by Logan Jacobs
The headmistress gently picked up Olivia’s head and brought the vial to the silver-haired witch’s trembling lips. The silver-haired professor began to greedily sip the concoction, like a wolf draining a baby lamb dry, and I watched with fascination as the color slowly returned to her cheeks, lips, and skin.
“Easy,” Theodora warned. “Do not choke on it, you know this is a powerful brew.”
“I know,” Olivia panted once she drank the potion and then licked her lips. “Thank you, Theodora. I truly appreciate it.”
“Of course,” the headmistress responded before she set the empty vial aside and then regarded the weakened Wicca. “Now, let’s get you into something more comfortable.”
Theodora took a small step back and flicked her wand, and then the pale pink dress Olivia wore quickly vanished and was replaced with a sheer, white nightgown. The fabric was completely see-through, and I did my best not to marvel at the silver-haired witch’s slender, pale body, and her full breasts with their rosy buds.
I averted my eyes when the exposed professor caught me staring and then turned my attention to the headmistress, and she smiled coyly in my direction.
“Come along, Cole, let’s retire to my office,” she instructed. “We have much to discuss.”
“Yes, Headmistress.” I nodded.
I followed Theodora out of the infirmary, and by the time we reached the doors, I could hear Olivia breathing in a steady rhythm, and I knew she was already in a deep, peaceful sleep. I didn’t really know anything about the silver-haired Wicca, but still, the fact she was resting and in no apparent danger or pain brought a relieved smile to my face. Yet, a small part of me pitied her. This was her first night in the castle, and she was already suffering from the elders’ wrath. The thought made my blood boil, and my smile quickly died as I balled my fists by my side.
Who did those elder fuckers think they were?
“She will be fine,” Theodora repeated as if she could read my mind.
“Of course, she will be,” I remarked as we headed down the corridors. “She’s in your hands.”
“I appreciate your faith in me, Cole,” the headmistress answered after a pregnant silence. “To be honest… after my vision failed me, and I was rendered unconscious by that general bastard, I feared my students, the professors, and the High-Court would not regard me in the same light.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You know your women are loyal to you, as my coven is loyal to me.”
“Your words are filled with comfort, Cole,” she sighed, “and I want to believe your every word, but you must understand from my point of view… I am in a precarious situation.”
“Are your powers weakening?” I asked without thinking, and when the words left my lips, I immediately regretted them. “I… I meant no disrespect, Headmistress. I am simply asking you out of concern for your well-being.”
“No,” she answered after a moment, “at least, I do not feel my power waning in any way, shape, or form. But at times… I fear the High-Court might be questioning my abilities… I fear they believe I am diminishing from this world, and that soon, it will be time to find a new Headmistress.”
“Why?” I demanded in a sharp tone. “After everything you’ve done to protect Scholomance? How dare they!”
Theodora softly chuckled under her breath and then turned to face me as we stood before her office doors.
“My dear Cole,” she whispered as she placed a warm hand on my face. “Do not worry about me. I can fend for myself. And as I said… it is only a feeling. I have no concrete evidence they are planning to replace me anytime soon.”
“But--” I began, but she raised a hand to cut me off.
“We will discuss it no further,” she ordered. “I have other things that need your undivided attention. Understood?”
“Yes, Headmistress,” I sighed in defeat before she whirled around and pushed her grand office doors open.
“Come and take a seat by the fire,” Theodora ordered in a firm voice. “Would you care for a glass of spiced wine or a cup of rosewood tea?”
“No, thank you.” I shook my head.
“Suit yourself,” she answered with a half-smile before she poured herself a full goblet of dark wine.
My heart thumped like a hummingbird’s wings as I sat down in a red velvet chair by the warm fireplace and then waited for Theodora to take a seat beside me. I observed her as she took a hearty sip of wine and then slowly paced around the room as if she were preparing a speech in her head. I remained still and patient as she continued to nervously stride around the office, but it started to grate on my nerves after a while.
“Headmistress…” I said after I couldn’t bear the silent tension any longer. “Whatever it is you need to say, I think it would be better if you just told me.”
She chuckled bitterly before taking another deep sip of wine and then setting the goblet down on her desk. She smoothed out her skirts and pushed back a loose curl that fell over her exhausted and white-washed face. Finally, her pale-blue eyes slowly lifted to meet mine, and she let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
“Well,” she began, “as you and the rest of the academy know, we are now dealing with an even greater threat. That voice you heard… it was the voice of King Donovan. He is considered one of the most powerful elders in all the realms, and now, he has obviously set his sights on Scholomance… and on you, Cole. Something tells me he knows of your great power.”
I took a deep breath and then studied my hands. I tried to find the right words, but nothing of real comfort came to mind. At last, I regarded the headstrong headmistress and forced myself to smile at her.
“Look, Headmistress,” I said with as much ease as I could muster. “I know you have your fears and concerns… they are valid and stem from sensible reasons, but think about it. We’ve faced the elders once…. surely, we can do it again. We cannot let them hold any power over us, and that includes fear.”
