Sleep did not come easy to Nathaniel and when it did, his dreams were plagued by Paul’s accusations. It wasn’t the first time the young man had lost a comrade, but this time it felt different. Perhaps, this was one of the side-effects of the witch’s spell. Because of it, he kept an eye on Irene. There was no telling if the Witch Hunter was going to kill him. By the time the first shy rays of light touched the horizon, Nathaniel felt like crap.

The conversation he had witnessed last night did not help either. If anything, it brought too many questions with every piece of information he had learned. However, it did answer one thing that bothered him since he met the woman. Irene Navina and Irene Nox were sisters after all. The similarity should have been proof enough, but with Witch Hunters, one could never be sure. At the same time, the difference in character and behaviour was staggering.

There was also the small detail that he had seen a Witch Hunter in training. Something no one could claim to have done. The girl looked about his age, but try as he may, he could not recall anything about her exact appearance. All he could recall was that only one of her eyes was emerald green. A trait he noticed that was shared by all Witch Hunters. If he thought about it, in his eighteen years, he had seen only Irene Nox and no other woman of that noble order. And in the last three days, he had been travelling with one, met two more and potentially was an enemy to all three of them.

Nathaniel’s mind felt sluggish and he rubbed his stinging eyes. He dared a look at Irene, who was leaning against the far wall. She looked to be sleeping, but he had heard her talking to herself all through the night. The young man could not make out the words, but whatever she was debating it involved the other two Witch Hunters. This did not stop him to take the time and marvel at the woman’s constitution. She had not slept for at least two days straight, yet as soon as the horizon brightened, she snapped her eyes open and motioned for him to get up.

“Come sailor.” Irene smiled at him and picked up the great sword from the floor next to where she sat.

“Where are we going in such a hurry?” Nathaniel inquired, not hoping for a straight answer. Truth be told, he had reached his destination, but without Paul, he had no idea what to do with himself. Until recently, his only goal was to find Lady Nox and beg her to train him to fight the beasts and monsters of the Wilds. But now, he was having second thoughts about it.

“To the market.” The woman shrugged and packed the small bag that contained what he believed to be everything she owned. And if he had to guess, it was all related to her vocation.

“Why?” Nathaniel felt frustration at the pace this conversation was going. In his sleep-deprived state, the question came out as an accusation. “The reputable vendors will not be out for at least a couple of hours and the caravans will take almost as much to set up their stalls.” Some things did not change.

“True, but by then, the shady peddlers will be gone.” Irene gave him a mischievous smile. “And those I am more interested in.”

“Are we going to continue like this the whole day?” He snapped, suddenly realising that he had to stop feeling sorry for himself. Perhaps it wasn’t the smartest idea to antagonise the woman, but Nathaniel had had enough.

“I hope this newfound bravery is not because of what you heard last night.” Although there was a smile on the Witch Hunter’s lips, it was absent from her eyes. This was the first time; he had really looked into those two emerald orbs and all he could see there was nothing. Only pure boredom. “Well, boy, let me tell you something. That one-eyed beach is not going to lift her finger to help you.”

Irene walked closer and leaned forward, placing her hands on his thighs. The tip of her nose almost touching his cheek she purred in his ear. “She may play the hero, but she is only a pawn.” The light of the morning sun caught her eyes, bathing them in a deep golden hue.

“But it is not her you are interested in…” Nathaniel realised he was holding his breath, his heart thundering in his chest. No. Her eyes were always gold, he remembered. They had never been green. Then why had he seen them as bright shining emeralds? His mind was playing tricks on him. He forced himself to focus on what the woman was saying.

“… the girl. I must admit she is pretty and there is still chance for her to…” Irene stopped abruptly and scrutinised him. Her face hardened and the smile dropped from her lips. “You noticed.”

The Witch Hunter pulled back; her eyes locked into his. Nathaniel could see the hesitation in her body. He would have missed it, should have missed it. The small trembling the index finger on her right hand, the shallow movement of her chest, the slight spasm in the muscles on the left side of her face, they were all signs she was ready to explode into action at the slightest provocation. He had seen those when they sparred in the bog. The young man had seen it just before she killed Helen and a second before she slid her knife in Paul’s heart. But until now that memory was part of the background of his thoughts. At this moment, his body was warning him to be extremely careful.

Therein lay the problem. Nathaniel had no idea what he was supposed to have noticed that provoked such a reaction from Irene. He pushed his brain to the limit to find what could it be, but there were too many possibilities. Allowing this situation to continue was not an option the young man was willing to explore.

“Dangerous? Perhaps…” Irene whispered to herself, once more proving that she was insane and most likely unhinged. “Tell me, boy, when did you first notice?”

