Red and orange flames burned bright against the surrounding sea of dark trees. The sweltering air within the burning ring was thick with smoke and ash. Hands still held aloft, unable to wipe the sheen of sweat that dripped down her brow and collected along the tips of her eyelashes, Oralia was forced to rely on blinking alone to clear her vision. It was working as well as was to be expected, which meant barely at all. Oralia persisted, ignoring the sting of ash against the exposed skin on her face as she kept her gaze locked on the scruffy witch across from her.
“First things first.” Grettie unslung the rusted dagger from her belt and gestured to the mossy forest floor. The oppressive heat was taking its toll on the plants within the circle. The sprawl of ferns and short grasses, once vibrant and fanned upright, were now wilted and bent towards the ground. “Throw down that sword and any other stabbies you got on you.”
Oralia unbuckled the sword belt from her hip and dropped it. She slid the weapon further away with her foot, hoping to put the fidgety witch at ease. Not like it mattered, anyway. A sword in the hand didn’t make much of a difference when your opponent could incinerate you from a distance.
“Good, good,” Grettie said with a bob of her head, frizzy hair bouncing. The persistent twitch in her fingers seemed at odds with her confident smile. “Now put your hands behind your head and get on the ground. Nice and slow like.”
Oralia bent her knees and started to ease down, glancing out of the corner of her eye at the symbol etched into the dirt behind her. Even to the discerning eye, the seer’s trap would be hard to spot.
“I said slow!” Grettie slashed the air with her rusted dagger for emphasis. “And watch those hands! You even think of trying something, and I’ll burn you to the ground without a second thought.”
Moving at the speed of cold molasses, Oralia dutifully placed her hands on the back of her neck and slowly sank to the ground. She couldn’t help but note that the dark entity writhing beneath her skin had gone suspiciously silent. It wasn’t that she missed the additional voice, per se, but even the slightest distraction from the dread boring a hole through the bottom of her gut would have been appreciated.
Oralia eased down onto her stomach. With her head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, she watched as Grettie edged closer, unraveling a coil of rope from her pocket as she did so.
Five, four, three…
Grettie’s cautious footsteps sidled by, disappearing from Oralia’s line of sight as the witch moved to secure her hands. Oralia remained still, heartbeat pounding within her ears as she controlled her breaths, slowly counting down the seconds as they ticked past.
Two, one…
Grettie stooped to loop the rope around Oralia’s wrists the same moment the orc shot to her knees, throwing her head back with all of her might. The back of Oralia’s skull struck Grettie’s unprotected face with a soft crunch. Screaming, thrown off balance by Oralia’s force, the witch stumbled backward into the awaiting seer’s trap. The rune flared to life as a ring of red light shot skyward. Severed from Grettie’s magic, the dancing ring of red and orange flames sputtered out.
Oralia leapt awkwardly to her feet. She managed three steps before her balance gave out and she crumpled back onto the ground amongst the wilted ferns and grasses. Her lungs burned with each ragged breath as she clawed her way forward, dragging her disobedient legs behind her. The lack of clean air was wreaking havoc on her mind, jamming the inner cogs of wheels with the same smoky grime that was currently clogging her airways.
She was nearly to the dark ring of scorched, smoldering earth when the seer’s trap began to flicker. Oralia glanced over her shoulder, watching in terror as Grettie’s magic overpowered the symbol. With one final flare, the seer’s trap erupted in a plume of smoke and ash. Grettie’s dark shape leapt free and charged in Oralia’s direction, throwing her hands into the air above her head.
Oralia flung her body into a roll, narrowly avoiding the burst of flame that incinerated the drooped groundcover in her wake. She crashed through a patch of wilted bracken as a blistering heat engulfed her right leg. Searing pain jolted up her thigh, traveling along the nerves straight to her brain. It struck like a kick to the teeth, clearing the mental fog from her mind.
If nothing else, her undignified flailing served to extinguish the flames eating away at her pantleg. Her haphazard roll eventually came to an end and Oralia found herself hidden amongst a wild tangle of overgrowth. She moved onto all fours, using the thick blanket of smoke as cover as a trickle of energy returned to her weary bones. Eyes fixed on Grettie, Oralia steadily worked her way backwards.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
You won’t make it if you run.
Oralia ground her teeth together as she slunk further back. Whether it was due to sheer stubbornness or the fact that she detested the idea of listening to a predatory spirit hitching a ride inside her body, she vowed to do the exact opposite of what the entity wanted.
Charge her.
Dead, Oralia decided. The dark entity clearly wanted her dead! It was the only logical conclusion to such an asinine demand.
You’ll die if you don’t.
