The flickering candlelight casts long shadows over the ancient book. Lady Marv's fingers hover above the page, tracing the intricate, foreign symbols as she scans the text. Her brow furrows, lips whispering the words beneath her breath. The air around them feels thick, charged with anticipation.
"Found something," Lady Marv announces, her voice low but steady, breaking the heavy silence.
Balu steps forward, narrowing her eyes at the ancient writing. "Seriously? How are we supposed to understand this?" she mutters, her frustration evident. Her own magical knowledge is vast, but this… this is different. The text before her isn't something she can easily decipher, not without tapping into powers she avoids using.
Lady Marv gives a sharp look, already sensing the hesitation. "You can't read it, but we can," she says, her tone firm. "Let me do the work."
Balu's lips press together, but she says nothing. She watches as Lady Marv begins chanting softly, the ancient language flowing from her lips like a forgotten melody. The others circle around, eyes intent on the book as Lady Marv mutters, translating the script. Each word she speaks causes the air to hum, and slowly, the powerful incantation begins to form—a spell that will locate Teslime, a spell that will allow them to confront the Sun Witch.
With a final, firm utterance, Lady Marv closes the book, her fingers stilling. The spell is ready. They are ready.
And just like that, they are at the front of a door seem old and unkept, the unfamiliar trees dances their way through with the unwielding wind. The ground seed with vines of rooted trees. The oppressive forest, a place where shadows seem to take on lives of their own. It's not long before the Sun Witch's stronghold materializes ahead, a fortress of brilliant golden light, shimmering with power and ancient magic.
Lady Marv looks at the others, her face set in determination. "Now," she says, voice quiet but firm.
The air crackles with energy as lady Marv and mistress Lily begin their approach, chanting in unison, their powers drawn together. But before they reach the gates of the fortress, the Sun Witch herself emerges, a towering figure of molten flame and blinding light. Her eyes glow with fire, her smile cruel as she sees them.
"You thought you could defeat me?" the Sun Witch's voice booms, laced with mockery. "Foolish mortals. I will burn you to nothing."
Her fiery tendrils lash out, threatening to consume them. Balu flinches as one of the flames comes too close, but the witches stand their ground. Lady Marv steps forward, hands raised. "Now!" she commands, and the witches cast their magic.
The air snaps with a violent surge of power. The Sun Witch shrieks as the magic strikes her. Her form wavers, flickering as the spell from the book takes hold. The witches chant louder, their voices rising in unison, and with one final, decisive incantation, the Sun Witch is sucked into the enchanted box. She thrashes against it, but the lid slams shut, her screams muffled as she is sealed away.
The silence that follows is deafening. The witches stand, panting, the weight of their victory settling over them. But there's no time to rest. They must get to Teslime.
They find him in a small, dimly lit room deep within the Sun Witch's fortress. His body lies motionless on an altar, pale and still, as if he's been frozen in time. The witches move quickly, kneeling around him. Lady Marv places a hand over his chest, summoning her magic. She attempts to revive him, pouring every ounce of energy into her spell, but nothing happens. His body remains lifeless, cold to the touch.
"Why isn't he waking up?" Balu mutters, frustration and worry creeping into her voice. Her fingers brush against Teslime's skin, trying to sense any pulse, any sign of life.
"I don't know," Lady Marv replies, her face tight with concern. "We have to bring him back. Maybe Steffen can help."
"We don't have to take him along. I mean, he's dead. Why not just leave him behind?" Balu suggests, her voice edged with discomfort. The thought of sharing a ride with a corpse makes her stomach churn. Her focus, like the others', is on stopping Teslime. If fate is on their side and he's already gone, why complicate things?
"Dead or alive, our mission is to bring him back to the king—and that's exactly what we'll do," Mistress Lily interjects firmly, silencing Balu's protests with a sharp glare.