“I don’t understand…” Nathaniel managed to pry open his dry mouth. He felt the tension in the room gather around him like a physical force, threatening to crush him under its weight.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” Her hand moved closer to the knife at her belt. “Only three people have ever noticed my eyes and all three of them are very dead. The first was a rather cunning witch, who had a powerful demon serving her. The second was a fortune reader, who had flocks of spirits gather around him. The third was a child in Sardal, who was gifted and cursed to see what lurked in the shadows.”

Before Nathaniel could react, the woman pushed him on the bed and was on top of him. He felt the cold blade of the knife kiss his throat gently enough to only lightly pierce the skin. As far as threats went, this was quite clear – move and die. The former sailor cursed himself, but it was quite some time since he was with a woman and now was the worst time for this to happen. He was certain, the Witch Hunter could feel his arousal, the way she was stride atop of him. It was as if some spell had taken hold of him. That was the only reasonable explanation he could think of.

Something about this woman had him behave out of character. During his service on the various ships, Nathaniel had learned to control such urges. After all, women were pirates too and because of all the additional dangers involved, they tended to outnumber men three to one, all along the coast. Not just this one, the situation was the same no matter which coast. And bitter experience had taught him that they could use their charms and bodies to take advantage of any situation.

“Now, why don’t you be so kind and answer my question?” Irene sniffed him like a cat would smell a mouse to make sure it was not playing dead.

“Back when you killed the porcupine bear…” Nathaniel could barely string the words. His mind was racing in a dozen different direction, making it hard to think. “I assumed it was because of the light after I saw they were emerald back at the camp…”

“Interesting,” The Witch Hunter pulled back a little. “Strong and perceptive… Are you sure?”

“Of course!” Was she listening to him? As things were, lying to her was only going to get his neck sliced, something he was trying very desperately to avoid. “Why is it so important what colour…”

“Be quiet!” Irene snapped at him and cocked her head to one side as if she was listening to something. Once the two golden orbs were no longer scrutinising him, Nathaniel exhaled and felt his thoughts calm down a little. The respite was over a moment later when the insane woman fixed him with her eyes. “No contract, that much is clear. Which means…”

Irene jumped back, like a startled animal. The smile returned to her ruby lips and her eyes were shining emeralds once more. “A scion of a hybrid.”

Like that, whatever affliction she had placed on him was gone. Nathaniel was in full control of his faculties. However, he was not stupid enough to act without thinking. Very slowly, he sat back on the edge of the bed and examined what had happened. On the other hand, being calm would achieve nothing and he could not exist in a constant state of fear. Besides, he had a lot of pant up anger and frustration that required venting.

“What the fuck is your problem!” Nathaniel shouted and the smiling woman. “You are supposed to be a Witch Hunter and apparently are a blood relative to the God-slayer herself!” Her expression shattered and for the first time, he noticed emotion in her eyes – disdain.

“It is you, kid. You are my problem.” Her voice was low and cold. Despite that, Irene kept a distance between them. As if he was any threat to her. The thought alone would have made him laugh.

“I’ve had enough of this!” The young man barked and retrieved the medallion wrapped around his neck, breaking the delicate chain while doing so. “I know you are interested in this, whether you admit it or not! If you are not going to take me to Lady Nox, I will ask the other two Witch Hunters.” He finished, restraining the anger in his voice.

“The Ilwgwaed coin is going to advance my goals, true. But the one in your hands is not the only one and I can be very patient.” Something in Irene’s words bothered him deeply.

Nathaniel had crossed the point of no return. He could not take back what he said and neither could he ignore her actions. The only options, he could see available, were to push forward or escape, if the situation demanded it. As far as the latter went, the young man was somewhat fortunate. By sheer luck, the bed was close to the single small window in the room and the insane woman was far enough for him to make the jump.

The street below should be the main one, meaning there ought to be a few people up and about for the Witch Hunter to think twice against pursuing him in the open. Nathaniel was sure he was missing something obvious, but it could wait for later when he was safe.

“If that is the case, I will be taking my leave.” The former sailor stood up. “I hope to never see you again, Lady Navina.”

“Oh?” Irene giggled and juggled her knife in a pointless show of skill. “I don’t think so.”

That settled it, she made the choice for him. It was a shame that he would have to leave his kit behind, but compared to escaping with his life it was a small price to pay. Returning her smile with one of his own, Nathaniel spun on his heels and launched himself through the window. The moment his body hit the wood frame and glass; he realised the first obvious thing he had ignored. The damn thing was far sturdier than he had expected. If not for his momentum and weight, the young man would have looked like a fool when he bounced back of it.

