The Cursed Witch

“With innocent blood I bind my soul,

breath of man,

heart of woman,

flesh and spittle.

In the realm of shadows, where darkness lies,

immortal life beckoning mine.

Here we stand,

proclaiming our loyalty,

we seek the sacred knowledge, 

hidden deep in the abyss.

Forged in fire and ice,

a covenant I vow. 

Following thy commands,

we offer our souls, 

 we declare eternal breath.”

“No! Don’t do this Ciervo…” Gwyneth’s voice wavered as she called into the circle of witches. Her body trembling with ferocity. She was too late. Alvaro Ciervo didn’t so much as flinch at the sound of her voice. An icy wind roared through the night, past her cape, seeping through her skin and chilling her bones. This was as close as she could stand to the coven circle without her energy being drawn in and used to help strengthen the spell. However, she could still feel the dark power overwhelming the night. Lighting up the wee hours of the night shone a full moon as if to highlight the grave situation unfolding before her. The coven stood surrounding a young maiden from the village, who lay slain on the frozen lake. Gwyneth recognized her as Morwenna, a local Fisherman's daughter. She couldn’t be older than fifteen. Morwenna’s long hair sprawled across the ice, deep burgundy swaths of blood matting her once perfectly golden mane. 

The chanting continued an ominous hum lifting along the air. The wind seemed to thrash with wrath as if obeying the chants of the coven. Alvaro stepped into the circle, goblet in hand. Gwyneth watched from afar as he knelt on his knee scooping up a cup of blood from the young woman, and took a sip. Steam from the young woman’s still-warm body billowed out around her. Alvaro held out his hand, beckoning his wife Isabel to enter the circle. Kneeling on the ice, Isabel pulled back the hood of her cape, hair blowing furiously in the wind. She grasped the cup of blood in both hands and took a sip. Standing once again, Isabel passed the cup around to the rest of the coven, with each member taking a sip. The first light of dawn peaked over the horizon. “Hurry!” Isabel shouted gruffly, blood dribbling down her chin. Alvaro brandished a large dagger, concealed under his cloak. The chanting got louder, repeating the spell continuously. Alvaro ripped apart Morwenna’s dress, exposing her bosom. With precision, he carved the knife, plunging deep into her chest, careful to not damage her heart. 

Gwyneth watched as his teeth sunk into the heart of the young maiden, unable to cry as the tears became icicles in her sapphire eyes. She turned, running back towards the village, lifting her dress and cloak as her boots descended into the thick snow. It was as though she had suddenly entered a vortex, feeling as though she was unable to make progress as snow flurried towards her, faster and faster. Unable to catch her breath, it felt as though she had the wind blown out of her. Her energy drained. A blood-curdling scream echoed from the witch's circle. Turning her head back to face them, Gwyneth squinted attempting to place who the scream came from. It was Isabel, who now lay on the ice next to the young maiden. Legs spread, Isabel lay on the ice suddenly full term and birthing a child. More blood coated the icy lake, pooling at her feet. 

Dark magic was strictly forbidden, and the evils the coven were conjuring now had unknown consequences. Isabel had been unable to conceive as she had been very sick for some time, and it was believed her final days were near. 

“There’s a heavy price to pay for eternal life, and it’s not a cost you only can pay once.” Gwyneth recalled these words she spoke when Isabel first came to her with the spell. She remembered Isabel’s pleading eyes, her face gaunt from sickness, and the fear-stricken look seemingly embedded into her sunken eyes. A plea that seemed to ask Gwyneth for her forgiveness before she even truly considered what was at stake. “Where did you find this?” Gwyneth asked referring to the dark book Isabel had clutched to her chest as if her life depended on it. Isabel took a deep breath as if expecting a chastising. “I… I summoned it.”

“…From where?” Shuddering, Gwyneth clutched her arms. Isabel looked down, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know, I just summoned it.”

“Damnit Isabel, what evil have you summoned here?” Her voice boomed, echoing through the halls.

“It’s from the abyss.” Isabel’s voice wavered, knowing it was forbidden. “You wouldn’t understand.” She said through clenched teeth.

“You’re certainly right about that, girl. You know I have to turn you into the coven leaders.”

“You do that and you’ll leave me no choice.” Isabel threatened. 

“Whatever is that supposed to mean?” Gwyneth seethed, resting her hand on her belly as if to protect her unborn child.

“You couldn’t even begin to understand what I have been through. Three still-births I’ve had to endure. A man so much as looks at you and you are with child.” Isabel spat viciously, immediately receiving a slap from the back of Gwyneth’s hand. Isabel fell to the side, catching herself on the table with both hands. Tears welled in her eyes. She huffed in anger more than hurt.

