The Broken Child

The Two Meet

7 years later

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I awaken to the blaring sound of an alarm clock that assaults my ears with an irritating, high-pitched ringing, leaving me with a residual sensation that lingers in my auditory senses.

For the past year, I have been residing in a room that lacks any visible means of entry or exit, with no discernible windows to let in natural light. My only source of illumination is a ceiling-mounted lamp that remains lit only from 7 in the morning until 10 at night.

Access to this domain is limited exclusively to those who possess knowledge of a particular spell, which serves as the sole means of entry and exit.

Today is the day I plan on breaking out of here. After mastering astral projection, walking around the grounds of the coven unseen and unheard, I've learned to be semi conscious looking practically inconspicuous. My plan is to go into the astral realm learn the spell and break free, for the last month I've learned the patrol patterns for this building and the route I'm going to take.

The sound of bricks constricting and rebuilding a threshold snapped me into reality as the supreme walked in. "Aw, granddaughter, rough morning?" she says with a grin that immediately sets me on edge. Despite my best efforts to suppress it, a wave of hatred rises within me like a tide, threatening to consume me entirely. I cannot deny the sheer menace that seems to radiate from her very aura, and I am reminded of all the ways in which she has wronged me over the years. In my darkest moments, I have even wished for her to suffer the same fate as the witches burned at the stake, a twisted desire that I cannot fully explain but that nonetheless fills me with a sense of both guilt and satisfaction.

"I suppose not, considering you've locked me up here...or should I say, 'relocated' me," I retort with a wry grin. Despite the gravity of the situation, I cannot help but feel a sense of twisted amusement at the irony of it all. After all, what else is there to do in a situation like this but to find some measure of humor in the midst of one's own imprisonment?

Her smile loosened a bit giving me a feeling of victory over her. I couldn't help but crack a smug look on my face.

"Well, since you're feeling so enlightened today, I thought it might be time to take you on a little trip," she declares, turning away from me and beckoning me to follow.

With a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, I comply, following her as we traverse seemingly endless hallways until we finally come to a halt in front of a forbidding metal door. I glance over at the supreme, my confusion evident in my expression as I wonder what lies on the other side.

As we stand there, the supreme begins to mutter an incantation under her breath, her words barely audible as she weaves a spell of unknown power. Suddenly, the metal door before us begins to glow with an otherworldly light, as if responding to the very magic flowing from the head witch's lips. And then, with a sudden creak, it swings open.

"This is our Hall of spellbooks, child," she intones gravely, her expression solemn and unreadable. My heart skips a beat at the sound of those words, for I know all too well what they imply. This place houses all of our most prized possessions, from the ancient tomes containing centuries of accumulated knowledge to the fabled Discordia, a tome that holds the secrets to every form of magic imaginable

"You'll be learning some minor magic here that will help you get by in the real world," she declares, her tone firm and authoritative. I look at her in shock, wondering if this means she's finally planning to release me from captivity...

"I know your planning on escaping Cassandra today in fact." she continues, her gaze fixed firmly ahead as a small grin tugs at the corner of her lips.

"H-How do you know that?" I stammer, unable to contain my surprise at her words.