The nearest tree was only paces away. A few more seconds, that’s all she needed, and then she would have the cover necessary to turn and run, using her second wind to carry her as fast and as far as her legs would go. Alas, unable to see where she was placing each foot, Oralia misstepped, inadvertently snapping a twig beneath her heel. The sound rang out like a beacon, drawing Grettie’s attention. The witch’s eyes narrowed as she whipped about, twitchy hands already poised for the killing blow.
The dark entity’s voice thundered across Oralia’s thoughts. Charge her, now!
Fuck it. She was dead anyway. She could at least try to take the witch out with her.
Oralia surged forward and body slammed Grettie to the ground. Hot magic erupted against her skin. The snap of flames crackled and popped within her ears as bursts of color flashed across her vision. The dark magic beneath her skin flooded down Oralia’s arms, cooling the blistering heat as it pooled into her hands. It was too much. The searing heat and blistering cold, intermixed with the crushing weight in her lungs as every ounce of energy drained from her limbs. Oralia’s eyes rolled upwards, her surroundings nothing more than a smoky blur as her body went limp.
She struck the ground, incapacitated by the waves of debilitating pain causing her chest to tighten.
“What the fuck?” Grettie was back on her feet, blood streaming from her broken nose, staring wide-eyed at her hands. The twitch in the witch’s fingers was gone, replaced instead by a familiar inky darkness that wriggled like leeches beneath her paper-thin skin. Already, Oralia could see the infection had spread from Grettie’s hands and was traveling up her scrawny arms.
“Was that supposed to weaken me, orc?” A maniacal grin spread across the witch’s blood-smeared face. “It barely hurt. In fact, I feel stronger than ever!”
Grettie curled the fingers of her right hand and lifted it overhead. A blaze of fire shot skyward, nearly twenty feet in height, and engulfed the upper branches of the nearest tree.
“Oh shit! You see that, orc? You see what you did to me? Watch this!” She lifted both hands and a blaze of fire sprang up from the earth and encircled them once more. The dancing wall of flames was twice as tall as the last one. Clouds of smoke thick with ash and soot churned within the circle, blanketing the interior until the light filtering down from above was lost sight altogether.
Oralia gasped for breath as Grettie stepped closer. The flickering red and orange flames illuminated the witch’s dirty skin in an unnerving yellow glow. Her bloodshot eyes were wide and rimmed in white. From beneath her shirt collar, Oralia saw dark, branching tendrils snaking their way up Grettie’s slender neck.
Her voice was distorted, brittle and cracking along the edges like weather-worn paper. “Now just wait to see what I do with you.”
Grettie raised her hand once more. Red magic crackled down her arm and gathered in her fingertips. The magic built until it was blinding and then, without warning, flared black. The entity burst to life, spiraling back up Grettie’s forearm in a plume of shifting darkness, consuming all in its wake.
The sinister smile bled from Grettie’s face as her laugh contorted into a scream. The witch’s skin pulled taut as the muscle and flesh underneath turned to dust. Her face shifted in color from tan to white, to a sickly blue. With her withered hand still outstretched before her, the final scream faded from Grettie’s hollowed mouth and her empty husk crumpled to the ground, disintegrating into a pile of bone and charred ash.
The ring of fire went out in a puff of black smoke.
Acid shot up Oralia’s throat and pooled inside her mouth as she stared at what was left of Grettie. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Oralia heaved herself into a sitting position, coughing the burning particles from her lungs as she drew back her shirt. What she saw caused a second volley of acid to fill her mouth. The dark veins snaking along her collarbones were still there.
The witch was an undeserving vessel. The entity’s voice rippled across her panicking mind. Fit only for a quick meal. You and I are still intertwined, orc. As we will continue to be until you find me a vessel fit for service.
“But you transferred bodies. I felt it. I felt you leave–”
I gave but a piece. You may not possess the magic I require to form a new body, but you are unusually resilient for an inferior being. You will continue to serve as my vessel until you are no longer useful to me.
That had only been a piece. With only a sliver, the darkness had consumed the witch from the inside out in the blink of an eye. This time, when the nausea clawed its way up her tightening throat, Oralia gave into it. She folded over, retching the contents of her stomach onto the smoldering ground as her body trembled, helpless against the onslaught.
Overcome with fear, Oralia didn’t hear the voices calling out to her, or the hurried thunder of feet against the ground. From the corner of her eye, she saw two blurry forms break through the shifting blanket of smoke. They were shouting something, but their voices were distant and muffled, like a stranger calling from the bottom of a well. Oralia remained hunched over, barely cognizant of the pair of strong hands that seized her below the arms and dragged her from the smoldering ring of ash and death.