The Sacred Seven

Chapter 3 - Wrath and Simmer

Two days had passed since Halloween. It was the second of November and the air reeked of snow. Lillith dreaded the weather. She despised the white sheets covering the ground and she hated the bottom of her dress to be drenched.

The crisp and earthy smell woke her up and she tugged herself deeper into the velvet sheets on protest. She stared into the ceiling for another couple of hours, waiting until a single spec of daylight creeped into her sight.

The heiress always woke up before the rest, and she was always the last one to succumb to sleep. Her mind was a loud one, making it difficult to find peace. It reflected on her looks. There were always prominent shadows under her eyes. Lillith almost forgot how she looked without them.

It was only half past six, when the servitude started to wake up. By that time, the witch had already fixed herself a bowl of walnuts with honey for breakfast and was rereading yet another book she was dearly familiar with. She was seated in her usual spot by the window in the library, comfortably adjusted on top of a cushioned bench. A cup of sage tea was placed by her feet, the steam of the liquid fogging the already misty window glass that supported her knees.

Lillith tended to study early in the morning, undisturbed by shuffling of maids and guards. She liked the silence her home provided, even more so the library. The two witches, her mother counted, were the only ones who had access there. It was obvious by the thick layer of dust, that a maid haven't stepped a foot in there for centuries. Hundreds of obsolete chronicles were placed on the hight shelves. Their covers cracked and colour faded over time, yet the pages inside remained protected by charms of the ancestors who wrote them.

The Moriarty library was beyond extraordinary. It was hiding books dangerous to mundane eye. It was carefully guarded and only the descendants of her bloodline had the right to step through the threshold and dip into the secrecy of their magical origin.

Over the years, the greatness of the wooden constructions almost reached the ceiling and Lillith had to drag a leader into the room, so that she can properly investigate every item present.

Lost in her thoughts, she took a spoonful of her breakfast, savouring the sweet flavour. It took weeks until the honey arrived from the local village, especially because her mother dreaded to trade with mortals. The princess had threatened multiple people to get to it and content with the fact, she slowly sipped on her bitter tea, enjoying the contrast between the two flavours.

For a moment, she put her book down, taking a brief look at the scenery. She didn't really have to focus on the text. The witch devoured every single book, every chronicle, and every letter she was able to find. At that point, she was reading just to pass time and so, she let herself zone off, looking at the comforting scenery.

The woods were swallowed under a hood of thick mist, shielding the creatures living within the depth of the forest. The trees were tall and thick, spreading darkness above the wet ground and creating a certain allure to the nature.

Especially at dusk.

Mortals were forbidden to wonder in the woods during the night, as many people never came back from their late evening walks.

I wonder why, Lillith snickered at the thought and got back to reading, listing through the old pages to start off where she left behind.

Knowledge was something she was in control in, meanwhile her powers were like a storm.

Unpredictable.

They always appeared out of blue, causing nothing but disasters.

There was a reason their bloodline was considered superior. All her ancestors were gifted with immense magical potential, one that brought greatness of destruction, given by the first Moriarty herself, known by the name of Hecate.