The Warlord

Chapter 17: Calliope

A day has gone by since the portal to Heaven failed, and I am growing more and more impatient by the minute. So far even the most famed magic-wielders have not been able to figure out what went wrong. Many suspect some sort of outside, foreign force; one they do not know how to deal with. I suppose that eventually I will have to inspect the portal for myself, but for now, time will run its course.

Today I have called my warlord and her little, unexpected companion to meet with me. Of course, I was slightly irritated at my warlord's decision to alter the mission without my consent, but the witchling is a valuable tool. And here they are, one standing proud and straight in glistening armor, a sword at her side; the other with a drooping a head, and a trembling posture. Of course the witchling is terrified; after all, it was the former queen of Serestine that decreed her kind's exile. My warlord is required to either bring in or terminate any witches on sight, so I suppose she is still abiding by that recently established rule.

"Lift your head, witchling. I am not here to order your execution."  Her face tentatively rises, but she focuses her gaze on anywhere but my eyes, and her nervous posture remains the same. She will have to learn to trust me sooner or later, but that is not a current priority. All I need from her is information. I turn to my warlord, and she subconsciously straightens, her shoulders stiffening, her eyes widening. "What happened that day in the portal? Was the spell faulty? Were there not enough servants?"

"The portal collapsed, my queen. We almost arrived to the upper realm before I felt the magic break apart and disperse."

"But was it due to not enough magic on our part, or something else?" If my warlord did not sense any foreign presence, we are either dealing with something elusive and powerful, or we failed in crafting the spell for the portal.

To my dread, my warlord responds, "I did not feel anything insufficient from the servants, and the portal was intact up until we were close to the upper realm. Most likely it is Heaven's doing and not ours. You must realize, my queen, that your proposition may have sown seeds of conflict."

"So Heaven is beginning to tear itself apart from the inside," I murmur, reclining on my throne. I hope that their internal destruction will continue, but I know either the king or the queen will eventually establish order in due time. My warlord needs to be in the upper realm for Serestine to have a fighting chance.

I look towards the witchling. Her magic, though weak in comparison to both mine and my warlord's, is different; more suitable and compatible for the gods. She might have sensed something my warlord did not. "And what did you experience, witchling?"

She opens her mouth, and then suddenly doubles over. I stand up with a start, and my warlord rushes towards her as she begins to shake and quiver. I hear her hiss, "Not... again..." before she crumples to the ground, thrashing and gasping for air.

"What is going on?!" I stomp down the steps leading up to my throne and march towards the witchling. My warlord is holding her down, her magic swarming over her, trying to find out the source of her convulsion. The moment I lay a hand on the witchling, an icy, cold magic blasts from her body, forcing me and my warlord to step away.

"That magic is not of this realm, my queen!" She draws her sword, and I blanket myself in a shield. The alien magic continues to pour from the witchling, and slowly, as if she is merely a puppet hung by delicate strings, she rises to her knees.

"I told her the transition would be much less painful if she stopped resisting. But I suppose the process is quite frightening, and her magic is weak." The witchling stands, but the words coming from her mouth are not hers. A tone regal, royal, and powerful spills from her lips.

"What are you?" My warlord points her sword at the witchling, getting an amused smirk in response. Something is possessing the girl; something old and ageless as well as timeless.

"Your magic is very interesting, but loyalty blinds you from your true potential," the witchling says to my warlord, a cat's smile curling across her face.

"Enough, stranger! Why have you come? Why are you inhabiting the body of a young witch? What business do you have with Serestine?" The thing in the witchling turns its attention towards me, and I swear a flicker of hate flashes on its features for just a second.

"How rude of me to not introduce myself. And with the queen of Serestine standing in front of me, no less!" Something like sarcasm is laced in the words, and the witchling mockingly curtsies. "I am the queen of Heaven, Morella. And I am here to help you reach the upper realm."