“Please explain the situation again, Ms. Akash.” Said Junira in a callous monotone voice, as if she were addressing a stranger, and not Diya, her student, whom she had spent the four weeks prior training. “And please try not to color the story with emotion. Our council makes its judgments based on facts.”
As anyone with any measure of a temper can attest, remaining calm and collected when having the truthfulness of one’s account questioned is taxing in even the most commonplace of circumstances. After the unpleasant ordeal Diya had just gone through in the Trial of Malediction, the last thing she wanted was to be explaining what had transpired to a hall full of witches, but despite her quite possibly being their chosen one, they didn’t often seem to care much for what she wanted. Therefore, she was finding it exceedingly difficult to care much for what they wanted.
“Like I told you, that one-eyed asshole put some hellish curse on Gennae that transformed her into an eight-legged killing machine. It was truly disgusting.” Diya looked to the corner of the hall where Gennae sat exhausted with her family. “No offense, of course, Gennae.”
The initiate, who had been a spider monster less than twenty-four hours prior, offered a weary smile and a slight nod that seemed to say something like, 'No offense taken; it was indeed a repugnant situation.'
Junira’s blue veil masked her expression, but her tone made it abundantly clear she was annoyed. “By one-eyed asshole, you are speaking of initiate Leif?”
“If you say so,” Diya shrugged. “I never caught his name, but my gut tells me you all probably don’t have an abundance of obsidian-eyed assholes running around. So…yes?”
“Leif was only an initiate. It would have been impossible for him to curse Gennae. Without completing the Trial of Malediction, he wouldn’t have been attuned properly.” Junira said.
Diya hadn’t had time to think through the many details, and there was no way in hell that she could have anticipated that less than a day after surviving the Trial of Malediction, only barely, that she would be defending herself in a different type of trial.
Her temper was beginning to boil over due to the direction the evening had veered. Fortunately for her, Tamsin stepped forward at her side, eternally eager to come to her aid. “Impossible? I think not,” she said. “Improbable? Perhaps. I have a theory that might explain the dreadful events that occurred in the labyrinth, if you all will humor me.”
For an instant, the crowd grew restless at the interruption. Eyes shifted from Tamsin to her brother, who sat still in his serpent throne. It was as if he found the entire affair dreary. After a pregnant pause, he offered a subtle nod for his sister to continue.
“What if in the months before the Trial of Malediction someone snuck Leif into the labyrinth, allowing him to attune early? Then, this deviant taught him this wicked curse, hoping that he might, hiding his power, blend in as an initiate. Once the Trial had commenced, his mission was to assassinate Diya before she could attune a second blood magic art, thus stopping her from ever confirming her place as the chosen one.”
Heart thumping, Diya glanced around the hall. A choir of gasps and whispers arrested the place at the mere mention of such a scandalous plot.
“This is a bold claim, Tamsin,” Junira stated dryly. “I’m sure you have ample proof to reinforce such an audacious accusation?”
“The proof is clear as day, is it not? Poor Gennae was cursed by Leif. Had he not been granted previous entry to the labyrinth, this would not be possible.” Tamsin said, doing a far better job at remaining calm than Diya could have.
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Junira tossed her head back and scoffed, cerulean veil fluttering. “I find it a touch convenient that the only witnesses to this sacrilege are Gennae and Diya.”
Gennae, still traumatized by the week’s events, broke out into loud sobs. This stabbed at Diya’s heart like a hundred hornets, and try as she might, she found her will to remain silent sapped.
“Well, we could have asked Leif about it, but unfortunately, he’s little more than a red stain on the labyrinth’s tiles now.” Diya interrupted to the dismay of the crowds, who immediately recoiled at the blunt nature of her words.
“Say we assume this is the truth. How would Leif have gained entry to the labyrinth? It is one of the most secure locations in all of New Avignon.” Junira asked.
Tamsin’s eyes, sharp like arrows, took flight towards her brother. “There are only two keys to the labyrinth in our coven: one held by Junira, and of course, my loving mother’s key, now inherited and held by Kromac. Of the two of you, only he is a curse magic practitioner. I think, given his disdain for Diya, his hand in this plot is obvious.”
The frenzy this accusation vexed made all the previous statements pale in comparison. Sounds of cold steel being drawn could be heard even over the outrage. Diya’s hand shot to the handle of her flintlock, but in a gathering so large it would be impossible to know enemy from ally should things come to blows.
“Sheath your weapons!” Before violence could erupt, Kromac rose up and addressed his coven. “Forgive my dear sister, she has been away many years and has forgotten the etiquette of our people. Her story, while entertaining, is just that, a story.”
Tamsin got a wild look in her eyes and sought to interrupt. “Nonsens—”
Slick as a serpent, he cut her off, “I’ve heard enough. Out of respect for our mother, I have tolerated you ignoring our procedures, but I’m at the end of my rope. Speak out of turn again, and I’ll have you escorted to a cell. I am the chief of this coven. As such, it is I who has the final word.”
As if to demonstrate the truth of his statement, he paused, and the crowd went silent. When he felt his message properly demonstrated, he continued.
“While your depiction of the events was amusing, I have a different version I would now present to the fine folk gathered.”
Diya and Tamsin were seething now. Things were spiraling quickly, and they felt ill-equipped to change the course.
Kromac linked his hands behind his back and began pacing the perimeter of the stage. “It is my belief that the foreigner, Diya, somehow cheated during the Trial of Malediction. Poor Leif caught her in the act and was murdered in cold blood for confronting her. Initiate Gennae was swept up in the confrontation and acted as an accomplice. This is my understanding of the events.”
The gathering was silent. It was as if all the air had been sucked from the hall, and now the slightest movement might trigger an explosion that would destroy them all.
Outrage was an abyss, and Diya found herself sinking into it. Shock, rage, and helplessness all competed inside of her, but rather than spring into action, she only stood there. The absurdity of the reversal had her utterly paralyzed by indecision.
“While we investigate the events further, I find the foreigner’s completion of the Trial of Malediction void. I will not be instructing her on the curse arts.” For the first time since he rose from his throne, his blank expression flickered, and for a split second, he smirked. “Further, until the investigation is completed, Gennae and Diya will be imprisoned to prevent them from fleeing the city. Guards, take them away.”
Stomach sinking, Diya turned to Tamsin, who gripped her hands tightly as a cadre of armed guards circled them.
“Don’t worry, Di. Do as they say, and I will get you out of there as quickly as I can. Please don’t resist.” Tamsin gasped, tears falling from her eyes.
Resisting was far from her mind. She couldn't have if she tried. Sometimes, when mauled by the miserable maw of misfortune, it becomes overwhelming and difficult to process. This was one such moment for Diya, as she clung to Tamsin’s trembling hands, she found that she strangely felt entirely severed from the dire situation. It was as if she were some amiable apparition floating above the chaos, all agency over her actions relinquished.
Oddly, it wasn’t the first time she had felt that way in her life. Everything blurred. As the guards slapped manacles onto her wrists and dragged her away from Tamsin, it came back to her where she had previously felt that way.
The last time she felt this dreadful disassociation was the day that her testimony had gotten her father hanged.
Is Kromac unredeemable?
