Page 9 of Her Dark Promise

There were three open books taking up the majority of the space on the table.The Anthropology of Witchcraft and Demonology. A History of Witchcraft and Varying Anathemas. Anathema: A List of the Most Notorious Witches in History and their Wrongdoings.I flipped through a few pages skimming through the sentences and had to look away when I flipped to a gruesome photo of what looked like a snarling wolf with horns.

I looked around the table once more, and Annabelle picked up a familiar leather-bound book with writing inside.

Father’s.

I cast my mind away from the past and focused on the present.

I sighed, dust particles dancing in front of my vision in the flickering of the candlelight. I set the candle on the top of the worn table and sat in one of the two chairs that were placed on either side. I looked down to find my quill, ink, and journal where I had left them.

What would I write about tonight?

I always came here when there was something heavy weighing on my shattered heart. Put my thoughts down on paper and then locked them behind closed doors.

The pain returned and I swiftly picked up the quill, opened the thick journal to the next blank page, and began writing.

October 1761,

Two strangers came to steal from me. That is not new, though it hasn’t happened in a decade. What is new is that they arrived after having murdered the old woman. She had been in my employ since she was young.

I gripped the quill hard enough to snap as I had to take a few deep breaths. Breathe in. One. Two. Three. Breathe out. One. Two. Three.

My mind cleared slightly, but not enough to rid myself of my anger. I continued writing.

They killed her in cold blood. Though there is no need to worry. She was avenged. She can rest peacefully knowing that her murderers were in pain in their last moments. My single regret is that I did not make it last longer.

I closed my eyes and sat back. I imagined Mariam’s smile was wide every time she came to gather another child, knowing that she was doing something meaningful with her life. That is what she told me when she asked to be the one to shepherd the children away from that horrid village. It was one less thing for me to fret about, so I obliged. I made it seem like a simple, unimportant task when I should have told her the truth. She was essential, and good, and very much needed.

I opened my eyes and the ache eased slightly. I must have gotten out all that was necessary. I was about to close the journal until something stopped me. The book had worn with age as I had only ever written in this one.

My magic allowed me to continually add page after page without needing another. Meager fickle magicks that any child could learn regardless of their affinity.

“You truly love to torture yourself…” I said to myself as I flipped back through the journal until I found the page I was looking for.

I closed my eyes and was brought back to the day Emilia was brought into my life.

The night before, I had consumed an entire bottle of venin to rid myself of Circe’s voice. Naturally, I had overslept, completely forgetting about the Reaping. I looked toward the window and found that it was still bright enough to tell me that the sun had yet to fully set. I hurried outside despite the ache that roared in my head from the poison.

I had barely reached the gate and was about to start calling the child when I saw a small, frail figure lying face down in the mud. Something sank inside me, and I ran toward it. I dropped to my knees in the mud and couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing—the child’s clothes were in tatters.

But they had always taken special care of the children. The chosen sacrifice was given a good meal and clothes before being tossed into the forest. I didn’t understand why this one was different. I cursed myself when I realized that she was right outside of the perimeter that kept me away from the rest of the world. I was about to use a stick to drag her to me when I heard screaming down the main path. Mariam was by the child’s side in an instant, panicked, out of her mind. Mariam quickly picked her up and brought her to me so that I might examine her.

I had yet to see her face, as her long blonde hair was covering it. It wasn’t until Mariam sat her down and I turned her over that I was disgusted by the sight. Mariam gasped beside me as we beheld the bruises and wounds along her body, but themost hideous of all the wounds was the large bruise around her throat.

I had to bite back the bile threatening to escape my lips. The child was incredibly malnourished and looked no older than nine years. Her heartbeat was faint—alive, but barely.

Her mouth opened, and out came a croaked whisper, “They hurt me.”

I shut the book as I opened my eyes. I usually tried not to think about that night as it brought back feelings of rage so deep that I knew I would unleash all of my power on the despicable humans who had dared to lay a finger on her. But I couldn’t give in to the rage, fearing that I could harm Emilia, so I suppressed it.

Though honestly, perhaps Emilia didn’t need my protection as much as I assumed. She had always told me of her desire to take over after Mariam became too old to shepherd the children. But since the day I found her in the mud, beaten and assaulted, her eyes bled revenge. This anger never seemed to boil over, but was simmering, waiting for the right moment. Would she do her duty and take care of the children? Or would she leave and find the men who hurt her?

I looked over, out into the library, and found that it was still dark. I must not have been here for long. Time escaped me, the days often bleeding into the nights.

I tapped my foot under the table, unable to decide whether I wished to attempt to go back to sleep or…

I smirked as I stood, pushing the chair back and rushing out of the room barely remembering to lock it behind me. I quickly exited the library, winding around the various halls until I reached his door. I never came to his chambers, never needed to until tonight. After everything… I needed more.

I pushed the door open to find Callum sprawled on his bed fast asleep. I could see from the doorway that his chest was bare, and the sheet was pulled down enough that the only thing it wascovering was my favorite part about him. I glided over to the side of his bed and watched his chest steadily rising and falling. I cocked my head to the side and smiled as I thought about how easy it would be to end him. A simple thought and he would cease to exist if I wished it.

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