"We'll leave tomorrow at dawn," Lily adds, her tone brooking no argument. She strides over to the cold, lifeless body of Teslime and crouches beside him, her fingers carefully examining for any signs of life. When she's certain he's gone, she begins to chant softly, her lips forming ancient, deliberate words.
As her spell takes hold, Teslime's body begins to levitate, hovering weightlessly in the air. Without another word, Lily steps outside, the body floating behind her, as the others follow in tense silence.
Their car jerk to a reluctant stop in the middle of the road, the dark, unnatural cloud hovering ominously ahead. John carefully pull the handbrake, his movements deliberate as he steps out of the car. The door creak open and swing wide as his feet meet the pavement, his eyes scanning the mist for the source of the strange phenomenon shadowing their path.
"An East Witch's spell," Mistress Lily whispers, her voice low and sharp. Recognition flicker across her face as the telltale scent hit her senses. Her veins pulsed with colors that defies description, glowing faintly as her eyes mirrors the same ethereal hue. Her hair, now lengthen unnaturally to her mid-back, shimmering in tandem.
She steps out of the car with an unyielding grace, her body coiled tight with the feral energy that the scent of her enemies stirred within her.
The history of the East and West Witches hang heavy in her mind. The scars of their centuries-old war ran deep, etch into their very blood. The conflict have never truly ended, even if it had been forced into uneasy silence.
"Lily," a voice whispers, soft yet unmistakable.
Mistress Lily's gaze hardens as the figure steps out of the fog. The East Witch's aura radiates malice, her presence oppressive and cold.
"Sheba," Lily growls, the name cutting through the air like a blade.
Sheba smiles faintly, her dark hair shifting unnaturally as though the mist itself obeys her. Her eyes gleam with a sickly light, and the air around her hums with an energy that feels alive, stolen, corrupted, and wrong. Behind her, a group of trained agents fan out, their movements synchronized and deliberate. They carry weapons etched with runes, their faces grim and merciless.
"She recognizes me," Sheba says smoothly, her voice laced with amusement. "How quaint. I almost thought you'd forgotten I existed, Lily."
Lily straightens, her glowing eyes narrowing as her hair coils like restless shadows around her. "You shouldn't be alive."
"And yet here I stand," Sheba replies, her voice soft but commanding. She takes a deliberate step forward, her agents moving with her, their formation tightening. "I'm here for Teslime. Hand her over, and I'll let you crawl back to your precious Steffen. Resist, and…" She smirks, her head tilting slightly. "Well, I've always enjoyed a good fight."
The air grows heavier with every word, thick with an unnatural chill. Lily's fingers twitch as she prepares to strike, but she doesn't move yet. "Teslime belongs to the king. You'll never take her."
"Belongs?" Sheba echoes, her smirk widening. "How archaic. Teslime is mine now, he just doesn't know it yet." She raises her hand, the mist curling tighter around the group. "This is your last chance, Lily. Don't make me break you."
"Try," Lily spits, stepping forward as power pulses through her body.
Sheba doesn't hesitate. "Attack," she commands, her voice ringing out like a death knell.
Her agents spring into action, their movements fluid and precise. The first strikes come fast, a rain of enchanted weapons cutting through the air. John barely deflects an incoming blade, his muscles straining as he shoves one of the attackers back. The others are locked in frantic combat, their spells flashing and colliding like fireworks in the suffocating fog.
Lily charges straight for Sheba, her body glowing with energy. She unleashes a searing blast of magic, but Sheba counters it effortlessly, her dark power twisting and absorbing the attack.
"You've grown stronger," Sheba says, her tone almost mocking. "But it won't be enough."
The two clash violently, their magic colliding in blinding bursts of light and shadow. Lily fights with the precision of a warrior, her movements fueled by desperation and rage. But Sheba moves like a predator, calm, calculated, and utterly ruthless. Every strike she lands saps the strength from Lily, her dark energy feeding off the life around her.
