The Warlord

Chapter 18: Evelaen

"Lies," my queen breathes, her chest barely rising as lethal hate sharpens her gaze. To impersonate any being from Heaven is sacrilege; the mere mention of our enemies outside of warfare is abhorrent.

"I am afraid not, fellow ruler."

I slowly probe the creature within the little witch, feeling out its magic. I am met with a harsh and howling and wild aura, and I wince as I pull my magic away.

My scouting does not go unnoticed, for the little witch flicks an eye towards me before saying, "Just ask your dear warlord. She has already felt my power, and this is only a fraction."

I am unable to offer any denial to the claim, for my magic is now cowering around me, trembling from the force it just witnessed. I have never felt any power like it before, and it would certainly warrant the creature as Morella, the queen of Heaven.

"No need to look so pale, queen of Serestine. I am not here to wreak havoc on your capital. I am here to help you."

My queen and I are too intimidated to laugh, but I manage a weak scoff. "A trick, and a weak one. What being from Heaven would help Serestine?"

"I assure you, I mean no harm. I know a possible way to reach the upper realm." Possible. The word bodes ominous ill, and we definitely cannot trust the queen of Heaven.

"Why tell us? Are you not opposed to my proposition?" Confusion laces my queen's voice, but she is also stalling. Channeling her power all the way from the upper realm must mean a limit to the amount of time the queen of Heaven can possess the witch.

Sure enough, I feel her great power waver, and the little witch twitches for a moment. Then her hold upon the girl clamps back down, and she sneers. "Buying yourself time will not work. I can always come back through the witch, and if you kill my host, you will lose the key to returning to Heaven."

I want to believe that Morella is simply bluffing, that she just wants to manipulate us into dangling puppets, but there is too much at stake. Even though the chances are exceedingly minute, her knowledge of something to get us to the upper realm is priceless. My queen's turmoiled silence is a confirmation that she is thinking the same thing. Morella has us right in her clutches and we can do nothing about it.

"Seek out the forgotten prisoner. You should have a record of their location and whereabouts, queen of Serestine. They can help you." Morella does not wait for our thoughts, spilling out her message at our feet. Either a sign that she truly wishes to help us, or that we are playing right into some sort of grand scheme.

Morella gives a grunt of effort and winces. I feel her hold dissipating, and the power surrounding the little witch starts to leech away. "I cannot... hold this body... any longer," Morella says, her voice strained with effort. "I suggest... that you heed... my advice. For both our... sakes." Then the wild, powerful magic disappears entirely, and the little witch crumples to the ground, unconscious and barely breathing.

The sun rose and set three times before I decide to check on the little witch. My queen had called for the physicians to take her in that day Morella possessed her, and she was whisked away on a white bed, her magic as faint as her heartbeat. Now I stride along the empty hallways of the palace, making my way to the hospital wing. Hopefully the little witch will be alive and awake; we need her to keep in contact with Morella. I walk past physicians in beige robes, carrying vials of bubbling liquid and sacks of dried herbs, and go to the emergency unit. No physicians are sent in here unless called for, lest they disturb the patients, which are in critical condition. The little witch is at the end of the unit, her cot shrouded with a white canopy.

I make sure my footsteps are silent as I walk towards her. I lift the canopy, expecting to see her face, either slumbering or wide awake. Instead I am met with the sight of an empty cot. The little witch has vanished.