Dark Winter: Trilogy

by Hennessy, John

  For Troy, the battles were over. He just wanted to pick up the strands of his life, and if there was some way back with Toril, he would want that too. I could not begrudge him his happiness; I knew he had to live his own life.

  He forced himself to open the front door, and this time, despite all the terrors around him willing him to his death, he forced a deep breath out of his body, and stepped outside.

  ***

  Back in Gorswood, Toril was contemplating the simple things in life too. Beth had gone wandering, and it gave her a little time to think about things. To her mother, Toril had given her word that she would not do anything like raising the dead. Toril wasn’t to know, though she had her suspicions that the good witches who practised in covens did not cast resurrection spells.

  She looked upwards, closed her eyes and clasped a hand around her pentacle. With her other hand she set the wand down, and offered a prayer for the eternal and peaceful rest of Jacinta’s soul.

  With all her heart, she wanted to use what powers she had to bring Jacinta back. In her head, she knew she could not do this.

  Feeling lost and more than a little bit lonely, she would have loved it had Beth been there. She would have given her a hug. Her body shook as she realised the long revered book would not give her the answers she wanted, nor the peace that she was so desperate for. She was almost about to let no-one see her cry, when there was a sound at the door.

  ***

  Toril grabbed her wand once more and raced to the door. Fully expecting some kind of demon to instigate an attack, she put all thoughts of frailty and weakness out of her head and commanded the door to open.

  Something on the other side greeted her. Something she did not expect. She wanted to say something, words that represented her anger, her fears, and her love. Instead she could only come up with a quip.

  “Mr Jackson, I presume.”

  He did not look to be in any condition to answer. He tried to say something, but his mouth was charred like he had been in a house fire. His hair was greasy and unkempt. If anything, he looked worse than the moments following the Zeryth’s attack on him in the chapel.

  “You look terrible, Jackson.”

  Troy did not reply in the same manner. “Well you are the best damn sight I have seen in a long time. My eyes aren’t tricking me, are they? When I look at you, it’s like I am looking at your shadow, your silhouette. The demons are robbing me of my sight, Toril.”

  Toril helped Troy inside. She was surprised how much weight he had lost. She wanted to row with him, shout at him, let him know how much he had hurt her. But she had let him down too, and she knew it.

  She uttered a kindness and her wand glowed. His eyes returned to something like how she remembered them. They were healing.

  “Oh!” Troy expressed with joy. “It really is you. That feels much better. Thank you Toril. They’re healing, I can feel it, can see you better.”

  They would have a lot to discuss, to own up to, to talk through. The healing between them could finally start.

  Dark Witch:

  Chapter 25

  Lunabelle had consulted the Deity, and the feedback was unsettling at best, grave at worst. The coven felt strangely empty without Denzel and his mischief. How she had missed Tori-Suzanne all these years, and until the adult Toril came along, she never expected to admit defeat.

  She had been unable to decipher the book.

  All this time, she was convinced Toril was the One who would see things through, who would be there at the end of all things. Then she met me, and things changed. The world of witches had changed forever.

  She counted out the years that had passed in her head, and it made her uncomfortable.

  “Why have I lasted all these years, when all the others have gone?”

  She wasn’t expecting an answer, nor did she get one.

  She had erred. She knew all too well about witches not raising the dead, they all knew. It was a rule they lived by, and if one were to break it, no matter how well intentioned, a good witch would immediately become a bad one. It was just the way of things.

  Of course, there were those entities who welcomed such dark craft. Lunabelle would find someone to align herself with, it was just a case of who that might be.

  In the end, her life, as long as it had been, must cease. She had but one action left to do.

  Lunabelle deduced that Toril would not be able to cope with the loss of her mother. She would be further enraged to discover she was not in fact the One that the heralded book spoke of. Again, Lunabelle had erred. There was, however, a chance to make things right. Using her wand, she pinpointed a section in time that had passed, seeking to enter that period and change the outcome of one particular aspect.

  To save Tori-Suzanne.

  Curie had aligned himself with the greatest evil, or the lowest evil, depending on your point of view. He would not have been able to overpower Tori-Suzanne otherwise. Being pressed to death was a barbaric, inhuman way of execution, and it was this that Lunabelle sought to redress.

  The deity had responded, but was not happy with Lunabelle, even though it was a selfless and thoughtful request.

  When she arrived at the requested point in time, all mayhem was breaking loose. She could see that Tori-Suzanne was being dragged by the Zeryths up the hill, presumably where witches were hung, and quickened her pace.

