The moment Illthic’s words left her mouth, my father roared, slamming both balls of energy into the ground. Cracks in the frozen earth started snaking their way toward her, taking up the entire width of the road running through the village. The witch took a step back, only to realize the prison that once held her would keep her from escaping in time.

Doing the next best thing, she crossed her arms in front of herself, and an ice dome froze around her. When the magic came for her, it threw her and the dome into the air, infecting the shield with cracks.

The dome didn’t survive her descent and shattered into so many pieces it fell back to the ground as snow. Despite the dome receiving the worst of the spell, its wrath did not spare Illthic. Even before she touched the ground, the woman began convulsing, each limb acting independently from one another to bounce her body across the ground. She didn’t need to use whatever magic she used to alter her voice for her to be heard, as an all natural ear-splitting wale rang throughout the village.

As Illithic stumbled to her feet, there was a rip in her clothes, and a small trickle of blood ran down the side of her cheek. Red splotches started appearing across her dress as further injuries showed themselves underneath.

“Take that as a warning. If you dare speak ill of the dragons of The Nest again, you shall meet the same fate as your little shield,” my father warned.

“Boyar Boris, attacking an old woman such as myself? And to think you call yourself a gentleman,” Illithic joked, her tone and posture betraying the damage my father’s magic had done to her as she struggled to stand straight.

“Leave now, and I’ll pretend I heard nothing,” he scoffed, creating another ball of magical energy. “Continue to speak, and you will die.”

“Alright, alright. I suppose that can be arranged,” she cackled. “I have held you here long enough anyway.”

The witch’s last statement made my father raise both his hands, causing chains to shoot forth from the ground to pierce her flesh with bloodless violence across her body in multiple places. Before she could shout in pain once more, they pulled tight, dragging her to the ground in a forced kneel.

“Explain yourself, or I shall rend you to pieces!” my father roared, his voice booming within my chest like thunder.

Illithic once again cackled.

“Make up your mind, Boris. Do you want me to stay or leave?”

Illthic’s games did nothing to extend his mercy or patience, but before my father could do anything further, she exhaled a fury of snow that blanketed the village in blizzard-like visibility in seconds. My father disappeared from view, and frost formed around the windows. Bitter cold clung to my skin, piercing through my coat straight to my bones. The winds that came with the blizzard pushed the carriage, threatening to blow it over.

Not knowing when it would end, I created a small flame in between my hands, keeping it closer to my skin than I was comfortable with. Any closer, and it would have seared my flesh.

Looking out my window, I saw deep red sparks of light pierce through the snow, originating from the last place I saw my father. The sparks soon multiplied, growing into full-fledged flames that culminated in a tornado of fire illuminating my father’s silhouette below. Illthic’s blizzard tried to eat away at my father’s creation, but the heat would not die and soon went about overpowering the ice and snow, melting it away into nothing and dissipating the magical storm.

Apart from the extra inch of snow blanketing everything, the witch was no longer pinned to where my father chained her. In her place was a perfect circle cut out of the ground.

My father stood still for a few seconds before his reaction set in. His fingers curled into fists, and his body stiffened. Replacing what would have been a shout, the snow at his feet blew away to the ground.

With a wave of his hand, the land returned to what it once was. The snow that coated everything, from the villagers to their houses, melted into water. It drained away and disappeared into nothingness. Once all the extra snow was gone, the villagers started to stir from their slumber. My father ignored their confused murmurings and marched his way back to the carriage.

He said nothing as he sat down where silence continued as the carriage jolted into action, moving at a pace faster than the one we arrived in. Even after the village became an obscure sight in the distance, my father continued heaving with anger.

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“What happened? Is everything okay?” I asked, hoping to fill the silence.

“I do not know,” he answered.

“She wasn’t alone,” I continued in hopes it would distract him from his anger enough that he would stop scowling.

“Who was she with?” he inquired.

“Back when you lifted me up, I saw someone wearing similar clothes standing apart from the villagers. She was younger than Illthic but older than mother. She ran off with the rest of the villagers when she called me a witch,” I explained.

“That is…worrisome,” my father murmured, and our carriage once again picked up speed.

—

On our way home, I contemplated what Illthic might have meant, and my thoughts wandered to worrisome places. I feared something happened to my home, and a sigh of relief couldn’t have conveyed how I felt when I saw nothing out of the ordinary when we returned home.

Despite the lack of damage to the outside of my home, not everything was alright. Many of the statues that once decorated the mansion halls marched around the grounds, weapons ready to be used at a moment's notice. Dozens lined the path to the mansion’s doors, waiting for our arrival; two of which opened the carriage doors for us.

My father wasted no time ushering me back into the house, where a hectic scene played out. Individuals draped in robes and cloaks marched about, chanting words I could not hear. Statues accompanied them at their sides, armed with shields to protect them from any attacks.

Dragoslava was the first to notice us and rushed to my side, looking me over from head to toe in uncharacteristic worry. Only when no injuries surfaced did her stoic demeanor return.

“What happened?” my father asked.

“We’re not quite sure, my lord. There was an explosion in the study, and a fight ensued. She took the fight outside, and the boyars are currently securing the grounds and looking for where Andreaki took the fight. We’re not sure who led the attack, but it was clear who they were after,” she explained.

Blood drained from my father’s face upon hearing such news, and I did not understand why my father was so worried about it. I saw no reason to be afraid for my tutor’s safety, given how powerful she was.

“Is Andreaki okay?” my father asked.

“We don’t know. We haven’t been able to find her. As I said, the boyars are out looking for her, but we have yet to come up with anything,” she answered.

“Activate all the ones we have in storage. Double your efforts. Turn over every stone if you have to,” he ordered, his fear becoming prevalent with every word.

While I did not understand why my father and Dragoslava were worried, I knew that if they were worried, there was good reason to worry. Fear that was not my own crept into my head, and I had to hold back my tears.

From the corner of her eye, my maid saw my trembling lips and watery eyes, and once again she broke character to kneel next to me to look me in the eye.

“Everything is going to be okay, Guinevere. Everything is being handled. Your parents and every servant in the house are working toward a resolution. Rest assured, it will come to an end before nightfall. All you need to do is go to your room and wait for it to get there. Can you do that?” she elaborated.

The shock of Dragoslava dropping her stern persona brought me a sense of comfort I was not expecting, and I gave her a hug.

“Okay, I think I ca-”

In the middle of my answer, a large window shattered, and Dragoslava threw herself over me, shielding me from the falling glass. Off to the side, something heavy hit the ground with a crack. Once the glass finished falling, my maid used her body to block the view of what fell with it.

“No,” my father whispered.

“What happened?” I asked, trying to see what fell—something my maid stepped in front of me to prevent and continued when I tried to get around her.

“Guinevere, to your room,” she ordered.

“I want to see-”

“Go to your room!” she demanded.

By darting in one direction and jumping to another, I got around my maid, and I glimpsed the thing she tried so hard to keep away from me. Sprawled out across the cracked marble floor laid a motionless body. Wings covered most of their body, but the wings did not cover the splintered scales and shards of ice littering the form. It took little for me to connect the dots.

“What happened to Andreaki?” I asked, my mind processing what I saw.

“Go to your room,” Dragoslava said, no longer able to field the venom she once did. Hearing my maid sound defeated did nothing to boost my confidence.

“What happened to Andreaki?” I shouted.

“Go to your room, Guinevere; please, just go to your room.”