VI. Ancestors and Earthwitch

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Sitting up, I bring the blade and shallow bowl within easy reach. A light shiver runs through Violet, her dread and her hope blending into an elusive shroud that shadows her every breath. Glancing away, I catch a spark of malice lingering in Asher’s gaze before he is able to hide it; but as the darkness clears, an irrepressible interest rises. It’s a look I’ve seen on so many a-face whenever the blood of a vampire is spoken of.

Letting those particular thoughts drift away, I bring my travelling bag closer, withdrawing a spoon. Still feeling the tension in the room, I hold back a quiet laugh, knowing that the hostility and fear are only just beginning. “Take a deep breath, Violet. All will be well.”

Gently reaching, I take her by the wrist, turning her hand palm up. Clutching the shallow bowl, I carefully gather the paste on the spoon, bringing it to her lips. In her eyes, I see her conflict, her emotions at war with one another. Her wish to heal, defying her mistrust of both her clan and I, but as her gaze rises to find mine, a flash of vengefulness fills her eyes. A feeling I know well.

Swallowing the paste, she watches as I set the bowl aside, grasping the blade. Her arm tenses, but before her awareness has time to settle, my blade is slicing the tip of her finger. The scent of blood fills the air as the urge to feed coils within me, predatory and dark.

Swiftly brushing her fingertip with mine, I use her blood to draw the witch’s knot, a familiar rune, under her collarbone. Gasping, her eyes flutter closed, her figure tensing as she falls back on the bed. Standing, I reach over, sweeping her fallen hair away from her eyes, her skin hot to the touch as the magic of the rune and healing herbs nourish her blood, while the curse weakens, before breaking.

Sweat coats her skin as the others begin to whisper in fright, uttering condemning words in which I find myself at the centre of. I feel as Asher approaches. He’s silent as though waiting for me to speak, and I wish his wait would be of a longer duration, but I know that Violet will open her eyes in a moment.

As if awoken by my thoughts, her gaze meets mine. Already her skin has lost most of its grey pallor, and the dark circles beneath her eyes have vanished, even her movements seem to flow with a renewed fluidity as she sits up. “How do you feel?”

A smile blooms on her face as she looks to me. “I feel..., lighter and no longer endlessly exhausted.”

“Has the dizziness and the pain faded?” I ask, as I let my hands trace over her, feeling the energy of her meridian lines strengthen.

“I feel neither of those things now, but how do you know...? I never spoke of such things.”

Letting my hands fall, I look back to her. “Those feelings are part of the curse from which you were suffering.”

Opening my bag, I take out some fresh ginger and lemon balm, dropping the cuttings into the bowl of hot water, as I slide in my blade and spoon. I almost feel Asher’s stare harden as he regards me with increasing frustration and mounting hostility, until finally he breaks. “From this, I understand that you know the curse, and how it came about?” His words are grating as he tries in vain to conceal his true feelings.

“The curse is one I have seen only once, as the cause is something that only the desperate or those of unwavering greed bring upon themselves. Though it would seem that this time it is a little different.” The sharpness of my tone, matches my words, which upsets many, but their bravery fails them, as they do little more than to whisper angrily. Yet with my monstrous gifts, their words are easy to discern.

“You would dare to accuse my clan? Be careful, you are alone here...” Asher chides, his voice sternly edged. “I would hate to think that we are unable to trust you, Wren.”

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