Noctifer witch a paranor.., p.17
Noctifer Witch: A Paranormal Romance, page 17
Too bad my curiosity wins out after only a few seconds. Hey, I never said I’m a patient person…
“So... care to share your thoughts? or at least what that rock thing was?”
He straightens back up and sighs, but he doesn’t look at me when he answers this time. “It appears that your feathered buddy has a solid theory. Someone is helping this monster. I’m not sure why, but the lack of prints and this,” he pats his pocket where he stored the rock, “proves it. This isn’t just a rock. It’s a rune stone.”
I nod, but I am not completely understanding the significance of the rock. “So, I have heard of runes before. Our ancestors used them as a means to anchor spells, but isn’t that a strenuous process? Why would someone take that kind of time with a rock? It isn’t really used or taught anymore either. And what is the significance of a rune etched into a shiny rock and not something that would be a bit more useful?”
He shakes his head but takes pity on me and explains. “First, it’s a gemstone, not just a rock. Gemstones are able to easily channel magickal intent and anchor spells if you match the right types together. For example, a labradorite could be easily used to enhance or anchor a spell with air elemental bases, because of its magickal affiliation with the air itself. Some magickal factions still use gemstones just as frequently as witches use herbs and plants. Second, runes are still taught to those who are interested. We all just got lazy with our magick. There are quite a few magickals that still use runes regularly.”
I snort at that last statement. “Yeah, only old people still use runes.”
However, instead of chuckling with me, Blake shifts his feet uncomfortably at my outburst.
Ah, so that’s why he was so defensive about runes. “Then again, I don’t know many–er... uhmm, I guess any–magickals these days, so you are probably right.“ I don’t mind being an ass, when that’s my intention, but he seems like a really knowledgeable magickal, so I certainly don’t want to offend him and his techniques. “So,” I continue on before I put my foot in my mouth again, “what type of magickals use rune stones and what does that one allow the wielder to do?”
Blake sighs and seems to debate for a moment about what to say. “I know that your familiar said you are part witch and elf, but what about your father’s lineage? Before I give you any more information, it’s important that I know where your loyalties lie.”
My body goes stiff and my mood automatically plummets at the mention of my paternal genetics.
Loyalties? What the fuck does that mean?
My father has no sway over anything in my life, so this guy needs to just fucking drop it already.
I glare at him and respond in the calmest way I can. “Listen, I know we are in this whole brand new friendship thing here, so I won’t hold that question against you.” I take a breath before I continue on. “Let’s just get this out now. I don’t know anything about my father. He wasn’t around, he broke my mother’s heart and left before even seeing me for the first time. I don’t know what or who he was, or is, or whatever… and I don’t want to talk about him anymore. It just pisses me off. Just assume all of my loyalties stem from my witch upbringing.”
His expression is stern, but he nods and says, “Fine. Point made. I’m sure you will just love this bit of information then. Demons are the ones who use a lot of rune stones in their spells. So it would appear that they are the ones working with, or for, the Creatori somehow.”
My stomach feels like he dropped a lead weight into it.
He said a lot of words, but only one echoes in my head.
Demons.
Why the fuck did it have to be demons?
Ican almost see the hate and anger pulsing from her.
If she were one of those human animations, she would no doubt have smoke pouring out of her ears and her face turning deep shades of red and purple.
She is just like all of the other magickals. So lost in their hatred for the actions of a few, that she is willing to condemn an entire faction of magickals.
I shouldn’t be surprised...
I definitely shouldn’t be hurt to see the hate she has for demons.
But when I look at her and see it pouring off of her in almost palpable waves while she sorts through her thoughts, I can’t help but feel the twinge of pain that moves through me. It’s not like she knows the truth. Hell, no one does. It’s much safer for me that way. I’m just thankful that I don’t have any physical traits that even remotely suggest a demon maternal lineage, or my life would be… well… much, much different.
Why, though? Why did she have to harbor those same negative emotions for people she doesn’t even know or understand?
And why? Why does it fucking hurt?
She is mumbling under her breath, but I really have no interest in hearing any of the thoughts she is having right now expressed any louder. It’s best if we just move forward.
Then I can move on with my hunt.
On with my life.
Away from her.
I rub the center of my chest as a tight pain hits me with my final thought. It quickly subsides, so I choose to ignore it along with all of the other random emotions that seem to be flooding me today.
Besides, I’m sure her hate all stems from the same thoughts and stories passed around by all the factions to one another. It doesn’t help that the demon chief had been so angry and emotionally detached from the clan prior to the arrival of the Creatori. Other factions were already pulling away, tired of his temper and doing business with the demons very little, when the monster arrived. That only made it all that much easier to point fingers and lay the blame for the existence of the Creatori right at the demon faction.
They think that the demons created the Creatori to do their bidding. That they summoned it from the dark, and it consumes the essences of other magickals to feed the demon faction, making them more powerful in their own magickal abilities and strengths.
As if that were a thing…
No, the truth behind the monster is much more heart-wrenching than that. But I have no interest in sharing that information with a woman I barely know.