A moment later, the second obvious thing sprang to his mind – they were on the second floor. The cobbled stones of the street greeted him with a wave of pain as he crushed onto it. Nathaniel felt the breath escape his lungs and his head was ringing from the impact. His vision swam and he could taste blood in his mouth. It took him several attempts to push himself on his knees, let alone stand and run.

Nathaniel vision started to clear when he was flung back into the wall of the inn. A strong arm grabbed him by the throat and slammed him in the coarse bricks a second time. The youth blinked the tears away to see the Witch Hunter’s amused smile. Behind her had gathered a group of men from the local Dusk brigade. They must have come running at the sound of breaking glass.

“You may go.” Irene waved them away without turning her head. “I can deal with this.”

“Should we call the guards, Witch Hunter?” One of the men covered by a dark blue cape asked and finally, Nathaniel realised his biggest mistake. Irene Navina was a Witch Hunter and no one would bat an eye to stop her from gutting him out in the open.

“No need. This is an order matter.” Like that the men lowered their heads and resumed their patrol.

“I honestly wonder what goes through your head or is it devote of rational thought?” Irene whispered in Nathaniel’s ear, pinning him against the wall. “I’ve taken a liking to you, which means you are stuck with me. As for your beloved God-slayer… She is no more.”

No, she was lying! He was sure of it. Someone like Lady Nox could not just without anyone noticing. There were constant stories and rumours that she was heading deeper and deeper into the continent, exploring the unknown parts of the Wilds. The crazy woman kissed him on the cheek and smiled, before letting him go.

Amberly could not peel her eyes from the alter. The demon had appeared without warning and in the same way, it was gone. In its place was a woman with pale skin and raven black hair that caressed her shoulders. Her violate eyes glistened with cunning and dread, as she slowly examined the basilica’s interior. She was beautiful and so very powerful, the young witch noticed. When she stretched her back and arms with a moan of unmatched pleasure, her shadow moved a fraction later, mimicking the same motion.

The entities they contracted, resided in a witch’s shadow. But for it to replace it, both demon and master had to be exceptionally powerful and skilled. Soon, once the two spent some time with each other, no one would be able to tell the difference and Amberly realised she was jealous of the unnamed founder of the Raven’s Wing. Not unnamed, the young witch corrected herself. That monstrous demon had called her Margo the Raven.

“I do not recall this place.” The great witch spoke in a soft seductive voice.

“The sacred remains…” One of the hooded women gasped and dropped to her knees, quickly followed by every witch inside the basilica.

“Stay your tongue, imbecile! Give her your clothing!” A tall woman hidden underneath a black robe jumped from one of the dark alcoves behind the altar. The sigil stitched with gold thread marked her as the current matron of the Raven’s Wing covenant. A position she was very likely to be removed from if Margo’s withering stare was anything to go by.

“Are you the one in charge of this covenant?” The great witch asked, a hint of impatience sneaking into her voice. “Answer my question.”

“Quickly, girl! Do you wish to further test the great one’s temper with your laziness?!” The matron’s scream was followed by a startled yelp and the woman in question jumped to her feet. Her trembling hands struggled to undo the straps of her robe and all the while Amberly was trying to comprehend if everyone was deaf.

“This will be amusing.” Her companion hissed in her head and she could swear the thing was salivating at what was happening.

“What do you mean?” The young witch asked it, making sure her mouth remained closed. It was a show of bad manners and weakness to openly talk with one’s contracted demon. This was neither the time nor the place for her to make such a mistake.

“She speaks the language of old,” her companion laughed in its guttural tones, “but those fools it is as if she is speaking in tongues.”

“Then how can I…”

“I don’t know and I don’t care. You, my sweet, can understand almost any spoken language in existence. It’s the gift that attracted me to you.” Amberly was left with the impression of a tongue licking jagged teeth once the thing spoke. “Oh, the fun we could have such a skill! Now, be quiet and enjoy the show.”

The warning came just in time for the girl to see Margo’s face twist with displeasure.

“I will not be ignored!” She shouted and Amberly felt the muscles in her neck protest in pain when her head snapped to look directly at the founder of the Raven’s Wing.

To have used such a strong compulsion in her voice was extraordinary. This woman was not a witch, she was a monster. None of the stories and tomes, Amberly had read, spoke of the witches of old having this kind of power. They were supposed to be strong, but this was on a different level. No wonder Margo and the other founders, even if their names were forgotten through the ages, were revered by every single covenant.

“You,” Margo pointed at Amberly and stepped off the alter, her body flickering through the air. In a few seconds, the revived witch stood in front of her, unbothered by her nakedness. “You have not stopped staring at me, while those used hags dared not look at me.”

Placing her finger under the girl’s chin, Margo pulled her up. “You do not fear me like the others, child. Answer my question.”

