The Witch's Cursed Daughter

63. Trapped

Finishing the story, Wen sat in his corner, tracing Evianna's outline over and over again. The thought that the potential for a new Witch had been ruminating in her veins since the day she was born was utterly terrifying. A Mage's power comes from within, usually passed down in Magical Lineage through the generations - meaning that the magnitude of ability is likely already pre-destined before you begin to use it. On the other hand, Witches suck power in from all around them; every living thing is compiled of magical energy and, as such, is perfect fuel for Witches. Wen's sleep-shadowed eyes gleamed with new life as images of ancient Witch paintings in the palace danced before them, animating his exhausted expression.

"Will you speak?" he almost pleaded. "After hearing everything I had to say, are you going to remain silent? With all that primitive power pulsating pathetically in the tips of your fingers, will you not retaliate? Will you not achieve your freedom through the most feared destructive power in the kingdom?"

As the prince pressed his lips together, halting his eager bombardment, the yearning in his voice echoed in the cell, overwhelming the crying wind outside. With no response other than the unyielding creaks of the stonework being assaulted by nature, Wen sighed. His mind raced like a stallion as he reached for a topic that would garner a response.

"Julian left this morning," he grinned loosely, tipping his head back, focussing on spinning his web, "he, his Guard and Mage, all departed for war in the North." A light clinking noise turned his attention to the girl in chains. His head darting in her direction, he was faced with violet eyes that once had no hint of soul yet now burned with desire. Excitement raged deep inside Wen's chest. Not once had he felt anxiety when confronting a single opponent, but the light behind Evianna's expressionless face was immense. "They have abandoned you. How do you feel?"

Evianna remained silent. Not another move or breath signalled her understanding, but the burning behind her eyes told Wen that she knew. She knew his meaning.

"Nothing," Wen exhaled after a few more minutes poised in waiting, "It won't be long until Illea's return. If you talk, I may help you." Once more, not receiving a reply, Wen marched towards the door, his boots splashing across the urine and blood-soaked floor. "Well wishes, little Witch, I can't wait to see the monster my devilish sister makes of you."

With that, he let the entrance slam shut, leaving Evianna in the dark once more.

*****

In the depth of her mind, Evianna was waiting, sitting by a window watching the cell through unblinking eyes. The pain was incredible, but if she spoke to share her agony, she might shatter the world in which she was hiding. There was no concept of time, and she didn't understand how she was surviving. Not once had she eaten since her incarceration, and she had not felt her body for the longest time.

Today had been different. The same as any other, Prince Wen had come, speaking words that she could not hear. Once he had left, Evianna could sense a tingling sensation from all around her; focussing on that feeling, she waited as the shape changed invisibly before touching her chest where Wen had cut her. Suddenly, the air stopped vibrating, and she was left alone, without pain.

The next time Wen visited, Evianna could hear his words. News of Julian burst through her as if the tower had crumbled away and delivered her back to Lupine Palace where he would be waiting. But Wen said he had left; he had travelled far away where she could not see him. Joy began to twist into a new kind of despair, a mania trapped behind glassy eyes which Wen could see. She screamed without her voice and tried to remember that Julian would never abandon her. Swallowing her crazed thoughts, Evianna watched Wen leave, hoping he was wrong.

"He will come," she cried softly, though no voice carried the words; the cell shuddered in response which horrified Evianna more than Wen's taunts.