Instead, I choose action. Barking out orders to ease some of the anger flooding my system.
“We need to travel further east and see if we can pick up any of their trails. This rune stone is obsidian and paired with the rune etched to it, I would guess the spell it was anchored to allow the tracks and evidence of the Creatori to dissolve away into the Earth. This spell can’t cover a huge radius though, so we have to keep looking. Now.”
She jumps a little at my sudden burst of terse words, but I don’t give a fuck.
That’s a lie. I actually do give a fuck what she thinks and feels. And that alone pisses me off even more.
Pulling out my blades, I wait for her to do the same and take the lead. She knows the area better than I do, and it’s easier to keep an eye on her if she is in front of me. I’m not used to working with others and she is incredibly clumsy. Not to mention that her magick feels a little… wild.
She finally nods and draws her sword again, before moving around the pit and continuing further east.
Once we get about thirty yards past where the Creatori hibernated, I find the first set of tracks. Strangely, there are no other prints than the ones made by the monster itself. They also appear heavier than usual and drag in a way that suggests some type of tranquility spell to make the monster docile and easy to control.
But why? And by who? What would anyone want with the monster?
You couldn’t control who it attacked. It just didn’t make sense. Not a lot of this whole situation was making much sense at all.
Unfortunately, the lack of other prints also points another finger at demon involvement. They were probably using their air abilities to keep from actually setting their feet on the ground.
Hovering a few inches off the ground was a basic ability for demons. Contrary to popular belief though, actual flight was not possible. A demon’s body was too heavy and would require damaging winds in order to lift them higher or move around, and that would make travel incredibly unsafe. Instead of sharing any of this information though, I keep my thoughts to myself as we continue to move forward at a steady pace.
We only walk a few additional yards before an ear-piercing scream fills the air. The sound makes my blood run cold, but it only takes me a moment to realize that it’s actually two voices screaming. And that one of them is Forsythia.
She buckles in front of me, holding her center, but before I can reach out to her, she is up and running at a speed faster than I could have anticipated. I waste no time and follow her as quickly as I can, but she is fast. If she trained regularly, she would easily be faster than me. Hmm…
Suddenly I see a flurry of flickering lights coming from ahead. And the heat. Oh no.
Fire.
So. Much. Fire.
“Forsythia, wait!” I call out, trying to make her stop so that we don’t find ourselves trapped in this mess. But she’s too far ahead, and the fire is roaring to life around us, so she doesn’t hear my warning. She hops over a log with much more grace than I thought she was capable of and turns left. Then she is on the ground with her hands hovering above a burnt bush in front of her, before letting out a small, strangled sound.
My blood runs cold as my eyes adjust to the harsh light of the flames. That’s not a bush. That’s–
Ori.
Forsythia screams again and I rush to them, before carefully pushing her to the side a little to assess the situation. Ori’s in bad shape. If it weren’t for her familiar bond there is no way she would have known this was him. He has a gash in his abdomen and has lost a lot of his feathers. He’s also covered in burns and is unconscious, but breathing.
Alive, but barely.
And for how long?
A loud snap of a branch falling drags my attention to our surroundings. The fire is still raging around us, eating its way through the dry forest. I have to get us all out of here before I can try to help him. I rip off my shirt and soak it with some of the water from my pack. I use the soaked shirt as a temporary bandage, wrapping Ori up in a bundle, before picking him up and holding him tight to my chest.
Forsythia is watching me with agony in her eyes and tears flowing freely down her face. She has the looks of someone who is seconds from breaking, but this is not a safe place for that to happen right now.
We need to move. We have to get out of here. Now.
Settling Ori in the crook of my right arm, I grasp Forsythia with my left. I swallow the punch of electricity that makes me almost heave that sandwich from earlier, just from the touch of my skin against hers. It’s not disgust. It’s longing. Heavier than anything I have ever felt before. Almost... deeper. Soul deep.
Shaking my arm a little to rally my thoughts and get her attention, I look straight into her eyes. I try to inject urgency in my gaze, and not the fear or rage I’m also feeling at the moment. “I need you to focus, Forsythia. Nothing else matters right now except this. I can’t help him if we all die in the fire. We have to get out of here. Now!” I yell over the crackle of flames and falling trees.
A quick sharp nod from her is all I need to get us in motion. I turn, pulling her along with me and hugging Ori tight against me. I move as quickly as I can, navigating through the fire and forest debris. It’s difficult to make my way through while also keeping a close eye on both of them. At one point, Forsythia stops suddenly. Glancing back, I see her right herself from a small stumble before she is moving with me again as we push through the forest of fire.
Once we make our way to the center of the clearing created by the monster, I stop and let go of Forsythia’s arm so that I can set Ori down carefully. From here, we can see the light flickering, but we can’t feel the heat. This is the best spot for a quick assessment and a moment to breathe some fresher air, since there won’t be anything close by to feed the fire. Kind of ironic that we are taking a brief refuge in a place that was a prison only hours ago.
