The Warlord

Chapter 16: Morella

Everything had gone to hell that day. My innocent, naive son had been standing by my side, shaking and trembling on the inside. I knew he would jump and accuse the warlord of what I had just told him. I also knew the warlord was not stupid enough to show any sign of how that might be the truth. He was playing a doomed game. Yet we had stood there, inches away from the Gates Of Heaven: a wide circle decorated with gold; the main portal to the upper realm. We had waited for what seemed like an eternity, watching for some sort of flash, sensing for some sort of magic, listening for some sort of disturbance in the air. Only pure, deep silence had greeted us.

So I stretched my magic far below, letting its tendrils seek out the happenings of the middle realm. And as if in some sort of twisted fairytale, I felt the broken splinters of their failed portal. I let myself remain calm in front of my son, keeping my posture straight, my face perfectly emotionless. But on the inside I was falling apart, much like their portal had.

"They will not be coming, my little love. It seems that fate has decided to turn against them today." I said nothing more to him before I turned and strode away, feeling as if I was living in a nightmare. I heard his faint, strangled noises of confusion, and he was probably wondering if everything had been a joke. He would come around sooner or later; he would see the glory of my goal, and then we would strike as mother and son.

I now walk all the way to my chambers on the other side of the palace, telling one of the guards to notify the Top Order that circumstances have arisen, and that the negotiations are to be called off. The cowards. If the broken portal was not their doing, it most likely was one of their oily, sneering servants. They were always lurking in every shadow, willing to dirty their hands with any sort of work.

I cannot accuse the Top Order, as they are supposed to be one of the most benevolent beings in Heaven, but there are many other ways to take a bite at them. Many, many other ways.

I open the door to my chambers and throw a shield over it, snuffing out any unwanted magic. White furniture agains white walls and white-framed windows. White is the blessed color of Heaven, the shade reflecting the realm that we gods dwell in. I open up one of the intricately decorated windows, and I let the warm, calm breezes brush against my face. The vast, swirling masses of clouds and fog surround the bottom half of the palace below me, blocking out the villages and towns, as well as the eventual drop to the middle realm.

Neither Serestine's queen nor its warlord will have the knowledge or the combined skill to find a way to the upper realm. But I do, and just before the portal broke, there was a presence of desire and awe. The aura of a middle realm worshipper: a witch.

I remove a crystal charm dangling from my neck and crush it between my fingers. My howling, icy magic floods out in a torrent of power, and I immediately draw it within me. It takes me over my magic limits, and for a second I feel like an all-ruling matriarch, towering over her domain. Then the pain starts to blossom from my core, and through the haze of black spots dotting my vision, I stumble over to an altar. White candles for control and luck, and a marble figurine of Serestine. I let my magic disperse over the altar, and the world stops spinning as I release my power to search for the witch. The figurine provides a small scale model of the real kingdom, and my glowing tendrils sweep over the outer cities, slowly advancing towards the capital. I brush past thousands of different auras. A few hold promise, some are decent enough, but the majority are just mediocre.

Finally, somewhere near the heart of Serestine's palace, I find my prize. A rather weak magic, but one that mingles well with that of a god or a goddess. I latch onto the witch's aura, and enter her mind.