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{CoRW: Book 3} Chapter 101: A Gift of Mercy *Rough Draft*
🕑 Added 2023-02-25 20:57:59 +0000 UTC♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝♝
Chapter 101: A Gift of Mercy
The Sisterhood of Crows left the gathering of Covens with haste, splitting up as agreed to divert any punishment Alora’s antagonism may have garnered. The silver-haired witch in question trailed behind Elder Verena. Alora anxiously and frequently jolted at the slightest sound, often to her detriment, as they sped through the brightening silhouettes of the forest's towering specters.
“Pay attention, Alora,” hissed Coralena, an elder ranked just below Verena, who possessed one singular eerily beautiful eye, a mixed shade of pink and blue.
“I thought I saw—something,” Alora sputtered, shaking off the low pine branch that had knocked her momentarily off course.
“We’re not far from the Emerald Lake,” Alysia, Alora’s sister, called out encouragingly. “If anyone is pursuing us, we will lose them there.”
“Why did we have to provoke her?” Alora babbled breathlessly as she strained to keep pace with the elders ahead of them. “And why did it have to be me?”
“You volunteered, remember?” Alysia retorted with a snort. “In exchange for that tasty half-witch brat.”
“Oh, right.” For a moment, the silver-haired cannibal looked less terrified as her thoughts drifted to the promised reward. “Good thing we didn’t bring him to the Coven gathering. I’d be really pissed if that Isbrand bitch stole him from—”
“The Emerald Lake!” Alysia interrupted with audible relief as she gestured to the opening tree line and the glittering body of water that waited beyond.
The sisters slowed as Elder Verena approached the murky edge of the lake. Alysia and Alora panted as they watched Coralena retrieve a large spiky conch shell from her pack, which she passed to Verena. The head of their coven lifted the shell to her lips and blew, emitting a low, flat note that sent ripples across the lake’s calm surface.
“W-what are they doing?” Alora questioned as she nervously rubbed her arms. “And why is it so cold.”
Coralena appeared to take note of the younger cannibal’s words. The one-eyed elder whipped around, her pupil dilating rapidly as a cold fog rolled in from the forest to surround them. “Verena! We are running out of time!”
Verena blew the conch horn again, intoning the instrument with enough magic to create several small waves across the lake's surface.
“What was that?” Alysia gasped as a flash of white appeared through the dense fog that wrapped itself around the tree line.
“What are we waiting for? We should go!” Alora squeaked out fearfully.
“Are they not coming?” Coralena growled with a glance as the slowly calmly lake. “This isn’t what you planned, Verena. We’re exposed out here!”
“Wait,” Verena retorted sharply, her voice faintly strained from the use of magic. “Somethings—happening.”
A blue light appeared from the center of the Emerald Lake and stretched towards the shore like a serpent. Then six water witches with three-pronged spears emerged, their dark garments blurred into the color of the lake as the spiked crowns of their helmets and armor broke through the surface.
Corelena and the sisters all breathed a sigh of relief as their allies joined them on the shore, eyeing the building fog around the lake warily.
“You’re late, Lord Ronan,” Verena snapped as the group’s leader, a tall, powerfully built man with flowing dark braids beneath his helmet, approached them.
“Kirsi?” Ronan retorted as he stabbed his trident into the crunchy pebbled soil of the shore.
“Probably watching us,” Verena replied grimly. “She had four of her elders with her.”
“So, she’s hiding?” Another water witch scoffed. “Seems out of character. Perhaps you and Prince Llyr were mistaken.”
“She summoned a scriva twice the size of a man,” Coralena retorted sharply. “And made eight children disappear into thin air.”
“Water teleportation?” Ronan questioned sharply.
“There wasn’t a drop of water around us,” Verena answered with a shake of her head. “Although—she did make it snow.”
A loud keening howl cut through the first blush of morning. The water witches hoisted their tridents warily, channeling orbs of water from the lake into a shield that coated their bodies as they fell into formation behind their leader. As the fog rolled back, Verena and her sisters hastily took shelter behind them.
Kirsi appeared through the sparkling mist, seated on her snarling scriva, alone. The Isbrand Witch offered the gathered cannibals and water witches a smile as the elemental wolf sauntered leisurely forward.
