Page 53 of Red Queen

“Let them watch,” I say, feeling the weight of my sword against my side. “We have nothing to hide from ghosts.”

We dismount at the edge of the Witching Vale, the horses’ breaths pluming in the chill. The Witching Vale mansion stands before us, its appearance roughened by years of neglect. Darkwindows stare out like empty eye sockets, and ivy grips its sides, desperate and clinging. The moon casts its pale light over the crumbling stone, giving the mansion an ethereal glow, as if it were caught between worlds. The place smells of decay and something like old magic.

We move closer, and the ground beneath our feet feels hallowed, sacred.

Eleanna reaches out, only to snap her hand back as if pushed by an unseen force. “Can you feel that?”

“An ancient mystical barricade,” I mutter, eyeing the invisible obstruction with wary respect. “I felt it on the road. This is no ordinary spell. It’s ancient, powerful, and demands a price for passage.”

She turns to me, curiosity lighting her eyes. “How do you know? And what price?”

“Legends speak of barriers like this, erected to protect sacred places. They require a sacrifice, a testimonial to one’s intentions.” I glance at her, the moonlight flashing across her determined face. “We need to offer a part of ourselves. A drop of blood as a symbol of our willingness to sacrifice for the greater good.”

She furrows her brow as she processes the requirement. “Blood. A small price to pay for the power to bring down Catarina.”

I nod, feeling the weight of the moment settle between us.

Eleanna extends her arm, her gaze locked on mine. The blade’s edge glints in the moonlight before slicing a quick, shallow line across our palms. We press our wounds together, the mingling of our blood is like a pledge to the land and to each other.

We step forward, and the barrier yields, dissipating like mist under the morning sun. A moment of vulnerability shared, athreshold crossed in unity, and a trust forged in the willingness to bleed for a cause greater than ourselves.

“Come,” I say, extending my arm for support as we step across the threshold.

Her fingers brush mine, tentative yet electric, sparking a flame that even the cold can’t extinguish.

“Thank you, Alexandru,” she whispers, her voice laced with something more than gratitude.

“Always, Eleanna.”

I take her hand in mine, and we step into the Witching Vale mansion.

The building looms around us, its grandeur decayed by time yet still holding an air of ancient dignity. The clock tower tolls, echoing the stroke of midnight, and I feel the pull of destiny—Eleanna and I, united in purpose under the shroud of night.

“Here.” Eleanna’s voice slices through the silence as we stand in the living room, a space overtaken by wild growth that no gardener’s hand has tamed for centuries. “The mandrake must be here.”

“Careful,” I warn, scanning the strange garden within these walls, where light trickles through broken panes, over thorns and leaves.

We move silently, my hand finding hers as we navigate through the foliage, drawn to the center where a peculiar plant shivers despite the stillness of the air.

“Found it,” she says, her voice tense with excitement.

“Ready?”

Together, we intertwine our fingers around the stem of the elusive mandrake root.

“Yes, General.” Her grip tightens alongside mine.

With a shared nod, we pull.

An ear-piercing scream fills the room, a wail so raw and chilling that it threatens to claw into our very souls. Yet wepersist; we pull until the plant surrenders, uprooting it from its earthen bed into our hands.

“By the gods!” Eleanna gasps, her breaths quick and shallow as the cries fade into whimpers.

“Let’s go.” The urgency to leave this cursed place suddenly feels overwhelming.

“Wait.” She clutches the mandrake close, her gaze locking onto mine. “We did it. Only one item left to obtain.”

A surge of pride swells within my chest. Along with a newfound admiration for the woman beside me, fierce and unyielding. Eleanna of old would have dismissed all of this. Or if pushed to do it, sent in underlings. But she’s in the middle of it, willing to risk herself, willing to do the work. And it stirs something deep within me.

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