barebone witches » bucky barnes | ✓

XIII

thirteen

(—the executioner)

Ten witches sit at an elongated oval table. Some are willowy, others muscular, a few with extra curves. All wore draping robes edged in one of four colors; red for fire, green for earth, blue for water, and white for air. Three seats were empty, seats removed from the table and placed against a wall. Seats for the judge, jury, and executioner.

The Council talks late until night bleeds into day and day into dusk and dusk back into darkness.

Finally, they ring the bell, a simple thing that sits next to one of the ornate chairs, the rope a mere thread of magic as it summons the Sisters.

Narcissa arrives first, sitting in the middle chair, a cold look of boredom on her face. But beneath the ice is a predator waiting for her prey to be announced. Maev is there between one second in the next, shadows peeling away to show her reclining on the third chair, fingers resting on the cold granite and drumming in a rhythmic pattern. Finally, Adaire walks in, perching on the edge of her chair.

They wait. And when the council talks, they listen.

They let the council lay out their plan. They let the council lay down the rules. They let the council place an ancient dagger next to a thick sheet of parchment. And when the council is done, is they agree.

Maev, to the surprise of everyone, moves first, letting the cold metal of the dagger bite into her flesh, her blood dripping onto the parchment as generations of other witches had done.

Her sisters followed suit, the Council members departing as a heaviness settles in the air.

War.

It rings through the air and burrows deep into Maev's bone.

We're going to war.