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He eyed the glossy red. “Ah.”
“Don’t worry, it can’t get out of here.” I gestured at the reinforced walls and closed steel door. “Nor can you, should you go mad.”
He smirked. “I’m sure you won’t hesitate in putting me down if I get out of line.”
“Not for a second.”
A glint of challenge crossed his gaze. “Let’s do this.” When he placed the ring on his finger, his eyes changed. His pupils took on the night as their blue dissolved into blackness. His expression turned blank, and his hands trembled.
“You must remember, it isn’t real. Fight through it. It’s an illusion,” I explained. The curse had been created by a rogue magician gone dark some hundred years ago, to especially torture gods and shapeshifters, although it also had a detrimental effect on witches. “Viktor?”
His bottom lip shook as he attempted to open his mouth, but no words left. After his doing so well at the previous tasks and ones he did alone with Edmund and Maddox, I assumed he’d pass this one with flying colors.
A scream erupted from his mouth. I leaped toward him and grabbed his wrist. The ring burned on contact, and something hot sizzled under his skin. I groaned, trying to pull the ring from his finger, but it was stuck.
He screamed again.
“Maddox!” I shouted, but it was doubtful he’d hear me from the study. He’d know what to do. “I’m trying,” I told Viktor, hoping he could hear me as I pulled at the ring. “Fight through it. Don’t let it win.” My eyes watered as tears fell down his cheeks. He begged against something I couldn’t see, and I pulled harder, letting it burn my fingers.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the ring slid from his finger and into my palm. The curse felt stronger than ever. It wanted more, coiling itself around me.
The memory of the night I was taken from my sister flitted into my mind. It engulfed me, and when usually I’d have the power to fight the curse, this illusion, the memory, pulled me in and kept me there, helpless. I was eleven again, and the clock chimed eight.
The woman was the first witch to be hung in over twenty years in the kingdom of Salvius, and she wouldn’t be the last.
The bitter cold winter swept through the town. Orange hues illuminated the windows of thatched cottages as fires were lit in an effort to stay warm against the iciness. The comforting woodsmoke smell lingered as my sister and I were swept through the streets in a growing crowd. Together, we hurried toward the town square where conversations buzzed, alight with words of “execution” and “hanging.” Many of the townsfolk white-knuckled charms that were said to repel magic, which was useless considering the witch would have already been rendered magicless, but fear often lorded over logic.
I tightened my grip on my sister’s hand as we became lost somewhere in the center of the jeering townsfolk. The last of the sun’s rays faded from the buildings by the time we reached the freshly erected gallows. Oil lamps flickered on as they were lit by lighters, men who were paid to light and maintain the oil lamps on the wide roads. Gray buildings surrounded them, including the town hall, the lord’s mansion, and the apothecary.
“Will they hang her from her neck?” Fear sparkled in Mona’s blue eyes. “Like Miss Thompson said they used to do?”
“Shush, Mona, you’ll get us caught,” I whispered as the crowd dispersed, scattering through the benches and statues in the large, concrete area. All of them stared at the wooden structure with long boards and four steps leading up to it. Hanging between the large beams at the top was a single noose, made from thick rope. Beneath it, a lonely stool.
I pulled Mona behind a statue of a man with a horse. My breath fogged when I spoke. “Don’t do anything to draw attention to us. If we’re caught here, Miss Thompson will not allow us dinner for the next week.” My stomach ached at the memory of the last time I’d been forced into a short starvation, when I’d been caught in town without permission.
Mona nodded. “Okay.” She was two years younger than me and the only family I had left. Freckles dotted her petite nose and rosy cheeks. Her hair reminded me of autumn, when the leaves turned from red to brown, shining a beautiful auburn. My medium-brown hair, unlike Mona’s, remained frizzy no matter what I did.
“They’re bringing her.” Mona’s eyes widened.
I moved us around the statue slowly to get a better look. I was careful to not get the attention of any of the adults, which was easy, as the townsfolk were far too transfixed on the willowy woman with long jet-black hair to notice.
The witch wore a floor-length white dress. In the center of the flowing fabric, crimson veined out along her torso, the blood of her last victim. The newspapers had reported the capture and short trial, which had found the woman guilty, delivering the news to every doorstep in the kingdom.
Skeletal leaves floated from the bare branches overhanging the gallows. Frost covered them like body bags. Rain drizzled from the indigo sky, causing me to shiver and wish I’d brought our jackets. I’d been in a rush, sneaking out before we could be caught.
I pointed at the gallows. “Look at her.” Excitement sizzled through me, racing my heart. I’d never seen one before, a witch. I’d heard so many stories of the powerful and dangerous witches and warlocks from the Istinia, and their deadly gods. I’d always secretly longed to see a witch up close.
The witch’s eyes glistened with cunning as she looked out upon the crowd. Her eyes were black, her thin lips pulled tight into a grimace. For a moment, I could have sworn the woman was looking directly at me, as if she recognized me or something in me.
My stomach dipped. Pulling my gaze away, I wrapped an arm around a shaking Mona. “Do you want to go back?”
Mona shook her head. Excitement had pulled us into the night, the lure to see a witch in the flesh, but it was curiosity that kept us there.
Mona nestled into my side, her eyebrows fixed downward. “Why doesn’t she use her magic to get free?”
“I told you before, Mona. They have the shackles. Every big town has a set. It stops her from being able to cast spells.”
I eyed the shackles on the woman’s bony hands. They were the only thing preventing her from killing them all and turning the noose into ash. They were given to Salvius from Istinia when the peace was made.
