Dark Angel

Part 9

The air in Esther's chamber seemed to crackle with tension as our words hung heavy between us, thick with the weight of years of resentment and betrayal. I could feel the weight of her gaze upon me, piercing through the veneer of my composure to lay bare the raw edges of my anger.

In that moment, standing face to face with the woman who had shaped so much of my past, I felt a whirlwind of conflicting emotions raging within me—a tempest of fury and grief, longing and regret, all swirling together in a tumultuous maelstrom of pain.

But beneath the roiling surface of my emotions, there lay a steely resolve—a determination born of years spent fighting tooth and nail to carve out my own path in a world fraught with darkness and deceit.

Esther's voice cut through the silence like a knife, her words carrying a weight that belied their seemingly innocuous tone.

"Hello dear, nice to see you," she greeted me, her voice honeyed with false warmth.

I bristled at her saccharine tone, the years of pent-up anger bubbling to the surface like molten lava.

"Hello Esther," I replied, my voice a razor-edged whisper. "I would say that was nice seeing to but that would be a lie."

Her lips curled into a semblance of a smile, though the glint in her eyes betrayed a hint of amusement at my thinly veiled contempt.

"I see you didn't lose your charming self," she remarked, her tone dripping with condescension.

I clenched my fists at my sides, fighting to rein in the torrent of emotion threatening to consume me. This woman, who stood before me in her full glory, reminded me of everything I had lost, everything I had sacrificed on the altar of her ambition.

"Well, I usually mourn for someone I expect them to stay six feet under," I retorted, my words laced with bitterness.

A flicker of something akin to regret crossed Esther's features, though it was gone in an instant, replaced once more by the mask of indifference she wore so well.

"If only," she murmured, her voice tinged with a note of melancholy that sent a shiver down my spine.

I squared my shoulders, steeling myself against the onslaught of memories threatening to overwhelm me. I had not come here to dwell on the past—to wallow in the ashes of old grievances. No, I had come seeking answers, seeking closure to a chapter of my life that had long since soured.

"Now, Esther, why did you call me here? To brainwash me?" I demanded, my voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

The question hung in the air between us, a challenge thrown down like a gauntlet—a testament to the fractured bond that had once bound us together, and the gaping chasm that now lay between us.

Esther's chamber seemed to close in around me, the weight of her words bearing down on me like an invisible burden. I watched her with a wary eye as she moved gracefully across the room, her movements fluid and deliberate, like a predator circling its prey.

"Well dear, let me get that fixed, please do sit. Do you want me to pour some tea?" she offered, her voice smooth as silk.

I hesitated for a moment, the urge to flee warring with my curiosity. In the end, I lowered myself into the chair opposite Esther, my muscles coiled with tension.

"It's okay now, tell me why you invited me here?" I pressed, my tone edged with impatience.

Esther regarded me with an inscrutable expression, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and something darker, something I couldn't quite place.

"Straight to business I see," she remarked, her voice carrying a hint of amusement.

"Stop the chase, Esther," I retorted, my patience wearing thin.

With a graceful flourish, Esther settled herself into the chair opposite me, her gaze never wavering from mine.

"Well, if you insist," she conceded, her tone taking on a more serious note. "You see, as I was in the other side, I met the witches and warlocks who have made this spell upon you to make you a hybrid in its own new and more powerful nature."

The words hung in the air between us, pregnant with unspoken implications. My heart quickened in my chest, the promise of answers tantalizingly close, yet still shrouded in mystery.

"You mean, you know who I was before, and how I can fix who I am?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Esther nodded solemnly, her expression grave.

"Dear, if only I could tell you who you were," she murmured, her voice tinged with regret. "I am sorry, but I cannot. I can only tell you one name. But if I do tell it, then you should take this vial and drink it."

With a deft motion, she produced a small bottle filled with a swirling blue liquid, holding it out to me with a steady hand.

"Why should I take it?" I demanded, my skepticism evident

"It will tell you who you were before," Esther explained, her voice soft but firm. "It will tell you why and who made you like this. All your questions will get an answer."

I regarded the vial with a mixture of trepidation and longing, the allure of the unknown warring with my innate distrust of Esther and her motives.

"Do you need some tea, dear?" Esther inquired, her tone almost casual despite the weight of the moment.

I hesitated, torn between the desire for clarity and the fear of what revelations awaited me. After everything she had done, could I truly trust Esther to deliver the truth, unvarnished and unfiltered?