[Rough Draft] Epilogue {Part Two}: The Saint’s Legacy
Strange how familiar the sensation of dying is, like returning to an unpleasant memory that locked Carina inside her own body, helpless to resist.
‘As if I’d die that easily.’
The Scarlet Witch’s white lips pressed into a hard line that twitched between an expression of cynical amusement and spasms of pain. She focused her remaining energy into her numb right hand as she pressed it against the cold blood that flowed freely through the gaping hole in her armor just below her ribs. Carina could still feel the static elemental weapon that had impaled her only moments ago. Her lungs had barely recovered. The rest of her body remained trapped behind a veil of shock and disbelief. Only her mind remained alert. Her eyes watched as blood continued to seep around a hand too small to seal the severe injury completely.
All around the Scarlet Witch, her sanctuary of ice, trapped between the turbulent winds above and the raging sea below, trembled and groaned as the magic holding it together slowly loosened its grip.
‘Is this what you experienced each time, Kirsi?’
The cold, pale landscape darkened as long threadlike cracks split across the frozen domain that echoed beneath the distorted song of whipping cracks and pops that accompanied the breaking, shifting ice. Carina ignored the unsettling chaos. Her winter-blue eyes focused on the vibrant core of cold energy that hovered above her. Viktor’s magic wove its tendrils around the dying Isbrand witch’s body, numbing the pain as her internal and external injuries hardened beneath a bandage of ice.
‘I wanted to feel sorry for you, Kirsi, but you always had a spare life to fall back on. You treated your immortality like a game you could quit on a whim regardless of the consequences to those you left behind.’
A spiral of snowflakes that glittered like stars rained down around the unmoving ice witch, coating her gown, now crimson with blood, in a blanket winter.
“What am I saying?” Carina blinked against the flakes that fell upon her lashes and cheeks. “Just by living, I have forced others to die in my place, and not only that—” She gritted her teeth as she rolled slowly onto her side. “By protecting Ivy—I accepted the consequences that hundreds more would suffer from the plague and likely die.” The numb fingers of her left hand dug into the ice as she forced herself to rise into a sitting position. “And putting my faith in Hana—has placed every witch in Lafeara at risk.”
Perhaps Kirsi had the right idea all along: trusting no one, caring for no one, and accepting no alliances that would not benefit the Scarlet Witch’s goal of becoming immortal.
“I knew there would be risks—but I—didn’t expect Ramiel to force his will on Hana like that.”
‘Then again, no one ever said the gods would play fair.’
“Then why should I abide by their rules?” Carina’s blue eyes narrowed on the clear patch of ice her hand had uncovered. Something sinister slithered beneath the frozen surface below her. A massive dark shape that reflected the light of the frozen core loomed closer. The jagged row of spikes appeared along its scaled back, striking and scraping against the icy surface that kept it submerged. The cracks along the ice widened as the core flickered brighter still.
Fear flickered awake in the Scarlet Witch’s chest as she hastily summoned an ice lance. Pain flooded her chest in response as the magic collided against her frozen organs and hardened tissue before rerouting to pass through undamaged veins.
The danger beneath her faded from view, its glistening scales and spikes soon shrouded in darkness as it returned to the abyss below.
“What—was that? And why is it here?”
She had seen neither head nor tail of the creature. The twisting, winding body had seemed to go on forever. It did not resemble Viktor’s magnificent dragon form, nor did it feel like him.
‘Then—could it be Arachne?’
Carina had never considered the possibility that the Goddess of Water could enter the core of Viktor’s frozen heart.
‘No. That doesn’t make sense, either. Even Kirsi couldn’t enter without Viktor’s permission, and I rule this domain now.’
Carina shook her head and grimaced as the damaged, frozen tissue pressed against her tender organs and flesh. For several long, shaky breaths, the Scarlet Witch closed her eyes and focused on breathing and controlling the flow of magic within her around her injury. Once she had settled upon a suitable method that would allow her to use magic without damaging herself further, Carina connected directly to the frozen core and strengthened her hold over the icy domain.
Cold sweat gathered between her pinched brows and trailed down her nose and cheeks as the ice witch’s physical form soon exhausted its strength. The Scarlet witch inhaled slowly and waited for her vision to clear as she focused on the broken diamonds of Viktor’s bracelet that lay lifelessly against her left wrist.
