“This place is not a safe haven. It is a tomb,” I answer. “It is a memory of what was and will never be again. Help my sister bring forth a true haven. A place in the mortal world where we can be safe and live true lives.”
“We will lose this magic.” Radu draws his hand through the air, sparks trailing from his fingertips.
“Maybe this old magic is what is holding you back from embracing the magic of this world,” I reply.
“She has a valid point. As long as this well of magic exists, our natural instinct will be to draw from it even though the distance makes it difficult to manifest. Remove it and perhaps we will finally learn to fully draw from the well of this world,” Balázs says, giving me an approving smile.
“If we rebuild the ruins and stay here, then we will be safe. My parents left and I lost them,” Henrietta says, her face flushing nearly as red as her hair. “We are safe here!”
“Until the coven drains the magic,” Ágota declares in a grim voice. “It will happen eventually. Maybe it will take centuries, but one day it will be gone and force us to reenter the world. When we do, we will be paupers and weak.”
“Will you do this against our wishes?” another witch asks.
Balázs hesitates, then shakes his head. “No. I will not. But I will leave with my daughters. Their future lies elsewhere. Speak among yourselves and choose. If we are to cast the spell, it should be done at dawn, when the sun brings a new day and new beginnings.”
Visibly agitated by the complaints issued by the rising voices, Ágota walks out of the circle. The coven breaks apart, clustering in groups to discuss the options presented to them. Balázs is immediately besieged and he waves me away when he sees my concerned look, so I hurry after my sister.
Ágota slips through a narrow doorway into an overgrown garden frosted with snow and ice. I sense that the magic in the ruins is rousing to greet us as the air warms. My sister’s tall lean form strides to another broken building and steps through a shattered door into the dark interior. Water drips from the icy trees and the mist dissipates in the wake of her passage. Entering the building, I find her seated on a wood bench, staring at a fire she must have conjured in the fireplace.
“I knew you would follow,” she says, her face pinched with apprehension.
Taking a seat beside her, I nestle into her side and rest my head on her shoulder. “I will always follow you.”
With a wry smile, she drapes her arm across my shoulders and bends her head to mine. “Which may not always be wise.”
“I am smarter than the others. I see the truth of the matter.”
“Maybe our mother was wise to keep us far from the other witches. They are such spoiled children with narrow minds,” Ágota grouses.
“They hate how weak they became after the exodus.”
“Yes, but they can still wield magic when united as a coven. They are not like humans, short-lived and powerless in the face of men with weapons and titles. They are not at the mercy of other supernatural creatures as long as they are united. Together, they can still do great magic.”
“But apart they are burned at the stake or drowned,” I remind her.
Ágota grunts. “Only if they are foolish and reveal themselves. Our mother was careful.”
“Our mother died.” The resentment in my voice draws a sharp look from Ágota. I would do anything to have my mother alive and with us. I often close my eyes and daydream of her at my side. If only she had lived and been reunited with Balázs, we would be a happy family now that Soffia is gone. “Maybe she should have returned with us to Balázs’s castle for protection against the devil.”
“Being with the coven would not have saved her. We both know that. Soffia would have waged war against her.”
“Mother could have obliterated her with a snap of her fingers. Our mother was so much more powerful than I ever dreamed!” I crane my head to gaze through the shattered roof. “Why did she not come here to be safe?”
Ágota bends over to pluck a chunk of masonry from the floor. At her touch, it glows with a pale pinkish light. “Perhaps because of this. Our mother successfully tamed the magic of this world. Being among the rubble of the Witch World, I can feel the lure of the old magic stored in the very walls of this place. It is potent and wild, longing to be used again. It almost feels alive.”
“You are scared.” I can see it in the tightness about her mouth and the set of her jaw.
“The magic I use is nothing like the magic trapped here. I can wield it, but it will be dangerous.” Ágota stares at the chunk of stone in her hand, then opens the bag slung over her shoulder to store it inside.
“If it is so dangerous, why are you keeping a piece of it?”
Ágota grins. “I like danger. Besides, it will not hurt to save a bit of the Witch World magic. I may need it one day.”
“For what?”
My sister shrugs one shoulder before slumping down on the bench again. “Something.”
“What are you not telling me?” I frown at my sister.