Destiny's Witch (BxB)

Chapter 39: Unbound

Perry

A memory of being weightless is sparked by the sight of the broken windows of the Domus. In the darkness, I can barely see in front of my face. A cold breeze runs across my face as Alan and I step inside the dilapidated ruins.

The dream returns to me as a vision of the woman with strawberry blonde hair enters my mind. The Chinese tattoo of her attacker is visible on pale skin.

Alan calls to me, but his voice is drowned out by whispers. A legion of voices whisper at the same time, all saying drastically different things. The voices are frantic.

"Hunter"

"They are near."

"She waits."

"He killed me."

The last voice is familiar, whereas the others are indistinguishable. I look to my father, confirming what I already knew. The voice is not warning me against him.

Alan is staring at me with concern. I nod to him, confirming I am fine. He is unconvinced as a rush of whispers comes from a room in front of us.

Alan goes rigid as his begins taking steps forward. He looks as if he is a puppet whose strings are being pulled. I trail behind him through the door to find a long dark room.

A fire roars to life in an open-hearth fireplace. The brick surrounding the fireplace is singed, like the large green Winfrey sofa. It is the only piece of furniture, besides a few matching chairs, that are not destroyed. The walls are lined with ruined paintings, seemingly of people who once inhabited the Domus.

Alan stops in the middle of the darkness as a figure moves beside the fireplace. Fire flies out of the fireplace and onto the litany of candles shrouded in darkness, surrounding the room. The light from the candle is enough to light the room, revealing Charlotte's figure.

Charlotte is wearing an outfit one would find on Game of Thrones. Tituba has dressed herself in a form-fitting brown leather corset which leads into a pale green skirt. She has styled Charlotte's curly hair into a messy bun with flowers sticking seemingly blossoming from her roots.

"That's it? You're the reason my line the witches have no sense of self? Paltry, to say the least." Tituba says. "Small men making large decisions."

Tituba reaches into a fold in her skirt and pulls something metallic into her hand. The dagger glows in her hands as she examines it. A deep sigh leaves her as she tosses the dagger at Alan's feet.

"A trinket. Made by a witch for an undeserving man." Tituba says. "You think I can't enchant weapons? That I would need a weapon to kill any of you? Elnora was meant to bring you to me. She only wanted the dagger for herself."

"You went through all of this—" Alan asks.

Tituba waves her hand at Alan, who goes rigid yet again. "Silence! You are a guest in this place. You only exist in this space because I allow it." She says.

"Fine. Answer me, then. Why go through all of this?" I ask.

"I had to know more. The moment you were born, I felt it. You are the power I have been searching for in all the generations since my own. Then your power was ripped from you, but not entirely." Tituba says. "You see, we are not like most witches. Inferior witches require a power most cannot match to bind a witch of significant power. It's a wonder the witches that bound you didn't die horribly."

"What are you talking about?" I ask. "Witches? It was my mother and father."

Tituba smirks to Alan. "You couldn't even tell him about the Night Coven? Pathetic. They mauled you. They tried to strip you of something you were given by the universe, something that is divinely yours."