The Witch's Cursed Daughter

79. Clues

With the midday sun bringing the world to life, Voster's fingers clenched around Cielo's reins as they flew back in the direction of the camp. The clouds which had quilted the skies had faded away with the light, leaving Voster exposed to the burning sunlight, and soon enough, the barren battlefield came into view. The murky vision of busy ant-sized bodies rushing through the campsite's maze-like layout was almost laughable as the Mage descended towards Julian's tent. The Waldemyre flag above the large sheet house displayed his location clearly, with no fear of attack from outside or within.

The moment Cielo's hooves sunk into the thick mud, Voster launched himself from the saddle, grabbing his bag and signalling to a soldier to watch over the Peryton. The Mage strode towards the Commander's tent; he could hear the low mumbles of Romile as he approached. Without pause to alert them to his presence, he burst through the curtained entrance, breathing heavily. Julian and Romile jumped to their feet, aura trickling around them; as they recognised their friend, the dizzying atmosphere died down in relief.

"You're back early," Julian smiled, his body visibly relaxing as he dropped back into the chair behind his desk. "I expected not to see you for at least a few days."

"I also did not expect such a swift return, Your Highness," Voster replied as he puffed every couple of words.

Romile walked over, extending a metallic goblet filled with tepid water, "Voster, here."

Unable to muster the air to refuse, the Mage swiped the cup, guzzling the liquid hungrily when it met his lips. "Not long after my arrival at the Witch's cottage, I discovered a hidden compartment which held a journal," Voster blurted as soon cup was empty.

"A journal?"

"The Witch's or Evianna's?" Romile asked, offering Voster his seat beside the desk.

"The Witch's," Voster answered impatiently as he accepted Romile's offer, dropping his bag by his feet. "As I read its contents, I came to learn several pieces of information that will be helpful going forward."

As Voster paused to slow his heart rate, Romile dragged a wooden stool from the far end of the tent. Sitting down, he remarked, "Don't keep us in suspense."

Voster ignored Romile and turned to face Julian, his lungs soothing after easy ground-level breaths. "Your Highness, do you remember the kidnapping incident with the Witch?"

"Of course I do. Why do you ask?"

"At the time, due to unravelling events including Evianna and the King, excuse me, the Emperor, there was not much time to follow up on the chaos which had occurred."

"Yes, the Emperor did not ask for any enquiries to be made into the incident, and the Chancellor was waiting on my findings before making a move without permission," Julian reminisced on his father's attitude towards a royal kidnapping and disappointment at his return.

"Why are you bringing it up?" Romile questioned.

Voster grinned; reaching down, he rummaged through his bulking bag. Dragging out the leather-bound book, Voster held it up as he blew evident dust from the yellow-edged pages. "I believe that the Witch was hoping to use His Highness's blood to lift her own curse."

"The Witch was under a curse?"

"Based on my reading, The Witch, much like in the legends, was somehow connected to the Myrde."

Romile laughed dryly, "Are you talking about the myth about the first queen being murdered for the magical power of the Myrde, and thus the original Witch was born?"

"Yes," Voster insisted.

"Voster, have you lost it? That's just a story," Romile sighed, exasperation brimming as he felt the hope he'd had in a cure for Evianna slipping into the realms of fairy tales.

Shaking his head, the Mage gripped the musty book with both hands. "I know that, but many aspects of the story are founded in truth. For example, Warwick Palace was indeed built over a pool blessed by the Myrde. The founding king lost his queen and sister on the same day; there are ancient documents which prove it," Voster blinked his blue eyes profusely as he summarised the legend.

"Alright, calm down," Julian interjected, rolling his silver eyes at Romile, who chewed on his lip as he gazed towards the patched-up ceiling. "Voster, Romile is not saying that we don't believe you; it's just a lot to process in one go. Continue with your findings. Why do you think that the Witch is related to the Myrde?"

"This is why," Again Voster reached into his bag, this time removing the glass vial containing water.

Staring at the small clear tube, Julian's eyebrows narrowed, "What is that?"

"Water from the pool under the palace," Voster revealed.

"Why would the Witch have that?"

Flipping through the pages of the journal, skimming over the words, Voster replied, "From what it says in here, by combining the blood of the royals and the water from the pool, it would be possible to lift the curse of the Myrde."

"Does it say what the curse is?"

"Not that I could see, only that it would and did lead to her death," the Mage said, closing the book.

"That's not entirely true," Romile refuted. Pointing towards the prince, he corrected, "Julian took off her head. The curse didn't do that."

"I know, but the way the journal entries end seemed as though she knew what would happen," Voster argued.

Before Romile and Voster could edge closer to a disagreement, Julian rose from his seat, pulling their attention away from each other. Walking round to the front, Julian perched himself lightly onto the desk, squishing the paperwork which lay unorganised across its surface. "If the Witch suffers the Myrde's curse, does that mean that Evianna will as well since they share the same blood?" he asked, ruffling his hair.

"I can't say, however, when I examined her in the Mirrored Hall, there was no sign of there being an active Magical Lineage."

"Thank the Myrde," Julian sighed, nodding at nothing in particular.