Chapter 146: What sorcery is this?
~Ava's POV~
The journey back to the palace felt endless. Our group moved in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
My mind kept circling back to Lorraine's words. Something about them rang true, yet I couldn't fully trust her. Why did her warnings feel so genuine when everything else about her seemed shadowed in mystery?
She had told me many things but remained silent about my wolf. Her only clear instruction was that she would be coming to the palace. I held back my questions, unsure if I really wanted the answers.
Before we left, Lorraine had given Gwen some tea with specific brewing instructions to help with the heat. Gwen accepted it gratefully, though I noticed the slight hesitation in her movements.
"This should provide some relief," Lorraine had said, her eyes meeting Gwen's with an intensity that suggested she knew more than she was saying. "Brew it exactly as I've shown you."
The palace came into view, its white towers reaching toward the sky like a mountain of stone. The familiar sight should have brought comfort, but something felt wrong.
The guards at the gate stood differently, their postures rigid and unwelcoming. They looked stern as if bad news awaited us. My heart dropped, worried something happened to Raphael.
As we approached, they crossed their spears, blocking our path.
"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded.
"By order of the temple priests and Elder Councilor Atticus," announced the lead guard, his voice biting and cold, "Ava Jackson, the slave girl and Gwendolyn Sariaf, traitor of the witch's clan, are forbidden from entering the palace grounds."
"That's absurd," Anastasia stepped forward, her hard expression and tone making the guard flinch slightly. "On what grounds?"
The guard's partner unrolled a scroll. "The high priests have received a vision. If Ava marries the king, she will bring destruction to the three realms."
The words sent a shiver through me making the hair at my nape stand. Lorraine was right, the gods are afraid of me.
All of a sudden, after meeting Lorraine and learning the truth, there is suddenly a vision. About me? The accusation was not even investigated.
"And what of Gwen?" Anastasia demanded.
The guard's expression darkened. "For the witch Gwendolyn, the message is clear. She must do what she did a thousand years ago. If she fails, everything will end with her. The priests have decreed that her clan, all witches throughout the three realms, will face total eradication. She must choose wisely."
Gwen's face drained of colour. A thousand years ago? But that was impossible. Gwen wasn't even thirty years old. Yet the words clearly meant something to her, Lorraine once again, is correct about her being Arabelle.
"This is madness," I shouted, stepping toward the guards. "We demand to see the councilor Atticus immediately!"
"The councilor is in prayer with the high priests. He cannot be disturbed."
More guards appeared behind us, their armour shining in the afternoon sun in an unusual manner. We were surrounded.
Gwen moved gently on her feet. "Anastasia," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I am deeply sorry. I am sorry Ava for dragging you guys into my mess."
Anastasia reached for her wife, but before their hands could touch, the air was split by the sound of marching feet.
From the eastern gate, a line of soldiers appeared, but these were not palace guards. They wore the distinctive silver armour of the temple warriors, their faces hidden behind masks shaped like the face of the god Deere.
"The temple priests," Anastasia breathed. "They rarely leave the sacred grounds."
Leading them was a tall figure in flowing robes of the deepest crimson, his face marked with sacred symbols.
The high priest himself had come. Behind him walked Elder Councilor Atticus, his expression grim beneath his silver-streaked beard.
"The wolf-blessed and the witch must be separated from the princess," declared the priest, his voice ringing with authority. "For the safety of all."
Three hundred centaurs and warlock soldiers moved in perfect sync forming a tight circle around Anastasia, cutting her off from Gwen and me.
"No!" I shouted, reaching for her. "Anastasia!"
The wall of soldiers remained in place. Through the gaps between armoured bodies, I could see Anastasia struggling against the soldiers who held her arms.
"Release her!" Gwen cried, her hands beginning to glow with a faint blue light.
The high priest raised his staff. "Behold the proof of our vision! The witch prepares to unleash her powers against the faithful!" At this point, people were already gathering. I knew in that point, what they were planning to do.
"I'm protecting my husband!" Gwen's voice cried. "Let her go!"
But the priest wasn't listening. He moved forward, his staff raised high above his head, chanting words in an ancient language I didn't recognize. With each word, the air grew heavier, making it difficult to breathe.
Something was happening to Gwen. Her face contorted in pain as she clutched at her chest.
"Stop it!" I screamed. "You're hurting her!"
The priest's chanting grew louder. The soldiers tightened their circle, and now I could barely see Anastasia at all. Through a small gap, I caught a glimpse of her terrified face as she tried to break free.
"Gwen!" Anastasia called out. "Resist them!"
Gwen fell to her knees, her breathing laboured. The blue light around her hands dying out.
"I can't," she gasped. "They're using some bindings. The ones that were created to..."
The priest stepped closer to her, standing over her kneeling form. "To bind those who betrayed their oath," he finished for her. "Those who lived beyond their time. Those who were never meant to walk among us again."
The words made no sense to me, but they clearly devastated Gwen. Her shoulders dropped in defeat.
"Tell them," the priest commanded. "Tell them who you really are before we truly end you."
Gwen looked up, her eyes seeking Anastasia through the wall of soldiers. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should have told you how much I love you."
The priest raised his ceremonial dagger, looking angry at being disobeyed by Gwen. The dagger seemed to suck the light rather than making it shine, creating an aura of darkness around its edge.
I saw the dagger begin its falling toward Gwen's unprotected back and Anastasia's face filled with horror as she realized what was happening. I heard my own voice, distant and strange, screaming Gwen's name.
And then, in a horrifying instant that would be forever burned into my memory, the priest's dagger plunged into Gwen's back.
Her body jerked forward. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. A trickle of blood, unnaturally bright, spilt from the corner of her lips.
The world around me blurred. My screams tore through the air as Gwen collapsed face-first onto the ground. Anastasia was fighting wildly against her captors, her face contorted with grief and rage.
But all I could see was Gwen's still form and the growing pool of blood beneath her. The high priest stood over her, his dagger dripping red, his expression cold and righteous.
The dagger had pierced her, but somehow she still moved. Slowly, Gwen turned her head toward me, her eyes finding mine. Her lips moved, forming words I couldn't hear over the roaring in my ears.
And then, impossibly, the blood around her began to change, shifting and moving as if alive.
The flow didn't spread outward as blood should. Instead, it began to glow.
The priest stepped back, his certainty and confidence failing him. "What sorcery is this?"
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