"Every thorn has two Basic Gifts, a Hidden Gift and a Curse, and if you do not commit to our service in the future, we witches cannot guarantee the ability to select the gift and avoid the curse. The gods' tree gives the Prickled its magic, if he deserves it, he gains the gift and superpower, and if he is not worthy, then the curse of the brown thorn Fatal, there is no going back in it. It is spontaneous combustion." Delgis explained to him.
His body shivered. He detests witches and does not intend to serve them in the future, so he fears a curse. But he felt that he was worthy and that the tree of the gods was just, and would give him its gift after all his trouble, and said, nervously and eagerly, "I agree to grant magic, I won't get hurt, Delgis. Come on."
If he had agreed to her service, she would have guaranteed him the gift, now she is not. The only tree that the witches do not guarantee happiness or misery for the Prickled with is the silver poplar, even if he swears to serve them all his life. Jova Hackam and Drups took on an astonishing challenge by agreeing to that gamble of its blackthorn, and luckily they didn't turn into a mindless fruit bat and won its precious gift.
She beckoned him to come closer, secretly congratulating him on his foolishness, for not being afraid of spontaneous combustion was not an act of courage at all, and after having recited another incantation in the sacred language of Nazma, they trembling to hear its letters, she asked Sitra for some wine and poured it over his chest, Then she planted the thorn in a point above his heart, and the blonde did not feel the pain, and the thorn was left in his chest and she asked him to go back several meters.
In his place, he waited to possess supernatural power, such as smashing rocks or shooting lightning from fingers, but instead, he felt a strange coldness in his depths, and smiled in confusion, thinking that this at least is promising, because it is far from spontaneous combustion, but suddenly, Cold turned hot, and his eyes widened in fright, then a strange blue fire engulfed him in one second, before even a shriek of pain formed in his throat, leaving only the brown thorn, which quickly wrinkled after it was consumed, and became a line of brown ash. On top of the black ash heap left by the poor bullian.
"Sweep up all that ashes, Sitra, and banish the Prickled of these days. Tell them they must wait a whole week."
The dwarf complied, and (Delgis) murmured, looking at the remains of the burnt man: "Fucking fool, you would have done me interesting services in the walls of (Al-Ayma), but you chose freedom with risk."
"Have the assassins started their mission, ma'am?" asked Sitra, sweeping up the ashes.
"That idiot Drups rushes and starts the operation without coordinating with the League of Assassins, which alerts (Aynur) and her men to our plan, but he is back in the team and they are regrouping now. (Jova) is doing well, and he has become our eye in the heart of (Ten Trees Hills)."".
"War-tribes' warriors are so good at field deception, I bet you, ma'am, he'll be the last one left alive."
"I accepted the bet, I'm betting on someone else entirely, certainly not the warrior," said (Delgis) in a rumination.
She was correct in her prediction.
***