Witch Bewitched (New)

Chapter 40

The same wolves, the same suffocating presence, and the same cosy, humble cottage greeted Misa as Royle's stallion galloped through the gates. She tightened her arms around his waist, burying her face into his back. It somehow made it easier to breathe.

Tika's magic pulsated in the air. It was erratic, irregular, as if it was vacillating between exploding and remaining contained. It unsettled Misa, and she was tempted to ask Royle if they could forget about the trip and return to Giligha. But, the evening had deepened, and darkness threatened to swallow them. So, Misa had no choice but to slip off the horse and stay the night at the witch's home.

Royle said, "I'll meet you inside once I've got Battalion settled."

May I come with you? Misa thought, but she nodded with a convincing smile. "Of course."

She watched him pull the horse around the house before she turned to face her adversary. The door loomed over her, seeming much larger than it was, glaring down at her as if it could judge if she was worthy enough to enter the witch's home.

Shaking her thoughts away, Misa twisted the knob and gently pushed the door open. It widened with a moan, revealing the dark, dusty sitting area that Misa remembered. She felt the wall until she found the lamp that hung there and turned a knob to light the room. Cold. Empty. It felt as if no one had lived inside for months. Had it not been for Tika's continuous convulsing magic, Misa would have thought no one was inside.

She approached the staircase. She could see the flat floor halfway up before the stairs switched directions and disappeared into blackness.

How has she been kept alive with no one to look after her?

"Child." A voice whispered in the air. Misa whirled around, but she could see no one. Goosebumps prickled her skin. "Come."

The ethereal voice touched Misa's magic, and Misa's body reacted on instinct. She started up the stairs, keeping her footsteps light. Her fingertips trailed the smooth bannister until she reached the top of the stairs. Even without light, Misa knew where to go. She followed the silent guide, trudging through the heavy presence. When she got to Tika's door and opened it, a tidal wave of power nearly pushed her back.

"Misa," Tika wheezed from her bed. Her sunken face peered at Misa from a burrow in the pillow. The witch reached out a bony arm, her fingers as thin as fine paintbrushes trembling.

"Come here, child," Tika said. "Let me see you close."

Misa didn't want to. She wanted to shut the door and act as if she hadn't even seen her. To go downstairs and tell Royle that they shouldn't be here. But, despite her instincts screaming at her to run into Royle's arms instead of towards the dying witch, Misa forced a foot over the threshold. A chill swept over her as if she was entering a room full of water.

With dread piling up in her stomach, Misa dragged her other foot into the room. Her steps were slow and heavy as she approached the bed. She stood over Tika, unable to look away from the woman's wrinkled face and thin, brittle hair, before plopping down on a stool.

"W-what happened to you?" Misa breathed.

Tika managed a closed-lipped smile that blended in with her wrinkles. "My years have caught up with me. It would have been less sore in the eyes if I hadn't tested fate for so long."

It was then that Misa remembered that Tika was Nisha's sister. That placed her over a century old. A wave of nausea threatened to take over Misa's throat. She swallowed it down and croaked, "You're Nisha's sister."

Tika sighed. "I suppose I couldn't keep it from you forever. Yes. Nisha is my sister."

Misa couldn't keep the look of shock and fear and disgust from her face. Tika only clasped Misa's hand, her icy fingers digging into Misa's skin like claws. "I should have told you from the beginning, but you were going through so much I didn't want to frighten you more than you already were."

Misa fought the urge to snatch her hand from Tika's hold. "You've been alive for more than a century. You killed people."

"That is part of the ritual for youth," Tika admitted. "And no matter how much I repent, I can never pay for what I've done. There is no punishment harsh enough for my deeds."

Misa studied the witch through a fog of confusion. Old, wrinkled. Her beauty had faded with age, and all that was left of it was in sagging cheeks and dull blue eyes. Tika was miles away from Nisha, the vibrant, young, powerful witch Misa had met. It was difficult to believe they were nearly the same age.

"My magic has grown powerful because it continued to strengthen with each year I lived." Tika coughed, hacking into the patchy blanket. Blood stained the cloth, and darker, dry splatters suggested she had been coughing blood for quite some time. "I assure you that none of it came from spilt blood. My magic is purely mine. The magic that aided in keeping me young and healthy has disappeared with my health."

Misa shook her head, trying to stop tears from pricking her eyes. "What does that have to do with anything? Why did you call me here?"

