The Dark Witch Chronicles Book One: The Curse of The Cymmerien Dragon

She shuddered as she drew in deep gasps of breath. Eyes rolling upwards and head throbbing with pain, Amara struggled to let out a scream. Blood trickled down her forehead, the chilly night making wisps of wind as it echoed softly in her ears. Her heart was beating faster with every passing minute and the rain splattering across the bars of the broken window pane made it even worse. She struggled to keep sitting, her hands bound to the chains and her legs still in place. The numbness that surrounded her entire body made her want to cry, but no one would hear her screams. She knew that.

Her eyes travelled to the young boy, Thomas, sitting across from her, curled up in a ball. He was crying, sobbing to himself so softly that she had to strain her ears to know the sounds. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, to try to know why he was crying. He looked so vulnerable that she felt like pulling him into a hug. He reminded her of Arion, her little brother, her little eleven-year-old brother. They had killed her innocent brother.

They had killed everyone, and she could not understand what their fault was. Is it my fault that I am a witch? She wondered. She had the ability to make things happen without even trying. She could make a flying bird descend to the ground, she could make people cry if she was angry, she could move things around, yet she could not understand how that happened. She didn’t think that those abilities had anything to do with her being a witch and that Azar too was like her. She had never told anyone about what unusual things happened without any effort from her side. She felt a bit scared to discuss it with her father as well, even though she presumed that he might understand. Now that she knew she was a witch.….

Her eyes widened at the thought as realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. The raindrops fell onto her face from the window above and she looked down at her hands, at the chains that were controlling her limbs. If it was true that she was a witch and she could make things happen, surely she could set herself free as well. The moment that thought crossed her mind, the chains loosened and she sat there staring at her hands, which were no longer bound by chains, but were bleeding from the wrists. The sensation of the chains still lingered on her feet and wrists. She looked up to find Thomas sitting opposite to her, now appearing as though he had not shed a single tear from his eyes. He gave her a tiny smile and she returned it while looking at his chains. They left his limbs as well.

He shook his head to which Amara frowned. His expression suddenly became horrified and eyes went wide. Shaking his head again, he stood up, a trembling body along. She looked at him in confusion.

“You shouldn’t have done this,” he said shakily. Amara got up to her feet and stumbled as she wobbled along the floor. She placed one palm on the wall to steady herself. Her legs were threatening to give away any moment.

“What are you talking about, Thomas?” She asked, confusion etching on her features.

The way he was looking at her, the disconcerted expression told her something bad was going to happen. He kept shaking his head rapidly and she could only stare at him, unaware of what he was trying to convey. He opened his mouth as if to say something but not a sound escaped and he stopped shaking his head as his eyes widened with shock. Amara tried to understand and listen to him, when she felt a pull as a strong arm stealthily slithered around her waist. She jerked her head around and disbelief encompassed her eyes as she saw Leo’s face inches away from hers, eyes mere slits, highlighting his hollow, high cheekbones, a wicked smile playing on his lips, as he hummed an innocuous tune. Her breath hitched as she tried vehemently to push him away, but he began dragging her out of the cell, as she kicked and flailed helplessly. Pools of tears flooded down her eyes as she bit down on her lip. Her toes curled inwards, nails dug into her palms and pain wrenched on her insides.

“RUN!” bellowed Thomas as Amara struggled to get out of Leo’s grip.

But it was too strong. She screamed, her voice cracked, the Deathly echo bouncing back, it was as though the whole chamber shook with the trembling sounds she made but no one came to her rescue. She did not know what was going to happen to her, she did not know what Leo was doing and where he was taking her. All she wanted to do was to get out of his grasp.

“Come now, princess,” he said silkily.

They passed through a few cells where behind the bars, she saw people crying and wailing and some bodies like mere corpses floating above the floors, some of them looked at her and gave her silent apologies while she screamed her lungs out as Leo’s nails dug into her flesh. Her head throbbed with pain, the blood now flowing free.

