The Vampire & Her Witch

The entire hall had gone still as Fallen Claw clattered to the ground. For a moment, Owain hung there, suspended on Lady Ashlynn’s blade through the visor of his helm. Then, she stepped in close, bringing her head within inches of his. Were it not for the helmets they both wore, Ashlynn might have resembled a wife intending to give her fallen husband one last kiss goodbye...

Ashlynn was grateful for the protection offered by her helm, and she didn’t mind if people misunderstood. It made it easier to conceal what came next.

”Kiss of the Void,” Ashlynn whispered in a voice that carried no further than the man in front of her. Cold, dark power filled her voice as she drew on her bond with Nyrielle to unleash a curse that no witch ever had. ”Oblivion’s Embrace...”

The moment she spoke the words, she placed one hand on Owain’s chest and wrenched Water’s Edge free of Owain’s lifeless skull. The blade tore a thin line through the air, ripping at the seam between this world and the next and exposing the narrowest sliver of darkness that pulled something... something dark and shadowy from the wound in Owain’s head.

”Demon,” Baroness Tosha said as she glimpsed the crack of greater darkness in the air as it seemed to retrieve a piece of lesser darkness from Owain. ”Creature of Darkness...”

Other whispers rippled through the crowd, and some of the most faithful fell to their knees, praying that the darkness wouldn’t come for them. But there was one whispered phrase that Ashlynn couldn’t allow to take hold in the minds of the people, and her voice silenced the whispers as it carried through the hall.

”Owain was not a man possessed by demons or darkness,” Ashlynn said, refusing to let the man be absolved of his guilt by a legend that claimed he wasn’t in control of himself. ”Darkness is the reward and the result of his choices and actions. His spirit will wander forever in the darkness of the Void,” she declared. ”The world cannot bear to give such a wicked man a chance to be reborn.”

”Saintess...”

”Saintess...”

”Saintess...”

The word rippled through the Great Hall like the incoming tide. Even High Priest Aubin fell to his knees as he heard Ashlynn condemn a man not only to never reach the Heavenly Shores, but to lose all hope of struggling again. This life would be Owain Lothian’s last, and for his failures, he would suffer an eternity of darkness.

At the side of the Great Hall, Jocelynn couldn’t see what everyone else saw, and the word that slipped past her lips wasn’t ’Saintess.’

”Ashlynn,” Jocelynn said, clutching a hand to her chest as she watched Owain Lothian fall to the ground at last, leaving her sister standing all alone in the middle of the Great Hall. She was injured and bleeding, but no one was moving, they were all too busy falling to their knees and worshiping and...

”Go to her,” Isabell said gently as she stepped close to Jocelynn. ”She did this for herself, to be free of him, but she also did it for you, to free you from him... So go,” she said, giving Jocelynn a gentle shove between the shoulders. ”Go to her.”

”Mmm,” Jocelynn murmured as she stumbled to her feet. Her steps were unsteady as she rushed across the hall, more falling forward from one step to the next, and her world narrowed as she ran until she couldn’t see anything but the lonely armored figure standing at the center of the hall.

”Jocey,” Ashlynn said softly as Jocelynn flung herself into her sister’s arms.

Jocelynn’s entire body trembled with soft sobs as she clung to Ashlynn and tears flowed down her face. Ashlynn’s coat slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet but neither woman seemed to care. For several heartbeats, they just held each other there while the entire Great Hall held its breath, unwilling to disturb the moment between the Saintess and the sister she’d fought so hard to rescue.

”Help me,” Ashlynn whispered several heartbeats later when she felt the sobs beginning to slow. ”It’s too hot in this helmet,” she said lightly, hoping to break the tension. ”And I can’t even see you when you’re that close to me.”

”Oh, oh!” Jocelynn said, suddenly embarrassed at how little thought she’d shown for her sister in this moment. ”Here, let me,” she said quickly as her fingers found the buckles of Ashlynn’s armor.

She fumbled at first in her haste, but soon, the sounds of clattering armor filled the hall as Jocelynn helped her sister out of not only the bevor around her neck and the domed steel helm, but also the layers of chain and padding underneath it, and her armored gauntlets as well.

Finally, Ashlynn’s face was revealed again, and the sight of it took Jocelynn’s breath away. Ashlynn’s tightly braided hair was plastered to her scalp with sweat, and her complexion was paler than Jocelynn had ever seen it before. Blood stained her pale blond hair near her temple, and a dark purple bruise was already forming on the side of her brow.

Ashlynn’s emerald eyes were the hardest part of all, because even now, when the battle had clearly ended, they still looked guarded and ready for war. There was a tension across her brow and unspoken worry in the set of her jaw that Ashlynn struggled visibly to set aside before she spoke again.

”There you are,” Ashlynn said, keeping her voice as gentle as she could as she lightly stroked her sister’s cheek. ”Stay with me?” Ashlynn asked lightly. ”Standing right now is harder than you think, but I’m not done yet. There’s still one more thing I need to do. Well, two,” she corrected herself. ”But one of them has to come first.”

”I won’t let go of you,” Jocelynn promised. ”You can lean on me.”

”Good,” Ashlynn said as she finally allowed herself a small moment to relax, leaning on Jocelynn for a measure of support as she turned to look out across the crowd.

Too many people were kneeling. The word ’Saintess’ had firmly taken hold, and what Ashlynn intended to do next would only make it worse. She hadn’t planned this, but she hadn’t known about the power or the tragedy of the Lothian throne when she planned her duel against her husband.

Now, she couldn’t leave it as it was, looming over the people it had touched or worse, haunting the families of the people it had killed.

”Ollie,” Ashlynn called, looking out into the crowd. ”Liam. I need your help to break the throne,” she said as she started taking slow, unsteady steps toward the dais.

”Bring Owain,” she added once both young men reached her side. ”Strip him of his armor and place him on the throne. This curse began with the Lothian family line, and it will end with it as well...”