Has Vlad at last abandoned me?
Should I be afraid, or embrace the possibility of release from my immortal life?
Beyond the Veil I will find my sister and mother waiting to embrace me. I long to see their faces and hear their voices. Yet, hope still stirs in my soul for a life beyond captivity. For as long as I am tangled in the fine strands of this spell there is a sliver of a chance I may yet be freed by my sister's magic.
Ágota vowed to protect me and my sister never lied to me.
In that regard, we were much alike.
The world solidifies into the great hall.
A fire is stoked in the enormous hearth, casting an orange glow over the four witches tending to the cauldron. Ágota has chosen Henrietta and her two apprentices, Marianna and Cristina, to help in the preparation. They murmur in sing-song voices while dipping their hands into spell bags suspended from the mantle. In perfect harmony, they add ingredients to the concoction and take turns stirring the spell. The lip of the pot reaches their waists, making it an arduous task to stir the thick liquid within with a long ladle. Bits of magic spiral out of the concoction to sparkle over the heads of the witches and chase away the gloom to the corners of the great hall. The atmosphere is heavy with the building spell, the air trembling with power. Balázs’s cats sit in a semi-circle behind the witches, their long tails sweeping the floor as their keen eyes watch the proceedings.
I linger in the doorway, observing the four women with longing. My desire to assist my sister in casting the spell is thwarted by my magic. There is too much chaos, death, and pain interwoven in the power of a battlewitch. It could upset the delicate balance of the spell. Wishing never to endanger my sister, I willingly stepped aside. Now I watch from a careful distance for I am still apprehensive. I fear that the spell is far too dangerous for Ágota to cast.
“Do not doubt her. She can perform the spell,” Balázs says as he joins me on the threshold.
“Perhaps, but I am not worthy of the sacrifice should she die,” I retort.
“Still angry I see.”
“How can I not be? Ágota is the greatest amongst us. We should not risk her life in this manner. We are safe here. Fülöp would never dare come against the coven. He may have numbers, but the most powerful witches stand with you.”
Balázs takes me by the shoulders and turns me toward him. The dour look on his face is deepened by the shadows. “You are young and convinced that you are right. I am old and have lived long enough to know that peace is to be cherished, for upheaval can come at any moment. I have heard your arguments, Erzsébet. I wish I had your certainty, but I do not. Should Fülöp come against us – or any other enemy – you will be needed. You are our battlewitch.”
“You survived before without me,” I grumble.
“And many died.”
The words strike like a dagger into my soul. I cannot deny the validity of his commentary for it identifies the weak point of my argument. I am rankled, but do not respond even though it is not in my nature to shirk away from any sort of battle, physical or verbal. All my arguments rest on my tongue, but it is fruitless to engage once again. The decision to perform the spell has been made by both the Archwitch and the Grandwitch. The coven will follow their lead and my protestations are for naught.
I set my chin at a defiant angle and press my lips together to suppress a heated retort.
“Erzsébet, I love you and understand your desire to have the life you dream of with Albrecht. But I must do what is right for the coven.”
“Can she succeed at this task you have set before her? Can my sister truly create a gateway between here and Gratz? I need your reassurance for I am frightened for her.”
“Yes, she can,” Balázs says with certainty.
Scrutinizing his expression, I detect no sign of doubt. I wish I could be so confident. “I believe in Ágota’s abilities, but she is just one Archwitch. Many of these spells are for a trinity of Archwitches.”
“I hear your concerns, Erzsébet, but she is more powerful than you realize. Stay back and let her do what she must. Your doubts and anger might taint the spell or disrupt her connection to the nearby ley lines. Remain in your room and wait.”
The words sting fiercely, like hornets stirred from a nest. “If I am so destructive, why have me about at all!” I exclaim before gathering my skirts and hurrying away.
Balázs is wise and does not try to follow.
Once inside my bedchamber, I stalk about, muttering angrily. I feel childishly petulant because my loved ones dismissed my arguments. Despite my protestations otherwise, Balázs and Ágota’s assertions have whittled away at my confidence. I had thoroughly convinced myself that my absence would not be a danger to the coven, but if Balázs and Ágota are willing to risk her life to open a gateway, they must be truly worried. I had refused to consider that I was shirking my responsibilities, but I am now feeling the sharp sting of guilt.
I halt before one of the windows to gaze upon the vineyards spreading over the rolling hills. It is a beautiful sight with the sun dipping low and a pale mist drifting along the ground near the Danube River. If I had never met Albrecht, I would have been satisfied to stay with my family and fellow witches until I found love with someone else. But fate introduced me to Albrecht, and I have loved him from the very beginning. That love has only deepened as I have read his letters that are filled with plans and hopes for our future together. I may desire another life, but am I willing to risk the witches to ensure my happiness?
I abandon the view and lay on the bed. I wish Valentini would join me, but all the cats are gathered in the great hall to assist Ágota. Though I have yet to ascertain why he decided to befriend me, I do appreciate his company. Feeling his small, furry body against my back while I sleep is a gentle comfort. When he is an affectionate lump against my side, it is easy to forget that at one time I saw him grow larger than a bear and fight wolves.
Digging under my pillows, I pull free the letters Albrecht has sent me over the years. I set them beneath my heart and play with the ends of the red ribbon wrapped around the stack. The weight is a pleasant, palpable connection between my beloved and me. I am torn between my desire to be with him and my obligations to my family and coven. The absolute surety that I was right and my sister was wrong has abandoned my consciousness the closer the time comes for the spell to be cast.
Closing my eyes, I seek refuge in imaginings of the future. I attempt to envision Albrecht lying beside me, his lips hovering over mine. I have never amorously kissed anyone and am obsessed with the notion. I once pestered Ágota, demanding details on how it felt to experience that sort of intimacy. She scowled while declaring I would have to feel it for myself, since her romantic involvements are only with women. Resting on my bed, I fantasize about my life with Albrecht far from here until I fall asleep.
My dreams are filled with romantic interludes that never come to fruition. Each one starts with the promise of romance when Albrecht appears and takes me by the hand to guide me to a beautiful garden or another lovely setting. He is handsome, kind, and attentive as we converse. Inevitably, his head dips closer to mine, and I wait for the precious moment our lips touch. Before our l