As they crossed the cells and walked towards an unknown destination, she could feel biting cold wind enter from somewhere. And suddenly, she was thrown onto a cold, hard floor inside a chamber. Leo locked the door carefully before turning to her with a menacing expression across his face and carelessly started strutting towards her.

Chills ran down her spine, she was unsure whether it was from the cold or his foul expression as he began walking towards her. Somehow, she managed to gather all her strength and slithered a few inches behind trying to get herself in an upright position, her heart pounding. Her wrists hurt as though someone was meticulously driving a blade across her skin and the unbearable stinging sensation made her unable to move her hands. Her feet throbbed with pain from where the chains had trapped her and her head was oozing out blood that covered the right side of her face and shoulder. The pain was becoming stronger, and her body more rigid than it had ever been. She was unsure if she would even be able to move beyond this. Her strength was giving up and the harder she tried to get away from Leo, the closer he got.

Leo continued to hum as he approached her and crouched beside her on the floor where her back was now pressed against a wall as she lay there in an uncomfortable position, unable to move. His hand rose up to her cheek, and his fingers slid slowly along her temple as he pushed a strand of hair, dampened by blood, behind her ear.

Amara shuddered as his touch made her cringe inwardly in disgust and she let out an inaudible cry. She did not want him to touch her. She did not want him anywhere close to her.

As happy as his presence and closeness had made her feel just a week ago, now it made her want to push him away and not let him get anywhere near her. She realized that she couldn’t bear to be in the same room with this man anymore, and hated his guts. She detested the way he was looking at her as though she was some prey.

“Such a pretty girl,” he drawled. “But with a brick for a brain.” He spat. Chuckling he added, “How silly of you to trust a man so easily,” he said, his hand had moved from caressing her face to a Deathly grip around her throat, while the other was stealthily running up from her knee along to her inner thigh. She choked, gasping for breath and trying desperately to let loose his grip, her jaw fell open, and she made gasping sounds as she struggled to breathe.

“Isn’t it funny, the way you believed my claims of love, only to land yourself here? The place where you might get tortured, or worse, killed,” he whispered, his lips close to her ear.

She shivered as his breath hit her ear, wanting to get away from him; she forced her eyes shut as he chuckled maliciously. His voice rang in her ears, piercing through her every nerve and she tried in vain raising her hands to push him away, but his grip on her throat tightened.

“Tell me, little princess, where is everyone? Or do you wish to go through more?” he said, as his other hand gripped the waistline of her gown. With one swift movement, he had ripped her flimsy gown apart and he threw the cloth away his nails scratching across her abdomen, drawing blood. A bloodcurdling scream left her mouth as he released her neck, her voice cracked. Tears streamed down her eyes as his fingers curled themselves in her hair behind her neck, pulling at her hair threateningly.

“TELL ME!” he bellowed.

Amara cringed and felt disgusted. His touch was unbearable, more unbearable than the pain that she felt. The little clothing that covered her was threatening to fall away from her chest making her vulnerable. God only knew what he would do once the rest of it was off. Something began to break inside of her and she fought to get away from him. She was frightened even thinking about what he was going to do to her. How would she fight him?

She was already weak. Before she could retort, the rest of her clothes were off in one go. There were scratches on her body. Scars covered her skin as his fingers pierced right into her flesh. She writhed in pain. Her eyes rolled upwards as she let out a breathless shriek of agony.

“NO!” she screeched.

Her body shivered uncontrollably as Leo forced himself onto her. His very action of tearing the remnant skirts off her made her want the earth to open up right there and swallow her. Tears streamed down her face as she cried out. Her body shook with the immeasurable pain he was inflicting upon her.

Leo’s hands mercilessly dragged across her skin, burning wherever they travelled. His touch sent waves of disgust down her body as she screamed out loud. Amara wept at the pain coursing through her and her eyes squeezed shut as her skin stung at the cold air. The numbness in her body did not help either. Even though she knew what she was capable of, right now, her strength seemed to have disappeared; hollow cries left her, her eyes now drawing pools of tears, her cheeks stained in blood mixed with the tears.

