Dante glancedback at her and moved on, choosing the path through a grand metal arch to the left. Violette tipped her head, inspecting the space. Being too distracted by the cracked columns and the stone walls, she tripped over her own leg.
“Don't kill yourself prematurely, I still need you,” Dante noted.
She rolled her eyes and continued on her way.
The hall resembled a labyrinth of old carved stone walls and cinquefoil arches. A strange feeling made her turn her head to the side – something flashed in the darkness, with a bluish light as if a reflection of the moon on the wall.
“Dante,” she said and stalked forward.
“Hm?” He turned around, his gaze shot her way, treading towards the usual stone wall to his eyes, into the far dark corner, a simple dead end, and yet he followed her.
Dante raised the torch to light the wall they reached to find a large ornate inscription carved there:
His eyes hadn't left the wall, rereading the words. He took a step closer and led the light on the inscription, then his fingers brushed the stone.
“What are you doing?” Violette questioned.
“Checking it's not some kind of trick to confuse us.”
“Well, all this trip sounds like a trick to be honest.” She swayed.
He shot a look at her, looking more reproving than before. Then he stepped back, his eyes not leaving the inscription.
Violette was scrutinizing it as well, letting her thoughts out, “It's strange, we already saw golden light today. Do you think it has something to do with the Witches of Emerald Capes?”
“It's hard to say. I'm not sure. But the road of nightmares sounds familiar.” Dante lowered his head. “Write this down.”
“What?”
“Write this down.”
“Am I some kind of assistant who carries paper and pen everywhere for you?”
“Conjure it,” he grumbled.
“Magic doesn't work like this, stupid,” she snapped. “I can't create something from the air. It's a dark sorcery.”
“Then turn a rock into paper.”
“This is–” Surprisingly Violette’s grimace faded in a beat “…actually not a bad idea.”
Turning one object into another was a type of sorcery, but not a bad one. Wizards very often turned one object to another, however it takes quite a lot of strength from the magic wand. The only exception – you can't turn something into amagicalobject or something alive if it was not as such before. Sorcery also didn’t allow for bewitchingmagic creatures, for example animals, into something or someone else.
Violette did exactly what the vampire said and wrote down the riddle from the wall. Every word she wrote seemed more and more bizarre with each letter, the letters as if distorted with each sway of the pen. Maybe it was not just words but some kind of a spell? Perhaps the riddle was bewitched.
“Dante, do you think the woman who wrote this was the same one who wrote the book?” she asked uncertainly.
“I am convinced of it. It looks like her.”
“So you were close?” she voiced, concerned at the moment. It seemed that he knew this witch on a quite personal level. They certainly had known each other before she locked him in the mask but how long ago was it? And how old was he then? A lot of questions, which Dante wasn't bothered to give answers to.
“Why are you asking?” he let out irritation.
“She was a witch right? I mean, Hegga, that's why she had that book, yes?”
His gaze concentrated on Violette now. “No. She wasn't a witch, not like you. And she wasn't really Hegga, at least not fully one.”
“So what was she?”
