The Witch's Cursed Daughter

104. A Royal Sacrifice

From behind Voster's barrier, Davore shouted and fought against Romile to rush to Wen's side. She used her newly healed wrist to slap him and dig her nails into his skin, but it was no use. Romile clamped down around her, determined not to let her lose her life.

"Let go!" Davore shrieked as she tried slamming her heels into Romile's feet.

"Not a chance," answered Romile, lifting her from the ground and shaking her.

"Let go!" she repeated as she was rag-dolled.

"Not an option," Romile chimed.

"Your Imperial Highness!" Davore cried out, her eyes never leaving her prince.

From where he stood, Illea's magical energy ripping through his aura and flesh, Wen could feel his heart welling. Not once in his life had he felt comforted; he was always alone, expectations and responsibility were pushed onto him since he was young. Now that he could feel his life ending, Wen was content. People who cared for him watched in horror as he resigned himself to exerting every last ounce of power to limit the amount of damage caused by Illea's eruption. Glancing up to the Myrde, Wen recognised Evianna's eyes as it stared back. A smile crossed his lips as the magical energy inside tore through his icy aura and lit the world in bright light.

Having shielded their eyes, the group stared at the spot where Wen had been standing. Not a trace of him could be seen. Davore shook away from Romile's grasp and raced to where he had stood. Collapsing to her knees, she raked through small stones that littered the ground as if they might have been hiding a hint to where he had gone. Romile stood by her side, watching with a futile hope hovering in his chest, wishing she would find him. Julian moved past the two, not allowing himself to wallow for Wen. He found Illea collapsed on the ground, entirely grey and frozen as if removing all her magical energy had reduced her to nothing more than a statue. Casting his gaze to the Allancient, he found it to be in the same condition, a rock.

Unsure of what to do next, Julian looked up to the Myrde, who appeared much smaller than previously seen. Signalling to Voster and Romile, they joined him in observing the mystical bird. As they watched, the feathers of light retracted softly as if they would be spoilt if they moved any quicker. The wings folded inward, the tail rescinded until all that could be seen was a girl with moon-white hair and pale skin. Slowly she dropped towards the earth, unaware of where she would land. Julian and Voster rushed over the rocks and palace remains to meet her where the walkway once was.

Julian arrived in time to catch her in his arms before she met the ground. As his eyes scanned her face, tears threatened to fall as his emotions finally caught up to him. As Voster arrived and saw Evianna relaxed in Julian's grip, his heart tightened. Four years, a four-year journey had led them to now. As they walked back to meet Romile and Davore in silence, the morning sunlight cleared the Wall and began to illuminate the corpses of friends and foes.

"It's going to take a while to clean this up," Julian whistled as he regarded the mess of bodies and almost wholly demolished Warrick Palace.

"Yes, it will," Voster replied dully.

"There is going to be a lot of paperwork," Julian continued, brushing off Voster's disinterest. Looking at the ruined building, a slight chuckle joined his words, "That is if I can find something to write with in all this mess."

"True," Voster answered bluntly.

Realising why the Mage's responses were so lackluster, Julian halted and watched his companion's back as he took an extra couple of steps before turning around.

"Voster," Julian began, his voice shaking as he spoke, "I'm sorry, I should never have asked you to use that magic."

"You're right," Voster's retort was uncharacteristically sharp, "You knew... what it meant to me," before his emotions could run away from him, Voster paused. His blue eyes landed on Evianna; her even breathing was a comfort, her white hair was different yet suited her complexion. After a moment, he sighed deeply, meeting Julian's eyes, and with a resolute tone, he declared, "Take care of her."

"What do you mean?" Julian asked. The words almost stuttered as they left his lips.

With the warmth of early summer sun hitting his face, Voster announced, "I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" Before Julian could say another word, Romile approached, almost at a jog, tired of waiting for their return. Seeing Evianna, he was relieved; however, he quickly recognised an air of discord between them.

"Your Highness, what's wrong? Is Her Ladyship alright?"

Shaking his head, Julian answered, "Voster's leaving."

"What? Don't be ridiculous," Romile laughed. Catching the severe expression on Voster's face, his dark eyebrows knotted, "When will you be back?" Voster remained silent, unable to reply to Romile's question honestly.

"When you have forgiven me?" Julian queried, his grip around Evianna tightening as he waited for a response.

Voster thought, and while he did, the group stood in uncomfortable silence, "Perhaps," he answered. Looking at Evianna one last time, his sight lingered on her closed eyes, wishing she would open them so he could regard her violet irises. As they remained closed, Voster turned away and began wading through the courtyard of glassy death as he headed for the gate, no luggage or plans prepared.

The image of Voster leaving without looking back reminded Romile of Wen - his desire to go and gain freedom from his bloodline.

"You better come back, you stupid Mage!"