Warning: This piece of writing contains a lot of blood and violence. If you do not feel comfortable reading this, please refrain from reading. Thank you.
Stinging pain, it hurt so much that it left her more debilitated. Blood poured from Amelia’s pinned body for the witch, dripping down the Alvathor Tree. A large tree with dark purple bark, pure white leaves and radiant red roses around it. Burning candles surrounded Amelia. The symbolic cuts on her body made her feel like they bled eternally because of the dark spells. Weakness left her vision blurry, and the energy to fight was gone.
As she cried her last tears, she accepted what was about to happen, knowing she could do no more. All she could do was pray. Terror took hold, but her faith in the Gods gave her strength.
“My Gods. I pray to thee. I pray for protection. I pray for guidance. Keep me safe and watch over me in every step of my life,” Amelia said softly with fear as her heart pounded intensely beneath her fragile skin.
By the end of her prayer, Zahira the witch finally finished the first part of the incantation in the ancient dark language. While the witch recited it with her old frightening voice, she slit her own hand dripping her own dark blood into a silver grail with rose petals and water in it. As she recited the rest with her dark voice, slowly bringing the silver dagger closer, the sky began to turn dark red. It started to become windy, signalling that the ritual was working, as her voice grew louder and louder.
“Please,” Amelia pleaded in a whisper as her heart started beating harder and faster. Zahira ignored her and focused harder. Gradually increasing her voice even louder near the end of the ritual, almost yelling, Zahira finally stabbed Amelia straight into her heart.
Before the dagger pierced her heart, Amelia took her last breath and screamed until she felt the deep pain. Her scream was so loud it echoed throughout the forest. Everything seemed silenced afterwards. She fell deaf for a few seconds until she heard the wolves howling from a distance in a melancholic chorus. It was as if they also felt her pain. The wind slowly stopped and Amelia struggled to breathe. Zahira the witch then recited the last words of the incantation observing Amelia closely as she suffered and died slowly.
“From your blood to mine, you’re life to my body,” Zahira said confidently as she slit Amelia’s throat and collected her blood into the silver grail.
“From the immortal life and beauty of the rose from the Alvathor tree, and the dangers from its thorns symbolize my power! I sacrifice this pure royal Zythican in honour of my dark Gods, and in return, want my power back ,“ she said loudly before she drank from the cup leaving some blood drip from her ancient lips.
The skies turned from blood red to grey. After a loud clap of thunder, it started to rain softly. It was a blessing from the dark Gods. Zahira then fell to the ground on her knees and looked up.
Zahira’s hair started to grow darker, healthier and radiant. At the same time, her old aged face became flawless and youthful. She was beautiful once again, and felt the power she had gained run through her veins as it made her entire body become perfect enough to seduce anyone. It slowly stopped raining. Noticing that her hands had no cuts, or signs of any scars, Zahira felt invincible again. The dark ritual was done.
(Image and Cropped Cover Design By: Lady Of The Wolves)