Fate/Reverse Part 1.15

Paralogue: Witch of the Isle

The witch had been watching over the humans for a long while now, so when she felt the pull of their need, she was prepared.

Her pale lips parted around the words to a spell, their meaning forgotten even to her, calling their tenuous connection closer. She set down her knitting, stepped past her tables of half-finished, bubbling experiments, and made her way towards the entrance of the cave. All the while she sang. The melody was a sad one, and she didn’t have to pretend, for once.

The sweet air of their little island crept around the corner of the cleft in the rock face. It should have lifted her voice and carried it outside over the swaying grasses and up to the top of the white tower.

But she had stopped singing. Instead, the witch had fixed her pale-gold eyes at what lay in the grand chamber by the cave entrance, trying not to choke on the feeling that had clawed its way into her throat.

There in the twilight of the far wall was a nest of stone teeth, stalagmites jutting in the semicircle of a mocking smile. Behind their stony fence, just past her reach, was a coffin. It had a screen of transparent crystal inlaid with silver runes, but it could have been a cobbled-together hunk of sandstone compared to the face within it.

Painfully young and painfully beautiful, the noble, slender features lay framed gleaming blonde hair. Their eyes were closed, but the witch could still see the deep blue-green irises, the same color as the Channel on a summer day.

Without truly realizing it, the witch had pressed her body up against the stone teeth until her chest squeezed painfully around them. But she didn’t bother trying to reach through. She had learned long ago that her arm would not reach the coffin, no matter how she stretched or changed it.

The witch allowed herself a moment of anger, relishing the boiling flame her resentment lit within. There had been a time when that alone could have sustained her for months on end, feverishly experimenting and manipulating until a scheme came together.

But now the fire died down in a matter of seconds and she moved on to the outside.

Her slender shoulders itched as wings sprouted from her back and carried her away from the cliffside ledge where the cave lay. She flitted around the ocean spray and quickly landed amongst a grove of ash trees before the sun burned her pale skin.

In front of her lay her latest experiment. A cracked stone altar marked the clearing, looming over a five-pointed star burnt into the grass. A single blossom floated above it, its pink petals stained black.

The flower she had stolen from the useless old man’s orchard and infused with her blood would pull her into reality, but she had set up a few extra measures to guarantee safe passage off the island. Dried blood, black as a raven’s feathers, covered the lines of her pentagram. It had taken her an entire cauldron of venison stew to make up for the lost blood, but the stability it gave to their summoning would be worth it.

The witch grew a talon over her thumb and used it to prick her finger to add one fresh black drop to each corner. The star glowed red and the central pentagram blurred along with the lines between myth and reality. Now all that had to be done was chant and enter.

The witch took one last look at the cave, then glanced up to the alabaster tower that overlooked the whole island.

Useless.

She stuck her tongue out at it, just because she knew he was watching. And perhaps so he could see that her tongue was soft and pink like a human’s, rather than blackened with a forked tip. Then, her levity spent, the witch turned back to the portal with a swirl of her dress.

“I hear your words and your plea,” she chanted.

The pull she had sung to earlier returned, even more insistent. They would have to be patient. Certain changes had to be made for her to truly join them.

“Your will accepts my body and your blade draws forth my destiny. I swear to be what good is left in the world, to form a wall against the once and future storm. By the night that dwells within my blood, I accept passage through the cardinal gates and the opened way. May the Guardian of Scales unwind and grant me entry!”

A silence fell as she caught her breath. Then the air hummed around her, growing along with a red light from the lines in the grass. It mounted in intensity until the sound was almost piercing, their need undeniable.

Taking a deep breath, the witch stepped into the center of the pentagram.

Thoughts bombarded her immediately. So many stories, legends, opinions, all swirling into her being.

For a moment, she resisted. It would empower her to take the energy from the great subconscious of humanity, but to bear her heart to the feelings of so many might shatter the cracked organ for good. But this was the price she had to pay for being summoned, for breaking the rules of the world. To give those humans one last chance…

She would pay it.

An idea struck the core of her spirit, a churning mix of fear, awe, and mystery. There were a few like that, interpretations as a misunderstood fairy of the woods, a creature that can’t be comprehended my mortals. But most cut deeper. The fear remained, but with it there was anger, disgust, betrayal, judgement.

It was to be expected. She was the villain in so many tales. But still the words pounded her soul.

Witch Sorceress

Fae Monster

Traitor Usurper Witch Dragon

Demon Witch Whore Rival

Creature Succubus Witch Enemy Fae

Witch Whore Monster Demon Dragon Witch

Witch Witch Witch Witch Witch Witch Witch Witch Witch-

Then it was over.

She took a shuddering breath of the thin air of what had once been the real world. She blinked her eyes against the sultry red light that had accompanied her, now fading into an open courtyard presided over by the steeple of a church.

Three figures crowded before her. The first judgement had been endured. Now came the second.