“Is this what you brought me here to see?” Kirsi asked, her glowing fairy-like eyes surveying the group meticulously before settling on the golden seahorse belt buckle that accessorized Ronan’s waist. “A secret alliance between the Coven of Crows and agents of Strugna’s Royal Consort, Lady Serenia.” She leaned against the scriva’s lowered neck, her black-ice armor a stark contrast to the elemental wolf’s luminous white fur. “For what purpose, I wonder?”
Ronan crossed his trident and arms over his chest before responding. “Queen Regent Serenia has sent us to determine your identity and issue a warning.”
“Oh?” Kirsi arched a brow.
“You will cease all involvement in Strugna’s politics and refrain from interfering with the succession of Strugna’s throne.”
“You mean—the throne which rightfully belongs to Price Llyr—your Crown Prince?”
Ronan scowled at her mocking tone. “Strugna’s monarchy and traditions run differently than that of Lafeara. Something an outsider like yourself wouldn’t understand.”
The Isbrand witch shook her head with a soft chuckle. “It seems you are ill-informed. Did your Royal Consort not tell you that we are intimately familiar with one another? I spent over a decade at the Pearl Palace as friend and counselor to your late King.” Kirsi laughed as the Strugna witches glanced at each other in confusion while their leader offered the ice witch a look of blatant disbelief. “Of course, that was nearly a decade ago, and I look much different now.”
“I’ve no interest in playing your games,” Ronan retorted as he uncrossed his arms and flexed his shoulders and chest. “Whether you are Kirsi or not—you’ll keep your nose out of Strugna’s business from this point on—”
“Is that it?”
The corner of Ronan’s lips twitched in displeasure as he adjusted the trident in his grip. “Meaning?”
Kirsi smirked, then threw a leg over the scriva’s shoulder and dropped to the ground. “Your mistress would go so far as to ally herself with cannibals from a Lafearian coven just to drive away her stepson’s potential supporters?”
“Prince Llyr has dangerous ideas for the future of Strugna—a key part of those plans is contingent upon your involvement, so yes, we are prepared to do whatever is necessary to protect the security of our Kingdom.”
The Isbrand raised her brows and nodded as her gaze drifted to Verena and her cannibal witches. “Since the Sisters here have helped you deliver your message, you won’t mind if I finish settling my score with them?”
Ronan raised a brow, his emerald eyes darting from Krisi to her scriva and to the trees beyond. With a conflicted sigh, he waved his hand permissively. “What happens between the Covens of Lafeara has nothing to do with us.”
“What?” Alora sputtered.
“That’s not what you promised us!” Verena protested through barred fangs. “You promised us a safe passage from here if we lured Kirsi to you!”
Ronan shook off the elder cannibal’s grip with a glower of disgust. “Just because you were desperate enough to believe me, doesn’t make me responsible for your stupidity.” He turned back to Kirsi with a disinterested smirk. “Besides, there’s four of you and only one of her.” The Strugna leader and his witches all turned as one towards the lake, ignoring the pleading protests of the cannibals left stranded on the shore.
“Wait!” Kirsi called after them. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
With one boot in the lake, Ronan paused to glance over his shoulder in her direction. “Such as?”
“My message to the Royal Consort.”
His jawline tightened, brows furrowing as he returned to shore to face her squarely. “And what is your message.”
The Isbrand Witch smiled as she crossed her arms confidently. “Tell Lady Serenia and her followers of the old ways that what they fear is coming. I will succeed this time and claim my birthright. And before my final mortal life ends—I will have my revenge on those who betrayed my father and cursed me to this life.”
Ronan’s face twitched between emotions of shock, anger, and disbelief. Then he glanced at his men and sighed as he returned to stand beside Verena. “Unfortunately, per the Queen Regent’s instructions, should you threaten either Strugna or the Royal Family, I will eliminate you here and now.”
“I thought as much.” Kirsi smirked as she summoned a sword of ice to her hand. “Well then, the first to surrender may deliver my message to Lady Serenia as planned.”
In the brief moment it took Verena to glance from Ronan to Kirsi and realize the danger she was in, the witches of Strugna charged forward. Water serpents shot out from the river to entangle the Isbrand Witch’s limbs as Krisi danced and somersaulted out of their grasp.
“Verena, we should run!”
The elder’s head whipped towards Coralena, who gestured toward the already fleeing Alora and Alysia. Verena nodded and hastily followed the one-eyed cannibal towards the cover of the forest, her tattered robes flapping in the wind behind her surprisingly agile, spindly legs.
