Clasping her hands together, she nods. “Very well.”
The tension in the room escalates at the pronouncement. Ágota enters the circle and moves to the center. With the sun on the horizon, there is no time to waste. I observe the many strained and frightened faces of the witches as I take my place among them. The cats, for the first time in my memory, join the circle, standing between the witches.
The ritual begins.
“Join together,” Ágota orders.
Crossing my arms, I join hands with Balázs and Henrietta, who are standing beside me. I feel the cats on either side rest their paws on my ankles.
“Close the circle.”
The air ripples and a chill flows down my spine. Then the circle closes, protecting us from outside forces.
“Summon the power.”
I lift my arms above my head along with the other witches, my fingers spread wide. Beside me, the cats rise onto their haunches, raising their paws. I call out to the magic slumbering in the broken shell of the buildings from the Witch World. My surroundings dissolve into a miasma of dazzling lights that spin around us in a fierce whirlwind. The ground vibrates beneath my feet as the hum of the magic swells. A gale of warm air scented with the fragrance of flowers, spice, sea water, and thunderstorms lifts us upward. I am flooded with effervescent power, which sings in my soul and shatters all my fears. Instinctively, I recognize this magic is my birthright and that it will bend to my will. I have never felt magic like this and laugh with delight.
As the magic flows through the coven, uniting us, Ágota’s voice commands, “Funnel it to me!”
The temptation to defy the Archwitch ripples through me. Bound to the coven, I sense their reluctance to obey. To give up such potent power is loathsome to consider. Suspended in the air, surrounded by the visible manifestation of the magic of the long-lost Witch World, I am completely enraptured by the possibilities of what I can do with such power.
Ágota does not wait for us to come to our senses. She pulls the magic through us and into her. My first instinct is to fight against such a violation, but relent when I see my sister rising above us, arms outstretched. Eyes closed, she welcomes the torrent of magic flooding into her. Golden orbs of light whirl about her as she unlocks and releases the spell my mother cast so long ago.
Ágota brandishes magic like a rapier and slices through the fabric between the worlds, rending a fissure the size of a doorway in the air before her. Light pours through the tear, illuminating the ghastly terrain beyond. Beneath a purple sky stained black on the horizon, the ground is coarse red dirt barren of foliage or animals. This is the world my mother fled and tears well in my eyes. It is evident that the witches had no other choice than to flee. Their enemies drained the world of magic and left it a depleted husk.
A grand estate sits among a ruined, desolate land, complete with a grand house, many outbuildings, lush vineyards, trees, and green fields. A dark aura encapsulates it and everything within the spell is frozen in time, unmoving so as not to be detected by the destroyers.
Bobbing in the air before the misshapen portal, Ágota’s fingers twist at her sides as she murmurs beneath her breath. Tendrils of the magic she is controlling plunge into the other world and latch onto the shimmering darkness protecting the estate. Golden light flows over the dark circle, awakening the spell. The air trembles around us and the orbs of golden light spinning around my sister grow brighter. Any reluctance to obey Ágota has dissolved in the display of her prowess. Awe is stamped on the faces of the coven as they watch Ágota wrench the estate from the earth and pull it toward the portal. Roots dangle from beneath the wide expanse of ground like tendrils of a great beast.
“How can she bring it through?” I cry out. “The doorway is not large enough!”
“It merely needs to touch the portal,” Balázs answers. “And it will be merged with this world.”
The dark clouds rolling across the purple sky flash with red fire and a terrifying howl erupts from the other world.
“Hurry, Ágota, the destroyers are coming!” Balázs calls out. “They sense the magic!”
Terror ripples through the coven, disrupting the magic flowing to Ágota. The beings that destroyed the Witch World have sensed the awakened magic and are descending on the portal. My mother described them as twisted, fearsome creatures with faces so horrific witches were known to die from fright.
“Do not falter!” Balázs commands the coven. “Do not be afraid! We will close the portal if our enemies come near!”
Now I wholly fathom why Ágota was afraid to cast the spell. It is far more perilous than I had ever dreamed. Regret for my earlier argument that she should call forth the estate assails me and forces me to consider that I was foolhardy. The horrific wails accompanying the fiery bursts illuminating the sky of the dead world turns my blood to ice. Tall pillars of flame appear on the horizon, spitting balls of fire across the barren earth.
The estate continues toward the portal. Ágota’s scowl and quivering fingers reveal the great strain the spell is taking on her, yet she persists. Sweat drips from her chin and her eyes bloom with blood. My desire to protect her is nearly overwhelming, but I cannot break the circle.
The unholy sounds issuing from the other world reverberate through my bones. The coven is bound together by the magic flowing through us into Ágota and it is impossible not to sense the fear pulsing through the witches. The orbs of fire assail the estate floating toward the portal, slamming into the protection spell and exploding into huge arcs of lava.
The destroyers of the Witch World consumed all the magic by devouring the ley lines, sucking dry every living creature, and consuming all the imbued relics. They must be starved in the aftermath of the witches’ escape. The entire horizon is burning as the destroyers swarm toward the portal. Should they reach the estate, they will consume it. Should they reach the portal, they will attempt to come through and devour us.
Terror spikes in my soul, but it does not weaken me. I am a battlewitch. I was created for conflict. Instead of wavering, my resolve gives me strength. It is my magic
that strengthens those in battle and grants them the ability to wield their weapons with supernatural prowess.
It is time for me to act!
In one great, mighty wave, I wrench the magic from the ruins around me and thrust it into Ágota. I am instantly blinded by the dazzling luminescent manifestation of power. A second later, I tumble from the air. The sound of the witches impacting with the ground is accompanied by the startled meows of the familiars. I blink furiously, desperate to see what has happened. My vision clears, gradually leaving strange afterimages in my sight. All around me are the fallen bodies of the coven. The witches moan while sluggishly stirring. The cats sit among us, grooming themselves, seemingly unbothered by this turn of events.
“Where are we?” Henrietta calls out.