The Girl in Cell 3 (Triple Witching Hour)

Every day SABLE talks to her knight in shining armor, EREN. She says sweet words, tugging at his heart, hoping to steal it. But there is always a barrier between them - a prison cell door. EREN has struck a deal: keep her locked up and his little brother will be out of harms way.

Her cell is inescapable and her placement on death row rises fast. She aims to seduce him and have him break her out. But when truths and lies become one, can she deceive his heart without breaking her own?


44. Chapter 43 - Zofia

In all her years of life, Zofia had learned that there were two things that were valued the most in the entire world: money and magic. 

Money was prized by men. Many men dedicated their entire lives to accrue more money. It was what they thought about, dreamed about — it was the purpose of their existence. Most wars were started because of a squabble over money. Some were even willing to die for it. Which was something Zofia found endlessly amusing.

Magic was prized by witches. Witches wanted more magic — and the stronger the magic, the better. The strength of the magic depended on the purity of magic in a witch’s blood, but there were ways to get around that. For many witches, magic was the foundation of their existence, it was what gave them their place in the world. 

Zofia thought that both men and witches were utter fools. Money and magic were both infinite. 

More gold was mined every day and more coins were minted every hour. Men acted as though money was a scarce treasure when the King’s Pride Reserve issued more currency every minute. Its source of bottomless and inexhaustible.

Magic was by its very nature infinite. If a witch ran out of magic, she could simply eat and sleep and once she had recovered her strength, her magic would come back. 

If something was infinite, then it was worthless. No, Zofia knew what was the most valuable resource in the world. It was something that both men and witches took for granted, mainly because it appeared to be infinite. It passed by every day and every night and yet barely anyone noticed it. 


Time was the most valuable resource any man or witch had. 

Food, water, money, magic, air, houses, chairs, fancy jewelry — all of that is infinite and can be made again and again. 

But only time was something that could not be replaced. Once a day had passed, this very day would not come back. And although a witch’s lifespan might be longer than a man’s, even witches had a time limit for  as far as Zofia knew, no witch had mastered the flow of time — yet. 

In the life of a man or a witch, time was the only thing that couldn’t be replaced. Once the river of time dried up, it would remain barren forever. 

And that was why out of all the things Zofia was, she was not a patient witch.


*  *  *


Zofia sat in the cell with Sable. She taped her finger against the ground. Sable slept a lot. Zofia considered excessive sleep a waste of time. Why did Sable sleep so much? She glanced at the gransia handcuffs that Sable was wearing; perhaps because these handcuffs sapped away a witch magic, it also caused physical fatigue? It was a good hypothesis, but Zofia couldn’t be sure. The handcuffs which she was wearing were made out of imitation gransia. It suppressed her magic only to the point where other witches could not sense her power, but she could still perform spells if there was a need for it. 

The other witches in neighboring cells were chatting. Their voices sounded anxious. Their whispers were rapid and hushed. Something was wrong. Something was being planned. 

Zofia smiled. This was a good opportunity. 

In a prison, there was only one thing the witches could plan. 

Zofia moved to the cell door, sat down with her back against the wall. 

“Hey,” she hissed. 

The whispers came to a stop. 

“What do you want?” a witch whispered back. 

Zofia considered her answer for a moment. Her line of attack. 

“We can’t stay in this prison forever,” Zofia said. “We are witches, we are meant to be free.” 

The other witch said nothing. 

“Does anyone have a plan for breaking out?” 

A moment of silence. Zofia swallowed. She had shown her impatience. She did not consider the fact that she was new and that the other witches might be suspicious of her. 

“We don’t have a plan for breaking out,” the witch said. “But the witch in cell one has a plan.” 

“Cell one?” 

“Yes, the witch in the first cell — her name is Svenja.” 

“Svenja...” Zofia murmured. If she remembered right, there was a witch by the name of Svenja in cell one. The one with golden eyes. Zofia smiled. That was all she needed to know. She had seen Svenja play chess with the guards. The witches in cell one, closest to the door, were especially friendly with the human knights. She could guess what their plans were. 

And she already knew how to counter it. 

“But what if her plan doesn’t work?” Zofia asked. “Maybe the Witch Council can rescue us?” 

There was a crackle of dark cynical laughter. “I don’t think so,” the neighboring witch answered. 

“Why not?” Zofia returned with urgency and panic in her voice. She decided to portray herself as a naive witch — perhaps that would make it easier to gain the trust of the other witches. “There are so many of us here, shouldn’t the Witch Council be concerned?” 

“I don’t think so, because — “ 

“Where has the Witch Council retreated to?” 

There was a pause. And then: “None of us can send any message to the Witch Council. The gransia handcuffs have sealed away all of our magic.”

Zofia noted that the witch’s voice sounded weak and deflated. Zofia frowned with disgust. All their lives witches rely on their magic for everything they did and sneered with disgust at any witch who was willing to learn other skills. Witches were so dependent on their magic that once they lost it, they didn’t know what to do with themselves anymore. Without their magic, they were done. 

Witches. Useless creatures.

The weak die. The strong adapt and survive. 

And just as Zofia was about to ask another question, did the other witch ask: “Don’t you know where the Witch Council is? You seem awfully concerned about them.”

Zofia froze. Damn it. She cursed herself. She had been too eager about asking question and now they were suspicious of her. 

“I haven’t been in contact with the Witch Council,” Zofia said. “But I think considering how many of us have been captured by King’s Pride, the Witch Council ought to break its policy of no involvement in human wars and send out the strongest witches to rescue us.” 

“Who knows,” the other witch said dismissively. “We can’t send a message without our magic.” 

“But you could send a message with your handcuffs off?” 

“Yes,  I have the Blood Mark of a senior member of the Witch Council. I could contact her.” 

“Then we just have to find a way to get your handcuffs off,” Zofia said in a contemplative tone, but there was a sardonic smile on her lips. 

The Champion of Light might finally be complete, she thought. 

In the back of the cell, Sable stirred. She was awake. 

Good, Zofia thought. It was time to find out what she knows.




A/N: Good morning!  Chapter 44 is already posted on the TWHstory website :) go there to get free early access 


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