A cold breath followed close behind, pulling the elder’s gaze towards the lake once more. She stumbled awkwardly to a halt as the golden rose rays of sunlight spilled upon the now-frozen body of water.
‘When did she—’
A shrill scream of fear and pain splintered the forest ahead of her, followed by the ferocious snarls of wolves. Verena quickly altered her destination and sprinted back toward the safety of Hawthorne Forest as fast as her magic could carry her.
***
Trident Master Ronan’s determination faltered as their elemental advantage vanished beneath a solid sheet of ice. Their attempts to quickly surround and subdue Kirsi were thwarted almost immediately by the giant elemental wolf that dragged off one of his men, whose screams ended abruptly inside the fog.
‘This is ridiculous. We’re all elite purebloods and have the advantage in numbers.’
“Net her down!” he growled, stepping forward with a thrust to keep Kirsi on the defensive and allow his men a few precious moments to prepare. The Isbrand Witch shifted her movements to match his own. The cold magic of her blade and the raw immortal power glimmering brightly within her chest almost blinded him as she countered his attack with a vicious assault of her own.
It took only a few exchanges between them for Ronan to realize that Kirsi was intimately familiar with the fighting style of the Trident Coven.
‘Then—what she said earlier—could Kirsi have been the scarlet-haired blade dancer that King Alexios kept hidden within the Pearl Palace?’
A distant scream ripped through the forest in the direction the cannibals had fled. Ronan felt a chill run down his spine as it was repeated not long afterward, followed by complete silence. He growled in frustration as his footing slipped on the root of a tree, and only then realized Kirsi had pushed him into the fog, reducing his visibility and that of his men.
‘Damn it! I should have taken the Seer’s warning more seriously. But I didn’t expect Kirsi to be this powerful or that she would risk her safety over the political struggles of Strugna’s royal family.’
A third scream echoed through the murky mist, breaking Ronan’s concentration. He swung his trident wildly to distance himself from the Isbrand Witch. Kirsi deflected his swing with an amused laugh as she danced away, vanishing into the fog.
‘She’s playing with me.’ Ronan gritted his and scanned the shadowy outline of the forest around him as he tried to determine which direction the lake and his men were in. As he tried to calm his breathing and the adrenaline pounding inside his chest, he heard the unmistakable sound of steel on steel to his left. ‘That sounds like a skirmish—there are ten—perhaps more. Damn it, did Kirsi summon her elders to join the battle? Is that why she lured me away?’
With his trident gripped tightly at the ready, Ronan sprinted towards the fierce sounds of combat and felt his heart sink into his chest as the bloodied fangs and face of the scriva appeared through the fog less than five feet ahead of him.
The Trident Master’s hasty attempt to break his forward momentum cost him as his footing slipped on the icy leaves below. His head and lungs rang from the impact of the hardened ground that met him. Pushing through the disorientation and momentary loss of breath, Ronan raised his trident defensively—only to watch as the elemental wolf ripped it from his grasp and tossed it away into the fog. His numb mind raced towards the grim inevitably that faced him as the scriva closed in. Its majestic eyes bore into the sprawled pureblood with the cold detachment of a predator observing its meal.
A glint of light pulled his gaze towards the ice blade that tapped his shoulder lightly. Ronan pulled his eyes away from the carnivorous elemental to where Kirsi stood behind him, noting the blood on her sword and armor did not appear to belong to her. The scriva stepped back as Kirsi moved in front of the fallen Trident Master, the tip of her blade never leaving his throat as she considered him with the same gaze as her elemental wolf.
“My men?” Ronan forced out through clenched teeth. “Will you spare them if I surrender?”
“It’s a bit late for that,” Kirsi replied with a shake of her head. “You can take comfort in knowing they displayed commendable skill and courage till the end.”
The Trident Master’s fingers dug into the cold earth beneath him as he eyed the blood on her blade once more. “Then there is nothing more to be said. I am defeated. You can kill me now.”
“Tsk.” Kirsi shook her head as she tapped the sword against his armor. “I am willing to offer you a warrior’s death if that is your wish, but you should remember the purpose that brought you here. I still need a message delivered to your Royal Consort after all.”
Ronan’s expression clouded with bitter resignation before he nodded his head in assent. “If that is your wish.” He flinched as the scriva flicked its head toward three witches dressed in blood-splattered silver armor that glimmered with Kirsi’s magic.
