spellbound | book #1 | completed

X X X V I I I

[edited: 25/01/2018]

"Annika," Hilda acknowledged by way of greeting, unsurprised when she found the younger witch stood in her kitchen. She had requested her company after she had heard Maksim leave earlier this morning, and it seemed as though she had received the message rather quickly, for here she was now, looking as innocent as ever. If only Hilda did not know better. "I am glad that you decided to come."

"Of course, Miss Opal," she nodded with a polite smile. "Do you wish to discuss Maksim? I know that you want the marriage to be arranged quickly, but—"

Hilda cut her off, restraining herself from rolling her eyes. "I did not call you here for my son. In fact, I fear that you are no longer a suitable wife for him."

Annika paled and swayed against the kitchen counter-top, her golden eyes so wide that they looked as though they did not belong on her dainty face. Hilda took her speechlessness as an opportunity to scrutinise her, pacing side to side as though she was running her very own investigation. Much to her dismay, there was nothing out of the ordinary—at least, nothing that she could see. How could she hide it so well?

"Last night, I saw something rather worrying in the Meeting Hall," she continued finally, crossing her hands together as though she was running a formal interview. She had practiced the technique many a time as a Council member, but had never thought that she would have to use it on Annika, the Principle Warlock's daughter. "A witch, one of our own, practicing dark magic."

"I am not sure what that has to do with me." She said it with such sincerity that Hilda was forced to doubt her own eyes for a moment, but then she remembered the image of Annika among the blackness, looking like Hecate in the painted motifs of the Trial Room's walls; a Goddess of magic and necromancy, of darkness and power and night. If Hilda looked closely enough, she could still see the same wicked twinkle in her eyes now. "Shouldn't you inform my father first?"

"Perhaps I should." She raised an eyebrow and took a few steps backwards, preparing herself. "I thought that I would give you a chance to explain yourself first. You were the witch, Annika. It was you who I saw. But I do not need to tell you that, do I?"

Annika laughed breathlessly and crossed her arms over her chest. "I am not sure what you mean, Miss Opal. I was not in Central Hall last night, nor would I ever do such a terrible thing."

"Do not take me for a fool, child!" Hilda snapped, causing Annika to jump. "I know very well what I saw. If you have been tempted by the darkness, the worst thing that you can do is lie about it. Tell me the truth, or I shall go to your father immediately."

Much to Hilda's surprise, she laughed—it was an amused, hysterical laugh that Hilda had never heard from her before. It was enough to convince her that what she had seen last night had not been an illusion.

"Do you think that I am simply a misguided witch who can easily be pulled back from the darkness?" She shook her head, and as she did, her amber eyes turned into a bottomless black. Hilda's stomach sank, but she did not break her composure. She would not be afraid of what she had already faced before. "You underestimate me so much. All of you!" She motioned outwards with her arms as though she had an audience that only she could see. "You cannot even comprehend that I might not be as good as I appear."

"Then the darkness has already claimed you, and it seems that insanity has, too. How long have you been concealing your true nature? How long have you been lying to those that you claim to love?"

She smirked as though she knew something that nobody else did, and then, with an icy tone, said, "Since your son came to me for help."

"What has Maksim to do with any of this?" She looked at her blackened eyes again. "No. You mean Ackmard."

Annika nodded smugly. "He needed somebody to keep an eye on things here, somebody who would never be suspected of anything. A snake in the grass, as it were."

"And what is it that he offered you in return?" She swallowed, her mouth suddenly unbearably dry and her hands clammy. "A life of infinite power? Access to the key?"

"Something much better than that." Even as Annika spoke, her voice seemed to lower so that it sounded nothing like it had a few moments ago. "He offered me everything that I have always wanted."

"And what is that?" Hilda questioned rather sarcastically. "A wardrobe filled with those silly dresses you wear? A new hair cut?"

"Do not mock me!" She shouted, and the same black sparks that Hilda had seen last night flashed from her hands like the cinders of a half-extinguished fire. They flew towards Hilda so that she had to duck down to avoid their wrath. She was glad she had, for they charred the green crystal walls and left them cracked and scarred. "If you must know, he offered me Maksim."

"Do you realise how foolish you sound?" Hilda asked disbelievingly—and perhaps a little too bravely. "Maksim is not an object or form of payment; he is simply a man, a warlock. He will not ever love you the way you wish, not even if you force him."

"Of course he will love me," she frowned, and suddenly she was the innocent little witch Hilda knew again. "He just needs time to realise his true feelings. He just needs to trust me with his heart. He has been alone with it for too long."

"His heart does not belong to you. Even you are not idiotic enough not to see that," she scoffed and slowly stood up again, her hands splayed out in front of her in caution. Her veins had turned green with magic. "He is in love with the mortal girl. Even if he was ever interested in you, it is too late now."

"You do not know him the way that I do. Once the mortal girl is gone, he will be mine, and he will love me."

"You are completely delusional."

Annika's heels clicked against the tiled floor as she backed Hilda up into the wall behind her, an amused smirk painted on her pink lips. "And you, Miss Opal, are completely unconscious."

Annika extended her palms out, ready to use her magic, but Hilda was quicker and more experienced. She blocked it so that the black and green sparks guttered together like fireworks. Her speed did not matter, though; dark magic would always overpower the light, and Hilda was thrown against the wall, fire erupting through her body, gnawing at her bones, until she screamed in pain. Still, she fought back as best she could, pushing Annika with as much force as she could. The other witch faltered, stumbling backwards with a strained grunt. It was not enough.

With one last blow, Annika shot her magic into Hilda. The force of it was so strong that the kitchen stools were flung into the air and the glass walls shattered. Hilda barely felt the pain, but it was there as the darkness teetered at the edge of her peripheral vision and she fell to the floor.

She watched helplessly as the young witch knelt beside her with an air of satisfaction, brown tendrils of hair loosening from her up-do and curling around her face so that she suddenly looked so much darker, and so much more powerful.

"Sorry, mother dearest," she crowed, swiping a strand of Hilda's red hair from her bloody face. Hilda flinched away, desperately trying to find more magic within herself. She could not.

"I was so hoping that you would be able to witness the main event, too. Do not worry. I will take good care of both of your sons until you are back on your feet. Your daughter, too."

Then, as though a shard of ice had been lodged between her ribs, Hilda's breath was taken from her and the sight of Annika was replaced by darkness. The last thing she remembered was the stench of dark magic strangling her until she couldn't breathe; until she no longer wanted to breathe, for she could feel it rotting her insides with every inhale.

And to think that there was a time when she had liked that feeling; to think that she had been worse than Annika once. She didn't have to think at all for much longer. The unconsciousness found her before she could.