The man she had fallen in love with was vile, cruel and indignant, and she realized what a huge mistake she had made. Her whole body was in flames. It was as though she was being shattered into a million pieces. The screams came out from every part of her soul as Leo mercilessly defiled her. To silence her screams, Leo placed a hand on her mouth. With trembling fingers, she raised her hands above the floor in an attempt to push him off but her hands were unable to leave the cold surface. Her eyes blinded and heart throbbed inside as his breath fanned her face. She couldn’t bear it. His presence, his touch, his smell, his skin….

Gathering her strength, Amara raised her hands and started to push Leo away when he gripped her wrists tightly and slammed them back onto the floor. Yet, her muffled cries shook the walls, but her efforts to set herself free were failing. His assault continued; nails pierced the skin at her wrists as she lay there writhing beneath him, bloodcurdling screams escaping her mouth every time the pain increased. She struggled under his weight, shaking her head from right to left and left to right, not being able to contain it any longer. Tears stung her skin as they effortlessly fell out of her eyes. She wanted to crawl away somewhere so she could wash his touch off every part of her body but the more she struggled, the more pain she felt. Her neck twisted backwards and she shook her legs violently to set herself free somehow…anyhow but nothing was going to help.

Disgust coursed through her from head to toe at the feel of his skin against hers and she could no longer struggle; for he had taken what he wished to. She had lost herself. He had exercised his power on her and she had no control over it anymore. Her eyes opened as the pain shattered her very core and she saw his face mere inches from hers. She wanted to scream and fight but Leo’s smirk of satisfaction made her go still in place. Her legs stopped shaking, hands stopped trembling, neck in place, and she stared up at the ceiling with her eyes wide open. Her fingers loosened their hold and palms turned upwards. She gave up when his weight shifted off of her but the sensation of him was still as present, still as prominent.

Shrieks of agony refused to leave her lips as she felt Leo shuffling around and then taking steps towards her again. He began to say something to her but Amara’s eyes were stuck at the ceiling, she heard nothing as the remnant teardrops slipped down. Her chest heaved as she breathed pants of breath. The door of the chamber opened and Leo strode out while Amara lay there in place, letting out a deep breath before blinking a few times. Pulling her knees slowly towards her, she cringed at the pain as her limbs shifted closer to her chest. Wrapping her arms around her sore legs, Amara turned to her side and stared at the wall before her. Cold air swished inside through the open window and hit her bare skin, searing right through her as she shivered every now and then.

She lay there for what seemed like hours, unmoving, with her arms protecting her curled up body. When the sun began to rise and light streamed in through the window, Amara blinked once again before tears started to slide down her eyes once again as her mind went back to what had happened mere hours ago. The walls shook with her cries, the violent screams that she let out as pain engulfed her with every passing moment. Her body trembled but arms stayed in place, head buried in them as she wept. Tears slowly slid down her bloodshot eyes, landing on the floor. Her breath struggled to get even, as her body shivered every once in a while, reminding her of what had just happened, making her weaker by the moment.

And then her heart grew slower, her breathing shallow as she faded into unconsciousness.

***

Iris sat in a corner, her knees close up to her chest as she stared at the floor silently. She had never felt this much pain. Never had she experienced what Amara had. Her eyes started to water as she looked up at Amara who was standing with her back facing Iris, her gaze focussed out the window. Biting her lip, Iris opened her mouth to say something but no words left her mouth. She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to block away the visions of what she had seen after Amara had let her into her mind. Even though she was not the one experiencing it, Iris felt every bit of pain that Amara did when she was being tortured. If this was not the reason for Amara to be so ruthless, then Iris did not know. There was so much agony; so many infuriated thoughts inside of Amara’s head, that Iris could no longer feel the dislike she felt towards her when she first arrived. Why would a woman not inflict pain on others when she had been subjected to extreme torture at such a young age? She questioned herself. How could a man even think of assaulting a woman like that? Was it justified? Was it, in any way, righteous to take a woman’s innocence without her will, so forcefully? Did he gain information of the other witches that Amara had no idea about? Did he achieve the innocence of a seventeen-year-old who was unaware about what her fault was? Iris’ head was overflowing with questions that she decided were best left unanswered for the moment.

