Page 63 of Hex
“Fine, but can we at least punish her?” With her sentence ending in a higher pitch than the rest of her question, I can feel Sage’s distress as if it were my own.
“We’ll do one better than that.” Hekate circles Baba Yaga like a shark in bloody waters, her eyes never leaving her prey. “Balance and harmony dictate that Baba must continue existing, but it is not specific in how. Is it, sister mine?”
I remember the talk around The Shade, lifetimes ago, about how close the two ancient witches were. Like chosen sisters, I’d been told. I can only imagine the betrayal is even worse than being backstabbed by your own blood. One is a random outcome, the other is a choice, and that clearly has the Dei of witches questioning her own judgements.
“You would have left me to die of old age. I had to take the opportunity given to me by the Moirai.” At this, Hekate swirls around and, with the precision of a snake attack, backhands Baba Yaga. The sound echoes throughout the open space and lingers like a bad omen.
With narrowed eyes and a straight, thin line for a mouth, Baba says nothing, just holds her head high. Nobody’s fooled by her silence. We can all see the hatred behind her dark, beady eyes. My first instinct is to step around Sage and protect her from the evil brewing inside her surrogate mother.
Memories of her on the day I first met Aiyana invade my mind and it’s now my turn to vibrate with uncontrollable anger. The time wasted, the endless heartache, the overwhelming pain again and again, and for what? I guess the story of Snow White holds its fiction from a kernel of truth. The evil witch capable of so much personal destruction for mere vanity.
“Never speak of our fates with such immoral intentions. The Moirai seek out the best in us, they do not condone your selfish deeds.” With a flick of her wrist, Hekate puts an end to the whole conversation by sewing shut Baba’s mouth. “Enough of that.”
I relax just a little, knowing Sage won’t be affected by the witch’s cruel words now that speech has been taken from her, but I’m growing more curious by the second.
“What is her fate, Dei Hekate?” Someone needs to ask.
“Eternal damnation in the Hexclave.” With her words, Hekate raises her chin and effectively looks down her regal nose at Baba Yaga, her closest friend once upon time. Or so I’ve heard through theshadevine.
Behind her sewn lips, Baba tries to protest but it’s useless. I can understand her concern, her fear even, because the sentient labyrinth of fate, memory, and forgotten names has rarely been used in the past. Maybe twice. And those who have witnessed its magical imprisonment have all said the same thing: they would rather die by a thousand poisonous cuts than live out time in the ever-changing maze.
Tough shit. I can’t think of a better way for this asshole to reflect on her wrongdoings, knowing that every thought she has and every name she ponders only feeds the labyrinth with her memories and tightens its hold on her. The more she thinks, the more the labyrinth will learn and reshape the threads of her prison, sealing her in and growing its maze-like pattern even more. It’s fucking perfect. In essence, she’ll be killing her own mind with every passing day. More than that, time has no bearing in the Hexclave. A week or a century is inconsequential. She’ll never know the difference.
“Nice. ‘Bout time we took out the big guns.” Slash grins like he’s just watched a satisfying ending to a good movie, but Sage, on the other hand, is more confused than ever.
Tilting her head back, she locks eyes with me and frowns. “So, that’s a good thing?”
“It’s perfect, Satapti. It’s the closest she’ll come to death without actually dying and disrupting the finite equilibrium we all need.” I smile, hoping it will be of comfort to her.
“Not to mention the mental torture as a bonus. It’s fucking brilliant.” Slash’s crude words garner Hekate’s attention and she snaps her head around and has him recoiling with a single, well-aimed glare.
I’d bet my balls he’s just got a hard on but I refuse to look. What turns my brother on is none of my fucking business, even if it is my mother-in-law.
“Okay, that sounds fair.” Unlike us, Sage isn’t glowing with excitement over Baba’s fate and it doesn’t surprise me. The anthros on Earth criticize empathy, but here, it’s a strength not many share and I’ve never been more proud of my chosen one for being among the few to possess it. Even if it’s not necessary, like now. Baba fucking Yaga doesn’t deserve an ounce of compassion. She deserves to suffer. Forever. And now, she will.
Out of nowhere, a circle of what seems to be black sea salt crystals mixed in with ash appears around Baba Yaga, making her squirm and her head shake.
Next, Hekate holds a shard from a mirror in one hand as two shimmering threads grow from the tips of her index and thumb. One is gold, the other blood red, as they entwine like twin ropes.
When she turns to Sage, my entire body goes on lockdown. No fucking way she’s going to implicate my chosen into the magical spell that will bind Baba Yaga to the Hexclave. This will make her a part of the hex, and because every light must own a shadow, she could end up being the solution to free Baba.
“I can hear your concerns, demon, as though you are speaking aloud.” I steel my spine at the sound of Hekate’s words, knowing she only speaks to us when absolutely necessary. “But your fears are unwarranted. My daughter will not be in any kind of danger and my nemesis will never, for as long as this universe exists, be set free from her prison.”
For long minutes, the Dei of Witches and I have a staring contest, both of us fighting for the safety of my soul mate. WhenI relent, she nods and I can feel the respect coming off her in waves.
If anything were to happen to Sage, I cannot be held accountable for my actions. A demon with nothing to lose is a dangerous kyn to have as an enemy.
“Come, my child, let us free ourselves of negative energies.” Hekate aims the threads at Sage, who, by instinct alone, grows her own. Standing facing each other with Baba inside the circle between them, the threads rise above the witch’s head and join in the middle, twisting together and forming a sort of braid that twirls above Baba’s head in a snail pattern.
At Hekate’s feet appears a stone, and immediately after, the Dei slices her finger on the shard of glass, allowing a few droplets of her blood to drip upon the beige slab. And just as suddenly as she cut her skin, it heals up without effort.
I step closer to Sage without interfering with the magic, and when I do, I hear Slash’s curse and simultaneously feel the power of the elves forming a bond with the magic happening before my eyes. Witchcraft is an integral part of nature and now I understand why we are in Calenwood. Although none of the elves are present, their contribution is impossible to ignore.
“Let her be bound in echo and thread, let her be lost where memory is fed. By pact unbroken, by words unspoken, may the blood twist and the reflection hold.”
The incantation is repeated three times and with each passage, the wind around us picks up, swirling around us and creating a kind of tunnel inside the circle of salt and ashes—not disturbing them whatsoever.
The scariest part of it all is hearing Sage echo Hekate’s words that final time. As she does, the mirror breaks into tiny pieces that fall directly onto the stone, creating a sort of sigil I can’t make out from here.
