❝THE NIGHT BELONGS TO THE THE MAD, THE FORGOTTEN, AND THE DEAD.❞
Kora James is a witch and a bartender. Not necessarily in that order.
With her skilled hands, she delivers liquid ecstasy to her customers.
Her duties as a magical being and a me...
"Now, that we got that out of the way. We should begin."
Elizabeth made a motion for every one to sit. Most did, a few decided to stand and glare at the witch. It took time and effort to join all these witches under one roof, they came from all around the world, all the continents. Division had brewed between them for centuries, not just due to political strife, but also due to ancient, petty rivalries between families and factions of witches and warlocks.
"We have fought amongst ourselves for centuries. Squabble after squabble that has killed and injured so many of us. We are touched by the gift, and we should be united against those that wish us harm. And yet, here we are divided, killing ourselves over lands and territories, when we could be thriving."
A few murmurs travelled around. Elizabeth could see some of them nodding, some whispering, some just glaring at her.
"What do you propose Elizabeth?" one of the elder witches asked. Her name was Agnes. She pragmatic, and an honest woman. Elizabeth had always liked her.
"A truce," she sighed. The Supreme could feel the ending to all this senseless violent coming. Finally after all these years, they were so close to an end.
"We have tried that," Brigitte replied. "And as I recall, it was one of you that brought it to an end."
Her sneer spoke volumes. She hadn't forgotten their past, and neither had Elizabeth. But the past was the past, and it would not change.
"And we have paid for it. Greatly." Her scar seemed to almost throb at the memory of what these fights against each other had cost her, and her kind.
"But we need to try anew. A truce that will last, and will keep us safe. How can we train and teach new generations of witches and warlocks to come, when we are so busy fighting among ourselves. We are doing what mortals do, and we are so much better than them," her voiced cracked at the end. She looked at all those that gathered around her in the eye, pleading with them, asking them to put aside their disagreements, and accept this accord.
Elizabeth James gestured for the Scottish girl to come forth. In her hands, lay a carefully rolled piece of parchment. In it contained a carefully crafted treaty, that would benefit all to some extend. Compromises would have to be made, it would be impossible to please every one.
"This is a first draft of what peace looks like. I have taken the liberty of writing it, but of course modifications can be made. I want it to work, so we can all thrive to be better than our ancestors."
Elizabeth took a a deep breath. She looked at all of them in the eye. This had to work, this must work, or it would be the end of them all.
"What of the Necromancer?", a voice Kora did not recognise spoke up. It was a young boy, no more than twenty years of age. He had blue eyes, and brown hair, Murmurs travelled the room, it was always a topic of much interest.
"He has not been seen for decades now. He is dead."
"Are you sure Elizabeth?", Agnes started again. Elizabeth was starting to get impatient, she chewed on her lip, and her hands twitched.
Remain calm, Beth. You can do this, she thought.
"The Knights still do his work."
"The Knights are just rogues, with no direction, they will be easy to stop. Indeed, there have been whispers of some of them surrendering."
"The Necromancer is still here," a soft voice with a thick accent pronounced. It came from the back of the room, from a woman with onyx skin, and dark eyes. Their voodoo sisters from across the pond. They have suffered the most from this war, not just attacks from the witches, but also from mortals who feared not for their magic, but the colour of their skin.
"I can feel him, powerful magic does not just disappear. He is around, and he will strike again.'
She looked straight at Elizabeth. There was a challenge in her eyes, a sort of violence that lays hidden, but will strike when the moment requires it. She was a powerful witch, born to lead, and burdened too soon with useless wars.
Elizabeth held the stare. And without breaking it, she inhaled deeply, and released a breath of air, and allowed a tiny smile to appear on her face. She knew that the young witch was on her side. She knew that all of the witches and warlocks wanted peace more than anything. It was a thin thread that started to wove between them, so fragile and precarious, that a mere movement could break it. It was new, and naive, but it finally existed. And Elizabeth would make sure that it grew in strength and power, it would me made of the strongest metal, and it would not break. Ever.
The Supreme looked at the sky outside. The wind blew and the clouds moved on silently across the grey canvas. She could magic in their air, the tingling sensation that she loved and cherished. She looked across the room again, at all the expectant eyes.
"Then if he does, we will be ready. Together."
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Hello! I am so sorry for the long wait. The past few months have been difficult for me, but I'm finally finding my way through the darkness.
I have missed writing, and I have missed Wattpad.
Hope you like this chapter, it's more of a filler chapter, but part 2 is coming soon (less than a week, I promise), and it will be more exciting!
