Chapter 5
The Blood Pact
The air was suffocatingly heavy as Alaric and Seraphine were dragged deeper into the witches' lair. Torchlight flickered against the jagged walls of the cavern, casting ominous shadows that seemed to dance in rhythm with the echoing chants. Their captors moved with an eerie grace, their dark robes trailing across the ground like liquid smoke.
Alaric's wrists ached where the enchanted bindings cut into his skin, sapping his strength each time he struggled. He glanced at Seraphine, who walked ahead of him, her head held high despite the chains around her wrists. Her expression was unreadable, but he could sense her simmering fury.
"We need to think of a way out of this," Alaric hissed under his breath.
"Quiet," Seraphine snapped back without looking at him. "They're listening."
The witches halted abruptly as they reached the heart of the cavern—a vast, circular chamber illuminated by an eerie green glow emanating from runes carved into the walls. At the center of the room stood a raised dais, upon which sat an obsidian altar. Surrounding the altar were ceremonial artifacts: ancient tomes, bowls of herbs, and a jagged dagger that pulsed with an unnatural light.
The leader of the coven, a tall woman with silver hair and eyes that gleamed like molten gold, stepped forward. Her presence commanded silence as she raised her arms.
"Tonight," she intoned, her voice reverberating through the chamber, "the veil shall be pierced. The blood of the chosen will guide us to Eldarath."
A murmur of excitement rippled through the coven. Alaric felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead.
"What are they talking about?" he whispered to Seraphine.
"They think we're the key to finding Eldarath," she replied, her voice low. "Our blood will activate their ritual. But they don't understand what they're dealing with."
Alaric frowned. "You sound like you do."
Seraphine didn't answer. Instead, her eyes darted around the chamber, taking in every detail.
The silver-haired witch turned to face them, her gaze piercing. "Bring them forward," she commanded.
Two witches stepped forward and grabbed Alaric and Seraphine, dragging them to the altar. Alaric struggled, but the bindings drained his energy with every movement. Seraphine, on the other hand, remained calm, her eyes fixed on the leader of the coven.
The witches forced them to their knees before the altar. The silver-haired witch stepped closer, the ceremonial dagger in her hand.
"Let us begin," she said, her lips curling into a cruel smile.
Alaric's heart pounded as the witches began chanting, their voices rising in a haunting melody. The runes on the walls glowed brighter, and the air grew thick with magic.
The silver-haired witch raised the dagger, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. Alaric's mind raced, his panic threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn't let this happen. He had to do something.
As the dagger descended, a surge of energy erupted from deep within him. It was wild and uncontrollable, but he seized it, channeling it into a desperate burst of magic.
The bindings around his wrists disintegrated, and a shockwave of energy rippled through the chamber, throwing the witches off balance.
Seraphine reacted instantly. Shadows erupted from her hands, slithering like living tendrils as they lashed out at the coven. The silver-haired witch staggered back, her expression shifting from triumph to rage.
"Traitors!" she hissed. "You dare defy the coven?"
Alaric scrambled to his feet, his magic crackling around him. "We're not your sacrifices!"
The coven regrouped quickly, their chants growing louder as they began casting spells. Bolts of energy shot toward Alaric and Seraphine, but Seraphine's shadows intercepted them, absorbing the attacks.
"We need to work together," Seraphine said, her voice tense as she deflected another spell.
Alaric hesitated, but the determination in her eyes left no room for argument. He focused his magic, conjuring a barrier of shimmering light that deflected the witches' attacks.
"Keep them busy," Seraphine said. "I'll handle the leader."
Before Alaric could protest, she charged toward the silver-haired witch, her shadows swirling around her like a storm.
The battle was chaos. The witches' magic filled the air with flashes of light and bursts of sound, but Alaric and Seraphine fought with a desperation born of survival. Alaric's magic grew stronger with each attack, his confidence building as he began to understand his power.
Seraphine reached the leader of the coven, their clash sending shockwaves through the chamber. The silver-haired witch was powerful, but Seraphine fought with a ferocity that bordered on recklessness.
Alaric focused on keeping the other witches at bay, his magic forming shields and launching bursts of energy. He could feel the strain of the fight, but he refused to give up.
Finally, with a cry of triumph, Seraphine landed a decisive blow. Her shadows enveloped the silver-haired witch, cutting off her chant and sending her collapsing to the ground.
The remaining witches hesitated, their formation faltering as their leader fell. Alaric seized the moment, unleashing a wave of magic that sent them scattering.
The chamber fell silent, the witches retreating into the shadows. Alaric and Seraphine stood in the center of the room, their breathing heavy and their bodies battered but victorious.
Seraphine knelt beside the fallen leader, her expression unreadable as she examined the woman. "She won't bother us again," she said, her voice cold.
Alaric approached the altar, his gaze lingering on the ceremonial dagger. "What now?" he asked.
Seraphine straightened, her eyes meeting his. "Now we destroy the ritual and get out of here."
Together, they worked to dismantle the coven's setup, destroying the artifacts and erasing the runes. The air grew lighter as the magic in the chamber dissipated.
As they prepared to leave, Seraphine turned to Alaric. "We made a good team," she admitted reluctantly.
Alaric managed a small smile. "I guess we did."
But as they stepped out of the chamber and into the night, Alaric couldn't shake the feeling that their victory had come at a cost. The blood pact they had formed in the heat of battle still bound them, and its true consequences remained unknown.
For better or worse, their fates were now intertwined. And as they ventured deeper into the unknown, the shadows of Eldarath loomed ever closer.