Borne

Chapter 7

As the turning of seasons brought warmer rains to the bayou, Amina found herself increasingly occupied with patrolling the swamplands each night. Word of her victories over dark forces had spread far and wide among the supernatural underground.

Now fell entities were drawn to test her mettle, hoping to catch the famed witch off guard. But Amina remained ever vigilant, honing her gifts against each new threat with merciless precision. None left the bayou who challenged her wrath.

On one such evening, as Amina glided unseen along mist-shrouded channels, her inner sight prickled with a disturbance. Trailing the subtle anomaly led her to a small islet near the swamp's heart. There, cloaked figures were arrayed around a freshly-dug pit, chanting in guttural tongues.

Phasing halfway into the spirit realm, Amina observed them summon a malign entity - a bulbous mass of roiling shadow flecked with malevolent eyes. It seethed and rippled, awaiting the necromancers' commands. She had seen their ilk before, summoned to possess and destroy.

But these summoners were more practiced than most, utilizing fell tomes of lore long-thought lost. Amina sensed something far more sinister at work here than petty malice or greed. These cultists served powers that even she dared not name, seeking to rend the veil for their dark masters' return.

She knew she must disrupt this ritual before its taint could spread and fester. But confronting the summoners directly risked unleashing the entity, endangering nearby towns. No, subtlety and misdirection were called for here.

As the cultists chanted, Amina wove subtle illusions to confuse and divide them. Phantom whispers and shifting shadows drew their eyes from the ritual at hand. She followed with psychic prods, stoking paranoia and turning them against one another.

Soon blades were drawn as cultists accused their "brothers" of treachery. Chaos erupted as the summoning faltered, the entity thrashing wildly within its bonds. In that moment of distraction, Amina struck with cold precision.

A mental spear lanced through the mass of eyes and shadow, banishing it shrieking back to the nether realms. She followed with blasts of raw magic that rent cultist bodies, silencing their curses and pleas. Within moments, only a bloody ruin remained where dark rites had been practiced.

Amina smiled coldly, observing her handiwork. None would dare invoke fell entities in her swampland again. She turned to depart - only to freeze as a slow clapping sounded from the mist-shrouded treeline.

Stepping into the islet's edge, a lone figure emerged - a gaunt man in a tailored suit, face hidden beneath the brim of a wide-brimmed hat. His aura pulsed with barely-contained power that set Amina's instincts screaming. She tensed, magic gathering at her fingertips.

"Well done, my dear," the stranger said, voice like oiled silk. "You've grown into quite the formidable witch. I've come to make you an offer - join me, and together we'll spread chaos across this wretched realm."

Amina arched a brow. "And why should I trust one who cavorts with dark powers? Your cultists sought to summon fell entities, no doubt for your designs."

The man smiled thinly. "Merely...exploring resources. But you've proven your strength, Amina - imagine what we could achieve if allied! Name your price, any boon or vengeance, it's yours."

He extended a graceful hand. "Join me willingly, or not - either way, you'll serve my designs in time. The tides of magic are shifting; a new age is dawning, and I aim to rule as its Lord of Night. You'd do well to stand at my side."

Amina's eyes narrowed to emerald slits. "I think not, demon. Your kind have preyed on this land long enough; it's past time you learned mortal justice."

Raw power surged within her as she took up a battle stance, magic swirling to life. The Lord of Night threw back his head and laughed, a hollow sound that curdled the blood. Darkness coalesced around him, warping the very air.

"As you wish, little witch. Let our dance begin in earnest..."