“I admire your faith and determination, dear Cole,” Theodora answered with a small smile, “but we’re facing more than just an army. King Donovan will do anything and everything within his power to see us fall.”
“So, let him try,” I replied with my chin raised. “We’ll kill him, just as we killed his fucking general and his men.”
“This will be different,” Theodora sighed. “I can feel it. The man will stop at nothing to see our defeat. You heard him yourself… his voice was filled with bloodthirst and fortitude. I’m sure he’s already recruiting more followers as we speak. No doubt of magical and non-magical blood.”
I swallowed hard before I responded. I knew she was right, and deep down, I knew we were just one school against a growing, deadly regime. Yes, we built our army, but surely, it wouldn’t be enough to stop such a powerful king.
“Then, what do you propose, Headmistress?” I questioned. “I know you have an idea.”
“I do.” She nodded. “I want to expand Scholomance.”
“You mean, you want more students?” I inquired. “Where else can we find them? We’ve already bled the holy graves dry, and I doubt other academies are just going to give up their students.”
“I’m not only looking for new students,” Theodora answered before she began to pace around the room again. She folded her hands behind her back and then raised her chin up into the air, like an elegant swan searching for her ducklings. “I want to recruit all kinds of soldiers and followers. King Donovan will seek to build his own armies through mortal villages, powerful kingdoms, and even other Wicca or warlock academies who have strayed from their true faith. We must be clever and subtle in our own method of recruitment.”
“I see,” I answered as I rubbed my chin. “Well, I will do everything in my power to abide by your wishes, and we will see King Donovan fall to his death. No matter what it takes, we will see the Wiccas of Scholomance grow, and we will continue to practice ancient magic against the elders. I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”
“I
know you will,” she replied. “I have all my faith in you… however, it is crucial to remember that although King Donovan is one of the most powerful elder kings to walk the realms, he is one of many. His death would be a victory, but alas, it would only be one chess piece eliminated.”
“I understand,” I said as I stood up from my seat, “but as you always say, let’s focus on one threat at a time. What do you need me to do right now? Just say the word, and I will gladly abide by your wishes.”
Theodora flashed me a warm smile before she turned to look at the hearth with its glowing flames that cast towering shadows across the rug. The bright inferno crackled loudly as she studied the colors and curls of the fire, and then finally, she gazed upon me once more.
“At this moment, we need the academy to rest and recover,” she answered with a small nod. “The students need their full strength before they can return to advanced lessons. However, there is something I need from you and your coven. Something that isn’t directly related to King Donovan, but it’s still just as important.”
“What is it?” I asked in a rushed voice.
“So eager,” she responded with the same serene smile, but there was deep concern lingering behind her pale blue eyes.
I watched as she stopped pacing and then swiftly turned to her fireplace. She began to rearrange the artifacts on the mantelpiece, including the golden clock, the silver candelabra, and the small black owl statue. When the knick-knacks were moved, the flames abruptly died, and then the empty hearth made a deep, rumbling sound as the stones began to organize themselves into various positions. The fireplace quickly and neatly split itself in two, and before us laid the small, dark tunnel where she stored the ancient books.
“Wait here,” Theodora ordered in a firm voice.
I nodded, and an icy breeze swept through the room as I waited patiently for Theodora to step inside her fireplace. The headmistress swiftly crept inside the dank space, and I could hear her muttering to herself while she retrieved whichever book she searched for. Finally, she emerged from the opening, and in her hands, she held a deep, emerald green book I’d never seen before.
“What--?” I started to ask, but she placed a slender finger against her lips.
“Just wait,” she answered before she flipped furiously through the pages. “Ah, here it is.”
She strolled over to me and then gently placed the open book down on my lap. I stared down at the page and found myself looking at a picture of a melon-sized stone with a shimmering black texture and small, diamond-like gems embedded inside the heart of the oversized artifact.
“Do you recognize it?” Theodora asked after a moment.
“It almost resembles the…” I trailed off, and then I raised my eyes to meet hers. “It’s a Defero stone. Isn’t it?”
“The third and final one,” she remarked before she took the book from my hands. “I need you and your coven to retrieve it and bring it safely back to Scholomance before King Donovan or any of his followers get their hands on it.”
“Satan,” I breathed as I remembered how grueling it was to retrieve the other two stones.
We’d been on countless life-threatening missions before, but every time we sought out one of Theodora’s precious stones, it was within the dwelling of a Wicca-loathing village or kingdom with a ruthless leader and imbecilic citizens. As I stared deeply into Theodora’s eyes, I knew I didn’t have a choice. Moreover, why would I want to deny her wishes? She was my headmistress, and we were in this together.
“Cole?” she asked after a moment. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m just wondering,” I said, “when do we leave?”
“Tonight,” she responded with a small sigh.
I blinked hard at the headmistress and then took a deep breath. I shouldn’t have been surprised at the urgency, but I still wondered who or what she was resurrecting. I was loyal to her, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious.
“Headmistress,” I began, “I know what the sole purpose of the Defero stones is… I don’t suppose you’re ready to finally tell me who or what you are retrieving from the land of purgatory?”
