The journey to the witches' ward was silent, save for the sound of hooves splashing through puddles.
As they arrived at the ward, the prince dismounted, his boots sinking slightly into the mud. He barged inside without waiting for an announcement, his presence commanding as if he owned the place.
"Witches! Assemble!" he ordered, his voice echoing through the dimly lit hall.
Two witches stepped forward from the shadows. Their faces were pale, their eyes sharp and filled with suspicion.
"How dare you storm into our domain with such arrogance?" one of them said, her voice laced with contempt. "The king still lives, and you have no right to command us!"
The prince smirked, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "Haven't you heard the news? Your king is dead. He was attacked on his journey, and now the throne belongs to me. You will obey my orders."
The witches exchanged a glance, their expressions hard to read.
"When did this happen?" the second witch asked, her tone softening slightly.
The prince crossed his arms, impatience evident in his stance. "Not that it's any of your concern, but it's recent. Now, let's get to the point. I sent a dying man here earlier today. I want him returned to me. Where is he?"
The first witch tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "I'm afraid he's no longer with us."
The prince's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? How dare you lose someone under your care? Where is he?"
The witch remained calm despite his rising anger. "The Great Sisterhood came for him."
"The what?" the prince barked, his frustration growing.
The witch's gaze sharpened, and she turned to one of the elders standing behind the prince. Without a word, the elder stepped forward, sensing the tension.
"My lord," the elder began cautiously, "please, mind your words. The Sisterhood is not to be trifled with."
The prince frowned. "Who are they?"
The elder took a deep breath, his voice dropping slightly as if afraid to speak too loudly. "The Bene Gesserit. A secretive and powerful sisterhood. They are a network of women—spies, nuns, scientists, witches, and theologians. Their influence stretches across the four great kingdoms. They operate from the shadows, wielding great political and spiritual power. They are not ones to follow orders from anyone, not even kings."
The prince's expression darkened as he absorbed this information. "Are they still in my kingdom?"
"Yes," the witch answered simply.
"Summon them to my palace," the prince demanded.
The witch raised an eyebrow. "We can try, my lord, but they do not answer to anyone."
The prince glared at her. "Try harder. That's an order." He turned on his heel and stormed out, his guards and elders trailing after him.
Deep within the forest, hidden from prying eyes, a massive structure resembling a futuristic ship stood shrouded in mist. It appeared alien, otherworldly, and completely out of place amidst the trees.
Inside, women dressed entirely in black moved with silent precision. Their faces were covered, leaving only their eyes visible. At the center of the room, Azrael lay on a cold stone table, his body convulsing weakly. Six women surrounded him, their hands raised as they chanted in unison. Spellbooks and potions were scattered around the room, the air thick with the smell of burning herbs.
The leader of the group, a tall woman with piercing eyes, observed the ritual from a distance. Her gaze was steady, her expression unreadable.
The witch from the ward entered quietly, her presence unnoticed until she approached the leader and whispered into her ear. The leader nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing.
She turned to the others and called out in a commanding voice, "Lysandra! It's time. Take three sisters with you and ensure the mission is completed."
A younger woman stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Yes, my lady," Lysandra replied. She turned to three other women, who joined her without a word. The four of them moved in perfect synchronization, their steps silent as shadows as they left the room.
Back at the center of the ritual, Azrael's breathing slowed, his body trembling less violently. The leader returned her focus to the ritual, her eyes gleaming with determination. "Let us begin the final phase," she said, her voice resonating with power.
The storm outside raged on, lightning illuminating the mysterious ship-like structure for brief moments before plunging it back into darkness. Whatever was happening within its walls was far from over.