When the Witch speaks, I truly wish she wouldn’t.
“Violence is in us all, is it not?”
Damn, not this babbling nonsense.
“Yeah, most definitely. But Violence Starling specifically, where’s she at?”
“Violence is within you, my child.”
My nails sink into my palms as I snap my mouth tightly closed to prevent myself from spewing profanities at this insane woman. A growl echoes through my thoughts. A dark entity within me—the one piece of me I always hide—scratches at my conscious mind.
A strong hand settles on my shoulder. It’s as if my friend is attempting to hold down the rage that’s rising within me. His skin is striped with red scratches like mine, black oozes from cuts given over our marks from the Wild Hunt.
“I think we should just go. I know this was a last resort, but I don’t think this is what we need right now.” Carver’s voice is so quiet. A tired sound clings to his words.
We failed.
Again.
I’m failing her, and it’s going to kill me inside. I know it.
My head shakes slowly. I shove my hand roughly through my hair as frustration builds higher within me. The dirt billows in a cloud around my feet when I turn abruptly to leave.
“Have you looked within yourself?” Her voice is the sound of innocence. It sounds sweet but dangerous.
It reminds me so much of Violence that I give the Reveries a second glance.
The Eldest Witch looks to the woman at her left. Her back is to me; the smooth curve of her spine is all I see. A ragged white dress covers her for the most part. Their hair, their eyes, their clothes: it’s all an image of purity, it seems. Even if their magic doesn’t feel innocent at all.
She doesn’t turn to me, doesn’t face me. She asked the same asinine question as her sister. Yet the way she spoke, it sunk right into me as if it’s the first time I’ve considered the words.
The beating of my heart is the only thing that fills the silence for a while. The closeness of the walls presses in on me, threatening to steal every breath I take. This cave is suffocating, making me want the open sky once more. The moon is heavy outside this goddess forsaken cave, a full shining of white light beacons down on this very mountain. It’s as though the stars only shine on this deserted land. Miles and miles outside of the city is where these three stay. The Reveries are always here. Always seated just like this.
And anyone who dares disrupt their tributes to the goddess will not find answers but only more questions.
As far as I know, the only thing society comes to these women for is to transition someone from this world into the unseen world of the Wild Hunt. They did their magic on me, they did it to Carver, and they did it to Vi.
That’s how I know they’re capable of seeing the unseen.
“Who am I to stop you from taking an offering to find what you’re looking for within yourself?” The young Witch’s quiet voice spirals confusion and hope all through me. Another question. But maybe... an answer too?
I look to the mound of bundled herbs piled neatly against the dusty stone.
Her movements startle us both. She stands slowly, and stiff limbs bring her to a hunched height. Her palms hang low, still attached to the other two women. With one hard pull, she disconnects her hands from the elder sister. Another hard pull and she’s free from the both of them.
The elder sister’s lips part in an unpleasant gasp. Deep red blood runs down the younger woman’s hands. Pieces of flesh hang from her fingertips. She doesn’t look at the mess once, and oblivious to her own odd behavior, she carries on.
On hobbling steps, she makes her way to the pile of herbs. Her back arches like an old woman prepared for death. The beautiful woman is a strange sight to see.
Her bloody hand picks up an offering, and she presents it to me in her open palm like a gift. The vacant, white emptiness of her eyes is even more eerie up close. The pale light from the flickering fire strikes across her gaze, sinking right into the depths of them. She stares up at me expectantly.
Hesitation tics through my veins as my fingers wrap around the coarse, dry herbs tied together with thin twine. A bit of the sister’s flesh hangs from the end of it. The rope wraps all around the center of its width. I stare at the little offering for several moments.
I thought coming to the Reveries was the last resort.
Taking an offering and considering their fucking words of how to find answers somewhere within me is thereallast resort. There are no answers within me. I’m no one. I ran away to the Wild Hunt because I was angry and heartbroken. That was almost two centuries ago.
Will I be as crazy as these three after smoking this ancient offering?
