Seven Witches

twenty-six

Cythera sat down with The Legacy of The Saint on her lap, the curtains closed with only a candle for the text to appear. After reading several pages, she realised that it was not exactly gold because it did not shine yellow, but much paler. She guessed it was gold mixed with silver, indicating that the summoner was wealthy, but not so wealthy as to write it all in gold.

In some pages, the paper was folded once or twice, and in those pages the summoner mostly included names and numbers. Cythera did not benefit much from the text in the beginning when the writer described her experience with magic. The pain, the aftermath, the heavy headaches afterwards and then the surge of power when the summoned creature returns to their world.

Like holding on to burning coal, the longer you cling the more it hurt, the more magic it needed to stay. But in other parts she also said that her magic goes numb when she kept the creature for too long, the way a hand might blister and go numb from the coal, but that did not mean things healed.

Cythera had found some new information, after a long night of reading, and that was what she wrote down.

Every witch is capable of performing certain kinds of blood spells, and only a selected few who have gained absolute control over their magic can merge spells to create something entirely unique.

The summoner wrote about the spells she had been successful with, and Cythera cursed at the things the witch wrote was able to do.

Then there were the spells common between all seven witches, like the enhancement spell, or the protection spell. There is always a price for blood spells unlike natural magic, and the price is always high.

It was there when she closed the book, and then her eyes for a full minute, then she opened it again. Blood spells effect every witch differently and are considered forbidden forms of magic for a reason.

The summoner then explain what had happened to her when she'd performed one of the spells, the fatigue and inability to use natural magic for days. But as she started to practice controlling the flow of magic through the blood, the symptoms became less and less severe. However, despite it all, the summoner mentioned several times that it was horrible regardless, and most of the time not worth using.

From the corner of her eye, Cythera noticed orange light slowly filling the room, stealing away the darkness from her. She had not realised how long she'd been reading, not until the sun began emerging.

She closed the book for good, tucking it away in one of the drawers. Hera was still asleep, had not been bothered by the candlelight. Her sister had stayed in that bed for far too long, still unable to eat solid food or walk without pain.

The anger rose again, and she wished that Ivan was not dead only so that she can kill him over and over again.

And then there was the matter of Paul, who she had seen kissing Hera one late night. Cythera was not mad at him or her sister, if anything, she was grateful. Now, Paul came to the room and found that Cythera was sitting on the bed which had once been Hera's, staring at him flatly. "Good morning," he murmured, still unsure if he should speak at all.

She managed a forced smile and replied, Paul seemingly surprised with her gesture. He filled her cup with fresh water, unfazed by the fact that she was still asleep and won't be drinking it. Still, he sat on the chair beside her bed and undid the bandages on her hands, then her torso. "You might want to help me," he said, holding a bowl with the medicinal mix Aunt Sophie gave.

Cythera went over to Paul, clenching her jaw as she undid Hera's bandages carefully. The moment his fingers pressed the salve onto her healing wound, she hissed and awoke, face pinching.