Much like the enchanted gems of her steel bodice—that had broken when the elders sacrificed their lives—the jewels of Lumi and Isaac were cracked beyond repair.
“Damn it!” Carina curled her fingers around the treasured object as her anger burned colder with each shallow breath. The other diamonds that remained glimmered brightly beneath her touch. It took the Scarlet Witch only a moment to identify the souls that appeared within her Father’s gift. Linby’s jewel, in particular, glowed the brightest as if urging her to give them purpose. “You could have gone on to live a different life. Why would you tie your soul to my cursed fate? I’ve already failed you once.”
Linby emerged in his new form, which, despite its wolf-like ears and tail, was more frightening and reptilian than before. The soft fur Lumi had possessed, which had hardened in Isaac’s appearance, had now transformed into brittle tuffs of thorns and scales that covered the scriva’s body from tail to nose. Two long, jagged, curved horns adorned the scriva’s head at just the right angle and length to impale a charged target, not that such a method would be necessary given the carnivorous row of fangs much more suitable to rendering flesh from bone.
‘I didn’t know scriva’s could evolve like this? Although given that Linby witnessed Isaac’s death at the hands of the Saint, I suppose some alterations were necessary to increase their odds of survival.’
Carina decided to allow the remaining eight elders to choose their forms as well. Most of them adopted scrivas similar in shape to Linby, while others traded horns for wings, which seemed less practical given they were more suited to gliding than flight until they demonstrated the sharp sword-like edges of their feathers. However, the most impressive upgrade her new army of scrivas presented was the retained ability to use ice magic. The newly formed elementals appeared only too eager to test their powers as they chased and charged each other, howling blasts of icy shards that bounced harmlessly enough off the scrivas’ hardened fur.
“Have you determined your next move, my Queen?” Linby pressed as he lay on the ice behind the Scarlet Witch, resting his side against her back as support. “You must spend your time outside this realm wisely. The only one capable of healing your wound is the Saint, and she is just as likely to finish you off as help.”
Carina smirked, pleased with her scriva’s improved fluidity of thought and speech. “She couldn’t heal me even if she wanted to. Ramiel won’t let her.”
“All the more reason to be cautious. You need to ascend before your physical body deteriorates further.”
“That is not something I can decide to do on my own.” The Scarlet Witch shook her head as she relented and leaned against his scaly fur with a resigned sigh. “In order to become a god, I have to kill one first.”
The scriva sucked in a sharp breath as he mulled over her words. “So then—we aim for the weakest one.”
Through her connection to the newly formed elementals, Carina saw Beaumont’s face and scowled. “No! I will not turn on a friend and ally to save my own skin. Nor would I be worthy of immortality if I chose such a cowardly route.” She winced against the lingering ache in her lungs and continued in a calmer tone. “I need Minerva’s heir alive. A reigning god must also accept me as part of my ascension.”
“I’m not sure an unawakened immortal counts.” Linby let out a muffled huff but nodded obediently. “That makes things much more complicated. It will prove quite challenging to kill a god—even a weakened one. Does killing a proxy blessed with a god’s power count.”
Carina’s lips twisted into a cynical smile as Hana’s face flashed through the scriva’s thoughts. “I’m afraid that won’t do us any good other than drawing a god’s ire….” She paused in confusion as the list of blessed witches filtered through the elemental’s connection like a polaroid film, shifted from Kritanta’s chosen, the Bastard Prince Tristan, to an image of Marchioness Serilda, who now wore Percy’s signet ring. “Wait—that isn’t right. Veles gave his blessing to Percy.”
Linby’s glassy eyes turned towards the Scarlet Witch with a fanged smile. “Oh, I didn’t realize. I suppose that mean’s the last of the Hawthorne bloodline is dead. That would make Veles the most vulnerable member of the gods right now.”
“What—do you mean?”
“Gods who pass on their powers to witches lose that power if those witches die to another god. Veles has sacrificed numerous proxies throughout the years to control Kirsi and the Saint. Next to Kritanta, he’s the most desperate of the gods, and the pureblood line he invested most of his power into has just ended—likely at the hands of the Saint.”
‘Hana killed Percy? Does that mean she’s already succumbed to Ramiel’s control?’
“I need to find out what happened to Hana and Percy’s rebellion.”
Linby’s sharp gaze turned to one of the other winged scrivas, who sauntered over to kneel before the Scarlet Witch. “We can find out. If Percy did pass on his blessing, then Veles is hanging by a very tenuous thread.”
