𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐔𝐒

XI. A scandalous Invitation

CHAPTER ELEVEN

☽

The narrow passage smelled of moss and rosemary. And like a gravestone, seldom visited, it was webbed in thick shadows. Concealed under a cloak, Lilith Crowe trudged through the obscure passage, fingers curled tightly around a lantern's bail, lips murmuring a breathless prayer.

At length, the chamber door came into view. Light spilled across the stone floor, its tendril-like streaks inviting her in. Hesitation, however, weighed down on Lilith's bones; she approached in dread, her mind spinning with theories which left her cold and afraid. A concussion, the matron had said, but the witch knew that to be wrong. At least, felt it was wrong. She was certain of it. Her brain trembled in agony. It echoed of battle; of invasion, abuse, and ruin.

She had been destroyed from within. Left to live in fragments.

Bracing herself, Lilith pushed open the door. All at once, her nose perceived the violent stench of herbs and she staggered. Plants and flowers grew everywhere- in every crevice and nook, in between splintered floors and cracked walls. Nature had claimed its territory; its war cry evident in the wild growth of the greenery.

Madame Heileen sat amidst it all, unperturbed by the odious musk of damp earth and antiseptic.
She seemed to be in deep contemplation, her focus laid elsewhere, and for a moment Lilith thought herself a specter. But then, the matron looked up, and her eyes took on a severe curiosity as she jumped out from her chair and stormed towards Lilith. The threads of concentration that had once sewn her face into a lifeless mask fell away, giving way to the intense desperation brimming in her soul.

"Do you know what this is?" She questioned, holding a jar up to the witch's eyeline. Lilith hardly studied the glass; she could not pull her attention away from the trembling jolts traveling
beneath the matron's skin. "Are you familiar with it?"

Unsettled, all Lilith could do was shake her head. Madame Heileen's deposition had always been comforting, collected, calm- even in the face of great extremity-...but tonight, everything about her was tense, calculative...and not at all comforting.

"Are you certain?"

The matron delivered the jar into Lilith's unexpecting hands. Her fingers flexed around the glass instinctively, but the quickness of the exchange had nearly brought it to the floor. Madame Heileen let out a sharp breath, before she ordered Lilith to inspect it with 'utmost care.'

But Lilith's eyes refused. They flitted from the matron to the jar, burdened with fear. A part of her did not want to know. A part of her yearned to stay in the unknown, far from the horrifying possibilities. But like a deadly plague, curiosity crawled over her judgment. Weak against her silent desire, the witch surrendered and gazed into the jar.

Inside was a fine, black powder, so dark in color it looked as though it had belonged to the night sky. It seemed harmless enough, and perhaps under different circumstances even beautiful, but the look on Madame Heileen's face served as a reminder- it was anything but.

"Open it," the matron urged, wringing her hands together. The witch hesitated; it was most evident in the long, solemn stare of her eyes; in the trembling of her breaths; and in the slow blink of her eyelids. A numbing dread possessed Lilith. For a long moment, she remained motionless, until slowly, her fingers began twisting the cork open.

Immediately, a scent rose to meet Lilith. It was metallic- sharp as rusted iron, bitter as rank lifeblood...and strangely enough, familiar. Lilith drew her brows together. Despite several attempts, she could not attribute the scent to anything. The witch frowned, exasperated with her mind's incapability.