The Vampire & Her Witch

In the future, she would bring people like Rosie and young Tonnis to her Enchanted Grove where she could more easily draw on the strengths and powers of many diverse trees to attempt something like this, but for now, she stretched her senses out as far as she could go, ensuring that there was at least one tree available to support her witchcraft as she began to heal the tenacious poison.

”Through willow’s gift and nature’s grace,

Let healing waters find their place.

Cleanse the flesh where poison dwells,

And break this fever’s burning spells.”

The energy flowing from Ashlynn’s hands turned a soft, silvery green as she placed one hand over Rosie’s chest and the other over her mouth and nose, letting the frail woman breathe in the cleansing magic naturally. Ashlynn held this posture for several minutes before an inky, smoky darkness began to spill from the woman’s lips each time she exhaled as Ashlynn worked to cleanse not only the venom that tortured her body but the smoke and soot that had settled into her chest during the fire.

For ten long minutes, Ashlynn sat unmoving, her own face growing pale as she felt a burning fire settle into her chest and sharp, constricting pains as if a serpent had wrapped itself around her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs with every breath she drew. It was the same pain that Rosie felt with every breath she drew, and Ashlynn battled it with her until the pains began to recede with each exhalation of the dark, smoky energy until finally, she could breathe easily again.

”My lady,” Zedya said anxiously from the side as she watched sweat beading on Ashlynn’s brow. ”Do you need to rest before you continue? Should I bring you anything?”

As one of Amahle’s students, Zedya was no stranger to the healing art of witches, even if it was all but impossible for vampires to learn any healing arts outside of Nyrielle’s blood sorcery, but this was the first time she’d seen the shared pain of healing affecting someone she cared for and the feeling of helplessness that settled over her as she watched from the side was something she hadn’t felt so intensely since the days before Nyrielle found her and bestowed the gifts and powers of a vampire on her.

”I’m fine,” Ashlynn said, coughing a few times as if to expel phantom smoke from her own lungs. ”It’s best if I continue straight through,” she said before she began with the next stage of healing.”

”Ancient oak with wisdom deep,

Free the mind from poison’s maze.

Let thoughts flow clear and memories keep,

Restore the truth and clear away the haze.”

This time, Ashlynn reached out directly to the Ancient Oak within the Vale of Mists, borrowing its vast and ancient strength with memories that stretched back to the very beginning of the Vale of Mists in order to strengthen Rosie’s mind.

Greenish-golden energy swirled in Ashlynn’s hands as she moved them to rest lightly on Rosie’s temples in an attempt to fortify her mind against the falsehoods and delusions that flowed from the Nightweaver venom. It wasn’t enough to simply purge the toxin, though that alone would have been a boon that Rosie would have taken without complaint. But cleansing the toxin alone would still leave her with the damage it had done, the distorted memories, and the lies that had burrowed deep into her mind.

Instead, like a tree growing in rocky soil, Ashlynn’s energy worked its way through Rosie’s mind, pushing aside the dark, twisted lumps of paranoid delusions and frightened whispers, leaving her with only the clear, gleaming truth of her life.

At the same time, the poison attacked Ashlynn’s own mind, conjuring up memories of the trial she faced with the Ancient Willow, where she watched Nyrielle drink every last drop of her blood to gain the strength she needed to fight back against the army of the Church. It was a haunting memory, crafted by the remnant of a Willow Witch who sought to tear Ashlynn and Nyrielle apart, and for one horrifying moment, Ashlynn didn’t know if the memory was real or if it had been part of a vision.

More memories twisted and distorted as she struggled to sustain the flow of healing energy. Things she had seen in nightmares where her mother betrayed her to the Church or the vision Claire du Gaal had shared with her about the Church dragging her away before she consumed herself in flames, only this time, Ashlynn felt like she was remembering her own death...

Blood trickled down her lip as she bit into the soft flesh, using pain to drive away the lies and haunting distortions of the venom. Unexpectedly, however, it wasn’t the pain that helped her to force her way through, but the taste of faintly metallic blood that so frequently accompanied Nyrielle’s kisses that tore through the haunting shadows, leaving her mind clear and her heart soaring on dark wings that would never allow her to come to harm.

This time, it took several minutes after she had completed the cleansing before she was able to begin again. Sweat soaked her blouse in the space between her shoulder blades, and her breathing was ragged from exertion, but when she looked down at Rosie’s sleeping face, she could see the lines of tension and fear melting away.

”Hemlock’s silence, still and true,

Let phantom voices now pass through.

What poison whispers in the ear,

Let nature’s quiet make sincere.”

Ashlynn’s connection to Hemlock trees had only grown stronger after nurturing the seed she’d carefully prepared for Isabell. The tops of the mighty trees bent and swayed in the wind, hearing everything, but no matter how fiercely the winds high above the other trees blew, the hemlock stood tall and proud, never uprooted or torn from its place, always grounded in what was real.

Now, Ashlynn relied on the sturdy base of the hemlock tree to keep herself rooted in her work, pulling the dark, thick, almost stringy energy from Rosie’s ears as if it were made of balls of cotton that had been stuffed in the other woman’s ears.

By now, the dark visions that accompanied touching the essence of Nightweaver venom had become almost familiar to her. Voices whispered in her ears, and for a moment, Ashlynn paused to listen, soaking in the feeling of hearing her father’s deep, rumbling voice or Jocelynn’s light, musical laugh.

The words they spoke were nonsense, preying on fears and hurts that she was already facing. The words didn’t matter and like the stoic hemlock, she ignored the whispers that sought to wound her heart, taking comfort simply in the sounds before she pressed forward, purging the last of the darkness from Rosie’s ears and moving on to the final stage of healing that would not only purge the Nightweaver venom from her eyes, but break Zedya’s Mesmerizing gaze as well.

”Ash’s sight that pierces veil,

Where poison’s tricks and phantoms pale.

What twisted visions cloud the eyes,

Let truth’s clear sight now recognize.”

Though she had never nurtured an Ash seed and few grew within the Vale of Mists, Ashlynn had always felt a strong connection with the tree that her mark of the witch so closely resembled, and that connection seemed to have grown stronger with her connection to Nyrielle.

The Ash tree felt like a tree with roots in one world and its crown in another, and one that sat closer to death than many others. At the moment, it was that proximity to death that Ashlynn drew on, eradicating the last traces of nightweaver venom from Rosie’s eyes and clearing away the ghosts and visions that haunted her.

Nyrielle’s dark, midnight blue energy seemed to pulse within the rich emerald green of Ashlynn’s, carrying with it the feeling that all lies and deceptions would crumble in the face of death. There was no resisting this final phase of her healing ritual, and no visions would be allowed to torment her as a cold wind blew through the small room, summoned from the darkness of the void and carrying what little venom remained along with it when the wind returned to the darkness from which it came.

Ashlynn slumped in exhaustion as the power she’d summoned drained from her body, leaving her feeling cold and wrung out like a damp towel. But on her lips, a faint smile slowly formed as she watched the eyes of her patient begin to flutter open, looking clear and free of pain for the first time in many weeks.

”Relax, Rosie,” Ashlynn said, reaching out gently to reassure the woman whose eyes had begun to dart around the small room in confusion. ”You’ve been ill for some time now, but you’re in a safe place. I know you have questions,” she said lightly as she gestured for Zedya to bring over a cup of water. ”I promise to answer what I can, but in return, I’ll need you to answer some questions for me...”