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Trapped in this cabinet of curiosities, I’m becoming the witch.
Rukh starts to undress the me beyond the cabinet – the me possessed by the witch – and my eyes flick open.
Rukh is sitting above me, looking down remorsefully.
“Earlier, I got a bit carried away,” he says. “I just can’t imagine losing you. You’ve done so much for me.”
I take his hand in mine, looking at him with calm reassurance. “I love you,” I tell him again. “And I’m so grateful to you for everything that you’re doing. I’m not trying to tell you not to give up. It’s just that when you’re gone…”
I grip his hand tightly in mine, squeezing it. “I really miss you.”
I smile weakly before a strange convulsion courses through my abdomen. My vision goes gray.
And there are no more thoughts.
28
RUKH
Itear through the witch's cabin like a wild beast, shredding furniture and ripping panels from the walls. Annette's life hangs by a thread, and I must find what dark curse is leeching away her soul. Nothing else matters but destroying the vile magic that harms my love.
The witch left traces of her evil everywhere, but whatever artifact or tome that must sustain this affliction remains maddeningly out of sight.
“What is it?” I roar, but the cabin yields no answers save the wreckage of my fury. Exhausted, I fall to my knees amidst the debris. For all my might, I cannot save Annette from this slow demise.
But I cannot give up. She needs me.
I close my eyes, forcing my rage to subside. The primal urge to rend and destroy yet again consumes me, but I can’t find anything amiss. The bedroom offers no clues either. My claws tear through quilts and mattresses in desperation. Feathers choke the air as I demolish anything that might conceal the insidious curse.
Moving room to room, the last vestiges of reason slip away, giving way to the ferocity of a cornered beast. By the time I've laid waste to every room, a fog of wood dust and debris swirls around my crouched form.
In my rage, I strike a shelf, smashing jars and vials. Glass pierces my fist, but I do not feel it. I watch black demon blood drip steadily as my heart wrenches inside my chest.
Annette pays the price while I flail uselessly in the wreckage this witch left behind. She believed I could protect her, could save her. But all my gifts are worthless in the face of this insidious curse.
I collapse to my knees, the rage extinguished, leaving only anguish and regret. My claws could slay legions, but cannot mend a wounded heart or lift this plague upon her spirit. For all my might, I cannot save the one soul that matters most.
In despair, I slam my fists down and the old floorboards splinter and cave in. I claw through the rubble, ripping up rotted planks until a dark gap is revealed beneath the floor. A hidden room!
I drop down into the dusty space, eyes quickly adjusting to the gloom. Strange sigils cover the walls, remnants of the witch’s vile enchantments. In the center sits an ancient wooden box, bound in flesh and studded with teeth and nails. A malevolent energy pulsates from it.
I seize the gruesome box, fresh black blood smearing the grotesque surface. The evil aura bites at my skin, but I refuse to let go.
I present the box to the daylight, its malignant power weakened by the sun. Annette still clings to life, though barely.
But now, the source of her demise is in my hands.
I tighten my grip, feeling the box rattle. Soon I will tear it apart and break its hold on Annette forever. But shattering it alone may not be enough to restore her...
No sacrifice is too great to save her life. I know what must be done. "Hold on, my love," I whisper. "I'm coming."
I squeeze with all my demonic might, claws piercing the box's gruesome exterior. An unholy screeching splits the air as I feel the curse thrash in protest.
The box trembles in my grip, malignant energy pulsing wildly.
With a ferocious roar, I summon every ounce of power and rip the foul thing asunder. An explosion of dark magic buffets me as corrupted souls trapped within wail in anguish. The cabin shakes on its foundations.
I shield my face as vile spirits swirl past, released by the box's destruction. Their cursed prison lies in splinters on the floor, but I can still sense the evil magic burrowing into Annette's soul, anchored there.