“This… is the basilica of Yney, home to the covenant of the Raven’s Wing…” The great witch was mistaken, Amberly was very afraid of her. To the point, she was just about ready to piss herself.

“Why am I here?”

“This is your tomb… uhm… mistress…” the girl stuttered, unsure how to address such a revered woman.

“Interesting… I died in Ulgrad,” Margo tapped her lips with her free hand.

After a short consideration, she leaned forward and kissed the initiate. Amberly felt tremendous pressure build at the back of her head as an unknown hex was placed on her. With each passing second, the pain grew and the young witch could only hope that her skull would be crushed sooner to make it go away.

“You know nothing of interest.” Margo pulled back and gently brushed Amberly’s hair. “But your friend, on the other hand, is most entertaining. Don’t underestimate him, there is none better suited for you.”

The ancient witch turned and moved next to the matron of the Raven’s Wing in the same flickering motion. She was not only using her powers constantly; she was abusing them to their maximum and revelled in it. The girl knew it but was not sure how.

“A hex of a shared mind,” her companion grumbled. “Alas, you did not possess the knowledge she was searching for. Do not worry, the link will fade away in a few minutes and you will no longer have to experience the shadow of her emotions.”

“Child, be a dear and translate my words so that this crone can understand them.” Margo motioned for the girl to come closer.

“How long was I dead?” Amberly did as she was bid, secretly enjoying the stunned look on the matron’s face.

“Great one, please, I beg of you, place your enchantment on me. There is no need to use a mere novice as a medium.” The woman fought to keep control of her voice. “She is not even one of our covenant’s sisters.”

A wave of frustration washed over Amberly. If this was only a part of the ancient witch’s emotion, then the matron was in grave danger.

“Who amongst you is second to this one?” The woman that had stopped stripping rose her shaking hand.

“Me… great one… Cecilia Kar… my name, great one…” The blood drained from the poor woman’s face once both her matron and the ancient witch scrutinised her. One with hatred and the other with amusement in her eyes.

Margo snapped her fingers and a terrible scream issued from the throat of the leader of the Raven’s Wing. The woman shrivelled like a dried fruit as her life was snuffed. A glowing violet sigil formed on her mummified head, before the body crumbled to dust. Amberly made a note to never anger the ancient witch.

“Answer my question.” The girl almost bit her tongue in her hurry to translate the words.

“Just over six centuries, great one,” Cecilia could not stop shaking, her eyes darting from the pile of dust to Margo.

“It wasn’t so hard, was it?” She smiled and walked to the alter placing her hand on it, inspecting it, feeling only anger and bewilderment.

“Why is this thing here?” Margo snapped and kicked the ritual skulls. “Send someone to fetch my staff and kit. It should be in this house’s reliquary with the other artefacts.”

Her command was greeted with silence. Cecilia’s mouth moved in an attempt to form words and grew even paler if such a thing was possible.

“Did you not hear me?” Amberly felt her gut tighten into a knot at the wave of anger that assaulted her.

“I’m terribly sorry, great one!” The poor woman dropped to her knees, tears and snot covering her face. “This alter is said to have been erected in your name. It is one of the remaining relics from before the time of the great prosecutions…”

“This is a poisoned gift!” Margo yelled, her voice re-igniting the enchanted candles. “It was meant to torment me and remind me of my failures! It must be… What did you say?”

“Five… Five hundred years ago…” This time blood dripped from Cecilia’s nose and eyes. “The Witch Hunters came from… the north… Most of… of the relics and… artefacts were… lost in the conflict… Your tomb… had to be relocated to… this place… To ensure its… safety…”

“The Witch Hunters?” Amberly felt Margo’s confusion.

“Women strong enough to challenge us and the beast we tame.” The girl offered, seeing the poor woman sob uncontrollably on the floor.

“Women? Not men?” Margo’s eyes narrowed, the young witch no longer sensing her strong emotions.

“No. Only women, recognised by their emerald eyes.”

“So…” Margo sat on the edge of the alter tapping her fingers on the smooth surface. “This is the form your revenge has taken, you fucking bitch. You did promise to burn it all to the ground and I was a fool to dismiss your threats. But you are dead and I am not.” She said to no one in particular.

“Well, nothing can be done about the past.” The ancient witch jumped from the alter and picked up the robes baring the matron’s sigil. “How many sisters in the covenant?”

“Four…” Cecilia paused, “Thirteen.”

“Congratulations!” The previous seductiveness returned to Margo’s voice, as did her smile. “You have a new leader and a fresh initiate. Mark this one later.” She reached for Amberly’s hair and pushed a strand of it behind her ear before turning to those who had gathered.

“If you cannot understand my words,” Margo smiled. “Leave at once!”