“Curse you, Gwyneth Cunningham.” Isabel's hand now rested on the red mark rising on her cheek.

“You don’t mean that, Isabel.” Gwyneth felt a wave of remorse wash over her. She rubbed both her hands as if to wash away the smack. “You couldn’t believe I would want this.” Gwyneth laid her hand on her belly once more, referring to the child that had resulted in unhappy circumstances. “I am an unwed woman, all alone with child.”She shook her head. “You know if there was anything I could do to help you, you know I would.”

Isabel stood up straight and turned to face her, the tears now streaming down her face.

“Then help me with this.” She held up the book. “You know you have the strongest power of all of us in the coven.” Isabel pleaded.

“Anything but that.” Gwyneth’s eyes narrowed and the two women stood there staring into each other's eyes, as if peering into each other's souls. Interestingly, Gwyneth only saw darkness brewing in Isabel. And blood. Lots of blood.

“Blood.” Gwyneth’s face paled as she spoke, losing her balance she grabbed the chair near her and sat down.

“What?” Isabel now concerned, rested her hand on Gwyneth’s back. “What did you see?”

“Isabel, if you do this, if you proceed with this ritual, you may live but how many more will die?” Still in a daze, Gwyneth looked before her, but could only see many lifeless bodies strewn across her mind's eye. “We swore an oath to the coven, we do not harm the mortals.”  

“I am mortal!” Isabel shouted, tears welling up again. “I am not yet twenty and five and I am going to die.” 

The people in the village were beginning to stir, the early risers making their morning rounds as Gwyneth returned, being careful to not be seen. There wasn’t much time before Morwenna’s family realized she wasn’t home, safe in her bed. Besides, it was not known the unspeakable evils that had just been summoned. Gwyneth entered her room in the coven’s large manor. It wasn’t safe here anymore, and her coven was no longer home. She began frantically packing a sack with some belongings, making her way to the kitchen to gather sustenance. She wasn’t quite sure where she was heading, but she was certain the journey would be long. 

She knew she could not go back to Spain, but she also knew she could no longer stay in France. Bells tolled in the town square, and not in the usual rhythmic way. The chaotic clanging sent chills down Gwyneth’s spine, senses heightened. She listened closer, hearing the screams of villagers. She was too late, the massacre had begun. Exiting through the side door, she headed for the stables hoping to evade the cursed witches, but preparing herself for a fight. 

As she emerged from the stables, the vision she had seen once before was now playing out before her eyes. The people of this small village lay strewn about in puddles of blood and snow, ripped apart savagely. There before her stood Isabel and Alvaro, their eyes red as crimson, skin as white as the snow. Isabel held an infant bundled in a bloody cloth, smiling as though she had won her prize. They hurried past her towards the manor, knowing there was nothing she could do. 

“Isabel,” Gwyneth called behind her in a whisper, looking over her shoulder. Isabel stopped for a moment but didn’t turn around.

“You may now have eternal life, but make no mistake, you have no soul.” Gwyneth grabbed the reigns and started to trot away, but Isabel appeared before her eyes. 

“Thank you, by the way,” Isabel said, head cocked to the side, smiling devilishly.

Gwyneth’s eyes furrowed, confusion fading as realization hit. Her power. She was too close to the ritual. In truth, she should have figured that out sooner.

“You helped us. Even if you don’t want to admit it. So thank you.”

“Get out of my way,” Gwyneth said through her teeth.

“Don’t you want to meet your godson? Meet Diego Alvaro Ciervo.” Isabel pulled the cloth away from the child’s face. He looked innocent. Perfect.

“Get that spawn of satan out of my face!” Gwyneth shouted, conflicted on how this tiny being could have come from such a dark place, and be capable of such evil. 

“The entire village is gone. Innocent men, women, and children are dead because of you, because of what you’ve done!” 

“You mean, what we did, right?” Isabel said with a wicked grin. “And I’d do it again.”

“Isabel! Come.” Alvaro called, beckoning her to get out of the street. Isabel headed toward the door where Alvaro stood. 

“One more thing. Good luck with the baby. You’re going to need it.” Isabel stated ominously. Gwyneth clutched her belly and trotted off towards the forest. She wasn’t sure what Isabel had meant by that, but she knew she had done something. She had been cursed before the ritual, she knew that was certain. Gwyneth chanted spells of protection and healing over herself as she rode. The horse's hooves descended into the blood-drenched snow, the slaughtered bodies steaming in the cold morning air. Screams of the villagers echoed through the town. Some were just discovering the massacre for themselves. 

Gwyneth couldn’t wait to get out of this place. She’d like nothing better than to rid her mind of the evil she had witnessed, but she had to find another powerful coven to help.

Because this was only the beginning.