The Blind Witch

All things perish with time. When they turn to dust, they shall be welcomed to the darkness.

Azrael lay on his bed, his coughing ragged, shaking his bones to the core. There was not much that was left that could keep him alive. The curse had poisoned his blood, making it difficult to breathe. In recent days, he had become bedbound. His legs could no longer move as they slowly turned black—a knock at the door jarred him from his sleepy state.

He opened his eyes and saw Clarissa walking into the room. He watched as waves of fire energy radiated from her feet as she walked. She effortlessly went up to his bedside and took his hand. He looked at her face and the gentle smile she gave him. But he could see it in the darkness of her eyes. There was sadness, perhaps pity.

“Have you come to watch an old man die?” He chuckled as he held back a cough.

“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Clarissa replied as she sat on the edge of the bed. She could tell that he was very sick. His aura and orbs were dim, barely visible to her eyes. “I know that Aiden and Lady Ophelia were with the leader council today, so I thought I’d come to spend some time with you.”

“It is rather kind of you to spend my dying hours with me,” he scowled. “It seems as though only you dare to stand in the presence of death.”

“Death is not something that I fear. It is natural.”

“This death is not natural!” Azrael snapped, snatching his hand from Clarissa’s. He had become bitter as his death neared. But this was not her fault; he knew that. She was not there the night of the attack. He looked at her face and instantly regretted his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” She reassured him with a gentle smile. “You have every right to be angry. There is so much you won't get to experience. I would want to fight death, too.”

“I can only hope that Aiden does not have to suffer a similar fate as me,” Azrael said as he reached back and took her hand. He could feel the unnatural warmth that radiated from her. “But I have no fear over you. From the first time I saw your fire, I knew you were powerful. And in the years that you’ve been here, you have grown so much. I know you hate much about how things work and how things are run. But I do not doubt that you shall make a great Queen. That you shall change things, make things safer.”

“I’m glad you won't be around to see me fail,” she gently teased. Azrael laughed, but his laugh soon turned to a coughing fit. Clarissa helped to rub his back until it stopped.

“I know there is something that looms over you. I know Erebus still haunts you,” Azrael rasped as he laid back. “But you have been blessed by so many gods. They would not have blessed your life if you were not meant to do something grand.”

“What if I fail, though?” She questioned. “I hear him. I heard Erebus earlier. He will come for me.”

“He may come for you, that is true. But you are strong; you must not forget that. Others may fear you because of the dark magic that you hold. Some look down on you because you cannot see. You must show everyone, even the gods, that you are not a force to be reckoned with.”

Clarissa could see that the light grew dimmer. His breathing was becoming staggered. Then, she could feel a coolness in the air. Someone was here. Her eyes scanned the room. In a corner stood a creature. He had no orbs nor an aura, but there was a darkness to him. It was Labraid - the God of Death. But he did not approach, and he did not speak. All he did was give a low bow before disappearing. Clarissa’s heart raced as she looked back to Azrael.

“Let me go get Aiden and Lady Ophelia,” she said as she stood, but Azrael’s grip on her hand tightened.

“No, please don’t leave me,” he pleaded, struggling to find air. “I’ve already mind-linked Aiden.”

Clarissa nodded and sat back down on the bed. She rubbed his hand, trying her best to keep them warm. He needed to hold on until his family, his flesh and blood, could be there. She looked back to the corner, but Labraid had not returned.

“What are…you looking at?” Azrael questioned. He could see the worry on her face.

“It is nothing,” she replied, turning back to him.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he coughed. She saw something, and the fear on her face said it all. Deep down, he knew. He knew that death had come for him. It was time. He could no longer fight; he was too tired. He looked at the girl he had taken over four years ago—the woman she had developed into, the force she had yet to become. “Take care of him. Take care of Aiden.”

“I will,” she whispered as she held back tears. “I will ensure he lives a long, happy life.”

“Not too happy,” Azrael smirked as his head fell back onto the pillow.

Clarissa jumped when she heard the door fly open. Several people came running in, gathering around her and Azrael. She could see Sybil and Ophelia try to heal him, but he only hit their hands away.

“Stop, let me go,” he begged.

Clarissa bit her lip. Labraid was back; she could see him standing beside the bed now. He had a face that was white with dark voids throughout. And on his head were antlers. Labraid looked at her. It was time. She knew this; Azrael knew this. She watched as the god reached over, touching Azrael’s head. As Labraid pulled away, he took Azrael’s soul with him. It left nothing but darkness where his body lay.

Her eyes stayed on Labraid as Ophelia’s cries filled the air. He looked at her, their eyes meeting for several seconds. He gave her one last bow before disappearing. Wailing. It flooded her ears. The last time she heard cries like Ophelia’s was the day she was pushed onto the wagon when she fled her home. She felt a lump in her throat as she stared into the corner.