Behind them, the battle rages on. Sheba's agents overpower the group with merciless efficiency. One by one, Lily's allies fall, bound by the tendrils of enchanted mist that tighten like chains around their bodies.
Lily swings a blade of pure light at Sheba, but the East Witch catches it in her bare hand, her grin widening. "You're fighting against the inevitable, Lily. Your magic is finite. Mine…" She leans closer, her voice dripping with malice. "Mine is eternal, fed by the lives of the weak."
With a surge of power, Sheba hurls Lily to the ground. The impact drives the air from Lily's lungs, and the mist solidifies around her like iron shackles.
Sheba turns her attention to Teslime's body, lying motionless on the ground. Her expression softens, almost reverent, as she stalks beside it. She brushes her hand over Teslime's forehead, her dark aura flaring briefly.
"Teslime," Sheba murmurs, her voice low. "You'll serve a far greater purpose now."
"No!" Lily screams, struggling against the restraints, but it's no use. The mist binds her tighter, draining her strength with every movement.
Sheba stands, her agents forming a protective circle around her as they lift Teslime's body. She spares Lily one last glance, her smile triumphant.
"This isn't personal," she says coolly. "It's destiny. You can't stop what's coming."
The fog thickens, swallowing Sheba and her agents as they retreat into the shadows. When the mist finally clears, Lily is left kneeling on the ground, her breath ragged, the bitter sting of defeat cutting deeper than any wound.
Fast as the wind, they appear in the heart of the Organization. Sheba strides purposefully ahead, her agents close behind, carrying Teslime's lifeless body.
"Lay him here," she commands, her voice sharp and final.
The agents obey without hesitation, gently placing Teslime on the cemented slab at the center of the dimly lit room. The space hums with latent energy—walls lined with symbols, candles flickering with unnatural flames, and the air heavy with the scent of ancient magic.
Sheba circles the slab deliberately, her sharp gaze raking over Teslime's pale, lifeless form. His skin is ashen, his features sunken, a haunting reminder of the life that was stolen. But Sheba sees beyond the death, her lips curling into a cold smile as her fingertips brush the edge of the cement.
Without warning, she lifts her hands, her fingers splayed wide. Dark tendrils of energy spiral from her palms, coiling like serpents around Teslime's body. Her lips move swiftly, whispering forbidden spells, each word laced with dark intent.
The room quivers. A low, resonant hum fills the space, and Teslime's body begins to shift. His chest rises faintly, the once-pale skin gaining a healthy, glowing hue. Wrinkles smooth away, and the years stolen by death are erased. His face becomes whole again, youthful and vibrant, as if he were never touched by decay.
The transformation is seamless, like time itself reversing.
Sheba steps closer, her movements slow and deliberate, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She presses her finger gently beneath Teslime's chin, tilting his face up to meet her gaze.
"Finally," she murmurs, the word dripping with triumph.
Teslime's eyes snap open, his breath ragged as he inhales deeply. He blinks, adjusting to the sudden rush of life coursing through him. Slowly, he swings his legs over the side of the slab, his feet touching the cold floor. He stands, testing his strength, and exhales, his chest rising and falling with newfound vitality.
"Finally," he repeats, his voice low and steady, tinged with awe and relief.
His mind churns with the memory of Sheba's offer—a chance to join forces. He had defied her then, walking away from her promises of power and vengeance. But now, in the face of his revival, he knows the truth: survival demands sacrifice.
Sheba tilts her head, her dark eyes gleaming with knowing. "Now you're mine," she says, her voice soft yet commanding. She steps closer, her presence as suffocating as the magic that revived him.
Teslime meets her gaze, a grim determination settling over his features. He nods slowly, his hand curling into a fist.
"Together," he says, his voice sharp with conviction, "we'll make their lives hell."
Sheba's smile widens, her satisfaction palpable. The room falls into a heavy silence, the air vibrating with the dark promise of what is to come.