It wasn’t the victims’ fault when she gave pain to them, but it wasn’t Amara’s fault either. She was young, she was childish and she trusted a man who assured her happiness, but did she know where that would lead her? Iris wiped her tears and stood up, pushing her hair behind her ears. The amount of pain that Amara had gone through was beyond her imagination. She could never envision herself in a situation like hers. Now, her mind flooded with thoughts of what she would have done if she were in place of Amara. Iris shivered at the mere thought of it.

“It wasn’t easy, of course, but I don’t know what made me stay awake through it all,” Amara said just as Iris started to approach her. She wanted to give her a hug but she knew better than that. Emotionless, that is what Amara was. She had a valid reason for that.

“The worst part is; I don’t even remember how many times he came back after that. Maybe I was just too numb to notice,” she said again, her voice void of all emotion and Iris remained silent.

This was the first time Amara was being honest and open without letting Iris invade her mind. She was actually telling her everything rather than showing it to her. However, Amara felt nothing, not one emotion crossed her mind when she thought back to what had happened. It had been years, and it did make her disgusted with herself but she was so far away from it all by this point, that she could hold a straight face and not wince as Iris did when she found out. Amara had grown accustomed to the incident that made her stronger and weaker all at the same time. She stared out the window; thinking about how she would make Iris trained enough to help her.

The cold vibes that she gave off to everyone was something she had adapted over time. Never letting her emotions come in way of what she wanted to achieve, and never letting herself grow any weaker after being vulnerable at one point. Her heart had gone cold, her mind had gone cold and her soul was under the cover of a stone. It was as though no part of her felt human, as though she had caged her soul inside. She felt no pain, no sorrow, nothing. Her heart and mind were trapped inside of her, and she held herself strong to keep it that way.

“Iris, I know this is hard for you to take. It has only been about two months since your training began. You are doing incredibly well and I know I didn’t make the wrong decision in taking your help; but you still need to get stronger. You see these episodes of my past life so that I can make it easier for you to help me. I want you to be stronger from now on,” said Amara as she turned around to face Iris.

“I understand, but can’t you tell me what it is that you need help with? I need to know,” she responded, stepping further.

Amara sighed, “I cannot tell you that at the moment, but I will when the time is right. I just want you to concentrate on your training for now. And when the time comes, I will tell you everything.”

Iris nodded her head slightly as Amara walked past her out of the chamber. Letting out the breath she was holding, Iris walked to a chair and grabbed a decrepit volume of Ancient Witchcraft from the table on the side. Flipping through the pages, she pulled her feet up on the chair, and settled herself comfortably. It wasn’t until the page of her book had a few drops of water on it that she realized she was crying. Her heart felt as though it was aching inside as she squeezed her eyes shut and let the tears fall.

ӿ ӿ ӿ

Outside, Amara flew up to the highest tower of the castle and circled it before placing herself inside. She rested her fingers on the railing, inhaling the fresh morning air as the sun shone down at her.

“Pleasant morning, isn’t it?” a voice said from behind her startling Amara slightly, as she turned around to find Nicholas, Lord Lucifer’s nephew, standing there with his hands behind his back, grinning

Amara nodded in acknowledgement and turned back around to the scene in front of her. Nicholas was the hundred and fifty-year-old sorcerer, who still looked as though he was of twenty and known to be a charming one. He usually travelled a lot and occasionally visited Lord Lucifer. He was famous for being bright with the element of wind and had helped Lord Lucifer in training Amara. Known for his good looks and exceptional skills, he had witches falling at his feet. Amara was least affected. She had long eliminated the chance of any sorcerers being anywhere close to five feet of her. Nicholas, on the other hand, seemed just friendly, but not overly, because he was perfectly aware of how Amara was. His interest lay in other witches who were easily available. The coven knew how cold Amara was towards all the males and Amara knew why she was that way. She didn’t have to explain herself to anyone.

