Chapter 46: How about a drink?

Jaenor rushed to Morgana’s side as she finally allowed herself to collapse onto a fallen log. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

Jaenor couldn’t explain why, but he worried for her deeply. They hadn’t known each other long, yet in his mind, she already felt like family.

“I’ll live,” she said with a tired smile.

“But that was closer than I like to admit.”

Darian was already at her side, checking her wounds, cleaning the cuts from the ice spears with water from his pack. “I don’t like these witch duels.”

Morgana chuckled.

Darian couldn’t interfere because of the witch code, and it would only get worse if he did.

And it wasn’t the first time she had to dance on the whims of these coven witches. And Darian couldn’t say anything because it was related to their sisterhood.

The code was like their law, and it was ultimate. The council of these covens and the High Witch sitting at the top made sure that all witches followed it without question.

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks and turned towards them.

“You are still as strong as ever, like I remember,” Elizabeth said, her voice carrying a note of genuine admiration.

Morgana managed a tired smile despite her exhaustion. “Some things don’t change, I suppose.”

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully.

“Actually, we need to meet up with the Emerald Willow Covenant here, so if you don’t mind, we’ll be staying here for a while.”

Morgana considered this for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Very well. The forest is large enough for all of us.”

They can’t move right now, as she needs rest at the moment.

Jaenor then said, “Is it all right? That woman, she is showing such hatred directly at you.”

Morgana sighed, “It will be fine. Just don’t talk with them, any of them.”

–

The spot where we were standing had already been destroyed with deep pits and burned trees.

The witches of Ladrealla moved away from the main camp but didn’t disappear entirely.

Instead, they set up their own camp about a hundred paces away, close enough to be seen but far enough to give both groups some space.

As the night settled in properly, Elizabeth approached Morgana’s fire again.

This time, her manner was less threatening and more… social, if such a word could be used for coven witches.

“Would you care for a drink?” Elizabeth asked, producing a dark bottle from her robes. “We have some fine wine from the southern vineyards.”

Morgana looked at her companions, then back at the two witches. “I suppose that would be acceptable.”

Darian stood up as well. “I’ll come with you,” he said quietly.

It wasn’t a request—he wasn’t about to let Morgana go alone with witches who had just been trying to hurt her. Morgana could see the disapproving looks from Jaenor, but she just walked past him. It wasn’t like she enjoyed drinking with them; she had her own intentions for going with them.

The three of them walked over to where the Ladrealla coven had made their camp.

They sat in a circle around a fire, and Elizabeth poured wine into silver cups that seemed to appear from nowhere.

Meanwhile, back at the original camp, Jaenor sat with Rena, Taeryn, and Baren around their own small fire. The four of them kept glancing over at the witch camp, their voices low with worry and curiosity.

“Why aren’t they leaving?” Baren asked, his broad face creased with concern. “They just lost against Morgana. Shouldn’t they be gone by now?”

Rena was staring at the witch camp with fascination rather than fear.

“Look at them,” she whispered. “The way they move, the way they speak. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Rena was more observed, her interest lying in the way of witches.

“Rena,” Jaenor said quietly, “they just tried to take me, like I’m some kinda of possession.”

But Rena seemed so mesmerized, particularly by Morgana, that she forgot to register Jaenor’s words.

Jaenor stared at her, his face turning from anger to disapproval.

“Did you see the way she fought for you? The power she showed? I’ve heard stories about witches my whole life, but I never imagined…” She trailed off, watching as Morgana laughed at something Elizabeth had said.

“It’s getting late,” Baren said, yawning. “Maybe we should try to get some sleep, even with… company nearby.”

“I don’t think I could sleep if I tried,” Jaenor admitted.

“Not with them so close.”

As the night wore on, the conversation around the witch fire became more animated.

Eventually, Morgana returned to their camp, looking more relaxed than she had since the coven arrived.

“What did you talk about?” Jaenor asked immediately.

Morgana sat down on her bedroll and looked at each of them seriously. “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you all. Something about where we’re going and why.”

She poked at their fire with a stick, sending sparks up toward the stars. “There’s a place called the Silverspire of the witches,” she began.

“It’s where the Witch Council meets—the governing body that oversees all the covens and Origin users in the realm.”

Rena leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest. “A council of witches?”

“The High Witch leads it,” Morgana continued. “She’s the most powerful Origin user alive, and she has the authority to grant protection to those who need it.”

She looked directly at Jaenor. “I plan to take you three to the Spire. It was the mission granted by the High Mother to find you three. There, you can get help and sort out what you are going through.”

“Each of you gained your own powers granted by the Origin, and it is something unique and exceptional. Don’t get intimidated by these women and Darian and me; we will keep you safe.”

The three whom Morgana was talking about were Rena, Taeryn, and Baren, and they all wore a complex expression on their faces and didn’t exactly know what to do. For now, Morgana was their only solution.

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