Marvela Mystic | ✔️

Chapter 18 ✨ The Witching Hour

There was a prolonged squeak as a little white shape rocketed past the witch.

Marvela stared at Asra's raised hand, no longer seeing a tuft of the spirit's fur.

Asra, too, gawked. "Wait—" she said, wincing at her hand, now empty of any black fur.

"Looking for this?" squeaked a voice.

All eyes went to the white rat standing at Asra's feet. Curious panted from exhaustion, but, like Marvela, he wasn't about to give in. He waved the tuft of fur he clutched in his forepaws teasingly.

"Give me that, you thieving little—!"

The witch reached out to snatch the tuft away from the rat, but Curious was too nimble for her. "Whoops!" he yelped, giggling and ducking another swipe from her as he scurried around her. "Too slow!"

Marvela turned away from the rat and the witch back to the spirit. She placed her paws firmly against the black tethers and summoned her magic. "Hang in there, Slight. I'll get you free."

The spirit only groaned in response as the coils continued to grow and writhe around him. Marvela clamped her eyes shut. She let her magic seep into the tendrils she dug her claws into. The writhing coils receded slightly, and their grip slackened. But only for a moment.

Marvela needed to concentrate. She bared her fangs and sank her claws deeper into the tar-like tendrils. She searched deep within herself, summoning every single ounce of magic left lingering inside her.

She was deaf to the sounds of Asra and Curious chasing each other. Deaf to the sounds of Slight's pained breathing. All she heard was a pounding in her ears and the fizzling of the sparks that emanated from her.

The tendrils continued to smother the spirit. She felt them reach and entangle themselves around her too.

But she kept her eyes shut. She kept spilling her magic into the black wisps—willing it to overpower Asra's.

The coils that snaked around her weighed her down, almost suffocating her as they continued to grow.

No.

Slight slumped to the ground under the weight of the tar.

I can do this.

The kitten's legs began to buckle under the weight too.

I am strong.

The kitten collapsed beside the spirit.

I am a witch!

The last traces of her magic flared. Beneath her paws, the inky black lengths of tar ignited from the inside with orange light. There was the smell of smoke in the air. A pained squealing erupted from the tendrils as they began to spasm.

Marvela opened her eyes and sucked in a greedy gulp of air as she felt the tendrils release her and recede and slink back into the ground.

She panted. "Almost..."

There was an abrupt squeak. In the corner of Marvela's eyes, she saw a white shape go flying into the woods. She craned her head around to see Asra, also panting and standing tall behind her. In her white-knuckled fist, she clutched a tuft of black fur.

"Time's up, Marvela," sneered the witch. She again raised her hand high. The wind picked up, stirring the dust around her, and though the starlit sky was clear of any clouds, there came a roll of thunder. "Slight of the spirits, from this night forward, I promise to be your master and you will be my forever subservient—"

Before the witch could finish her vow to complete the ceremony, a dark feathered shape dove from the sky like an arrow shot from a bow. With a screech, Branwenn tore at the tuft in Asra's hand with her beak.