  When she started her run, the Zeryths turned to face her. She counted fifty, maybe sixty of the demons, and did not stop to asked questions or have them asked of her. An arc of fire spread from her wand, and when it fired, it was like arrows of flame entered each Zeryth, burning one after another. They squealed, screeched and hissed at her, but were unable to strike her down.

  “Release that woman now,” ordered Lunabelle, “or the rest of you will taste the burning fire.”

  One of them laughed at her.

  “You are in error, witch. This place is where we perform the burning, where we perform the executions of your kind. Your pentacle has already begun to betray you, old hag.” It waved a bloody, bony hand dismissively at her. “You have no power here, Lunabelle Cree.”

  For the first time, Lunabelle sensed something had changed. Her life force had been tied to her pentacle for so long, yet the energy, plus the exertion to come to this place, to this time, had taken it out of her.

  Good Deity, protect me for just a while longer.

  Lunabelle ran in the direction of Tori-Suzanne and called out to her. “Tori! Don’t give into them! I’m coming!”

  But they had beaten Tori-Suzanne to within an inch of her life; she had little fight left in her. They tossed her body onto the ground as if she were trash.

  “Tori!”

  Blades of grass snaked upwards and latched themselves onto her ankles. Lunabelle stumbled as she realised what was happening. She used her wand to let rip a bolt of flame, the grass hissing and turning black as it died. One Zeryth approached her from her right, and she was able to fire a deadly shot in time, but she did not see the one to her left, which penetrated its cold grip through her shoulder, its acid-blood burning into her forearm.

  “All these years on this Earth, coming to our domain, and yet you do not have the oil of the dillfern in your body, witch? You must know your powers are diminished here.”

  This Zeryth seemed more powerful, more coherent than the others, and far less acted like an automaton.

  “Not nice to be on the other side, is it?” it said. “Something one of your kind told me before she left this void.”

  Lunabelle knew who it was, and the Zeryth knew this also. There was no point keeping up a pretence.

  “Where is Toril? Where is she?”

  “Ah. I see she was dear to you.” The Zeryth smiled, and for once, Lunabelle was filled with fear for the young witch’s life. “Such a pretty girl. Raven black hair, chocolate button eyes. Now, would you like to know what colour her bones are?”

  Lunabelle tried to stand, but the Zeryth intensified the burning sensatio
n into her shoulder.

  “It must trouble the Circle to know how violently she died. A little girl in a woman’s body. Did you really think she could prevail here?”

  Lunabelle would not let the Zeryth see her defeated. “I want to see her body, and then, I’m going to kill you.”

  The Zeryth removed its icy hand and glided backwards. “I can do better than that. Do you recognise this, Lunabelle Cree?” It threw broken pieces of wood onto the ground in front of Lunabelle.

  “Toril’s wand,” she said.

  “A witch’s wand can only be prised from their dead hands. This you know, Lunabelle. She suffered right up to the end.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Witch, you are wasting time. The one you speak of is dead, and if you want her body, you will have to go to the four corners of this plain, for parts of her body lie there. I say leave it with us. We will hang her body parts alongside the mooseheads in Diabhal Takh.”

  Lunabelle gathered up the pieces of broken wand. Definitely Toril’s, thought Lunabelle. She had to get after Tori-Suzanne, but this Zeryth did not look like it was going to let her do that.

  “You’re threatening me, but your numbers are dwindling too. Let me pass, and I will see to it that your kind are saved.”

  “I would chance believing you, only for how ruthlessly you killed my kin. You will go no further, witch.”

  Lunabelle still had powers at her command, but a fight with this Zeryth was delaying the true purpose of her mission. Looking into the distance, she could no longer see Tori-Suzanne. Lunabelle bet on just one thing; that Toril was still alive.

  “Let me pass.”

  “The witch’s sentence has already been passed. My master demands swift resolution. You can do no more here, except die.”

  “Then I will die!” offered Lunabelle. “I will take her place.”

  “Noble words, but such fine talk holds no quarter here. You will die alongside her.”

  “Not before I kill more of your kind,” snarled Lunabelle. “I will not go down without a fight. I have met your master deep in the woods, and he will have no victory.”

  The Zeryth looked as if it was mulling Lunabelle’s words over. Finally, it spoke.

  “It is agreed. You are a cancer of the Circle, and Withers was never true believer anyway. Denzel Tanner may not have died at your hand, but you are responsible nonetheless.”

  “You agree to let Tori-Suzanne go?”

  Its eyes narrowed. “Even amongst our kind, there is honour, there is solidarity. Someone like you will never understand. You will die in ignorance.”

  “I would rather die as I am, than exist as something like you,” said Lunabelle.

  The Zeryths halted Tori-Suzanne’s execution, and released her from her binds. It was then that she saw Lunabelle, a noose being placed around her neck.

