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[Rough Draft] Chapter 69: A Reunion of Blood
The sacred doors of Lafeara’s great cathedral opened wide as Terik led Hana up the marble steps. Isaac was lugged out of the carriage waiting below. His plate armor and chainmail had been removed, leaving only the thin leather doublet jacket and trousers, which seemed too flimsy and dull for the half-witch’s striking noble appearance.
The witch hunters had tied the Colonel’s arms behind his back with enchanted manacles to prevent him from using any magic. They had also removed any rings or jewelry from his person that might enable him to use magic if he broke free. Isaac had remained strangely calm throughout, ignoring their roughness and the occasional fist that collided with his body after his armor had been removed.
Hana found his quiet demeanor disconcerting but was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to ponder his behavior.
As the cathedral doors closed once more, two Cardinals appeared to greet them inside the narthex.
“My Lady,” Cardinal Halstone quickly stepped forward as he reached for her hands. “You are a vision of your Holy Mother, Lady Davinia.”
Hana turned away from his grasp sharply and narrowed her eyes at the man, whose expensive cologne and gaudy rings polluted the refined décor of the cathedral.
“Lady Nesta,” Cardinal Gallagher stopped just behind his comrade and bowed his head. “We are all overjoyed by your return.”
Hana smiled cynically as she studied the Cardinal, who had rescued Jericho from the Emperor’s prison while still but a humble priest. When she said nothing in return, the two Cardinals exchanged glances, then stepped aside to allow Terik to proceed forward.
“Until we meet again, Lady Nesta,” Cardinal Halstone called after them with a note of faint smugness.
Hana drew in a slow, quiet breath as she listened to the footsteps of the witch hunters around her. When they proceeded past the private resident quarters towards the sanctuary, she was temporarily confused until she heard the choir singing through the closed sanctuary doors.
The two witch hunters on guard outside quickly opened the doors. A large glittering auditorium, bathed in the rainbow colors of the stained-glass windows, came quickly into view and centered around the figure of Pope Jericho I, who knelt before the image of Saint Harmonia with his head bowed in prayer.
Terik stopped halfway through the empty pews and held out his hand, motioning for them to wait as the Divine Heir finished his prayers.
Hana shivered faintly as a familiar, intoxicating atmosphere, tingling with the faint sparks of divinity, wrapped itself around her, awakening dreams of another life. If Hana closed her eyes, she could feel her mother’s arms, carrying Hana against her hip. Standing beside Hana in the pews were most of her siblings, Zoran, Griselda, Lilaru, and Jericho. Her oldest brothers, Mathias and Haskwell, were dressed in their priestly robes as they assisted the Pope with the ritual.
The warmth of her family, standing so close together as they soaked in the heavenly voices of the choir, filled Hana’s eyes with tears even as her throat tightened with grief. She pulled her gaze away from the empty first pew and focused on Jericho, who now rose to his feet.
Hana blinked as her brother turned towards her. For a moment, his profile reminded her keenly of their fathers, but the moment passed quickly as she took the scars around his golden-white eyes.
“Nesta. Is it really you?” Jericho smiled gently as he reached up to remove his ceremonial cap. A priest stepped out from behind the altar to take the headpiece and carry it away. “It has been so many years. Look how much you’ve grown.”
Terik stepped to the side and withdrew as the Pope drew closer. Hana maintained her neutral expression as her brother stopped a few inches in front of her and reached out to comb through her windswept hair.
“I have not the words to properly express—how happy I am to see our family finally reunited.”
Hana flinched as he embraced her. The familiar scent of Sage, Mugwort, and Holy Pine clung to his robes the same way they had clung to their father’s. She remained locked in her statuesque pose as Jericho kissed her cheek and then withdrew.
Another flurry of arms, seal-blue eyes, and short blonde hair filled her view as a familiar woman all but pounced upon her.
“Nesta! Ramiel be praised. You really are alive!” the woman sobbed, her fingers digging somewhat painfully into Hana’s back.
“Lilaru, compose yourself,” Jericho grumbled reproachfully as he reached out to steady them.
Hana blinked as the name and face came together in her memories. “Lilaru?”
Her older sister pulled back with a tearful smile and a shaky grin. “You remember!” she sobbed with an awkward mix of joy. “I’m so glad you’re still alive, baby sister!”