“No, Cole,” she responded in a soft voice. “I’m afraid there are still some secrets I must keep from you, but I swear, it is for your own benefit. One day, you will thank me for this, but for now, I just need you to trust me, as you have always done.”
“Alright,” I said with a broad grin, “since that’s out of the way… where are we going?”
Chapter 3
Theodora smiled knowingly at me before she raised her hand into the air and placed it on my forehead.
“It would be better if I simply showed you,” she whispered.
As she pressed her hand against my skin, the room quickly darkened, and my entire body grew ice cold. My head throbbed as if a thousand needles were prickling at my skull, and soon, the entire office vanished before my eyes. My body twisted and turned through realms and time, and then, I found myself standing on the edge of a cliff with a steel-gray sky above me. Below me, a ferocious ocean beat against jagged, towering rocks, and the thunderous waves echoed and pounded against my eardrums as a bitter and frosty wind bit into my skin.
“Where the hell am I?” I wondered aloud.
As I stood on the precipice and gazed upon the unwavering sea storm, I thought I could hear a chorus of voices echoing behind me. They were gradually growing louder, and when I whipped around, I saw a dozen wooden stakes, all situated in a perfect line with piles of hay and wood mounted at the bottom. Then high-pitched screams pierced the air, and their chorus of cries echoed in harmony with the howling and savage wind.
My heart sank immediately at the sight of the stakes and the sound of screams because I knew they only meant one thing.
Execution.
I stood still and strained my eyes to see what laid beyond the wooden stakes, but all I could make out was a thick fog that veiled my view. The wisps of silver mist curved around me like hazy snakes, and the air was heavy with the smell of rotting, putrid flesh. As the screams grew louder, I could make out a cluster of dim figures emerging from the fog and gradually coming closer, and when they were just a few feet away, I realized they were a group of cloaked men swinging censers and chanting a haunting melody as they neared the row of stakes. Several men were carrying giant white flaming candles, and behind them, a line of women with their wrists bound tightly by thick coils of rope were dragged mercilessly by the rusty chains around their necks. Each collar was engraved with multiple crosses, and I could see the women’s raw skin sweltering and festering as they were yanked forward by these holy, cloaked men.
“You would do well to release us,” shrieked a woman with long, greasy black hair, “and if you don’t, your king will suffer greatly for this. I swear by Satan his unborn child will bear the mark of our wrath and vengeance! This is your last chance to see reason. Let us go, and your kingdom will remain in a state of peace and serenity.”
“Shut your filthy, whore mouth,” called out a voice that didn’t belong to any cloaked men. “Your fate has already been set into stone, heathen bitch.”
I searched for the source of the harsh, unforgiving voice, and my eyes fell upon a tall, robustly built man, garbed in heavy furs and fine silks, marching past the captive women. He bore a golden crown on the top of his dark, close-cropped hair, and his face was withered from age. His soulless, black, and bloodthirsty eyes were filled with rage, and when he stared right through me, as if I were nothing but floating particles of dust hovering through the air, I knew for certain no one could see me.
“Make sure these heathen women suffer greatly,” the man hissed to one of the cloaked figures. “I want the entire kingdom to hear their screams. I want them to cry out in agony, and I want their voices to carry over the sound of the raging sea.”
“Yes, my king,” a hooded man responded with a deep bow.
“My love,” said a feminine voice from behind the king, “do you believe the gods will be grat
eful for this bounty?”
When the king stood aside, a beautiful woman with long, strawberry-blonde hair emerged from the mist and stood tall by his side. She wore a golden crown with glittering jewels and diamonds and was dressed in a thick, fur-trimmed cloak with a shimmering yellow gown underneath, and her hands were covered with dove-white gloves.
But what stood out most about this mysterious woman was her bulging belly.
I assumed she was the queen, and as she stood beside her husband, she placed a hand over her stomach in a protective manner.
“Yes, my darling,” the king replied as he stared at the struggling Wicca women with a venomous smile. “I do believe we will be rewarded greatly for this.”
“How lovely,” the queen purred. “I cannot wait to watch the Satanists wriggle and burn.”
“Soon enough, my love,” the king answered with his chin raised. “Bishop, have your men tie these unholy women to their posts at once.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” another cloaked man said as he caressed a long, golden cross that dangled from his neck.
Once he received his order, the hooded bishop leaned toward his men and gave the command, and his followers eagerly nodded in his direction before they forcefully wrenched the poor women toward the stakes.
“Noooo!” a woman with long, filthy blonde hair cried out. “You will regret this!”
The men ignored her and quickly began to tie the women to the stakes without mercy or hesitation, and once the filthy and boney women were bound to the posts, the cloaked men proceeded to throw water in their faces. As they did so, the women’s skin burned and sizzled, and they cried out in agony as their faces grew red with boils and scabs.
“Light the fire,” the king commanded as he stood only a few feet away from the women.
“But… Your Majesty,” the bishop whispered, just loud enough for me to hear, “are you sure you want the queen to be present for this? It will surely be a gruesome sight to behold.”
“I am well aware of that,” the beautiful queen responded in a demure and calm voice. “I specifically asked my beloved if I could witness this holy ritual.”
