Revelations, Part 1

Mother…

If you can hear me…

I’m sorry…I failed to heal my soul during my travels.

I know why you made me leave the coven now. Actually, I’ve always known, but I never wanted to accept the reason why.

You broke my heart when you sent me away on this journey, and I’ve carried that pain all these years.

Was I born empty? Where did my hollowness come from? Why did I think that anger and hatred would fill that hole in my chest?

I had your love, but I took it for granted.

I had a home with the coven, but it felt like a cage.

And Valerie…

If I could start it all over again, I would do everything differently. I wouldn’t fail those who need me.

Those who need me…

No...I can’t leave this world. Not yet!

Life...please...give me a second chance!

-

A faint, rippling light poured into the witch’s eyes. She felt warm and weightless. Little by little, Atrina’s senses awakened, and the sorceress realized that she was drowning.

Frantically, the witch clawed her way to the water’s surface, fighting for her life with every ounce of strength she had left. Her legs thrashed wildly, her arms were on the brink of wearing out, but Atrina’s desire to live superseded her body’s exhaustion.

Atrina’s head broke the surface of the water, and she disgorged the liquid in her lungs. The witch quickly observed that she was in the middle of a vast lake fed by a towering waterfall. The shore was out of swimming distance for the sorceress, but she had another way to make it ashore.

The witch’s shoulder ached as she lifted her arm from the water. With a forceful push, the sorceress chanted, “Propulsion!” An aquatic explosion launched Atrina towards the shore in a straight path.

Reaching land within seconds, Atrina braced herself as the spell’s momentum carried her far past the shoreline. Tossed from the water, the witch tumbled onto the shore and fell unconscious.

-

The sound of scratching dirt roused the witch. Atrina felt a warm hum radiate throughout her body before she opened her eyes. The clouds in the sky were dyed rose, and her soreness gradually subsided.

Turning her head toward the sound, Atrina found Shaw sitting beside her. The burly cultist was fixated on tracing his finger through silt, but he was aware that the witch had regained consciousness. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Atrina.”

“W-was I—”

“No, but you were awfully close, hanging by the thread of your will. Anyone else would have died defying the master, but not you.”

Shaw still wore the cloak of the Arcane Descendants, but Atrina spotted that his right sleeve was bunched and folded inward. The cultist’s right arm was gone.

“Oh, this? A little reminder of why the master should never be questioned. It’s a sick joke, really. I’ve always been punished for asking questions. It all started with excommunication from the Church, and now this.”

Atrina continued staring at the empty space that once was the cultist’s arm. Shaw answered her stare, “I left the Church because of how it preys on the innocent, but the master is no different. I always knew he was bloodthirsty, but I thought his violence was just, born from a righteous fury against the Divine Order.

“I was wrong. I thought I found a savior in that man, but he’s not interested in saving the world from the Church. He wants power for no one’s sake but his own, and he will stop at nothing to get it. The master plans on sacrificing Divine Maiden Sylvina.

“The day Cassius told us about her gift in healing magic, I saw an avarice in the master’s eyes. Blinded by my love for him, I wanted to believe that he was incapable of such wicked cruelty. Then, when I returned to him after being saved by Nana and Levi, he told me of his true ambition.

“The master seeks to add the maiden’s life force to his own, a feat only possible through the act of sacrifice. I objected vehemently, and he took my arm with those tendrils of his. I shudder to recall the feeling of those disgusting appendages feasting on my flesh…”

Tensing up, Shaw paused to compose himself. He did not lift his finger from the ground. Atrina asked faintly, “You’re...against him?”

“No, I still serve him, for I have no other choice. The Church is rotten to its core, and I am left with the master as the only alternative. I don’t know what to believe in anymore.”

Atrina said a single word. “...Fight.”

The Descendant shook his head sadly. “I can’t. I’m not strong enough. I never was and never will be. But, Atrina, you’re the only one who can stand up to him.”

“Can’t…Khyrs...is immortal.”

Shaw chuckled. “He does a good job of pretending he is, but he’s not. The master heals disturbingly quickly, but that’s only because he’s leeching off of the lives stored in his body. If he were to absorb Sylvina, he could become invincible, but not immortal.

“You have the power and the choice to fight, Atrina. This battle may not be yours, but lives are at stake. Before I leave, I want to tell you that the master fears death. It’s the only reason I can think of for his obsession with gaining power. His fear reveals all that he is and all that he ever will be: a man.”

Rising to his feet, the cultist nodded at Atrina and left. The witch closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his receding footsteps, resting with the weight of the world on her shoulders.