This was different. Hana had only ever reunited with Jericho in her past lives, but this wasn’t the first noticeable difference. Her brother had never been blinded in any of their past lives either. “Then—is Griselda—” she caught off quickly at the look of pain that darkened Lilaru’s smiling face in an instant. “Oh—I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” Lilaru protested quickly as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Griselda chose her death willingly. We called down the thunder of Ramiel together.” She sniffed, struggling to force a smile, and then turned away to wipe her tears privately.
“They visited Lafeara only a few weeks ago,” Jericho explained. “And managed to eliminate the Emperor’s Ambassador.”
Hana blinked in surprise. ‘But—Kirsi was the one to kill him. Oh—the dancers she mentioned.’
“Air witches attacked us on our way out to sea,” Lilaru continued grimly. “I believe the witch who helped us get inside the palace betrayed us.”
“Do you have proof,” Hana retorted sharply.
For a moment, her older sister looked surprised, then Lilaru smiled coldly. “So, it’s true. You are in league with Lady Maura.”
“Lady Maura, now Lady Kirsi, Duchess of Bastiallano,” Jericho corrected with a cynical leer. “Once more, our poor Nesta has fallen into the clutches of the Scarlet Witch.”
Hana narrowed her turquoise-blue eyes on her brother as his words confirmed a suspicion she had long feared. ‘So, I’m not the only member of the Bozidar family to retain memories of the past.’
“Well, Saint’s be praised we have freed you,” Lilaru replied as she turned to present a beaming smile. “Now that we are together again—” she seized Hana’s hands and clutched them tightly, “—I won’t let Kirsi or anyone else separate us.”
Hana stared into her sister’s seal-blue eyes, disturbed by the glimmer of madness that lurked beneath their joy and grief. “I was not a prisoner. You did not free me—you attacked my carriage, killed my escorts, and used force to bring me here. With Duchess Kirsi, I was free to come and go as I please, but if I wished to leave now….” She pulled her hands free and spun around to find the way back, blocked by a line of witch hunters. “Ha. As expected.”
“Sister, you are confused,” Lilaru protested as she wrapped an arm around Hana’s shoulder. “We brought you here for your safety.”
“I was safe enough with Duchess Kirsi.”
“Kirsi brainwashed you,” Jericho corrected with a resigned sigh. “Given time, you will once again see that you have fallen prey to her bewitching charms.”
“You would be wise to listen to me in this lifetime, Brother,” Hana retorted as she glared over Lilaru’s shoulder at him. “Do not provoke Kirsi or me, for that matter.”
“Provoke?” Jericho rubbed his jawline as he chuckled lightly. “It was Kirsi who provoked us when she butchered Demon Eyes Tarlay.”
“Tarlay came after Kirsi,” Hana corrected sharply. “If anyone is to be blamed for the Witch Hunter’s death, it would be you, Brother.”
The Pope’s golden-white eyes narrowed while his smile drew into a thin white line. “How readily you defend your enemies. You even came here today in the presence of the man who set our family up to be butchered.”
Hana turned as Terik pushed Isaac towards them, forcing the Colonel onto his knees with a sharp kick to the back of his legs.
“Isaac the Traitor,” Lilaru hissed as she yanked a dagger from her belt. “You bastard!”
“Wait!” Jericho caught Lilaru’s shoulder quickly. “There’s no need for him to die quickly.” His scarred eyes fixed on Hana for a moment as he smiled. “Take the traitor outside to the courtyard. There’s no need to spill his filthy blood inside the sanctuary.”
‘They’re really going to kill him.’ Hana spun around as Terik and his men pulled Isaac back onto his feet and led him forcefully towards a side door through the pews. “Don’t do this, Jericho! Bastiallano will not turn a blind eye to the murder of their Colonel!”
“Kirsi may have an army, but she can not turn them against the Capital,” Jericho replied with a shrug as he took Hana’s arm and led her after the Witch Hunters. “Are you coming, Lilaru. You can deliver the last blow if you like.”
“Really!?” Lilaru grinned and slid her dagger back into its sheath as she skipped around them and trailed behind the line of witch hunters.
“You’re despicable,” Hana hissed and tried to pull free. “Even you can’t be this blind. You know what our father did to Isaac’s family!”
Jericho’s grip tightened against her arm as he pulled her closer to his side. “How fortunate that our Holy Father and Mother are no longer in this world. They would be sickened to see that their youngest has turned into a witch sympathizer.”
“They would be even more disappointed in you, dear brother,” Hana shot back with a cynical smile. “How many years after you escaped and took the Holy Throne for yourself, did it take for you to track down Lilaru and myself. Were you even looking?”
