Hope and fear clashed. Alaric spun around towards the source of the voice, tightly grasping the hilt of the sword hanging from his waist.

  “It’s on the wrong side, sweetheart.” The intoxicatingly sweet voice belonged to a woman about a head shorter than Alaric. Her pale skin almost reflected the light of Ava and Sarah’s torches. “You’re supposed to keep your sword on the opposite side of your dominant hand.”

  Her black hair cascaded down to her shoulders. A crimson, silken dress tightly wrapped around her upper body before loosening just below her waist. Layers upon layers of silk rustled with every step she took, sweeping the floor behind her. Her long eyelashes hid the colour of her eyes. Her blood red lips were a stark contrast to her pale skin.

  “We’re not here to hurt you!” Sarah immediately exclaimed, stepping forward to stand next to Alaric. “I apologise for my friend’s haste – he was just startled. We thought the castle was abandoned. Who are you? Do you live here?”

  The woman’s lips curled up into a smile. “I do live here, yes.” Her eyelids fluttered, and for a split second, Alaric glimpsed crimson around her pupils. “It’s quite alright – I haven’t had visitors in some time. Especially such young and pretty ones.” Her gaze turned to Ava.

  The young girl blushed. “Um…”

  “Stay a while.” The woman’s voice rang like a bell.

  He felt the hairs on his arms rise. “Thank you for the offer but we’ll have to decline.” He gently pushed Sarah back, then motioned to take a step back himself.

  “You should know it’s rude to decline an invitation like that, young man.” She took a step forward. Her heels clicked, and somewhere outside, a flock of birds took off, the sound of their wings echoing in the silence of the night. “Stay a while.”

  Her voice was sharper this time. Her words rang in his mind, almost like a command. Behind him, Ava held onto the wall, and Sarah pressed her hand against her forehead in a daze. He spun around, snapping his fingers in front of Sarah’s face. The woman visibly flinched, her lost gaze slowly fixed on him.

  “Sarah?” She didn’t react to hearing her name at all. Her gaze slowly turned away, to somewhere in the distance. Clicking his tongue, he grabbed her hand and, then snatched Ava’s arm and pulled them towards the gates.

  The sound of clicking heels and a sweet, alluring chuckle followed them as he pulled them out into the courtyard.

  “What’s going on?” Ava mumbled, pulling her arm away from his grasp. “Alaric?” Her gaze focused on him. “What are you doing?”

  He pushed Sarah towards the young girl. “Take her out of here.” They needed to get away before that woman – whatever she really was – caught up with them. “Can you do that?”

  Ava nodded. “Yeah.” Her speech wasn’t so slurred anymore. She seemed to be regaining her wits. “But you-“

  “Hurry!” His sharp voice seemed to fully wake her up from whatever sort of daze she was in. He grabbed the sack she was carrying as she took Sarah’s hand and kicked the ground. He dashed right after them, not wasting a single second.

  As they reached the castle gates, a swarm of bats descended from inside the gatehouse. Ava let out a scream. She covered her head with her free hand but didn’t slow down. He could barely see them make it out of the gatehouse before the swarm of bats fully obscured his view.

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  “Aw,” The woman’s voice rang from right behind him. She clicked her tongue almost mockingly.

  He spun around, sword in hand, only to come face to face with her.

  “It’s a shame they ran – and with such weak, gullible minds too.” Her lips curled into a smile. “But no matter – you’ll do just fine for-“

  He swung the blade. She was too close, and his back was against a swarm of bats. The blade was still a rather heavy hunk of metal, even with its dulled edge.

  The woman’s lips parted with surprise as she floated backwards. Her feet touched the ground a few meters away from him. “How rude.”

  “Oh and drugging my friends is polite?” He retorted. If only Sarah or Ava had dropped one of their torches. He could have scared away the bats with fire. He glanced at the beasts over his shoulder. The thought of trying pass through there – through their sharp teeth and claws – was enough to send a shiver down his spine. Rabies was a worse way to die – way worse than whatever this woman was capable of.

  “Drugging?” The woman placed her hand on her heart. “I would never.” The mere suggestion seemed to offend her deeply. “It is hardly my fault that the weak minded are so easily affected.” Her eyes seemed to glow crimson as she spoke, her lips curled up into a smile that showed her pearl white teeth. “Your mind is stronger – a rare trait for a mere human.”

  Her strange choice of words made him hesitate. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He glanced to either side, scouring for another exit from the castle. His search proved moot, though he hadn’t expected much. Turning his eyes back on her, he tightened his grip on the sword’s hilt.

  The woman raised an eyebrow, and elegant pushed a few locks of hair behind her pointy ear. “Well…” she let her voice fade. “Though I suppose I shouldn’t blame you – The Empyrean just shifted your world.”

  His ears perked up. “The Empyrean?” His pulse quickened as his thoughts began to race. What was this Empyrean? A person? Or a people? Did it create the system? A god?

  The woman’s lips curled up. “Indeed – so your lack of manners and knowledge is to be expected. Aetherfall was just a few hours ago, was it not?” Her eyelids fluttered. “I thought so – it was a treat to wake up to such strong magic.” She folded her arms. “Drop that crude weapon, will you? I loathe to see it, and it makes you quite the rude person.”

  Her words only made him grip the blade harder. “What’s the Empyrean?”

  She chuckled. “Curiosity is what landed you in a witch’s lair – are you sure you want to keep asking questions?” She raised her left hand in front of her face, twirling and twisting her fingers with odd, yet elegant motion. The air seemed to grow thicker, heavier. The scent of roses and hyacinth filled his nostrils. His thoughts began to slow. It was difficult to keep the grip on the hilt of his sword, or his focus on anything but her crimson lips and eyes.

  “I think I will take you. You will do well for a thrall – one capable of magic, no less.” Her voice rang in the air. She seemed lost in thought for a moment before smiling again. “Be honoured, human, this witch has deemed you worthy of the sigil of command.” She approached him, smiling with twisted pleasure. Her hand reached for his chest.

  Something golden burnt his left shoulder as it brushed past it, and fell on the woman’s long, silken gown.

  The pain and the light of the flickering torch brought him back to his senses. The scent of roses and hyacinth was quickly overtaken by the scent of burning hair and flesh. Only then did he notice the bats flying everywhere, aflame.

  The woman – the witch – gasped. Her eyes widened, her brows furrowed. A single motion of her right hand doused her burning gown. Noticing Alaric’s alarmed gaze, she clicked her tongue. “You will not!” She hissed.

  He raised his arm to try and protect himself from her left hand just before she touched his chest. Her palm struck his forearm, her overly long nails dug into his skin, drawing blood.

  Her grasp was hot as fire, and cold as ice – searing his skin under his sleeve. A scream escaped his lips. He tried to pull his arm away, but her grasp was iron.

  An arrow struck her shoulder, loosening her grasp. She let out a gasp of shock as her body shook with the force of the hit. She stumbled backwards, her eyes wide with pain and anger.

  “Alaric, run!” Someone shouted his name. He spun around, and dashed towards the voice, through the swarm of burning and panicking bats, away from the witch and her terrifying charms. A hand grabbed his own as soon as he left the castle behind. “We have to hurry!” Someone whispered as they dragged him away from the castle.