Page 80 of The Lost Child

I snuck a glance at Canavar. “That seems to be the way of it.”

Danger was beautiful. Death could even be beautiful, when looked at through the right lense. My mate (I was still getting used to that word) looked very serious today, watching the ships fall into the water with the somberness of watching a burial.

“My cave will not wash away,” he intoned, a bit stubbornly.

Alkdama turned from where she stood between us and the rest of her coven, watching from atop a high hill on the northernmost point of the island. “The rise of the tide will be permanent, though. The cave will be flooded and impossible for any living creature to access.”

Something in Canavar loosened at that, and I grabbed his hand and squeezed. I shot a thankful look to Alkdama, who only gave me a thin smile.

The leader of the blood witches still held her cards closely to her chest, but I no longer blamed her. Something awful had happened to most of her coven, and I suspected someone had betrayed her. It would explain why she didn’t fully trust anyone, now.

Not even me.

“There goes the last of it,” Alkdama pointed out.

I turned and we all watched the last ship break apart and tumble down into the water, the rest of it sucked out by a greedy tide. Then all was calm, and the waves settled.

“It is kind of the sea witches to help,” I said, still trying to prove to Alkdama that some people could be trusted.

She sniffed. “Getting the pirates off the island and hiding it under blood magick only serves them. They won’t have to worry about the island anymore or any young witches getting captured and raped.”

I knew she spoke from previous experience, so I didn’t try to argue back. Hopefully, one day her heart would loosen.

“Time to set the wards.”

Nasi and Kaida soared down to the shore, Canavar grabbing my waist and diving after them. I squeaked in surprise, wondering if I’d ever get used to being hauled off into the air like a mouse caught by a falcon.

Somehow, Alkdama had beat all of us. “Nerissa. Come here.”

I came at Alkdama’s beckoning, spotting her down at the other end of the beach, near a copse of rocks. She waved me over, impatient with my slow gait. I paused as I saw the entire blood witch coven present, working on sketching out a large diagram on the sand with sticks and their own fingers.

“You’re setting the signs for the blood wards?” I asked rather dumbly, but Alkdama nodded with patience. If nothing else, she was an excellent teacher.

“The sigil is in the shape of the island, which will take a while to get just right. That is why our most seasoned witches are working on it. The younger ones are threading in the signs for protection and sacrifice. I want you to work with them. They will teach you enough basics. If you master them, you can participate in the ritual with us.”

My heart soared at the thought. Real magick with real witches!

“Yes!” I said eagerly. “Show me please.”

Alkdama guided me to a group of witches, including the young blood witch Alina.

“Hello again,” she offered with a grin.

I blushed, and raised my eyebrows at the others. One by one they all introduced themselves, and we got down to it.

* * *

Just about an hour later, I was sweating, my head hurt, and my muscles ached from being in the same bent over and cramped position for hours. I was painstakingly drawing a circle around the other sigils to connect them. It was to be one of thirty three other circles just like it.

“Rest if you need,” Alina cautioned, noting how my hand was shaking. “We are only tracing the outline. During the ritual though, you will not be able to stop. None of us will or we risk killing each other.”

Fun.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the three drakens land nearby and watch us quietly. Drakens had supposedly mastered protection wards, but they had grown up outside of their own culture. It was up to Alkdama to plan the ritual and go through with it.

I was so happy that Canavar felt comfortable enough to spend time around his kin without me. Nasi and Kaida would do wonders to help him assimilate into a normal life.

“There! Done!”

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