Will of the Witch [Legacy, BK 2 - Completed]

Chapter 9.2

John

On the other side of the door Amna had led me through was a large cavern-like room, its ceiling vaulted up to a small circle of what could only be clouded glass. The skylight allowed just enough light into the room to see that the walls were painted and decorated just as the corridor had been on the climb up here. Full of jungle landscapes and great battles with demons were just as common as scenes showing them living alongside the monks peacefully.

Only one piece of furniture stood in the room. A single, long stone table that reminded me of the Avery's Family Altar. He'd helped her and the other men in the Manser line move the giant relic last summer after Nathan had shown his true colors. And the table before him could have been the exact same one.

"Come," Amna insisted, walking over the mosaic floor comprised of small stones and crystals set in concentric circles that wound tighter and tighter to disappeared under the table.

I wanted this. I needed their help. And yet, as I moved forward, it felt like I was walking through sand. Only part of that was anxiety.

The air was thick with a magical charge, thick enough that it was almost solid against my skin. I could feel it, but as with everything thing magical since that night in Ezra's study, I couldn't reach it.

Amna waited for me beside the stone table as the other monks in the room were scattered, rushing in from the previous room with herbs and materials I couldn't recognize at a glance. Others were lighting candles along the outer circle, as another monk spread a thick woven cream cloth over the table. Amna helped the younger man smooth the wrinkles out, then patted the surface with her hand and glanced up at me.

"Remove your shirt and lay here."

I hesitated a moment more but then stripped my shirt off over my head. "What are you going to do to me?"

Amna didn't hesitate. "Heal you, if it all goes well."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then you'll be no different than you are right now."

Twisting my shirt in my hands, I realized I had nothing to lose.

Nothing to lose and everything to gain.

I hopped up on the stone table and laid back, shivering as my bare skin hit the rough texture of the cloth.

"There's no time to make this... easier for you," Amna said, regret on her soft features as she stood near me. "I am sorry, but this will be painful."

"There's a chance though, right? That I'll be able to use my magic again?"

She offered me a half-grin as if I'd amused her. "A small chance."

"Then I'd deal with it," I said, focusing on the skylight up above. The monks circled in on the table until a sea of faces were looking down on me. I closed my eyes, trying not to think about the uncertainty of the outcome or the crowd of unknown people around me.

Gripping at the table beneath me, I wished I didn't have to be back here all alone.

A hand touched my shoulder and I all but jumped out of my skin. Looking up at Amna, I forced myself to take a breath. And another.

"We will start now. Are you ready?"

No. "Yeah."

More hands came forward, the monks reaching out to touch any inch of bare skin available on my torso.

"Take a deep breath and bite down on this." Amna offered me a small, flat piece of wood that had been wrapped in leather. I tried not to think about why I'd need it.

A chant started, echoing off the walls of the cave as I bit down onto the leather. An ancient monk, whose face was as weathered as the bark on an old oak tree, stood above my head next to Amna. He placed shaking hands on either side of my face and bent over, gently setting his forehead against mine.

I closed my eyes at the sensation, not knowing what else to do. Clearing my mind, I focused on the chanting. The octaves rose and fell in a gathering rhythm and my breathing easily adjusted into the same pattern.

The feeling of hands-on me quickly faded into a building heat that raced through my veins and tightened my chest. This would be worth it. This would work. I just had to make it through the-

Suddenly, the chanting stopped. The hands and all the monks except for the ancient one at my head pulled away.

Was that it? Was that all? Were they able to fix what the poison had done?

The ancient monk lifted his head just enough to look into my eyes. "Now, we begin."

Pain shot through me, making my eyes water and forcing me to hiss around the leather between my teeth. Before I could catch my breath, another wave of sharp pain rolled through me. And then another, continuing until my whole body was consumed by the flames of what could only be Hell.