“So, rather than the witches who butchered our family and tore us apart, you want to blame me?” Jericho’s expression twisted as his tone hardened. “As convenient as that excuse may be for you to hear, there was nothing I could do at the time to protect our family. And it took years to recover my eyesight and regain the power a Pope once held after Arius destroyed our homeland.”
Hana laughed. “I had almost forgotten that pitiful display of chastity. Tell me, Bother, did you truly burn your eyes to avoid being tainted by the rape of your mother and sisters. Or was it some desperate attempt to appeal to Ramiel in hopes that he would make you the Saint?”
For a moment, the Pope stood froze in his tracks. Isaac, Lilaru, and the Witch Hunters had already exited through the side door that led to the courtyard. An angry, pregnant silence filled the hallway as Jericho’s fingers dug deeper into Hana’s arm.
“However devout I may be, I will never understand Ramiel’s decision,” Jericho growled bitterly. “Any of our Holy Father’s sons would have made a more suitable choice.”
“Don’t complain to me. I never asked to be chosen,” Hana retorted as she ignored the growing numbness below her elbow.
“No, you’d be much happier playing the harlot to either that half-witch princess or Kirsi.”
Hana ignored the scorn in his voice and dug in her heels as the Pope tried to lead her forward. “I know what you’re planning, and I will take no part in it.”
Jericho sighed as he turned to face her. “You won’t have a choice, Nesta. The Saint is nothing more than a tool that serves at Ramiel’s will. Once you awaken, you will help me put an end to the Isbrand Queen once and for all.”
“You underestimate Kirsi and me,” Hana retorted, stumbling slightly as he dragged her forward. “Please—stop this madness before it’s too late!”
“The sooner you accept your fate and responsibility, the better,” Jericho responded coldly as he pushed the side door open. “Once Kirsi is defeated, I will lead the Saintess and her Holy Army to Ventrayna. When that Witch Emperor and his Kingdom of witches have fallen beneath Ramiel’s wrath, the mortals of this world will turn to their true Savior and King.”
The sound of fists and boots pummeling flesh greeted them the moment the door opened. Isaac was on the ground, no longer kneeling but collapsed on his side as the six Witch Hunters and Lilaru rained their wrath down upon him.
“Is he still alive?” Jericho queried with mild curiosity as he pulled Hana closer.
Terik held up a hand, and the other five Witch Hunter’s retreated, leaving just enough space for Lilaru to deliver a running kick to Isaac’s exposed face.
“Sister!” Jericho reprimanded with a hint of impatience.
Lilaru, panting and looking oddly elated, shrugged as she turned to face them. “What took you so long?”
“He still somewhat conscious,” Terik announced. “But his internal condition isn’t good. We can just leave him to bleed out for a bit if you like.”
“No. End it,” Jericho replied firmly.
“Then let me!” Lilaru interjected quickly.
“Enough!” Hana shouted as she glanced between them and the barely breathing Isaac, heartbroken and sickened by the sight of the beaten Colonel. “Must you be so merciless?”
“He murdered our Holy Father, Nesta!”
“And Pope Ivan slaughtered Isaac’s daughters and gifted their hearts to our brothers,” Hana shot back. “Would any Witch Hunter here turn a blind eye to the man who killed your children just to give his sons a longer lifespan? What our father did to his most trusted ally—was a betrayal in and of itself.”
“And what Isaac did to us?” Lilaru screamed, her wild gaze still focused on the barely moving Colonel. “Did our entire family have to pay for the death of two witch children?”
“They were children, Lilaru! Witch, half-witch, or mortal, it doesn’t matter.” Hana sucked in a sharp breath and stood taller as she faced the gaze of the Witch Hunters around them. “Only a monster would hurt a child.”
A soft, delicate clap floated over the silence that fell around the courtyard. Hana turned as the Pope stepped forward to greet the stranger dressed in a gown of sparkling silver and diamonds.
“Spoken like a Saint,” the woman said as she offered Hana a sympathetic smile. “But perhaps, you would let this traitor’s last remaining daughter speak on his behalf?”
“You—” Lilaru stammered. “Madam Maylea—you’re—”
“Isaac had three children with my mother,” the woman interrupted. “He knew from the moment of our birth that we would die serving the Holy Family. My older sisters in particular, who were born witches, were never even given proper names.”
Hana stared at the woman, whose ice-blue eyes and ash-brown hair reminded her eerily of Kirsi.
