The pathway was lined with wildflowers, their delicate petals glowing faintly in the fading daylight. As Irene and Madeline walked deeper into the forest, the air grew colder, and the once-vibrant trees seemed to bow under an unseen weight. Shadows stretched long and thick, wrapping around the path like tendrils. Irene hugged her arms tightly, her unease growing with every step.
"You should calm down," Madeline said, her voice steady and unbothered. She glanced over her shoulder, her feline-like eyes sharp and unreadable. "Nothing is going to happen."
"I know," Irene muttered, though her voice betrayed her doubt. "But something feels... off. Like we're being watched."
Madeline didn't respond immediately, letting the silence hang between them until the pathway opened into a clearing. At its center was a cave, dark and foreboding, with a strange, glowing symbol etched above the entrance. The runes shimmered faintly, pulsating like a heartbeat.
"What's that symbol?" Irene asked, pointing to the glowing mark, her brow furrowed.
"A witch's ward," Madeline replied, walking briskly toward the cave. Her calm demeanor was almost unnerving, but Irene followed closely, unable to shake her growing apprehension.
As they reached the entrance, Madeline pulled a long, silver needle from her hair—a tool so fine it could easily be mistaken for a decorative pin. She examined it briefly before turning to Irene.
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"What's that for?" Irene asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.
"In order to enter, we need witch blood to unlock the barrier," Madeline said matter-of-factly.
"Then why don’t you use your blood?" Irene snapped, annoyed and already wary of whatever Madeline was planning.
Madeline tilted her head, an amused smirk playing on her lips. "It’s not that simple," she said, stepping closer. She gently took Irene’s hand, her grip firm but not unkind.
Before Irene could protest further, Madeline pricked her palm with the needle. Irene yelped, pulling back. "What the hell, Madeline?"
"You’ll survive," Madeline said, rolling her eyes. "Now, press your hand against the ground at the entrance."
Irene shot her a glare but complied, squeezing her wounded palm to draw more blood. The crimson drops fell onto the cold stone, and the air around them crackled with energy. A shimmering barrier materialized, weaving itself into intricate patterns of light and symbols—an ancient, pulsating lattice of magic. For a moment, the barrier held, glowing brilliantly, before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.
"Well done," Madeline said with a satisfied nod.
Irene winced, cradling her hand. "Great. Now I’m bleeding."
Madeline sighed, brushing her fingers lightly over Irene’s wound. Her touch was cool and soothing as she whispered, "Lumière douce, répare et apaise." A faint golden glow enveloped Irene’s hand, and when Madeline pulled back, the wound was gone.
"Wow," Irene said, flexing her fingers. "Are you ever going to teach me how to do that?"
"Soon," Madeline replied, a rare softness in her tone. She placed the needle back in her hair and started toward the cave. "Let’s get this over with, kid. We’ve got work to do."
Irene sighed but followed, the dim light of the cave swallowing them both as they stepped into the darkness.