The Witch's Cursed Daughter

61. A Witch

When the early sun crested the horizon, Julian, Romile, and Voster departed along with their provisions, headed for the northern border and the frontlines of Rohnelle. No farewell party or important figures wished them well as they left; those remaining behind in the palace had other priorities on their minds.

Wen was on his way to the tower where the decaying husk of Evianna would be waiting, still dripping blood from the wound on her chest. The prince had organised for a Mage to accompany him to heal the damage he caused and keep Evianna alive until Illea's return when that duty would once again be hers.

By the time Wen and the unknowing Imperial Mage arrived at the heavy cell door, the morning sunlight was licking hungrily through cracks in the stonework. Opening the door, the two were greeted with the familiar foul stench of the unclean prison. His upper lip and nostrils twitching in disgust, Wen turned to the Mage, "Heal her wound."

"Yes, Your Highness," the Mage replied, bowing deeply.

Carefully, the man, wearing a robe similar to Voster's, placed his feet on the most unsullied patches as he worked his way towards the young girl's body. In the palace, scenes such as this were fairly commonplace, so he said nothing, only focussing on completing his task.

Kneeling before the odorous, bone-mangled figure, the Mage searched for the wound on her torso; slowly shifting hair and cloth until he eventually stood and faced the prince, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Your Highness, there is no wound."

Wen's brow furrowed, his green eyes darkening under the shadow they cast, "Nonsense, check again."

The Mage searched once more but to no avail. Wen's patience dwindled; barging over, he grabbed Evianna's frame and ran his hand across the area where the injury had been. For a moment, he stared bemused at the pale sheet of unmarked skin. Looking at Evianna's face, Wen could see that her eyes were open almost as if they were stuck; the whites were orange-tinted as they dried out between occasional blinks. His heart squeezed oddly, and he found himself experiencing pity once again for the girl.

As he watched her breathe, her frame barely moving as her lungs tried to expand, Wen thought about her origins. Before Julian had brought her to the castle, she lived in some village at the other end of the kingdom. The daughter to a single mother, and Witch at that.

On that thought, the brown-haired prince paused. Her mother was a Witch? His eyes crashed onto the area where the gash should have been. Julian's Mage would have checked for signs of magic within the girl already, perhaps he was overthinking, or his exhaustion was finally leading to hallucinations. Despite believing it was ridiculous, a small voice in Wen's head wouldn't ignore the possibility. Reaching for his sword, Wen drew his blade, allowing his aura to trickle across the metal; suddenly, he lurched forward, forcing the point into Evianna's shoulder. There was no scream or movement, only the light chime of jewels tumbling to the ground.

"Your Highness?" cried the Mage.

Withdrawing his sword, Wen forced his aura to creep around the Mage's body; in the dim light, the menacing shadows appeared even more frightful, and the air more chilling. "In regards to this prisoner and my aura, if a word of this escapes your lips, I will have you used as research material by your colleagues," Wen's eyes burned in the death-reek room. "Now, excuse yourself. If I summon you again, I will expect your cooperation." Terror sucked the colour from the Imperial Mage's face as he doubled over in a deep bow before scurrying through the door.

Turning his attention back to Evianna, a suspicious smile crept onto Wen's face, "See you tomorrow."

Just as he had said to the unresponsive Evianna, the next day, the prince returned alone. Unlike the day before, the golden sun did not hang in the sky. Instead, winds howled and battered the external walls as if they were begging for shelter.

The soft glowing light fixtures provided little assistance to the eyes, yet they were plenty for revealing the intact skin on Evianna's shoulder. As he stared at the shoulder, Wen's previous smile transformed into a burst of devilish laughter that mixed with the cries of the forceful gusts outside.

Glee emanated from his body as he cackled at the chained girl, "I was right! A Witch!"