The Vampire & Her Witch

Six days turned into seven, and seven days turned into eight as Ashlynn and Jacques continued to wait for Heila to reawaken as the Willow Witch, though her success seemed less likely with every passing hour.

At this point, Amahle and Talauia returned to the barren island. Whether Heila succeeded at the final hour or succumbed to the power of the seed of witchcraft, Amahle would be there. She still held hope that she had come to witness the birth of this generation’s Willow Witch, but if she was wrong, then Ashlynn would need her support to come to terms with what would come next.

When the two witches arrived at the island, they both took several moments to stare in shock at the state of the island.

The barren island wasn’t very large to begin with, but in the time they’d been gone, one half of the island had been completely reshaped. Deep trenches and craters marked its surface and an earthen berm had been raised between the savaged end of the island and the one on which Heila lay.

”What is this, what is this? What happened here?” Talauia said, hovering over the transformed island.

”I’m sure we’ll learn soon enough, sugar,” Amahle said, exiting the flat bottomed boat and picking her way carefully across the scarred terrain while Talauia fluttered along behind her. In the dim early morning light, nothing disturbed the misty air but the sound of their boat rocking and the low hum of Talauia’s wings.

”Maman?” Jacques said when Amahle reached the top of the berm. ”You came,” he said as a sad, relieved smile formed on his lips.

The reptilian witch sat next to a small campfire, stripped to the waist and wearing ragged looking pants that he’d cut off at the knees when it became clear that the shredded remains of his pants would only entangle his movements. While there were no signs of injuries on his powerful, muscular body, it was clear from the stiff way that he moved that he was both tired and worn from his time watching over Heila.

Behind him, Ashlynn lay on the ground next to Heila with an arm draped across the diminutive horned woman as she slept. Her sleeveless dresses and tattered skirts bore numerous bloodstains and her blond hair seemed to struggle to escape the tight braid she’d tied it in with several whisps floating around her face as she slept.

But as bad as the two witches looked, it was Heila who captured Amahle’s attention. Her complexion had turned a sickly silvery-green and darker green veins crawled up her neck and across her cheek. Most concerning of all, a layer of bark had formed over her horns and delicate leaves had begun to sprout at the tapered ends of her horns.

”She, she’s going to fail,” Talauia said. Her wingbeats became erratic and she tumbled to the ground, dropping to her knees with tears filling her multifaceted eyes. Every detail was clear to her, from Heila’s shallow breathing to the way the curls of her hair had begun to resemble the drooping branches of a willow tree... she was still Heila, at least, she was mostly Heila, but by the time the sun set... there might be nothing left but... Sister Willow.

”She hasn’t failed yet, sugar,” Amahle said softly. Moving quietly so as not to disturb Ashlynn, she knelt beside the ailing woman and reached out to her with her spider-like limbs, each one tipped with faintly glowing red energy that delved deep beneath the surface to feel the flow of the world’s energy through her body.

The spider-like limbs of the Night Weaver Clan were known for their ability to create silks that were both luxurious and, in some cases, as strong as light armor. The clan was famed for their caution, patience, and ability to move through the forests and swamps where they made their homes.

They were much less known for their uncanny ability to multitask, something that elevated Amahle’s manipulation of the energy of the world to an art. Four additional limbs that could move with the precision of a master embroiderer combined with multi-pupiled eyes to give her an unmatched view of the world and the ability to maneuver through it while splitting her attention between multiple tasks.

Now, Amahle used all of that skill to gently tease at the edges of the magic pulsing through Heila. The tips of her spider-like limbs were like the fingers of a musician on the chords of a harp and her crimson eyes flickered rapidly, observing the flow of energy from every angle.

”Were we wrong to press forward so fast?” Amahle whispered as she inspected the magic that was slowly and inexorably transforming Heila into a willow tree. ”I don’t believe that Heila would fail here, so what has gone so wrong?” As her senses swept over the sleeping witch she found the roots that grew out from the seed of witchcraft had become tangled and... obstructed?

Something had formed a blockage within Heila that stopped her from receiving the full support of the Ancient Willow and even interfered with her connection to Ashlynn. As Amahle looked closer, she found the thinnest tendril of emerald green energy flowing from Ashlynn into Heila, battering at the blockage even while Ashlynn slept.

”Jacques,” Amahle said, turning to look at the exhausted-looking witch. ”Tell me, what happened here? Something is very, very wrong.”

”I don’t know, Maman,” Jacques said helplessly. ”Last night, little Heila, she started to change. Auntie Ashlynn, she said dat something was pullin’ Heila away from her, like when de Ancient Willow tree, she tried to pull Auntie away from Lady Nyrielle, only dis, she said, was much weaker. Only, little Heila, she’s so much weaker too.”

”So Ashlynn has been trying to reach her, even though there should be no way to interrupt the trial of an Ancient Tree,” Amahle realized, turning back to the pair in wonder. ”My little sister is a fearless one, ain’t she? But now, with things so tangled, I don’t dare to interfere. Just what is going on in there?”

Trapped within the visions of the trial, Heila stood panting and alone in the middle of a vast battlefield. Blood covered her body, plastering her simple dress to her skin though very little of the blood was her own.

A lash formed from braided willow branches dangled in each of her hands, shorter than they’d been when this vision began again and dripping with blood but still singing faintly in her ears with the thirst for more.

The bodies around her seemed to come from every force imaginable. Some were humans, dressed in the colors of the Lothian army, or the Temple Guard of the church. A few were even knights, Inquisitors, and Templars.

Others were Eldritch, spanning every clan Heila had ever met and several that she hadn’t. There were vampires among the dead, as well as people that Heila would have considered friends like the High Pass’s young lord Hauke.

”Still, dis is what you want, yeah?” Cecile’s weathered voice said as the former Willow Witch made her way across the battlefield to the bloody and ragged Heila. ”Dis is de fate you want to choose for y’r self?”