The goat— or Gorge, as Dylan called it, because why the hell not? —was now officially two years old.
This time, Ethan had to take extra care before sneaking out.
And this time, he didn't bother dressing up for the occasion. In case the spell still didn't work. A hoodie and jeans were better anyways.
He set down the blood drenched bag of gold at the center of the pattern and stepped back, waiting.
Amber light filled up the lines he'd drawn, circling around the bag of gold. Wind rose up, icy and biting. Despite himself, Ethan had to close his eyes.
When he opened them again, a cottage stood before him.
The wood was moldy and cracked, stained a disturbing red-brown at various places. The roof was made of something that gleamed suspiciously like hair. The door opened silently, beckoning him inside.
Ethan stared at the dark hallway ahead.
'She's crazy, she's hideous and greedier than anyone I know.'
Well, his pockets were still full of gold.
Gorge bleated somewhere behind, as if telling him to get in already.
"Wish me luck," Ethan said to him before he stepped over the threshold.
The door closed behind him.
…
To say it was dark would be an understatement. Ethan was half sure he'd start seeing things in a while.
He took unsure steps forward, one hand tracing the wall. He tried to measure up his surroundings with the sounds of his footsteps, but came up short. It was like walking in a dream, with every sound muffled with a blanket of groginess.
His fingers closed around something round and metallic, and he turned, surprised to hear the telltale click of a door.
He was hit by a sudden blast of heat.
"Close the door already," A voice snapped from somewhere inside "Ya're letting all the 'eat out, boy."
Ethan stepped inside and closed the door behind.
Unlike what he'd seen outside the cottage, the floorboards of this room were polished to perfection. The walls were high and covered with greying wallpaper, decorated with dream catchers made of bones.
At the right wall, fire roared in a grate, and in front of it, two armchairs sat.
Burning amber eyes turned his way.
"Well, well, well," The witch tipped her head to a side, assessing him "Its usually brutes that look for ma 'ome."
"I'm glad to change up your routine." Ethan nodded as he walked further in the room "You have a lovely place. The decorations heighten the gloom perfectly."
She snorted, and Ethan thought it sounded amused.
"Come sit," she waved a hand at the chair across from hers "Tell me what ya want. I got things ta do."
Maybe he should've been more skeptical, but given what he needed to know, Ethan was feeling more reckless by the minute.
He sat down across from the witch, and the fire was so hot, it almost singed his hair.
" 'ow did ya get 'ere?" The witch filed her nails with the end of a stick, glowing ambers at its end
"You've chosen the method yourself."
The witch seemed to be getting bored of him fast "State yar business, squirt."
Ethan cleared his throat "I always find it better to extract information before I ruin a conversation."
The witch raised her brows, flickers of blond among the grey. It was a surprise to see her with frayed skin and greying hair. Witches and warlocks were as good as immortal.
She studied him again, and Ethan held her ancient gaze. Then her lips pulled in a grin, displaying gold and yellow teeth.
"Ah, ya don't wish ta die." She said
"A reasonable wish, isn't it?" Ethan leaned back in his chair, casting the fire a scornful look
He looked back at the witch "I'm told if anyone can help me, it's you."
"What 'ould that get me?"
"Gold. Peace of mind. The usual."
She chuckled at that, and in a sharp movement, pointed her wand at him. Ethan tensed, but schooled his features to only raise a single brow. The witch grinned.
"There's nothin' ta be done," She said, easing back in her chair "Ya wasted good gold comin' 'ere."
Ethan felt utterly, entirely still. Silence stretched out in the room. He stood from his chair.
"I suppose Rannoch was right."
That made the witch's eyes flash, lips curling in distaste.
"And what," The witch narrowed her eyes "Did 'e say?"
"He was helping me look for a cure," Ethan continued, unfazed "Something about the royals and how they survived without their mates. But someone else told me to seek you out. He warned me you wouldn't be able to help in your old age."
The fire roared, and if Ethan wasn't feeling so fatalistic, he might've been worried about being baked to death.
"That scum," The witch sneered at no one in particular "That strip of a boy thinks ta insult me?"
She waved a hand, and a tome appeared in her lap.
"Sit down, boy!" she snapped, and Ethan right back down
Murmuring what were obviously curses in a language he didn't understand, she flipped through the pages.
"There was only one from yar kind," The witch finally said "One that found a way."
"What?" Ethan leaned forward, blood roaring in his ears
"Alaricus Lupin," The witch narrowed her eyes "But the method 'e used, ya cannot."
"I'm not sure if I should be worried or offended."
" 'e got a blood witch to make 'im a potion," The Witch stroked a hand along the page "Ta save a dying soul once, just once."
"How do I find a blood witch?"
"Ya don't. Given that all of 'em dead."
"Cant you make that potion?" Ethan asked, a little too quick
The witch shot him a sharp glare "I aint a blood witch, boy. And there aint no other witch that can make it. I told ya, there's nothin' ta do."
Ethan held his breath, afraid if he didn't his next exhale would unravel his composure.
"Then," he started "tell me how long."
She didn't ask what he was talking about. Just stared at him with enough intensity to rival the fire's.
"Six weeks."
Tenth hell. Ethan slowly let out a breath.
"Is there a way not to feel on the edge like this? Dying restless seems a lot more annoying than dying in peace."
The witch hmmed in thought, drumming sharp nails at the armrest of her chair "There might be. But it's gonna cost ya."
"Finally," Ethan said "Something I can deal with. What will you do? Lock my Lycan?"
"There aint enough of that left ta lock," The witch said "But there's a potion. It'll make the process painless for the whole six weeks."
She waved a hand and a little flask appeared out of nowhere, floating in front of his eyes.
Ethan pulled out a bag of gold from his pocket "Thank you. Can I have that book as well?"
"Good reading material before ya bite the dirt?"
"Something like that."
The witch snorted but gave him the tome "Yar not givin' up, are ya?"
"What gave it away?" Ethan grabbed the book and shoved the vial in his pocket
She waved a hand towards the door "Tell that scum of 'ell Korra can best 'im even a 'undred years from now."
Ethan raised his brows "Of course."
The moment he stepped out of the door onto the grass of his own forest, he felt the presence of the witch's cottage disappear, leaving cold wind in its wake.
Time had passed too quickly in Korra's cottage.
By the time Ethan reached home, it was well past midnight. He entered through the kitchen backdoor, where Vincent was pouring himself water.
He took one look at Ethan, with a goat tucked under his arm and a near-rotting book in the other hand, and continued pouring water.
"Not even gonna ask."
…