I cannot take too long pondering the answer to my question. The destroyer is killing the coven and my family, and I alone can stop it. The question is: why does it fear me? My sister and I are different from all the other witches in the coven. We were born in this world, daughters of an Archwitch from the Witch World, and wielders of magicks of both worlds. So why am I immune while my sister is not?
In the darkness I hear Balázs’s deep voice, feeble and trembling, calling out for Ágota.
The difference between us is revealed at that moment. I am half mortal, the daughter of a voivode from Transylvania, while Ágota is the daughter of Balázs, the Grandwitch. I may have inherited my magic from my mother, but I have the soul of a warrior like my father. My mortal heritage must have changed the very nature of my magic. The destroyer consumed the magic of the Witch World, but it cannot touch mine, for it is foreign and, I suspect, poisonous to its nature.
Emboldened, I defiantly step toward the destroyer to confront it. Though it is difficult to ignore the sagging body of my sister in its grasp, I cannot allow distractions. To falter now could mean her death.
My boldness is rewarded with the creature shirks from me. I am absolutely certain that it fears my power. I sense death approaching, as does the destroyer. It lifts its head and snarls, perhaps in an effort to intimidate me. I take another step forward and again it withdraws.
Though I am emboldened by its wariness, I am uncertain how to defeat the monster that killed my mother's world. All the spells, curses, hexes, and battle sigils created to defeat the destroyers failed in the Witch World. Therefore, Balázs never taught me how to cast them. Perhaps it is fortuitous that my own curiosity compelled me to study all the grimoires he had attempted to hide from me. I am confronted by the question as to whether or not they will work in this world. The only way I shall have my answer is to try to cast one of the old forbidden spells.
Lifting my hands, I summon my magic, my fingers beginning the intricate dance of the deadliest curse. The destroyer immediately reacts, surging toward me with a great petrifying roar. Its many smoky tentacles release their grip on the coven and flow toward me in one great wave. Again, I sense death, but not my own, or those of the coven.
Panic fills me and I fear for my sister until I realize that the pall of death I am sensing comes from the destroyer. Its tendrils are almost upon me when I raise both my hands and utter the words of the ancient witch language, releasing the potent curse. Before the destroyer can seize me, the tips of the creature’s many murderous filaments began to freeze and dissipate into an icy mist.
Again the destroyer thunders, hastily withdrawing from its attack. Its many limbs thrash about as the curse continues to consume them. The destroyer hurls my sister at me in an attempt to cease my assault upon it, but my desire to kill it outweighs my concern for my sister. I step aside, allowing Ágota to hurtle to the ground while I continue my onslaught. Its power retreats around me, pulling in upon itself, becoming a dark vortex. I feel the heat of hatred emanating from its red eyes as it scurries backward, withdrawing its stifling presence from my surroundings.
I advance on it with my fingers still tracing the spell over and over again while uttering the words that will send it to its grave. The power the destroyer wielded in the Witch World is weaker here. My magic tells me that the creature is corrupted by the very essence of this world. Just like the coven, it struggles to tap into the ley lines and magical wells. It was able to feed on the coven because they are from the same world where it originated. I am convinced that this is the same creature that I encountered in the woods so long ago. It was trapped between worlds and unable to fully manifest. Even then it had been afraid of me, sensing that I was a danger to it. Ágota’s portal must have freed it from its prison.
“You failed to kill my sister before because I stood between you and your prey. I now stand in defense of the coven, my family, and this world. I am your destroyer.”
I pour all my power into the curse, willing every speck of my magic into the sigils my fingers trace in the air. I will kill this destroyer and save my loved ones. I was unable to save my mother so long ago, but I will not fail my sister or her father.
Rage fuels me as much as hatred. Those emotions have always been an intricate part of the power I wield as Battlewitch. Thoughts of these creatures destroying the Witch World, driving my mother through the portal into this one, and placing her at the mercy of people who would only use her for her power and beauty, only add to the great well of anger that always resides in my soul.
My power is liquid fire in my veins, and despite the agony it inflicts upon me, I cannot stop my bombardment. As the curse builds in ferocity, I stagger forward, resolved to force my opponent to the ground. Though the curse does not manifest visually, I can see the results of its swelling power as the tendrils of the destroyer are frozen, blackened, and sift to the ground like gray ash. The destroyer retreats from me, growing smaller in stature with every step. I sense death rapidly coming for my enemy and I cannot help but laugh with delight despite the immense discomfort the curse causes me. I can endure pain if it means the destruction of the destroyer.
My enemy begins to lose its gruesome visage, growing smaller, frailer, and increasingly human in appearance as its many tentacles disintegrate. The curse consumes all the darkness enshrouding the creature as it strips away all its power. Soon all that remains is a pale, dark-haired woman clad in a coarse black shift. I am shocked by this manifestation and hesitate. She stands before me, quaking, obviously ill, and fighting to remain on her feet. There is a reflection of my own anger and defiance in her gaze. I am struck by the similarities between us. We could be sisters.
“You are just a girl,” I say in surprise.
“So are you,” she replies, spitting out the words with contempt.
Hands poised to continue my magical offensive, I regard the girl with unease. It is not only her appearance that has astonished me, but what I sense within her. “I was told the destroyers were sorcerers corrupted by the black magic they wielded. But you are not a sorcere
r, are you?”
“What I am is starving. I need to feed, and this place only poisons me. Only these witches nourish me and even they are fouled.”
The violent trembling of her body reveals her inner torment. Again, we are so much alike, for the pain that fills me is unlike any I have ever felt before. It is though I am being consumed by a fire burning at the core of my being.
“You followed us from the Witch World.”
Eyes narrowed with contempt, she nods. “And I was caught between for so long until I was freed tonight. Foolish witches. You always lose because you are too naïve to recognize our power.”
“You killed our world and you would kill this one.”
“And you would not? You and I are the same. Bringers of death and war. Destruction is in our souls.”
“You are a Battlewitch,” I gasp, understanding at last why Balázs never taught me the spells to kill the destroyers. Now I understand why the coven has always been so fearful of me. It was not sorcerers from a distant land who consumed the Witch World. It was corrupted Battlewitches. Their need for war and destruction must have corrupted them.
The girl laughs, a bleak, empty sound. It is without mirth and hope. “You understand. I can see it in your eyes. Those old curses never worked against us because they had to be cast by us. What Battlewitch would bring about their own death to defeat their brethren? If you kill me, you will die, too.”
I was wrong. Death is not only coming for the destroyer, but also for me. The curse is death for all Battlewitches. The fire inside my soul is killing me. The curse is destroying me, too.
In the short time since I hesitated in my attack, I witness her growing stronger every second. Wisps of darkness began to unfurl from her shoulders to reform her tentacles. I do not fully comprehend her magic and her power, but I do understand her purpose. She intends to kill all of us even if we are poison to her. The need to feed is unquenchable. I can see it in her eyes.
“You understand, do not you? If you finish casting the curse and kill me, you die. We are the same. Join with me and this world will be ashes at our feet. Then we can find another.”