Page 165 of Castings & Curses

The early morninglight wove through the emerald canopy above my little cottage nestled in the depths of the forest. Dapples of sunlight cast an ethereal glow around the room. A soft breeze blew in from the windows, rustling the parchment where my latest herbal concoction was jotted down. In my world, where incantations twined with natural remedies, this was just another day of harmony.

A sharp knock broke through the tranquility. The villagers rarely ventured this far into the forest, and when they did, it was always pain that drove them to my door.

“Come in,” I called, my heart heavy with the familiar weight of responsibility. The door creaked open, revealing old Crina, her face pale and lined with worry.

“My grandson,” she gasped out, her hands trembling. “The fever…we can’t…”

I didn’t need her to finish. I grabbed my cloak and followed her out into the forest.

As we trudged through the village, the humble thatch-roofed cottages stood in sharp contrast to the grandeur of the Lazar estate. Even at a distance, the towering stone castle overshadowed us, a constant reminder of Cristian Lazar’s power over the people.

At Crina’s cottage, I found the child burning with fever that no natural remedy could assuage. My hands hovered over the boy, and I closed my eyes, reaching deep into the reservoir of my magic. Words of healing flowed from my lips. A sigh of relief escaped me as the fever broke, and the magic within me receded like a wave after the storm.

The boy’s breath evened out as he drifted into a peaceful slumber. I couldn’t help but feel a surge of affection for the small life that escaped the clutches of death.

Crina’s gratitude filled the room, and I accepted it gracefully, a reminder of my purpose. As I left her home, my gaze instinctively moved once again to Ravenscroft castle, its lofty gray edifice as cold and inaccessible as the man himself. A place of influence and nobility, far removed from my own. Yet, a strange sensation stirred in my soul, a premonition that our paths would collide.

With soft steps, I walked back to my cottage, and upon entering, my thoughts drifted to my heritage. Every herb hanging from the rafters, every crystal and potion was a testament to my lineage and the long line of powerful Hawthorn witches, the women from whom I was descended.

My mother and grandmother had been my teachers; their wisdom was a legacy I carried. Love, they taught me, was the most potent form of magic. Love could heal the deepest of wounds and overcome the greatest of evils. I was their living embodiment—a witch whose strength lay in a compassionate heart.

I settled in my chair by the fire. The crackling flames danced, casting long shadows, like the old stories that lived in this very room, that caressed the floor and walls like gentle fingers. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth seep into my bones. Later, I would attend the village celebration. It was an annual event, and I was expected to be there.

Traditions were important to the village, and to my own family. We all had our proscribed roles to play. Soon, I reflected, I would be expected to marry the man my family had chosen for me when I was but a child. Staring into the flames, I tried not to surrender to the familiar resentment that burned in my chest whenever I considered that I had no choice in the matter. As witches, our bloodlines were vital, and the elders blended lineages with care and wisdom to ensure our magic carried on, as strong or stronger, to the next generation.

I realized I was digging my fingers into the arms of my chair and consciously relaxed them, taking a deep breath. I must respect the wishes of the elders. Even though my heart beat wildly to fly away and be free.

CHAPTER3

Cristian

“My lord.”Vasile’s voice rang out, drawing my focus from watching peasants dancing in a joyful circle. “It’s unlike you to attend such a common gathering.”

I glanced back at him as he approached to stand at my side, arching a brow at his mild reproof. “Is it? Or maybe it’s just that I’ve grown weary of the opulence of my lifestyle. Sometimes, simplicity brings a respite.” And I also wanted to know if there were whisperings about Mirea scheming to lure villagers away to work his new lands.

“I don’t think you’ve been to the village since you were a lad,” my adviser said with a crooked grin.

I shrugged. “Indeed.” Fighting the voivode’s wars had kept me away until my father’s untimely death. But this, Vasile knew. “It seems the village is doing well. The people look well fed and content.”

“Well fed and content? They’re not sheep or cows, my lord,” he scoffed.

Vasile must have been imbibing the local ale or he wouldn’t be so bold. I found it amusing. “Of course. I’m only noting that in other villages, the people seem…less jolly.”

“Well, it’s the witches, my lord.”

“The witches?”

“Aye. They’re healers. They make sure the crops grow and the harvest is bountiful.”

“My father always did have a soft spot for them. I didn’t realize they were so influential.” I searched the group of laughing, dancing villagers, trying to spy any that might be a witch. A hunched crone or a hollow-eyed wizard, perhaps. “How many are there?”

“Oh, a whole coven, my lord. They’ve grown in number since you’ve been gone, and we’re all the better for it. They keep the evil away.” He squinted his eyes and made a claw with one hand. “Vampires, you know. We’re untouched. They’re a scourge elsewhere.”

I scoffed. Of course, vampires were an issue in some parts of the country, but I had never seen one. I passed my gaze over the boisterous crowd once more. “Which one is the healer I have heard so much about? That one?” I pointed to a very elderly woman bent over a cane with a faded red kerchief around her iron-gray curls, her toothless smile widening as her foot tapped along to the music created by rustic instruments played by the village men.

“Hardly, my lord. Uh…” Vasile peered to the right and left, then his brows lifted and he pointed. “Ah, there! That one, Sage Hawthorn. She’s the village healer. Lovely girl.”

I turned to see where he pointed, and all thoughts of vineyards and villagers melted from my mind. And for a moment, I knew…peace.

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