“I heard that Lord Mikhail sent threats,” he said, as he came to stand next to her.

“Mm, yes,” she replied softly, giving a nod. Her eyes were scanning the woods surrounding the castle, and how it was illuminated by the sunlight. The castle gleamed in the brilliant rays of the sun. The woods in the distance, ominous, looked just as beautiful as they did at night.

“I have requested for protection from the King. But I’m sure he is under Lord Mikhail’s influence,” Nicholas said, looking out at the woods.

“I do not trust the King or his servants. Although, I don’t reckon we need protection either. All of us are perfectly capable of protecting the castle.”

“I am aware of that, but-”

“Nicholas, the King will only send people who are Lord Mikhail’s servants. We can’t take that risk.” Amara shook her head, now looking at him.

“Then what do you suggest we do?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Wait and see what our dear High Minister wants.” She shrugged.

“Or send spies,” Nicholas suggested.

“Spies? Who would want to spy on Lord Mikhail and put their lives in danger?” Amara said, raising an eyebrow.

“My messenger, of course.” He smiled, as though stating the obvious. Amara frowned in confusion while Nicholas raised his hands in front of him and flicked his fingers when appeared a majestic, tawny eagle, flapping its wings and then coming to rest on his extended arm, as it gently nudged Nicholas on the cheek in a gesture that was an expression of pure and unadulterated love.

Amara stared at the beautiful bird in awe. Eagles, being magnificent creatures, she had always admired them. They were elegant and fierce at the same time. As a child, they fascinated her. They intrigued her and she wished to be around them. Eagles made her feel closer to herself but she had no idea how.

“Gather your kind and get us all the useful information about Lord Mikhail and what he is doing. I shall wait for you to return,” he whispered to the bird who bowed its head, obeying what Nicholas said and looked at Amara once before flying away into the sky.

“I don’t think their lives are going to be in danger. I suppose Lord Mikhail needs to be careful of these malevolent creatures,” Nicholas said, smiling at his eagle.

“Well then, that is settled. If there isn’t anything else, I think I should go back into the castle,” said Amara and started walking to the staircase that led down into the castle.

“Wait, there is something I think you should know,” Nicholas said and Amara stopped in her tracks, and waited for him to continue.

Nicholas walked over to her and looked at her seriously to which she focussed her attention. She sensed something important.

“Iris is being trained by Erasmus, am I correct?” He asked.

“Not particularly, he is just around to answer her questions. Mostly I am training her,” Amara replied.

“Erasmus is Lord Mikhail’s first target,” he said.

“Erasmus? But he’s harmless,” Amara responded, giving a confused expression.

“Precisely, but he is very friendly with Iris. And she surely is a potential threat.”

Amara nodded her head in understanding, a worried expression etching across her face. Erasmus was the link to Iris who had the capability of becoming a great witch. If Amara was a threat to Lord Mikhail, so was Iris one of the contenders who could stand in front of him in a war and defeat him. She had the potential to become a brilliant witch if properly trained. Erasmus was acting as a connection to her and the world of Conjurers. He was helping her adapt to everything that was new around her and he was the only person with whom she felt comfortable in the castle. If anything were to happen to him, there were chances that Iris would get weaker. Her motivation to deal with the surroundings of the darkness that she was about to face would go down a few levels and it would be difficult to help her reach her goal.

With Erasmus gone, Iris would be the next target. There was no doubt about his strength. He had been in the coven for more than two hundred years. He was strong enough to face the battles that were put forth. Iris was capable of being strong in every other thing, but the one weakness that she had, was Erasmus.