Clarissa looked over as Aiden took her arm. He pulled her gently from the bed and into his arms. She could feel him trembling against her. She wrapped her arms around him tightly.

After several minutes of hearing Ophelia and Sybil crying, Clarissa could hear the quiet steps of the vampire guards. Aiden looked over, watching as they fell to their knees before him.

“All hail Aiden, the King of Kings!” They called out in unison.

Five minutes. That is all the time that Aiden was allowed to mourn his uncle. Once the two vampire guards came in, his time of mourning was over. He was now the King of Kings. The Leader Council was waiting for him in the corridor.

“Stay with me?” He whispered to Clarissa. He did not know whether he was asking or if he was pleading. All that he knew was that he did not want to leave that room alone. He did not want to step into the responsibility that was expected of him alone.

“Always,” she replied as she felt around for his hands. When she found them, she gripped both of them tightly.

Aiden reluctantly left his uncle’s room, but Clarissa stayed by his side. For the entire night, one of her hands was touching him: his back, his arm, his hand. Her warmth never left him. And when his words seemed to falter due to grief, she would step in to be his voice.

The first thing that required his attention was the funeral of Azrael. Thankfully, much of it had been decided long ago. His body would be cleansed and wrapped in ceremonial cloth. A dark redwood to the far north had been chopped down earlier in the year. Its logs had been brought to Haerford Palace to be used for his pyre.

Afterward, his remains were to be gathered and placed in a velvet bag. Ophelia and Sybil were to spread his ashes over the Quiet Valley. This was a sacred place for wolves. It was said that the first wolf that Bil created was here. And ever since, it has been the burial ground for many wolves.

But Aiden had to be crowned first before his ashes could be taken. He stood in his room alone. He had been dressed in a bright gold outfit. A long robe was placed over his shoulders. The symbols of the witches, wolves, humans, and vampires were on the back. But now he stood, looking at himself through a mirror. He was still young, barely 20 years of age. His shoulders felt heavy. He felt lonely.

“You look good,” a soft voice said behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Ophelia. Her face was still red from crying. Azrael’s death was brutal on her. Perhaps harder than it was for him and Sybil. Aiden walked over and embraced her.

“You shall be the last one that I crown,” Ophelia uttered as she held him. “I will not crown your heir. I cannot do it anymore. I crowned Zeke when Damien was two years old. Then I crowned Damien. Then Azrael. Now you. I can’t do it anymore.”

“I understand,” Aiden sighed as his grip around her tightened. “You have given so much. I would understand if you also chose not to be my advisor.”

“No, I shall stay, at least for a little while,” she replied with a shake of her head. “You and Clarissa are still young. I would not trust anyone else to advise the two of you.”

“Then, I command that when you go to spread Azrael’s ashes that you take your time,” Aiden said as he pulled away. “You need a break, even if it's for a little bit. Even if all you do is grieve.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Ophelia smiled as she wiped her eyes. “But I shall be gone no more than two weeks.”

Ophelia looked over Aiden. She straightened his jacket, pressing the collar to lay flat. She looked up at his hazel eyes. They were the same eyes that Azrael, Gideon, and Damien had. Eyes that had been passed down for generations. It made her heart heavy.

“I wonder if the children that you and Clarissa have will have your eyes,” Ophelia said as she stepped back.

“Do you think that her eyes are going to be genetic?” He questioned curiously. He could not lie; it was something that had crossed his mind before.

“They definitely are not genetic,” she chuckled in reply. After a moment, though, she frowned, and her face became serious. “But that does not mean that Nyx won’t bless them as she did Clarissa. They may have dark magic… or dark powers, just like their mother.”

“Would it be a bad thing if my heir was strong?”

“It worries me,” Ophelia admitted softly. “Clarissa is a witch I’ve never seen before. Her magic, her powers, the gods that blessed her. What is coming that the gods saw a need to bless her?”

Aiden stood there unmoving. What is coming that the gods saw a need to bless her? He had never once questioned why she was so blessed, why her magic was so powerful. He accepted her as she was, as the gods made her. But now he could not help but speculate the why. He clenched his fists as something hit deep in the pit of his stomach.

“Erebus…” he growled through his gritted teeth. “She has said that he is coming for her.”

“But we still don’t know who or what Erebus is,” Ophelia replied. “No one at Lode Star can find information about him. At the moment, he is just a phantom that haunts her with whispers.”

“What if he is more than just a phantom?” Aiden questioned as his cheeks became red. He was afraid, afraid of losing Clarissa. Fearful of the unknown.

“My sweet child,” Ophelia whispered as she cupped Aiden’s face in her hands. “When I return from spreading Azrael’s ashes, we shall work with Clarissa on figuring out who Erebus is. We will get ahead of him before anything happens. Now, take a deep breath. We need to go to the throne room. It’s time to crown you King of Kings.”