“I’m not so sure Serilda can be counted on as an ally going forward, given that many of Lafeara’s Covens will turn against me to protect Veles.” Carina shook her head weakly. She couldn’t believe that Percy was truly dead. Knowing how much Veles relied upon the Hawthorne family bloodline, it made even less sense for the god to allow its last living heir to die so thoughtlessly.
‘If Veles couldn’t stop it—Ramiel’s Saint must have been involved.’
The Scarlet Witch gripped the patch of ice that sealed her damaged armor and flesh as her thoughts tumbled between concern from Hana and the sudden realization that Kirsi’s death might have weakened Veles.
“I require—at least a day—to fully recover my strength,” Carina forced out through clenched teeth. “In the meantime, I will need someone to be my eyes and ears.”
The other eight scrivas gathered around Linby and the Scarlet Witch, eyes twinkling and ears alert with apparent eagerness.
“We are still yours to command, my Queen,” Linby growled reassuringly.
“Then—” Carina paused as a smile of relief flickered across her lips, “—I ask that you gather information for me. Most importantly, find out where Beaumont is. I also need an update on the situation in the Capital as well. If Percy has—perished—then the Covens will be in chaos, especially with the appearance of the Saint. If we can determine Serilda’s intentions, that would be helpful. More importantly, find out where Hana and the Pope have hidden themselves and update Captain Silas when you do. If the Saint is still in the Capital, it would be best for our knights to retreat to the Duchy. Send word to Captain Tybalt at the border—he will still require our assistance with the issue there. And send another message to Bastiallano to update them on—the change in plan and—the increased danger.”
“Two to the borders. Captain Tybalt is facing the Ventrayna Army, after all. One each to the Covens and Bastiallano. Captain Arlo should be able to defend the fortress on his own, at the very least. One each to search for the Saint and Pope, to locate and observe only with extreme caution. Double back here once spotted. The remaining one can search for Minerva’s Heir.”
“You should go along as well and help search for Beaumont,” Carina interjected. “I suspect his timely disappearance will have something to do with either the Pope or Ramiel’s Saint.”
“I would prefer not to leave you alone in your weakened state, my Queen.”
“Even so—I order you to go.”
The thorns of fur along Linby’s neck bristled in anger as the scriva rose silently to his feet. Carina smiled in gratitude to them all as the elder scrivas vanished from her realm one by one.
“Alert me at once if you find either Beaumont, Hana or the Pope.”
The scrivas all sent a telepathic response of acceptance, though Linby’s tone remained brittle with annoyance. Carina’s amused smile faded as she lay down beneath the glowing frozen core and closed her eyes. She listened to the lonely melodic music of ice vibrating beneath her as her foundation solidified itself once more, sealing away the monster that lurked within the shadows below.
***
Beaumont could feel Carina’s pain but could do nothing about it, trapped as he was in the tainted remnants of his mother’s corpse. Minerva’s Will kept him sane, kept the dragon blood within him from ripping through what little remained of his mortal shell. But time was against him, was against them both. He needed Carina to take the next step on her path to immortality.
‘You have to stay alive, Carina. The battle has only just begun.’
The longer Beaumont floated between the physical and elemental realms, the weaker his connection to the Scarlet Witch became. He was aware of the giant ship onto which witch hunters had dragged his metal coffin. The immortal could smell, taste, and hear the ocean around them as the galleon drifted further out to sea. They had entered Arachne’s domain, and he knew the Goddess of secrets and deception was keenly aware of his presence.
Through Minerva’s Will, Beaumont confirmed that the gods were forced to use proxies to directly interfere with mortals’ fates. But that measure of restraint was more of a guideline or code of ethics, established by Minerva herself, rather than a binding agreement. It certainly didn’t stop the gods from targeting each other—or any vulnerable immortals who entered their domain.
‘According to Minerva, there is a higher authority the gods do fear. A hierarchy of sovereign immortals who exist beyond the realms of this world but only intercede in conflicts among the lower gods. The affairs of mortals are of no interest to them.’
That would explain why Minerva had interceded on Viktor’s behalf, even at the risk of her immortality. But Viktor had rejected the aid of the senior gods, who demanded that he sacrifice his half-immortal child to appease Kritanta and Arachne.
