Chapter 69: Backstabbing
So, Ash had been the witch's accomplice, or perhaps her servant. He had hidden her precious grimoire in this very hovel, only to be killed by his own ignorance. The witch, I realized, likely didn't know about charcoal poisoning because she had never had to live like a commoner, had never had to huddle over a cheap brazier for warmth. She examined the notebook with a frantic, obsessive care, her fingers tracing the spidery script, ensuring not a single page was missing. Finally, with a sigh of profound relief, she looked up, her gaze falling upon me once more.
“Remarkable,” she mused, her eyes alight with a renewed, predatory interest. “You have an incredible amount of power for such a little thing. I’ve drained so much from you, and yet you are not empty.” She saw me not as a person, but as a resource. A living battery to be used and discarded. “I need to test your limits,” she whispered, more to herself than to me. If I could fully replenish her magic, she would have the power to escape the city, to flee before the witch hunters, or whatever other horrors this city employed, closed in on her. She reached out her hand again, and the siphoning began once more. The red mist, my very life force, flowed from me to her. It started slowly, a gentle pull, but she gradually increased the pressure, her eyes widening in surprise as the flow continued, seemingly endless. I felt a horrifying violation, a hollowing out of my very soul, as if something precious was being unspooled from me like thread from a bobbin.
Jared watched, his face a mask of helpless fury. I saw his hand creep towards the dagger hidden in his boot. Our eyes met across the small, dark space. I tried to convey everything with a single, frantic look: Not yet! Wait for the signal! We would only have one chance.
The witch, lost in her scientific curiosity, increased the flow again. A searing pain, like a hot poker, lanced through my skull. I couldn't help it; I screamed. And in that moment of pure agony, my mind fractured, and the memory, the vision, the truth of my transmigration returned. The Great Fly. The endless void. The eyes that were galaxies, staring into the nothingness.
“Aaarrgghh!” It was the witch who screamed this time. She screamed, a sound not of physical pain, but of a soul staring into a lightless, gibbering abyss. She clutched her head, her face contorting into a mask of agony. The red mist she had stolen from me erupted from her body, dissipating into the air. Through our connection, through my magic, she had seen what I had seen. She had stared into the abyss.
“What… what was that?!” she shrieked, her voice filled with a terror that dwarfed any fear I had ever known.
That was the signal.
Jared moved like a striking viper. In a single, fluid motion, he lunged across the small space, the ornate dagger appearing in his hand as if by magic. The witch looked up, her eyes wild with a new kind of fear, her gaze fixed on me, suspecting some trick. She raised a hand to cast a spell, to silence me forever. She never saw Jared coming. The dagger plunged deep into her back, just below the shoulder blade.
“Ah!” A sharp, pained cry escaped her lips. Jared ripped the blade free, ready to strike again. But even wounded, she was fast. She spun, a snarl of pain and fury on her face, and redirected the spell she had intended for me. An invisible hand slammed into Jared, throwing him against the far wall, then clamped around his throat, lifting him from the ground. He struggled, his legs kicking, his hands clawing at the invisible force that was choking the life from him. The witch, ignoring the blood that was now pouring from the wound in her back, raised her other hand. A small, flickering ball of fire began to form in her palm, ready to incinerate him.
I had to save him. I had been planning for this, for a single, desperate moment of opportunity. I grabbed the only weapon I had—The bible, a heavy, leather-bound brick of faith and paper. With a desperate cry, I threw it with all the strength my frail body could muster. It caught her squarely on the temple with a sickening, wet thud. Her eyes went wide with shock, and her concentration shattered. The invisible hand vanished, and Jared fell to the floor in a heap, gasping for air. The fireball in her palm fizzled out into nothing. With the witch momentarily stunned, I did the only thing I could. I lunged, a desperate, feral animal, and sank my teeth into the soft flesh of her spell-casting hand, biting down with all the force I possessed.
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