Leaving my soaked shirt covering the majority of his body, and hoping that the cool cloth is soothing some of his burns, I lift back an edge of the fabric to take a look. Alright, focus on the worst of it first, Blake. My mind races in panic a little before latching on to one solemn fact. I can’t even try to save him from all the burns and whatever else is affecting him if he bleeds out.
Right, The gash in his abdomen. Paying close attention to the wound, I send a pulse of power with my words.
Claude Vulnus Et Sanguinem Siste
Snapping to attention at Forsythia’s sharp intake of breath beside me, I quickly turn to look at her, knowing that my spell has already been sent to its target and doesn’t require any more of my focus. Did she get hurt too?
She must read the question in my eyes, because she responds before I even voice the words.
“I’m not actually hurt. I can just feel some of his pain.” Her words come out in a croak as she gestures to her friend. “Whatever you did helped a lot. Thank you.”
She set her attention back on Ori, and I’m glad for it. I’m not used to doing this whole saving people thing, so I don’t really know how to respond to her words. ‘You’re welcome’ seems so incredibly inadequate right now with so much left to be done. It’s almost like thanking me for plugging a hole in a sinking boat. I settle with silence instead of responding. Nothing I say would be enough to soothe her, and I won’t placate her with lies.
Something is very not right here.
Closing my eyes, I let my senses travel across Ori’s little body, just like the water from my shirt. He has a broken wing and burns across half of his body. Most likely from the fall. It’s honestly a miracle he survived. I won’t let myself focus on the “from what” just yet though.
Instead, I tackle what I can. That broken wing will only get worse if Forsythia’s magick feeding him starts to heal the bones as they are right now. It’s best to deal with it next. Taking a deep breath, and letting it out gently with another pulse of my power, I add in the words to direct my intent.
Sana Ossa Fracta
We hear the crack as the bones realign and Forsythia jumps, letting out a small yelp. Resting my hand on her should I explain, briefly sorry that I didn’t forewarn her since she probably also felt a twinge of pain through her connection. “He broke his wing. I’m repairing it now. That sound is just the bones lining up so that they can fuse back together. Are you ok? Sorry, I didn’t say something beforehand.”
She nods and relaxes a little, so I move my hand away from her and turn back to Ori.
He doesn’t have a lot of internal damage that I can sense. Nothing life-threatening at least. Thank the Gods for that because I have never been able to heal extreme internal damage on others before. With more practice, that is probably a skill I could learn to hone better, but it hasn’t fit into my purpose just yet. Maybe once the monster is destroyed…
I shake my head and focus on the now. No sense in looking that far forward when I still have to find said monster, defeat it somehow, and of course, survive the process.
Ori needs me now, but with my limited healing training, the only other thing I can help him with is the burns. I focus on those as I let the magickal words float past my lips.
Ardeat Terminus
We sit quietly for a while, letting the spells finish their work on Ori, and catching our breath before we have to get moving again.
After just a few minutes though, Forsythia speaks again. Her throat must still be aching from the fire and smoke because it comes out in barely a croak. Or maybe she is choking on her emotions since I also see the small well of tears forming in her eyes. “Will he be ok?”
My eyes meet hers and the hope that shines through them is unmistakable. She is terrified of my answer. I can’t lie to her, but for some reason that I can’t begin to comprehend, I don’t ever want to hurt her either. Bad things can happen to a witch’s mind when their familiar dies.
So then how do I hide the foul thoughts that are churning through my head right now? How do I protect her from my fear that Ori will die?
Letting out a deep sigh and running my fingers through my hair, I give her the best answer I can, praying to the Gods that she will take it and grip tightly to the tiny string of hope. At least until we can get him to a true healer and she can get more definitive answers. “I honestly don’t know. I repaired everything I can, but I have no idea what spells hit him or what all happened before we managed to get there. I’m a strong healer, but it’s not my specialty.” Thinking about what might have made him fall in the first place, has the question leaving my lips before I had a chance to reel it in. “Did you see anyone before we found him? Or after?”
She stiffens and looks away almost immediately, as if shy or afraid of her own response. “No. I didn’t see anyone.“ She bites her cheek, clearly warring with how much she wants to say, but I wait patiently for her to continue. “I heard—or I thought I heard—someone? I didn’t hear them with my ears though. It was almost like when I hear Ori’s thoughts. If that makes any sense at all.” She looks back at me gauging my response. “I swear I’m not crazy.”
Her declaration of lucidity has me smirking even though this is not the best time. This woman brings something out in me, even when I don’t mean for her to. That’s a little fucking terrifying.
Keeping my attention on what she heard, I answer her unasked question. “Yeah, that would be a thought-projection spell. Someone would have to be close to use it, but they wouldn’t have to raise their voice over the commotion of the fire or dying trees for you to hear. They also have to target the person or group of people specifically. So talking to you was a specific intent. What did they say to you?”
Her eyes are filled with unshed tears as she watches Ori breathing. She nibbles on her cheek again but answers me right away. “He said– or, at least it sounded like a man. Anyways, they said, ‘The half-breed abomination won’t be able to save your cursed one, Princess. He will die for his betrayal.‘”
