The Elf Witch |Book 1|

Chapter 22

A heavy, foreboding silence passed between her and Esa as they made their way to the palace's grand entrance.

Wringing her hands in the folds of her skirt, Imani tried to reign in her trepidation at what lay ahead.

Sleep evaded her, and she barely even ate for the past two days, instead poring through everything in the trunk about the Niflheim Kingdom.

A family of powerful different types of high shifters had ruled Niflheim for half a millennium. The current monarch, Magnus Ilithana, had become King forty years ago. None of that was helpful or interesting, but one fact stuck out to her: curiously, power had transferred to the King less than a year after Dialora inherited the Crown—after Zolyn, the First Witch at the time, had murdered the last monarch of Essenheim.

In another book, Imani learned that since the first recorded monarchs, the fates of the King and Queen were tied together in inexplicable ways. Always one male and a female, one king and one queen. When one died, the other knew their time would soon follow.

No one knew why, and she found nothing beyond these tidbits full of unconfirmed theories. No other books or writings on the subject or Niflheim. Unsurprising, since they'd all be illegal. But as far as she could tell, the neighboring land was filled with rain, darkness, ashes and death.

Rumors, on the other hand, were more readily available. Everyone buzzed and gossiped during mealtimes about the southern kingdom. Most of it sounded horrifying and almost too violent to be true—the Niflheim king funding violence and genocide against its breeds while trafficking witches, particularly elves. The worst illegal magic ever created coming through the slips. There were forced labor camps of massive demon armies. An unstable economy built on a police state that proliferated terrifying political crimes against citizens.

Imani had no idea what to believe.

The crowd jammed themselves onto the terrace overlooking the garden. Minutes went by, and still, they hadn't arrived.

The sun beat down on them, and the birds cawed. Everything inside her felt tense, and her heart hammered against her chest like someone was watching her. Lifting her head, she flanked to her left, and that feeling of fear sank into her gut.

Ravens. Six of them perched atop the stone pillars and archway, their heads turned to peer at her with their black eyes. Ara's taunting words forced her to stay strong. "You fear the crows, owls, and ravens, Imani, but you're a fool. For a small bird makes a small catch—and the hour of our doom is set."

There was an eerie inevitability to her grandmother's insane ravings at the end of her life that Imani was now only starting to comprehend.

Esa grabbed her arm, tearing her attention away. "They're here."

The ravens took flight, soaring up into the air. And all at once, Imani wished she hadn't come.

Voices stilled into an eerie silence, the birds cawing above the only sound beyond an errant cough.

Traveling with more security forces than she'd seen in one place, Imani's senses tingled as they neared. It was unsurprising that the Crown considered them more dangerous than all their witches combined.

Murmurs intensified when the caravan slowed in front of the majestic main entrance and gardens. They'd spared no expense to be sure the palace looked immaculate. Servants were ordered about with the Essenheim royals to greet them first.

Neither prince was visible yet, but their presence crackled in the air as they neared.

People were dead silent, though, as the door opened. Another bird cawed, and Imani almost rolled her eyes at the drama. But in truth, she was equally ravenous to glimpse these mysterious shifters.