The Weaver's Source

Chapter 24

"And why drag me back?"

"Because not only did you get away with the knowledge of what happens here but you're also a rarity." Annis said and titled her head as she observed my confusion. "But you can't remember why, can you?"

I tried my hardest but the memories still swam away like slippery fish. Annis laughed, letting out a loud braying cackle.

"You can't remember at all?"

My glare just intensified but my eyes held a glimmer of anxiety. Annis picked up some of the utensils and pottered over to my side, gripping my chin to wrench my face to hers.

"You're a Source. Does that help jog your memories, dear?"

It did. My mind suddenly began to wake up. Memories of my childhood, my parents, Gabi and the town came rushing back. The asrai and their attack on the town. Gabi's mangled body. And Grigore. The Weaver. My Weaver. That strong, scarred, magic wielding man who was so rude and dismissive of me. Yet I knew he was my Weaver. He left me so I sought after him, knowing he was going to die if I didn't. He was the one I searching for. I was looking for him, following the scent of honeyed milk and woodsmoke.

Suddenly a horrible sense of realisation exploded within me. How was I still here? How could I let myself be? How could I even let myself get into trouble after one day of being alone? And Gerald. How could I let him die? I shouldn't have let him! Not after Gabi! I should've guarded him better.

Anger and confusion boiled away. But what alarmed me the most was my magic. Now that I remembered it was there, I could feel it and I didn't understand what I felt. It was curled in my chest, calm as could be. It wasn't alarmed, even in the coming moments of my throat being slit. And it was my magic that Annis was after, why she hunted me down so desperately. She wanted to eat it. Why wasn't my magic warning me of the incoming danger?

"You're not a monster. You can't absorb my magic." I said thickly in fear.

"I'm not entirely human either. I'm a witch, full of my own magic that could be bolstered by yours." Annis said warmly and picked up a thin knife. "Now, this will be all over in a moment, Lyra. Just stay still."

I became rigid in fear. I was really going to die here. I couldn't escape. There was no way I could. I had lost Gabi to asrai, Gerald to men and Grigore to the world. I couldn't even thank Grigore for keeping me safe from the asrai and fixing up my wound. Tears of pure frustration welled up. I wanted my friends alive again. I wanted to see Grigore again and keep him safe from that dream of blood and snow.

I squeezed my eyes shut and thrashed around in one last desperate bid to escape, forcing Annis to back off.

"Lyra, keep still." She snapped.

"No!" I shouted. "I'm not going to give up! I won't!" My eyes snapped to her, blazing black from rage. "I  won't be eaten by some fat, foul old crone like you! You don't deserve my magic! It's not yours, so keep those filthy hands off of it!"

Annis scowled in fury at me then turned and stormed off the other side of the room where the wooden herb covered table sat. I heard her muttering sharply to herself as she threw plants and berries about, crushing them together in a small bowl. I continued to struggle violently, ignoring the horrible burning pain in my wrists. When I heard her returning to me, my eyes widened with fear.

I turned my head away sharply, trying my best to keep from facing her but her large hand grabbed my chin and forced my head back. I stared at her and the cup she held.

"Drink up." She said as she pressed the brim to my mouth.

I pressed my lips together hard and tried my best to wrench my head away. She was strong, surprisingly so. She easily kept my head in place, digging her nails into the skin of my face horribly. She squeezed my cheeks, forcing my mouth to open and poured in the disgusting liquid with a look of triumph on her crooked face. It was bitter and nasty and burned as it tore down my throat.

I felt it take effect slowly. My body strangely began to get tired and heavy. Eventually I couldn't struggle anymore; my body was dead weight and even my mouth failed to move. The most I could do was scowl hotly, covering up my growing terror. If I was going to die, I wasn't going to entertain her with my fear.

"There. Now it won't be too messy. Can't lose a drop, now can we?" Annis said with a light smile.

She picked up the knife again and all I could do was watch with a hammering heart as she observed my throat before looking down at my tattered and mud covered dress. I squeezed my eyes shut as she began to cut it away, tossing aside the useless cloth; gone was my old kirtle then my warm woollen petticoats went next. The cold bit me hard, sending a wave of goosebumps to prickle my skin, and my chest heaved with frantic breaths.

"Would've liked you plumper. Still too skinny." Annis muttered under her breath with disappointment as she slapped my thigh with a withered hand.

But just as she placed the knife against my bodice, ready to bare my nakedness to the world and begin the process of carving me up, my magic reacted.

Abruptly it began to stir in excitement, whirling about and spreading from my chest to every area of my body, purring heatedly. My now sensitive ears suddenly heard someone coming and my mouth began to swell with the pleasant taste of spice, making my skin flush and my pulse quicken. Footsteps came pelting down the hallway and a man came bursting into the room, panting hard.

Annis stopped and tucked the knife into her sleeve.

"What is it?" She asked calmly.

"Annis, he's back." He said nervously. "The Weaver's back."

I may have been unable to move but my heart soared in relief and tears of shocked joy welled up as my magic wriggled in need for the one person who was allowed to use it. He was close enough that I could feel him, his magic, and my mouth was full of his scent, his taste swirling in my mouth. Giddy hope took me.

My Weaver had come back.