“I, on the other hand, was born a half-witch,” Maylea explained with an almost guilty smile. “I stayed by my sister’s side as they grew up. After birth, we were separated from our witch mother to prevent her from tainting our young, impressionable minds. Our father, on the other hand, only visited us once a year—until my sisters were deemed old enough to be sacrificed.”
Lilaru stared at the woman, open-mouthed, as if unable to reconcile what she was hearing.
“During the invasion of Zarus. My father freed all the witches trapped inside the breeding huts. My mother took me and fled to Strugna, where she used the holy relics Isaac had gifted her to buy a business and set herself up as a bawd. My father never came looking for us.” Maylea’s smile darkened as she approached Isaac. “He could have saved all three of us if he had acted sooner. He could have gotten us out and fled to Strugna without leading the Pope’s family to their ruin. He could have done many things differently if his actions had been motivated by love or loyalty to his family, rather than revenge.”
Hana blinked as Maylea’s gaze lifted and turned towards her.
“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over this miserable traitor and failure of a father, Saintess.”
“Dei—” Isaac wheezed out through the blood which filled his mouth.
“Still with us, Isaac?” Maylea replied with an amused smile. “The resilience of ice witches and half-witches is truly a marvel to behold.” She stood up gracefully, stepping back carefully through the blood-covered pavement towards Lilaru. “You may send him off if you like, Sweet Lilaru.”
“But—” Hana protested, “—he is your father!”
“If being connected by blood was all that was required to forgive and forget, would you be so at odds with your own brother, Saintess?” Maylea arched a thin brow as she moved to stand beside Jericho.
Hana narrowed her gaze as Isaac’s daughter wrapped her hand around the Pope’s arm. Jericho glanced at her but said nothing as his gaze returned to Lilaru, who now stood over Isaac. “Stop! You say your father made the wrong choice by choosing revenge. But that’s exactly what you’re all choosing right now.” Her gaze moved desperately between Lilaru and Jericho, who appeared unconvinced. “Do you really want to start a war during Ramiel’s most sacred festival!”
“The festival doesn’t start until tomorrow,” Lilaru replied with a shrug as she pulled her dagger free. “So it is the Duchess Kirsi who will have desecrated the memory of the Saints if she chooses to go to war during the following days.”
“You mean to entrap Kirsi by holding me hostage!” Hana clenched her fists furiously, realizing the ingenuity of her sibling’s plan. “You want her to start a war so you can turn everyone against her just like you did in the past!”
“Finish it, Lilaru,” Jericho urged with noted impatience.
Before Hana could force out any further protest, Lilaru grabbed Isaac’s short silver-gray hair, pulled back his head, and slit his throat like a sacrificial lamb.
The Colonel’s swollen eyes widened faintly, but he appeared—unsurprised. Isaac pressed his lips together as his body spasmed beneath his executioner. Hana turned her eyes away from the blood that sprayed across the paved stone walkway and pressed a hand against her stomach as a wave of cold nausea ran through her body. Her gaze fell on Maylea, who watched her father bleed out with a dispassionate expression.
“There, your patience has born fruit, Jericho,” Maylea praised, sounding oddly pleased with her father’s demise. “Now, all that remains is to send our message to Kirsi.”
‘So it begins. Kirsi, what will you do?’
Jericho motioned his free hand towards Terik. “Deliver the traitor’s corpse to the border of Bastiallano just before nightfall and keep a careful watch. Notify us the moment the Duchess makes her move.”
“Wait!” Maylea raised a hand and turned to pout at Jericho. “You promised me the traitor’s heart, remember?”
Jericho eyed her uncertainly for a moment, then nodded. “Cut out the traitor’s heart and deliver it to Lady Deanira.”
Terik nodded and sent one of his men inside the church, where he quickly returned with a rolled-up carpet. Hana watched in silence as the witch hunters rolled up Isaac’s corpse and carried it out of the courtyard.
“Your sister looks pale, Jericho,” Maylea observed with a sympathetic smile. “Perhaps it would be best she retired to her rooms until dinner.”
‘Why does it sound like she’s giving my brother orders?’ Hana narrowed her eyes at the woman as Jericho approached her. She quickly directed her glare to her brother as he reached for her already bruising arm again.
“I tried to stop you, but you never listen,” Hana whispered coldly. Jericho’s flinched beneath her words as his hand hovered above her sleeve. “Don’t come crawling to me for help when Kirsi tears the capital apart to find me.”
The Pope snorted and bowed his head mockingly. “When the time comes, Saintess. I look forward to seeing which side you will choose in the end.”