Page 70 of My Dark Obsession
Distasteful wasn’t enough to describe the horror that the witches had been through. The disrespect and utter fear they must have felt. Knowing what could potentially have happened to their body when they passed. Knowing that their temples of life were going to be violated and stolen from them.
“If all the Witches died during the war, did any of them…suffer this?” I asked frowning.
“The witches that perished in the war disintegrated into dust my Lady and disappeared into the wind. There were no bodies to bury.”
Is that why I was having so much trouble finding my power? If they weren’t buried and didn’t have the ritual, then the power wouldn’t have moved onto the next generation. To me.
“The closest bloodline of Lady Samara never needed the ritual to gain their powers.”
I frowned again, I was going to have permanent frown lines if this kept up.
“Yes, you are of her bloodline, the closest to it. You did not gain your powers from a ritual. Your power is and has always been inside you.”
Part of me had hoped that the reason I couldn’t access my powers was because the ritual hadn’t been done, that it wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t find my magic. However, that would have been the easy way out, the weak way.
I wasn’t weak.
“What do I need to accept? Everyone keeps telling me to accept, but what?”
“Yourself my Lady. Until you accept yourself, accept who you truly are, your powers will not come forth.” He poofed from the room leaving me staring open-mouthed at his left-over glow.
It was that easy? All that time, all that time away from my boys, all this waiting and I just had to accept myself?
“Fine,” I called out into the empty room.
“I accept myself. I’m a Dark Witch. I’m from the Dark Mountain. Happy?” I looked to the ceiling as if it was going to answer me.
Nothing.
Nothing but the crackle of the fire and the noise in my head.
Ravioli blinked his beady eyes at me before shuffling on his perch.
I growled out loud and stomped from the room, up the dark stair way, past the cold judgy eyes of my ancestors and out into the cold night. I stomped my way to the cemetery and stood there with the wet moss seeping into my socks and the cold mist settling on my skin.
“I accept! I’m accepting it! Okay!?” The dead didn’t answer.
The waves below the cliff crashed against the rock, angry slams of water that created sprays of salty tears. The trees wept their purple liquid and the branches, for once, stayed solid and still.
“Please just…help me get to my boys. Please.” I whispered. I had begged. I had begged my ancestors and the Dark Mountain. I had begged for their help and yet they gave me nothing. I screamed at the stone in anger. They would speak to Ziel, but wouldn’t speak to me, their only living relative? Was I that much of a monster, that much of a nobody that not even the ancestors would help me?
My shoulders slumped, the anger seeped from my body and my pent-up rage diminished. I was failing. I was failing to protect the twins. I had let Lyal go too far and in doing so, he had killed me and took me further away than I could possibly have ever gone.
I truly was nothing.
“Mo Chridhe, what are you doing out here?” My dragon asked as he walked through the iron gates towards me. His glowing kind eyes and soft smile were a comfort I didn’t deserve. I didn’t answer him; instead, I let him see the utter soul-drowning sadness and guilt that seeped into my weary bones. Because I was. I was sad for the twins and the life they had to live; I was sad I had missed so many days with them, sad for Cole and his sickness, sad for the witches and the horror they had to live through.
And finally, I was sad for myself, sad that I was everything that everyone had always said I was. A monster, a freak, a dud.
Rí smoothed my damp hair from my face, reached down and lifted me into his arms. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me back into the mountain, into my room and through to the bathroom that I never truly paid much attention to. He put me down to the black tiled floor and turned the shower on behind a huge glass wall. He helped me remove my clothes, placing a soft kiss to each ear lobe before following me into the hot spray of water. Never once saying a word. He washed me with such gentle hands my cold heart warmed under his soothing touch.
“Ye’ have so much on ye’ mind. So much ye’ must do. Let me care for ye’. Let me take some of ye’ burdens,” he murmured as he slowly rubbed soap into my shoulders. I nodded slowly and closed my eyes, gave in to his warm touch and let him take control of the moment. He was so loving, so kind. So utterly devoted to me. The way he treated me made my eyes sting with tears that wouldn’t shed. I had never been able to cry.The act just never happened; no tear ever spilled from my tired eyes.
I looked at him from under my lashes and placed a soft kiss to his soaking wet shirt. He had taken me into the shower, cleaned my entire body and not once had he made me feel like there was an ulterior motive. Not once had he made me feel we had to do more. He had simply wanted to take care of me.
My dragon had a kind heart.
I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it from his massive shoulders. Pressing a soft kiss to his chest I smiled at the purr that vibrated from him. I squeezed soap into my hands and began to wash him as he had me. I showed him with this act that I cared; I cared in my own fucked up way.
