A Witch, a Curse and a Dragon

If there is a curse, there is a witch. This was the fundamental knowledge that guided the Prince's life. Immediately after this comes the question: "How does one break the curse?" But witches are cunning and alluring. One may easily lose track of one's goal and, say, fall in love.

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Author's note

So we have witches and curses and some adventure (exciting :P ) This was intended to be a long novel, but I am trying to keep it small for the site. It is primarily a fantasy novel, but I am hoping that a major part will be about a romance (with some twists maybe). It’s my first story here and I really hope you will enjoy it if you read it. I am all for reading your stories as well, so we could exchange comments and advice, or simply chat if you want. ^_^ ALSO! Please do leave a like if you actually like this movella to help your friendly author overcome her crushingly low self-esteem. Appreciated <3

12. Back Home



   Lyra was looking daggers at Theobold. The trip to Arelia had been a long one for all of them. Derek had been happy go lucky but Troy and Lyra had been completely vexed for the entirety of the voyage.

   Presently, Lyra was stroking Caer and Theobold his hawk, named Lysander. The two birds were hoisted on their masters' arms. The tension between the two of them, and between their birds, was tangible in the air.

"So you are the reason why I am not at home drinking hot cocoa," Lyra said. Theobold's face was barely visible under his hood as usual.

"I merely see what the cards wish me to see."

"Is that why you are basically blind?"

"Am I?"

"Of course. What on this good earth gave you the idea that I can help your Prince?"

"I don't know. Ask the cards," he said and extended the deck towards her. She scoffed and with a wave of her hand, that made Caer fly away, she scattered the cards everywhere using a small gust of wind. Only she wasn't expecting to see the magician holding on to one last one. He grinned and took a look at it.

"The high priestess. Your intuition is strong. Your abilities to peer into the unconscious and the world of dreams are unmatched. Your magic is pure instinct and you can see bellow the toughest surface. You know you cannot help. But you have a pretty good idea who can. Isn't that so?"

   With a snap of his fingers, his deck was in his hand again. He extended it once more and Lyra felt the vein in her temple strain.

"I am not picking a card," she said decidedly. Only the magician had already shuffled and, seemingly by luck, had picked for her.

"The hierophant. Someone who exercises spiritual authority over you. Defined by practical wisdom. Who is this? Or rather, who is she?"

   Lyra was surprised that this charlatan of a mage could actually discern so much, through cards no less. She knew herself that if anyone had any idea about what was going on with such curses would be the arch witch of the coven. But Vespera had no love for Lyra. And that wasn't likely to change anytime soon.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said coldly. She heard Derek sigh behind her. They were all standing in a marble pavilion, attached to the side of one of the palace's rooms, meant to be Lyra's for the moment. Through the marble columns attached to this balcony, Lyra could see the forest expanding indefinitely toward the mountains. The red and golden leaves of the trees were swaying in tandem with the passing wind. She had never ventured far from her birthplace. She had been raised in Nael by William Carpenter, her father, who was a carpenter as indicated by his name. Of her mother, she knew only that she had died. She had never met her. She only knew that she had been killed by wolves in the woods. She assumed that she wasn't the witch in her family tree, because she could have been able to defend herself. So her magic was quite possibly a gift from her grandmother.

   She had visited Arelia before of course, being a merchant and having to sell her products. But this was about as far as she had ever traveled. Usually, her customers came looking for her and she knew exactly who they were, hence the barrier around her shop didn't apply to them. Travels or no travels, she certainly hadn't seen the inside of a palace before. It was no small amount of new information.

   Derek sat on a marble bench with blue pillows and buried his face in his hands. She heard Troy click his tongue as if this was the answer he was expecting from her. The magician simply stroke his hawk's beak. For an inexplicable reason, she suddenly felt guilty. And then her guilt subsided when she remembered why she had been forced to follow Derek around like a poodle. She wasn't going to risk her life or worse, her sanity fighting Vespera for the likes of them. The entire coven was against them now. She could feel their hatred sipping through her skin as if it were her own.

"Well, we tried," Derek said dishearted and entered the room to leave. Lyra caught Troy's eyes resting on her for a moment before he followed his friend. The magician passed by her, light as a feather.

"You are still hesitating. But you will eventually be forced to choose a side," he whispered.

"Why would it be yours?" she asked as he was leaving. He stopped and half-turned to point at her.

"Your heart is as human as they get."

   A few days passed and Lyra was still a guest at the palace. She wanted to go home so badly she thought she was capable of burning the place down. Unfortunately, that would mean her amulet would burn as well. Not fun.

   She was lightly dressed that morning, as usual, and wore no shoes. Her clothes always earned her some bewildered gazes from the palace's inhabitants, whether they came from servants or nobles. She didn't mind. Her light dresses allowed her to move freely. Freedom... This was all about freedom. She was feeling trapped and she felt as if she couldn't breathe.

   She made her way to the throne room, where Derek usually was. But she was surprised to see the charlatan magician and Troy. They were talking urgently about something. She moved closer to be able to hear them better, her hands entwined behind her back.

"Is he... How long does he have?" Troy was asking. His voice was barely audible and it seemed cracked as if he was about to cry. Lyra couldn't imagine Troy making such a pained sound. Not that she knew him, but she could feel this was not part of his general character.

"It is not a question of time, Troy. He is dying. Right now. And he is in a lot of pain."

   Then Troy's eyes darted towards her and his forehead creased. "What are you doing sneaking about?" he asked. He sounded as if he was venting his frustration on her. Only she wasn't really in the mood to be anyone's punching bag.

"I wasn't really trying to hide. If I had been, you wouldn't have seen me," she retorted and now crossed her arms in front of her chest protectively.

   Troy shook his head and was about to leave, but Theobold caught his arm and stopped him.

"Take her with you," he advised him.

"What? You must be joking."

"I hope he is. Who told you I want to go anywhere? Especially with this brute," she chimed in.

"You need to help Lowell," the magician said and pointed at Troy with one hand. Then he pointed at Lyra with the other. "You need a change of perspective," he said and then he joined the two hands together. "Help each other. And see where it leads you."

   Lyra looked over at Troy and hoped he would say no again representing both of them. But he was actually thinking about it. Then, apparently making a decision in his head, he directed his emerald gaze at her. Clear and strong and determined. It took her aback for a second.

   Then he approached her and stood close. She had to look up to return his gaze.

"If someone was in great pain would you be able to help alleviate some of it?"

"Physically do you mean?"


"I am much better when it comes to someone's psyche... But I can fix some physical problems, yes."

"Then... I can't believe I am even saying this, but, please, come with me."





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