Morana
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"Yule. The winter solstice," the Priestess said in a somber tone which reminded me of a sermon. She looked out over all and seemed to make eye contact. When her eyes reached to where I sat, I assumed they would pause and spend some extra time on me. But what happened was quite the opposite. It was almost as if she couldn't even see me.
"The shortest day of the year and the marking of a new cycle of the seasons. A day to shed darkness and embrace light," she continued.
She took up something from the table, what I could not see. My view was blocked by heads and darkness.
"Today we'll perform a cleansing ceremony so that we all can wake up tomorrow, ready to embrace light."
She walked off to the side, to one of the corners of the room. It was so dark there that my eyes had swept over the place without paying any attention to it. It was also so dark that I had a hard time making out what was there. I squinted my eyes, but I still couldn't see what, only that it was something sort of square-like. Maybe like a low, not particularly wide cabinet.
She moved what she had taken from the table forward. One of the candles flickered and shone on the object, which glittered slightly in the light, making me aware of what it was.
A knife.
My eyes went back to focus on what was in the corner and although it was still too dark for me to make out any proper features, I could see that a person sat there.
My mind tried to fight it though, tried to make me see something else, because the truth felt far too shattering.
The Priestess made two quick movements with the knife before she returned to her place behind the table. As she put the knife back down, I could see the distinct red of blood. At the same time, a dripping noise started in the otherwise completely silent basement.
Dread like nothing I had ever felt before filled me. Cold and pure and dark. I wanted to turn around and puke. I wanted to yell and curse them. I wanted to rush forward and embrace him. Take hold of him, get him out of there, and run. Run as far away from there as was possible.
How dared they?
Though a part of my head had a very different thought. How dared he?
How could he not have told me? I had come to understand they were physically hurting him as punishments, but this! They treated him as not even human. How much blood did they take? Did they help him in any way afterwards? His tiredness at Halloween came to mind, and I knew they did not help him and that they had to take a lot.
How dared he not tell me?
I wanted to scream at him for being an idiot. Wanted to tell him I had deserved to know, that we should have run far from there much earlier. I wanted to make a promise to not rest until they had all lost their lives.
But I was frozen by the overwhelming dread. It won over the anger that stirred. I was unable to do anything but stare forward. Nailed to my seat by the ice in my body.
"If you all will join me in another pray," I heard the Priestess say. Her voice sounded far away, but it was enough to wake me up from my stupor. Enough to make the lightning-hot rage splinter the ice into a million pieces.
I didn't make a conscious decision to stand up, but I did so anyway. Neither did I make a conscious decision to walk forward, but I did. And I definitely did not make a conscious decision to produce sparks in my hands, but I did. They danced around and gave off the hissing sound of electricity. They were warm, radiated raw power, and I knew that power was fueled by my anger.
"What... Morana?" the Priestess exclaimed. Her eyes widened, and I knew all had turned to me. At that point, I relished in being their focus. I wanted them all to know who would cause their downfall and why.
"How dare you call him your son?" I hissed and flicked my hands forward.
The sparks that had been there rushed forward like blue lightning and hit the Priestess in the chest. She clutched the spot and bent forward as a yelp of pain left her. The scent of burned fabric spread through the basement. She gasped for air, but remained on her feet, to my disappointment. I wouldn't have minded accidentally killing her.
My attack spurred the other witches into action, and they tried to restrain me. The sparks were, however, still dancing in my palms and anyone who came in contact with them let out a scream and jumped back.
It was futile to fight them though, and I knew it. There was no way for me to win, but I was damn set on trying. I held up my hands towards any that got close. Kept them at bay, though that resulted in them casting spells at me. I was hit by a few. Felt pain ache through my body, but it also didn't feel that bad. The pain was there as the spells made contact, but then it disappeared.
The sparks created a blueish light, and the spells illuminated the basement some more. But even so, the darkness was thick around me and I wasn't completely sure if it was the sparks, the spells, or the darkness that hissed the loudest.
"You can always escape later," a voice whispered at my side and I didn't have to turn to know who it belonged to.
Marianela.
I had no idea why, but I felt an inexplicable trust in her. Enough so to find a way to let the sparks recede as four other witches grabbed hold of me.
I looked to the front to meet Alejo's eyes. During the fight, I hadn't paid attention to anything else that happened in the basement. He looked unharmed, but, like me, he was surrounded by four others that kept him bound. He looked at me in a way that reminded me of the dread I had felt.
YOU ARE READING
The Five Cursed Witches: Volume 3 - Morana, the Witch of Life
FantasyMorana knows she's different from other people in more ways than one. Firstly, she's sixty-seven years old but stopped ageing in her twenties. Weird things have also happened around her right after she's wished for it. But most importantly, no matte...