Wicked Hunt

Chapter Four, Part I

Victoria: Wasted Prophecies 

A bloodcurdling scream echoed out of the walls. It rang through the waterfall and down the weathered towers. Murder it suggested. Killing. Horror. It was a painful, wretched wail. Enough to wake Victoria's mother. She immediately regretted the sound as it flew from her lips, but she had been sleeping when it happened. She did not even know it came from her until her eyes were wide and brazen; her lips chapped and sore from being stretched that widely for so long. She did not know how long she had been screeching. She stopped as soon as she realized what was happening, gasping for breath and licking her lips. Her throat felt as if it were on fire. Her eyes felt waxy and dry as if she had been awake all night instead of deeply asleep since midnight.

Suddenly, her door was thrust open. Her mother's pale dead eyes were right in her face. She was frowning and blinking, trying to focus her blind eyes on her daughter's energy since she could not see where Victoria even was. No servant clutched her arm or helped her into the doorway. No, Gemma Drake had flown down the hall all by herself.

"What did you see?" she asked breathlessly.

"Death," Victoria replied at once with a choked sob. Instantly, Gemma was hurrying into the room, closing the door on a girl who had tried to rush in. A candle was sitting on the little table by Victoria's bed, the flame nearly extinguished. Gemma snatched it greedily, twisting the holder over in her wrinkled hands. No match had materialized or been struck, yet the flame flickered with life now, blazing proudly as if it had not been on the verge of expiration seconds before. Victoria didn't mention it.

The flame was brought near to Victoria's face. Gemma's own came closer, fixing Victoria with her lifeless eye. Sometimes, she did not seem blind at all. Sometimes, she seemed to see more than those that could. A cool hand was plastered to her forehead. When it was roughly removed, sweat had prickled across it. Victoria shivered despite the heat clinging to her cheeks. She shifted in the bed, trying to pull back her covers.

"Don't," Gemma snapped, and Victoria froze. "You'll disturb the aura before we've had a chance to look into it." Sighing, Victoria settled back down with a huff. "Gently," Gemma chastised. She stepped back and waved the candle above the bed with an air of mysticism. Despite her aggravation, Victoria couldn't help but become transfixed by the spiraling designs the smoke made over her head. She closed her eyes and reopened them with a new sense of calm. Gemma cooed and hummed for several more minutes before she was satisfied. Then the candle and holder were replaced on the table, and she sat down at the edge of the bed, laying her palms up. Victoria scooted closer and sat up. She laid her hands in her mother's.

"Now," Gemma whispered, "tell me." Victoria took a steadying breath, recalling the dream. She closed her eyes.

"Darkness swept through Verlic."

"Swept or sweeps?" Gemma asked. "Is this the past or the present?"

"I think it's the future," Victoria replied with an air of sadness. "It's him. I can feel it. The Black Stag will come out of the forest." Gemma remained silent.

There were varying degrees and forms the Sight took within their family. And it didn't affect everyone the same way. Sometimes, it even skipped whole generations, deeming them unfit to uphold such prized magical abilities. Victoria and Gemma believed the Drake family was descended from the great serpents of the old lore. And with that descension came great, rare power, for the serpents were magical beings with infused, raw abilities.

With Gemma, the sight included knowledge of herbs and spells. She held control over some earthen elements such as water, fire, and smoke. She had a strong ability to sense when something was wrong of shifted in the air but did not always have the capacity to discern or change it. Hers was more practical use of the Sight where Victoria's was more thematic.