The Necromancer's Daughter

|| nine ||

Rebecca raced through the woods as Lucille trailed behind. Everything was exactly as her vision showed her, it was like she was living through an extended déjà vu experience. Leaves and branches whipped her arms, her cheeks, but she paid no mind. She needed to reach the cottage in time. She needed to save the little boy.

"What the-!" she blurted, seeing that they've finally arrived to their destination.

"What is it?" Lucille asked, a few steps behind her.

In front of Rebecca was the cottage she saw in her vision. But it was not the beautiful, cozy one she previously saw. There were no shiny glass windows, no blooming flower beds, no thriving wisterias. Instead, the cottage looked abandoned, with moss and vines growing savage all over it. Nature threatened to take over the man-made structure, slowly pulling it down 'til it crumbles to the ground. "I-I don't understand..." Rebecca said, catching her breath.

"He was right here." She told Lucille as she walked closer to it's front stoop. "I saw him sprawled over here, soaked in..." she stammered, the horror of her vision coming back to her.

"I guess we're too late." said Lucille. Rebecca turned around and saw the woman holding a rusty metal plate in her hand. "A few years too late." Lucille turned the printed part of the plate for Rebecca to see. FORECLOSED, it read. Under it was the date of its posting, six years ago. "What you saw wasn't something to avert, it was something that happened in the past."

Rebecca turned back to the cottage and wondered why was she sent that vision. They went here to find answers. Instead, they stumbled upon even more questions. Lucille walked beside her, looked up the forgotten lodge and seemed to be thinking the same thoughts.

"I have a feeling we should go inside." Rebecca thought aloud.

The two women shared a glance and carefully walked up it's front steps, or what was left of it, at least. Parts of it were missing and those still attached to the main frames teetered dangerously to ruins. The wooden floors creaked loudly and the planks were already swollen with moss and moisture. Rebecca felt a cold chill crawling at the back of her neck and, instinctively, she took Lucille's hand. The mother witch squeezed her hand lightly, reassuring her a little.

Inside the cottage was no different from its façade. It was generally empty, except for a few large furniture that shared the same dingy state as the rest of the cottage. It was as if the last tenants were in a rush to move out of it. The humidity of the air inside was clammy and Rebecca's breathing seemed to close in on her. Her eyes scanned what was supposed to be the receiving area,  the ante-room before the living room. She didn't recognize anything. If the vision and the scrying crystal sent them here other than to save that little boy, then it must be to discover things about her past. But what?

"Meow, meow!" A cat suddenly comes crashing in from the main entry and ran between the two women. Rebecca would've jumped in surprise but she avoided making sudden movements, wary with the fragile state of this downtrodden cottage.

"It's the cat!" She told Lucille, "It's the gray cat in my vision!"

Gingerly, Rebecca followed the cat a few steps forward, picked it up and examined it closely. Its gray fur shimmered against the slim rays of sunlight coming in from cracks and crevices on the walls. Its big eyes were green and inquisitive, and Rebecca couldn't help but scratch it between the ears. The cat purred and meowed in satisfaction, it nuzzled up to her like an old, familiar friend. It had a thin leather collar, and its silver metal tag had an engraving that could either be its name or its owner's. "Mr. Gainsboro." Rebecca read aloud, eliciting a soft purr of acknowledgement from the cat himself. Rebecca turned the tag to its backside and found another engraving, this time an intricate insignia unfamiliar to her.