  “No! NO! Lunabelle! Luna!”

  “She belongs to us, now,” said the Zeryth. “Light her up.”

  Another Zeryth dropped a wooden torch onto the small pyre, and removed the platform from underneath Lunabelle, so as her neck snapped, the flames climbed up her legs and consumed her body.

  “No!” Tori-Suzanne tried to run towards her, but her own body was weak. The head Zeryth kept its back to Tori-Suzanne, merely saying, “Wait. Wait. Wait just a little while longer.”

  Lunabelle never screamed, nor offered any resistance. She believed that the head Zeryth had a macabre sense of duty to do the right thing. She also believed that her death was just one plain of existence, that she had lived long enough on this Earth this time. She would be back when the Deity willed it so.

  “What shall we do with the witch’s wand?” asked one of them.

  “Give it to her,” it said, pointing at Tori-Suzanne. “She’s going to need it, where she’s going.”

  Tori-Suzanne reluctantly took the wand. “For pity’s sake, let me take her body back.”

  “The pity was only extended to you, and the time on said pity is expiring. Go back from where you came, or die like the dog you are.”

  “I-I am unable to do that. I am too weak.”

  “Let our paths not cross again, witch.” The Zeryth opened a chasm in the night sky, hurling Tori-Suzanne towards it. She had no idea where she was going to end up.

  ***

  Back in Gorswood, Toril and Troy were having the long talk, the one couple have when a relationship was in crisis.

  “I was shown a vision, Troy,” said Toril. “One that really troubled me. One where you and Romilly Winter were making out. Now, I know you are fond of her, but I need to know. I want to know what happened. All the details. All of it.”

  Troy sat back in the chair. Whatever medicinal herbs Toril had used in her spells was having the desired effect. He was healing physically. The mental scars would take far longer.

  “You’re a woman,” said Troy. “The fact that you’re wanting me to tell you, means you already know. So let’s skip the details Toril.”

  “Do you love her?” Toril asked.

  “Like you said, I’m fond of her. I like her a lot. I thought you were dead, and let’s face it Toril, you left me at the mercy of the Zeryths. So don’t come off all pious, because you’re not.”

  Toril bit the bullet on that one, because even the harshest words from Troy had merit.

  “You’re right, Troy. I blindly followed my own beliefs, and also a book that will not reveal its secrets to me. I have hurt you, and attacked those closest to me. Perhaps the greatest satisfaction you will get is seeing how far I’ve fallen.”

  “Is that self-pity from you, Toril?”

  “No, it’s not,” she answered honestly. “I’ve been tricked. I’ve made bad decisions, and I am paying for them. But I would be happy to do that for the rest of my days, if only I could put things right.”

  “Where are Romilly and Beth now?” asked Troy.

  “We’ve split. We thought we could defeat the enemy if we parted ways. If we stay together, it seems we become easier for them to pick us off.”

  “What do you think Romilly is doing now?”

  “I think she’s planning to do, what she has always planned to do. Destroy the Mirror. If she is in proximity of it, you can bet she is working on its destruction.”

  “Beth?”

  “I did what I could to relieve her of the demon. I may not have been successful. She may have gone to see the priest.”

  Troy shook his head. “I really thought we would do better as a team.”

  “This situation demands different tactics, Troy.”

  “So what are you planning to do?”

  Toril explained how she was in the confines of the Circle for a while, how she felt Lunabelle was ultimately a force for good and that Diabhal would have attacked long ago but for her interventions.

  She lifted up her pentacle, which had brightened, then dulled whilst they had been talking.

  “A witch’s pentacle indicates when one of us has died. I saw Mum being pressed to death, Troy-”, wiping a tear from her cheek before adding, “so it must be someone else. If it’s Lunabelle, there is only one thing left for me to do.”

  “Go on then,” said Troy, exasperated that Toril always felt she had to do something. “What is it this time?”

  “I’m going to destroy the Circle.”

  “Toril, stop. Pause for a second. Is this really our fight? We found each other and have a chance to put things right for ourselves. The way I see it, Romilly either has the Mirror or will destroy it soon enough. Beth will get rid of that demon even if the Pope himself has to get involved. You and I have a chance for happiness. Why won’t you take it?”

  “Because the Circle stands for everything I don’t believe in. I am a witch, Troy, and whether I am with you or not, that does not change who I am.”

  “You could die if you go back there.”

  “You really think they are going let me waltz off into the night with you? It was a good dream, Troy. But not our reality. Not for me. Not until thi
s is done. If I stay here, I’ll die anyway.”

  “You don’t have to do this! Maybe Romilly will be successful,” stated Troy firmly. “Your proposed attack on the Circle will only antagonise them.”