"I don't have time," Tika said. "Nor do I have any strength. The letter Royle received was sent a few days ago. I suppose my spell wasn't strong enough to bind the pigeon to deliver it to him as soon as it could. And now that you're here, I have no reason to hold on. My time has come."

"Y-you're going to die?" Misa didn't care how stupid her question sounded. Tika had known she'd been dying for months. She should have died a century ago. But the prospect of witnessing death first-hand turned Misa's stomach.

"I am," Tika replied, settling into the pillow. It was as if merely talking drained her energy by the second. She closed her eyes. "But I've been regaining some strength for one final spell."

Misa's palms began to sweat. She was afraid to ask what spell Tika had been preparing even in her death.

"I'm sorry, Misa," Tika said. "I wanted to give you a choice. I really did. I understand that you never chose to be a witch, and you never wanted to be one."

"I was dying of Jania," Misa said. "You saved my life." Her shoulders slumped. The fact weighed down on her like a boulder the size of a mountain. She wondered if it would have been better if she had perished from the disease than becoming a witch.

"There is a tree. Illios. Have you heard of it?"

Misa shrugged. She was never good at identifying plants. She wondered what it had to do with anything. The witch must have gone senile.

"Ah, illios. The largest tree in Plathea, a symbol of strength and eternity. But, do you know what's remarkable?"

Misa shook her head.

"They have one of the smallest seeds. So small, and yet they grow larger than anything in the world."

"I don't understand. What does a tree have to do with anything?"

Tika smiled, though sadness twinkled in her eyes. "It takes time before their roots find their place, for them to flourish and grow until they can resist the pull of the wind, until they stand their ground."

Misa wasn't sure she knew what Tika meant, though she sensed that the witch was trying to tell her something. It irked her, somewhat, that Tika spoke in riddles. Misa had had enough of those since her time in Harthem.

"I saw," Tika said, squeezing her hands over Misa's. "I saw how powerful Nisha has become. You must stop her. You must grow."

"What?"

"She's my sister, and I love her dearly." Tika's eyes began to water. "But she needs to stop. She's forgotten the pain immortality bears-the price she and everyone around her will pay."

"I can't." Misa could hear the hopelessness in her voice. "Like you said, she's powerful. She's lived for over a century. I haven't lived even a quarter of that. I don't have the magic power to come close to defeating her. And, she put a spell on Royle. If she dies, he dies."

Tika smiled. "You've come to care for the good captain?"

Misa glared at her even as her flushed face confirmed the witch's thoughts.

"You see the good in him." Tika stared at the ceiling. "That's relieving to hear. He will need you to keep him away from the dark."

"What do you mean?" Misa was getting tired of all the cryptic messages in every word Tika spoke. She felt every word suck the strength out of her.

"That spell on his chest-it's bound to his vengeance. It may be difficult, but it is possible to break it."

"How? How do we break it?"

"I've not much time." Tika's breathing began to get shallow. Her magic pulsed like a large wave, and Misa could see the concentration in Tika's face as the witch tried to get it under control. "Understand this, my child." Tika bore her eyes into Misa's, and Misa saw a vibrant hue that reminded her of the clear blue sky-a spark of life that hadn't been there before. "Ever since I gave you my magic, I have always thought of you as my own. I sent Min-Min to protect you, and she will continue to do so when I am gone. I'm...sorry."

The witch sat up so suddenly that Misa nearly fell back. Before Misa could react, Tika had her bony fingers clamped against Misa's temples.

"Estera labuminco, alaris carreim," Tika chanted. Her words merged into something ancient and natural, like the clatter of stones, the whispers of trees, the crash of waves. Whiteness filled Misa's vision, blinding her from everything, numbing her from the sharp nails digging into her skull. Her body dissipated, and all she could feel was her mind trying to claw out of the white abyss.

Tika's chant sped up until her words were no more than rumbles of a bubbling volcano. Words, energy, fire poured towards Misa like a rushing river trying to drown her in its savage white waters. It crushed every dam, broke every barrier in its path, and heat began to blast like Misa had been thrown into a furnace.

Misa could feel her arms again. Her veins were on fire, trickling with something so ancient and powerful that Misa thought she had made it to the afterlife. The burning inferno spread to Misa's chest, then exploded to her legs.

Misa's vision returned, the white nothingness filling in with colour. The blue bed sheets, the dull blue eyes, the yellow curtains flowing against a current. Tika's hands fell from Misa's head. The witch's eyes softened, and she fell back into her pillow.

"It is done," she whispered.

Then, Tika, the witch of the woods, closed her eyes and breathed her last.