sobbed “Incendia” A ball of flame travelled from her hand igniting the cottage.

As it is being razed in flame she turned and walked away. Looking back one last time, she gently closed her eyes, nodded, and then continued heading west towards the forest and their home.