Glass of Revenge

~12~

It had started out like a pretty normal day – or as normal a day as was possible these days. However, as the day progressed, Manon had the growing sense of something almost evil happening, a wicked, malevolent sense. Something that would adversely affect the fate of the world. She knew it in her wicked old bones. And deep down, Manon knew that Lyria was at the centre of what was happening in Rifthold at the moment, and that either Dorian or Athril were involved somehow.

Manon didn't know how she knew, but deep in her gut, she knew – just knew – that they were involved. That they were at the centre of it at all and Lyria was the root. And if she was right and Lyria was in the middle of it all, then they were in very great danger.

As the hours passed, and the sense of evil she felt emanating from the city increased, Manon began to wonder if she and her fellow witches should move the camp further away from Rifthold. She didn't want to be so close to the city, not when someone was conducting rites with a nefarious intent. Yet, at the same time, Manon was almost afraid to move the camp any further from the city, in case Athril was unable to find them again.

Yet as the day passed, the rest of her Thirteen grew increasingly aware of her restlessness and of the evil menace that was slinking through the city. For as much as they attempted to keep their worry and concern to themselves, she still heard the whispers. The gossip about what could possibly be the source of the dark magic they sensed coming from Rifthold, as if they couldn't already guess at it. As if they didn't already know that Lyria was behind it.

And yet, they still continued to wonder, and to whisper.

"What do you think could be happening?" Thea murmured to her lover Kaya over lunch.

"Why on earth are you asking me for?" Kaya grumbled in return. "I know just as little as you. I guess I finally know why I've always hated this damn city though."

"If the pair of you don't know what's going on in that city right now, then you're even more stupid than I thought," Ghislaine said snappishly, looking up from her meal, her dark skin unusually pale.

"So go on then," Asterin murmured to Ghislaine. "What are we being so stupid about?"

"What's going on in Rifthold at the moment," Ghislaine said simply. "It's dark magic. Dark Fae magic. My best guess is that Lyria person is behind it."

"And how do you know all of this, Ghislaine?" Imogen muttered, listening in.

"The same reason the rest of you don't," Ghislaine retorted sharply, stroking the cover of the old book lying beside her lovingly.

Thea, Kaya, Imogen and Asterin scowled at that. They hated the way had always Ghislaine vaunted her knowledge and intelligence over the rest of the Thirteen, hated the way she acted as though her learning made her more important than the rest of them were put together.

"So what are we doing about this?" Asterin asked, attempting to hide her scowl.

"We watch," Ghislaine said simply. "We wait for Athril to contact us with news. Hopefully when Athril arrives, he'll know more about it than we currently do."

"I just hope that Athril comes soon," Thea muttered, glancing sideways over at Manon. "Manon's getting antsy, and he's the only one who can calm her down when she's like this."

"Well, I'm just glad that the little boy over there hasn't noticed anything wrong," Imogen said, jerking her thumb in Sam's direction.

At that all five of them looked over at Sam in disdain. It was pointedly obvious at a glance that he couldn't perceive or infer anything different anything wrong with the city a couple of miles away. Sitting on the other side of their small camp, Sam was happily slurping his stew without a care in the world. Over the last few days since his rescue, Sam had told several of them that he didn't care what happened to him from now on, as long as he never had to see or hear from Lyria again