Of the gods who controlled this mortal realm, Minerva, Ramiel, and Arachne were the oldest. Minerva ruled the earth, along with the vegetation and beasts that roamed upon it. Arachne controlled the waters and all that swam within their depths, while Ramiel controlled the sky, weather, and every fowl that flew beneath it.
Minerva had formed the first clay molds of mortals out of curiosity. Ramiel, who found them appealing creations, breathed life into them to give them some semblance of intelligence and soul. Arachne had found such submissive mortals tame and limited, especially within her watery realm, and so set about creating far more monstrous offspring to live with her below the waves.
Minerva loved her children. Her curiosity soon had her creating all manner of fruit and beast by which she could nurture their growth. Ramiel, on the other hand, grew bored of the little paradise they had built. He didn’t understand why the mortals cared more about necessities such as clothes, food, and comfort than showing reverence to the god who had given them a soul. He threatened them with thunder and lightning storms, but the mortals merely took shelters in cities Minerva carved for them beneath the mountain.
Annoyed, Ramiel invited another god, Veles, to join them and handed the lower god control over the skies and air. Veles took delight in his new domain and swiftly set about appeasing the older goddesses he had joined. Unfortunately, Veles was followed by his sister, a spiteful goddess named Kritanta, who had been banished from the charred remains of her last domain. The fiery immortal inserted herself into their peaceful oasis. Her viciousness and obsessive need for praise and attention soon turned their world into chaos.
Arachne grew tired of the immortal’s tantrums and threatened to drown the earth in water after Kirtanta had burned much of the paradise they had created. Minerva quickly implored the angry goddess to see reason and, with Veles’ aid, entreated the higher gods for aid. The sovereign immortals’ response was to send them a new immortal, Viktor, the God of Ice and Winter.
Viktor became the protector of mortals and was the first to walk among them and teach them to use defensive magic to protect against the chaotic firestorms of the Goddess of Destruction.
Kritanta, jealous of the affections and devotion the mortals poured upon their savior, quickly changed tactics, going so far as to select the most appealing and capable mortals as her consorts. Soon enough, even Veles was meddling in the affairs of mortals as covens of witches sprouted up all over the realm that served and revered their respective gods.
Minerva attempted reestablished order by drawing a line between the realms of mortals and immortals. Arachne little cared to intervene once she learned to create covens of her own and exchange her powers for human sacrifices to feed her monstrous offspring.
Endless battles of pride, greed, and envy waged between the covens and their immortals until Ramiel’s return. The usually aloof god took one look at the chaos and threatened to wipe out the mortals that he and Minerva had created. Minerva, patient as always, pleaded on the mortal’s behalf, insisting that the gods were to blame because they had set a poor example for such simple-minded creations to follow.
Ramiel, who respected Minerva most among the lower gods, took her words to heart. He provided the mortals an opportunity to resist the temptation of power offered by the gods by giving them the First Saint to follow as an example of abstinence, benevolence, integrity, and justice.
And so it was that the First Saint waged war upon Kritanta’s covens, pushing them back into the desert where they were forced to fight amongst themselves for what little resources remained. Then the Saint pressed Veles’ Covens into the middle lands between the Fire and Ice Covens, while Minerva erected mountains to protect her devoted followers in the west. Last but not least, the Saint turned her blade on the Covens of Arachne, forcing them to abandon their sacrifice of witches and mortals, slaughtering many of the monstrous offspring who crawled onto land for their promised feast.
With a single, perfect tool, Ramiel established balance among the lower gods and their covens—before turning his back on the Saint and the powerful, vengeful enemies she had created.
The Ice Coven offered the weary and now powerless Saint refuge after her final battle against Arachne’s monstrous children. Minerva taught the Ice Coven the secret to witch-steel, which they used to enforce their borders and protect the dying Saint. It was Viktor who embraced the perfect but fragile weapon created by a god who neither cared for nor remembered her—until the First Saint turned her back on Ramiel and fell in love with the God of Ice and Immortality.
Only then did Ramiel bother to return to reclaim his tool and unit the gods against Viktor, who had so offended him.
‘Arachne, Veles, and Ramiel have twisted the origin of the Saints and Viktor’s downfall in the books and pages of mortal history and my memories as well. Only Minerva’s Will remains untainted after all these years.’
Only the Saints and their descendants would have reason to suspect Carina’s true origins because she shared their ability to foresee the future and, even more importantly—the Saint’s ability to be reborn.