“You finally returned, Lord Linby,” Kirsi greeted. “I trust your hunt went well.”
“They made it difficult splitting up as they did. But with our trackers, there was nowhere for them to hide,” replied the tall ice witch she had addressed. He finished dabbing at the blood staining his long white hair and shook his head regretfully. “Unfortunately, one of them did manage to slip away from us.”
The Isbrand Witch’s smile vanished in an instant. “What? Who?”
“Their elder, Verena,” Linby replied with a frustrated growl as he tossed the soiled handkerchief aside. “Someone whisked her away just before we caught up at the edge of Hawthorne Forest.”
“Verena was rescued?” Kirsi raised her brows in disbelief, then tipped her head back with a sharp laugh. “So the old crone survives yet again.”
“For now,” Linby corrected as his gaze turned to the witch at her feet. “What of this one?”
Kirsi sighed as her gaze returned to Ronan, who remained pinned at her feet. “A messenger from the Royal Consort of Strugna.”
“Ahh, the stepmother of that impetuous prince?” The pureblood ice witch knelt to retrieve the Trident Master’s fallen weapon and scoffed. “Wasn’t there a lake up ahead? Why would he fight you this far from his element?”
“I didn’t give him much of choice.”
Linby nodded as he twirled the three-pronged spear in his hand. “Did he come alone?”
“No,” Kirsi replied simply as she narrowed her gaze at Ronan. “You, come with me.” The Trident Master flinched again as she withdrew the blade sharply. “Since you shall carry my warning to your Mistress, there is one more thing you should witness before you leave.”
Ronan blinked at her retreating figure, then moved slowly to follow her instructions, keenly aware of the three elder purebloods monitoring his every move.
The fog cleared before them, and the Emerald Lake came into view. Scattered around the shore and tree line lay the bodies of his men, some with missing limbs and heads, no doubt the work of the scriva lurking nearby. The other corpses collapsed with ice spears and blades impaled in their chest, and two lay tangled in the net meant for their enemy.
Linby took in the carnage with a faint smirk of approval as he trailed behind the winded water witch.
“Where is Anton?” Kirsi queried as she hovered over a dead Strugna witch collapsed between two trees.
“I sent him back to the Coven for healing,” Linby replied as he placed a cautioning hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “One of the cannibals had a bottle of poisonous acid. His armor protected him from the worst of it, but no point in taking any risks before tomorrow.”
“Our numbers are certainly lacking compared to the other covens,” Krisi commented quietly in agreement. She knelt and touched her fingers to the dead witch’s brow briefly before closing his eyes.
‘What is she doing?’ Ronan growled as the Isbrand Witch pulled her sword from the chest of his fallen friend. He watched in confusion and disbelief as she removed the armor plate from the dead witch’s chest a moment later. “Why are you—”
“Shut up!” Linby growled with a swift kick to the back of the Trident Master’s legs, forcing him to his knees.
“So many people seem determined to question my identity,” Kirsi replied as she tossed the leather and metal braided armor aside. “What you are about to witness will silence all doubt about who I am.”
Ronan swallowed back a cold lump of fear as the Isbrand Witch stood, then summoned a glowing orb of light between her hands held close to her chest. The spinning magical vortex connected a tiny thread of light to the dead man’s chest, illuminating his lifeless torso and closed eyes briefly before evaporating. The Trident Master and the ice witch elders behind him watched in silent fascination as the Strugna witch’s corpse froze from the inside before crumbling into a pile of shimmering clumps of snow that swirled up towards Kirsi’s extended hand. Each grain of ice stretched, creating layers of snowflakes that quickly transformed as a shape emerged.
Ronan watched with growing dread as the first of his men became an elemental bear, equal in size to the giant wolf observing them from the forest's edge.
“The power to transform souls into scrivas is a power only the gods could command,” Kirsi said calmly as the frost bear sat back on its haunches with a perplexed expression. “My father, Viktor, shared this knowledge with me to prepare for the trials ahead.” She pressed her hand lightly against the elemental bear’s chest, and a tiny glimmer of magic passed from her fingers to create a beating light within. “I have already decided to show no mercy to those who stand in my way. So it would be wise if your Royal Consort refrained from sending any more purebloods after me for the sake of her political greed.”
The Trident Master flinched as the Isbrand Witch turned to meet his gaze.
“You can deliver my message to your Mistress or join your men as one of my elementals. The choice is yours.”
