Page 4 of Destined to the Reaper

He was so stupid, snooping around Cornelius’s forbidden library, skimming off the top of his stash of reagents to perform his personal experiments and research, and sleeping with his concubines in the hopes of gathering juicy secrets he could leverage. What madness made him think Cornelius wouldn’t notice or that he would simply let him get away with it with a mild reprimand?

Granted, not even I would have expected Cornelius to take things this far. But it had already been four years. It was now clear that he would never set Jasper free. That wretched necromancer was a sadist and a psychopath. I would derive intense pleasure in being an agent in his demise.

As I approached the wrought iron fences of Cliona Nox’s domain, my pulse picked up the pace. By all accounts, the mysterious woman—informally known as the Weaver or the Hag—could be quite fickle as to who she granted her assistance. Asyou could not make an appointment with her, you had no choice but to show up and pray that she opened her gates.

My heart sank at the sight of what resembled a pair of stone imps leaping off the pillars framing the tall iron gates barring the way in. Their owlish eyes glowed red, lighting up their triangular faces framed by pointy bat ears. To my dismay, they appeared to grow, turning into full gargoyles as their stone skin took on a semi-leathery texture. With a blood-curdling roar, they gave chase to a man who had clearly been seeking an audience. Shrieking, the man rode off on his horse as bolts of fire cast by the creatures exploded behind him.

Although they missed, I didn’t doubt for a moment that had the gargoyles truly sought to kill or harm him, it would have been a done deal at the first shot. I slowed down my horse as I closed the distance with the gate. While one of the creatures continued to ‘encourage’ the man to keep going, the other one circled back in my direction.

My breath caught in my throat, and I stopped my horse. Heart pounding, I debated whether to turn around and hightail it before it decided to burn me to cinders. However, the red glow of its eyes shifted into a pale yellowish hue, akin to the open flame of a candle. It flew around me before turning back towards the gate, then settling on top of the right pillar. Moments later, the second gargoyle gave up its chase and returned to its own pillar on the other side.

To my shock, as their bodies shrunk back to their original impish sizes, they both turned their heads to look at me. The same, non-threatening, pale yellow glow shone in their owlish orbs. Simultaneously, the tall, heavy doors parted open as if pushed by an invisible hand.

I swallowed hard and urged my horse to resume its advance, but this time at a slow walk. The deafening sound of my blood rushing in my ears failed to cover the loud pounding of my heartas I warily made my way through the still open gates. My head jerked left and right to look in turn at each of the guardians for any sign of discontent at my presence.

Halfway through the entrance, the gates started closing behind me in a less-than-subtle fashion to tell me to get a move on. I didn’t need to be told twice. Pushing my horse to half trot, I crossed the wide path delineated by a luscious forest made of the strangest trees and vegetation on each side, and which led to the house.

The humble shack that awaited me at the end of the two-hundred-meter packed dirt pathway took me by surprise. I didn’t know what I had expected, but certainly not a simple thatched-roof cottage. It wasn’t until I disembarked from my horse and attached it to the post outside that I realized this was some sort of glamour hiding the house’s true appearance. That altering my vision to see past it revealed nothing testified to the insane power of the mage who had cast the spell to begin with.

I wondered why the Weaver would bother with such a thing. A part of me feared that it meant she had a thing for deception. Another wondered if it was a calculated move to avoid exposing any of her potential vulnerabilities by exposing what truly appealed to her. And then the last part didn’t particularly give a shit. I was just grateful she agreed to receive me, especially seeing how the previous supplicant had all but been sent away with his butt on fire.

The dark wood of the worn-out door creaked open on its own with a drawn-out whine. My skin tingled as the potent magic of powerful wards glided over me as I entered the dwelling. I barely spared a look at the typical witch hut that greeted me with its plethora of scrolls, herbs, vials filled with various liquids probably best left alone, and other magical paraphernalia.

I only had eyes for the ageless woman sitting on a stool while spinning a glowing golden thread on a wheel. She was a fewfeet behind a large table and faced towards the right side of the house. Although fully aware of my presence, Cliona continued to spin in silence, making me wonder if I should speak first or clear my throat to claim her attention.

A gasp escaped me when a chair I hadn’t noticed by the door glided over the wooden floor to stop right in front of the table, where a guest chair would normally sit.

I emitted a small yelp upon hearing a loud clang behind me. I jerked my head around over my shoulder to realize it was merely the door closing. Embarrassed to be so jumpy, I cast a nervous glance at the Weaver. Finding her now sitting behind the table, her hands crossed on top of it and staring me straight in the eye nearly had me jumping out of my skin.

Although I didn’t yelp again this time that she would have moved so quickly and soundlessly, I visibly recoiled and pressed a palm to my chest as if to keep my heart from leaping out.

“So jumpy, Kali,” the Weaver said in a sensuously throaty voice laced with a hint of mockery. “How can you hope to defeat Cornelius if you are so easily frightened?”

“How do you know?!” I exclaimed, stunned.

My cheeks felt on the verge of bursting into flames from even more embarrassment at the less-than-impressed look she gave me. Rumors claimed that Cliona Nox was one of the Ancients, although nobody could prove it. After all, why would a goddess dwell among mortals and assist them with various plights that had to be meaningless to her?

A shiver ran down my spine as the round pupils of her golden eyes narrowed into a slit as her gaze flicked to the empty chair in front of the table before returning to me. I swallowed hard and gingerly closed the distance with the chair before settling down on it. Her pupils returned to their round shape which I took as a good sign. She tilted her head to the side while giving me an assessing look.

The long, delicate fingers of her right hand, tipped with vicious claws, absent-mindedly caressed the thick braid she’d bound her hair into. It was silver-white, but not the standard gray of an elderly person, and fell all the way down to her feet. It stood out nicely against her tanned skinned, the type of color one would acquire by spending a lifetime under the sun.

She seemed ageless, neither young nor old. But the power that emanated from her left me reeling. I didn’t doubt it was only the tip of the iceberg.

“You haven’t answered my question,” she said at last, her face unreadable.

“I won’t deny being a little unnerved,” I said, proud that my voice came out steadier than I felt. “It’s not every day that one gets to meet an Ancient, seconds after seeing a supplicant nearly getting roasted by your guardians.”

An almost imperceptible smile quirked the corner of her voluptuous lips.

“There’s nothing more insufferable than someone who won’t accept that no means no the first time,” she said dismissively.

I noticed how she did not argue my statement about her being one of the Ancients.

“Which makes me curious as to what earned me the honor of being granted an audience, especially since you know what my goal is,” I said carefully.

“A bold one for sure, reckless even for most,” she concurred, the intensity with which she held my gaze unnerving me. “The question is whether you’re committed enough to your cause to see it through.”

“He’s been torturing my brother for years now,” I hissed, the old anger squashing any nervousness I felt. “I want this bastard dead, and my brother freed. There’s nothing I won’t do to see this through.”

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