I stared at the door as it slowly opened. How many other people entered, hoping to become the most powerful? It wasn't surprising that, once the chambers were discovered, people sought the power within. I was no better. If Celeste hadn't forbidden me from entering, I would've fought to be the most powerful witch, too. It was instinctive. No matter how powerful you are, there might be someone more powerful, more unhinged, and ready to kill you to prove their might.
I'd had plenty of attempts on my own life, but those significantly decreased when I joined the Deadly Witches. Having a coven to help protect me was crucial, and I think being in the public eye helped protect me as well. Magic adhered to its own standards and laws. While there were those who practice in the shadows, the more overt they were, the more regulated they became. Places like Silverleaf were less regulated, but living in any big city, like mine, we were regulated to protect the safety of everyone.
It felt different, entering the room. I wasn't pursuing power; I wanted to find my friend. But the fog hung heavily in the air, and something felt off about the situation. As I stepped into the room, the door behind me slammed shut.
"Hello?" A voice called out.
I turned around, not speaking to avoid exposing my position, scanning the room for the person who spoke. The voice wasn't Ophelia or anyone else in the Deadly Witches. Finally, I spotted a young woman against the wall of the room. She was beautiful even despite appearing in tattered clothes. Her hair shined a beautiful silver and cascaded down to her legs. She exuded youth, there was no way she was older than eighteen. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if it were her eighteenth birthday—it would be the most potent time to pursue a trial like this one. The fog made it hard to see, and I hesitated to get closer without understanding the situation I was in.
I took a few steps towards her before noticing her arms were bound above her head in shackles. I rushed over and stopped a few feet away from her. She had scratches along her face, fresh gashes on her arms, blood slowly dripping as she hung.
"Please," she barely whispered. "Save me. It's coming."