Page 169 of Castings & Curses

“Yes,” I answered. “They come seeking comfort, relief. Not all ailments are physical. Sometimes, the mind hurts more than the body.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “And they trust you with this? Their minds, their fears?”

I smiled gently. “Yes, they do. Trust is earned, my lord…Cristian. Not bestowed. I earned their trust through consistent acts of care and understanding.”

In silence, Cristian absorbed my words. He set down the vial and asked, “And what about you, Sage? Whom do you trust?”

His question startled me. Whom did I trust? I’d never really given it much thought. I trusted the villagers, of course, and my familiar spirits who aided my magic. But beyond that, I had always been somewhat alone. “I suppose,” I began, “I trust in the goodness of people.”

Cristian seemed to contemplate my words before finally saying, “You’re different from anyone I’ve ever known, Sage.”

I lowered my gaze modestly. “I am but a humble healer.”

He tucked a finger under my chin and lifted my gaze to his. “Oh no,” he murmured. “You are much more than that.”

His words hung in the air between us, and where his touch lingered, warmth radiated. I stared back at him, unsure of what to make of his assessment. Yet, beneath the uncertainty, there was a flutter of something else—intrigue, attraction? Undeniably. Here I was, alone in my little cottage with this handsome, powerful man…

But I was promised to another. I realized I’d been swaying toward him and caught myself, clearing my throat and turning toward the table to break contact. I busied my hands straightening vials.

Cristian set one aright that I’d clumsily knocked over, and with a smile said, “I look forward to learning more. For now, I must return to Ravenscroft. Until our next lesson, Sage.”

With that, he departed, and I was left with a swirling sense of anticipation.

Could a nobleman truly learn to value love and respect over power and influence? Could he genuinely understand my world? I wasn’t sure. But as I closed the door behind him, I realized I was intrigued to find out. I did my best to ignore the way my body yearned for him and how his fresh pine-and-leather scent lingered among the sharp and earthy herbs.

Curiosity propelled me toward the small window that overlooked the narrow path leading to the cottage. I caught sight of his silhouette disappearing into the evening, swallowed by the enveloping darkness of the night.

Drawing a deep breath, I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. There was no point dwelling on it now, I reasoned. There would be time enough to ponder Cristian Lazar’s motivations later. Now, I had other responsibilities to attend to.

I turned my attention back to the ingredients scattered across the table. There were mushrooms to be sorted, potions to be brewed, and remedies to be prepared. Yet, my mind stubbornly drifted back to our conversation. His candid admission that he found me different, his genuine intrigue with my healing craft, made me feel unbalanced yet alive.

Cristian Lazar had walked into my cottage driven by curiosity and ambition. He brought a promise of change, a hint of something new, something different. And as I rhythmically ground marigold petals with my mortar and pestle, I found myself hoping that the nobleman would indeed understand my magic and what I so deeply believed in. Perhaps, this was the beginning of a journey neither of us had anticipated.

CHAPTER6

Cristian

My visitto Sage’s cottage left me restless. I desired a taste of her world, of the magic that seemed to flow through her veins like a life-giving river. I wished for a supernatural force of my own, a secret weapon that could further elevate my position and magnify my dominance. With each sunrise, this yearning grew, feeding on my thoughts and dreams. Seeing that braggart Mirea riding his black stallion out to survey what should have been my lands only lent fuel to the fire of my discontent. A desire for more power, something unattainable, began to consume me.

I made inquiries and searched the lands for such power. In my quest, I crossed paths with a creature, Seraphus, whose existence was whispered about only in the quiet corners of the village. A vampire, they said, as old as time itself. To many, he was a figment of tales spun on dark, moonless nights, a myth designed to terrify disobedient children. To me, he was a means to an end.

After waiting until the sun had fled and a sliver of moon crept into the sky, I found him living in a hide-and-moss-covered hut by the edge of a bog. Tall and gaunt, with a long, coarse beard that must have once been fiery red but now was dimmed to the color of dried blood threaded with silver, he regarded my approach wordlessly, as if he’d been anticipating my arrival. Even the insects fell silent, and no night bird called from the heavy hanging willows. Bearing a torch, Seraphus, clad in rustic gray robes, silently motioned me to enter his hut. I ducked my head to avoid hitting the strings of small animal bones hanging in the doorway.

He listened in enigmatic silence as I laid bare my desires before him. My voice trembled with determination and uncertainty. “I seek something beyond the confines of mortality, Seraphus. A chance to grasp the world with hands that will never wither. I yearn for more than this mortal coil can offer.”

Seraphus regarded me with eyes that seemed to pierce the very depths of my soul. “Ah, the allure of power and immortality, the elixir that has driven countless souls into my embrace. You seek to transcend the limitations of humanity, Lord Lazar, to reach heights of which mere mortals can only dream.”

As Sage had told me, I could not be a witch. But seeing what she could do with her magic opened the door to wanting my own. I wasn’t born with supernatural abilities. No coven’s lineage ran through my veins. But such power could be bargained for. This was the “more” I’d longed for. Mirea would quake at my feet. “Yes, I wish to be an unstoppable force that shapes the destiny of my world.”

His ancient face showed little reaction, but the strange flame dancing in his eyes flared, and he uncurled his ice-white hand toward me. “I can grant you all that you desire and more. But know this—such gifts come with a price, a heavy burden that you must bear.”

A cloud must have passed over the moon, for the already dim light in the hut darkened further. My skin grew cold despite the fire burning in the hut’s small brazier. “I am willing to pay any price, Seraphus. My desire exceeds any fear of consequence.”

The vampire’s gaze locked onto mine, his obsidian eyes ablaze with forbidden knowledge. “Then I shall grant you what you seek. Brace yourself, for the transformation shall be a crucible, a trial by fire that will forge you into something more than mortal.”

Before I could take a breath, he was on me, and a terrible pain radiated from my throat outward through every vein and artery. An otherworldly energy engulfed me, and I was thrust into a maelstrom of pain and ecstasy. It was as if my very essence was being torn asunder, every fiber of my being ignited with a searing agony. I convulsed in torment as my bones shifted, my flesh tearing and mending in an eternal loop of pain.

Through the haze of torment, I heard Seraphus’s voice, cold and unyielding, “Embrace the darkness, Lazar. Embrace the forces that shall bind you to the night, and you shall emerge as something beyond human comprehension.”

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