Page 43 of Blood Coven

OCLEAU

THE YEAR OF THE CURSE

BLAEZ

The sky softened as twilight crept in, but it brought only gray skies and droplets of rain. Keeping the hood of his cloak drawn over his head to shelter him, Blaez made the journey to the witch’s house. Everyone whispered warnings to avoid her, yet all the townsfolk went to her in times of need. Ana was in dire need of saving, and he would deliver her a cure, no matter the cost. Money or his life, he would give it for her. No matter how many times she split his lip or threw something at him, he would pick up the pieces and make them fit again. Even if it left him scarred.

Along the gnarled path, worn down from countless desperate footsteps, a doe crossed before him. She stepped out from the slender trees, her black-tipped ears flickering. Nose raised high, she turned her head and stared at Blaez before disappearing into the trees on the other side of the path. A moment of serenity followed, bringing a sense of calmness that overtook Blaez. I should leave this place, he thought. Still, he carried on.

Stepping into the clearing, the house craned over him, and atop the highest peak perched a large crow with giant black eyes that bore right through him. A knot formed in his gut, though crows and ravens had never bothered him before. He saw many when hunting and he respected them for their cunning. Often, they would share a kill. When he was out in the woods, he ate mostly rabbit, though they offered little substance. Blaez would leave enough behind for whatever might come to pick the fleshy head clean and feast on the entrails.

Blaez knew the creature before him was no ordinary bird from the way it studied him. Whatever calm he’d felt from the presence of the doe quickly withered as discomfort took over.

Despite the eerie feeling and internal voices screaming at him to run, Blaez walked to the witch’s door and knocked thrice. He only had to wait a few seconds before it opened, swinging inwards. Face to face with the same young woman he had gone to many years ago, Blaez welcomed the familiarity. Her captivating green eyes reminded him of the first grasses coming up from a hard winter.

“What brings you to our door?” she asked warmly, reaching for his hands. Her demeanor relaxed him.

“My wife is ill, and I’m afraid she does not have much time.”

Something flashed in her eyes, but she quickly sidestepped so Blaez could enter the house; he suspected it was recognition until she shut the door behind him. “What is your name?”

“Blaez Kõiv,” he told her without hesitation. “And you are Juniper; we have met before.”

She cocked her head to the side, then nodded. “You have a good memory. That was many years ago.”

“I am good with faces,” he replied. Her very presence carried a sense of serenity, reminding him of the doe he saw earlier. Reminding him there was still good in this world.

Thankful that she didn’t inquire whether or not Ana had become with child, Blaez offered her a soft smile. Sensing another presence in the room, he shifted his gaze over to where the figure stood. The woman was tall, hunched over at the top of her spine where it curved from age and the long years of bending over fires and books. The notorious witch of Ocleau, her name moving to the far reaches of the town—Azalea Luca.

“What ails her?” Azalea asked, stepping into the light of the lanterns and fire.

“She was bedridden when I returned home from a hunt, unable to eat—if she does manage, it does not stay down. Her fever burns, and she couldn’t tell me how long she had been this way… I don’t know what I would do without her…” Blaez’s voice tapered off into a faded crackle.

“What would you do to save her?” Azalea asked, stepping up to him and matching his stature when she straightened herself. She was completely cold, a stark contrast to the warmth her daughter had shown him, without an ounce of sympathy on her face.

Blaez supposed that in her life, seeing what she saw every day, she had to be cold.

Blaez paused for only a moment before replying, “Anything.”

Azalea seemed pleased with this answer, but she continued, “Would you die for her?”

“Yes.” This time he did not hesitate. He withstood her beatings just to be allowed to lay beside her in bed, to look upon her and be content that she allowed him to love her. It pained him to know the cost, but if her well-being cost him his life, then he would give it. While he had considered leaving her, he refused to have her death on his conscience. If he had the opportunity to help her, he had to take it. He now wondered what he would be without Ana in his life, by his side. To die for her would be the last way to prove to her how much he loved her.

“I can cure her. You need not die for her.” Azalea told him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“I have very little money,” he admitted. “I am not a man to beg, but I would fall on my knees and beg for her life. I would be forever indebted to you if that were what you wished. Tell me whatever you need, and you will have it.”

She raised a sharp eyebrow, perhaps impressed and intrigued, perhaps disbelieving. He was not certain.

Then she nodded. “Yes, you will do.”

“Me?” He looked at her in disbelief. “You want me?”

“Return three days from now in the late afternoon, an hour before the moon rises and before the sun has set.”

He scrambled to focus on the instructions she gave him, repeating them in his head.

“If you are but a moment late,” the witch continued, “your wife will succumb to her illness. If you turn back on this deal, your wife will die. If you so much as think—”

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