Page 6 of The Path of Blood and Betrayals
A nightmare.Just a nightmare.
Yanking the covers away, my legs tangle as I kick and I fall, clumsily to the ground, shoulder smacking a small bedside table.
Yelping out a curse, pain spikes through my arm.Great. Just my luck. Only I would hurt myself trying to get out of bed.
Grabbing a flint, I pull myself up and light a candle, watching the flame grow, fear tightening in my gut. I’ve always had a fear of fire—more so from a past I can’t remember than anything else.
I was only a child when my village was destroyed by flames, and although I can’t remember my family, the entire night, I remember the way the flames crept from home to home, devouring everything in it’s path. I remember the smell of burnt hair and boiling blood. Iremember the terror as I fled and the sharp sting of metal against my throat.
Rubbing a hand to my neck where the vicious scar lays, it’s hard not to remember the night I almost died. When a Crimson solider tried to kill me for reasons I’m not privy to understand.
I grab my cloak, an old hand-me-down and clasp it tight to my throat hiding my scar and nightgown. The Blackwoods Coven are morning people and I don’t expect to run into them during the late hour, but even so, I cover myself. It’s better if I am to avoid their disdain.
No one here is particularly fond of me—except for Nafre, the Matriarch and Taylay, her twin brother and my best friend.
Taylay found me in the woods that surround our Coven, bleeding out from the wound in my throat. With his limited healing capabilities, he stitched it together enough to get me help.
At first, the Coven was welcoming, kind even. Until, after days of rest, I walked outside and a child made a snide comment about my ragged scar.
My magic reacted. So fierce, so powerful, it swept through me, focusing on his heart and grabbed so tightly, he fell to the ground, blood pooling from his mouth and nose.
My power killed without a second thought and the Coven turned on me.
Nessa, the twins mother, informed me of what I was—a blood summoner. A rare and deadly magic, not seen in our world, and I should fear what I am—what I could do. The Coven went from a warmth home, to a place to hide and keep my head down.
No one wants to associate with a monster.
Exiting the hut, I inhale, banishing the terrible memories and fear from my belly. The night air nips at my nose and the stars overhead are blocked by the thick trees that protect us. My shoulders droop and I cross to the gravel road, holding my skirt in one hand, the candle in the other.
Gingerly, I step, keeping quiet as I move along the long road that runs through the small Coven.At one end is the steep cliff that oversees the deep sea, where Nafre and Taylay live in a stone cottage.
When I first arrived, it used to be my home. But when my powers grew too strong, too uncontrollable, I was regulated to a hut at the edge of the Coven. Far from anyone else, I spend my days hiding during the day as I use my limited supply of books to escape and ignore the call of the blood magic in my ears. It’s a hard battle, usually resulting in horrible headaches and nose bleeds, but I do it to keep the Coven safe.
Passing other huts, I look at the full gardens of night-blooming plants under the nearly full moon. Everything smells sweet and green, the magical waters around us making the herbs and flowers large and bountiful.
It’s the one thing that the Blackwoods Coven has been able to harness. Neevea is a simple continent, full of various species and no magic. But the Covens have been able to tap into various resources.
The Blackwoods Coven utilizes the underground well of water that imbues the herbs with healing properties—making their potions a necessity for trade. They don’t ever sell the water for fear of losing their only resource.
The water, being fed to its inhabitants since before birth, gives them silver-white hair and mercurial eyes. The well itself creates a natural barrier for the Coven, stopping those with ill-will towards them while infusing the animals with greater strength, durability than those born elsewhere.
Stepping over one rock, I listen for the sound of anyone rousing, as my back foot trips over another stone. Catching myself, I curse lightly, big toe throbbing.
Late at night, no distractions andstillI can’t seem to walk correctly. Tay would make some remark about how could I have possibly lived this long when my own feet don’t work.
I’d respond and tell him:pure spite.
Silently, I place the candle on a nearby boulder, as I kick off my boot, inspecting my toes. Two bruised toes, but thankfully, nothing broken.
I sit back, leaning my head up as I inhale the sweet lilyvaneflowers and listen to the whistling air. No bug flies, no animal rustles in the woods. Gently, I unravel the magic in my gut, letting it reach out as I sense the occupants of the Coven.
The hearts beat in a steady rhythm, all asleep in their cots. It’s just me awake and I enjoy the peace it brings me.
I never wanted to be alone, but being alone is preferable to being feared. Hated, even.
Tightening my laces, I continue on, following the rough grooves, mind elsewhere. Once I reach the cottage, I’ll return to my hut, praying that it’s enough to lessen the nightmares and allow me to slumber.
It takes a lot of effort and concentration to ignore the Witches pounding hearts during the day.
