Page 16 of The Endless One

Fifteen coven members followed him. Agnes, Elissa, and Sybil were all among their crowd. The only one who wasn’t complaining was Elissa, and she had instead chosen to annoy everyone else that was walking with them by calling out bird species.

Right on cue, she let out a little startled noise and said, “Look! I think that’s a plover!”

A trio of groans came after her declaration. He tried hard not to let a smile crease across his mouth at the sound of all of their annoyance. She was making this entire trek a bit more difficult, but he quite liked knowing which birds they were coming across. Perhaps that was a sign of his age, however.

Eventually, he found the perfect spot, but he was standing on top of it. Frustrated, he tried to look around for some kind of entrance into a cave system, but there was nothing. They were on top of an emerald-green rise, with a perfect view of the sea. This was where the sacrifices should have taken place. He would have been pleased if someone sacrificed to him here.

So where was it? Where was the ceremonial spot that was throbbing in his mind with old bewitchment?

Sybil walked up beside him, her hair windswept back from her face and her hands on the straps of the pack she wore. “What is it?”

“The sacrificial site. It’s beneath our feet.” He stared down at the green grass. “Perhaps I will make them dig.”

“Or we could walk down the rise and see if it’s a cave that’s carved into the cliff’s edge.”

Of course. This was an island kingdom with no attachment to any other land. Inverholm was different, and he was much more used to land that might be able to see the ocean but wasn’t exactly part of it.

Sighing, he scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re right, as always. I should have thought of that.”

“Elric…” She reached out a hand and grabbed his arm. “When was the last time you slept?”

He didn’t remember. When Jessamine had been taken, most likely. He had caught a few hours of sleep here and there, when this body of his felt like it was going to fall apart. A few hours’ rest wasn’t nearly enough to keep his mind sharp, but it was enough to keep him going. He’d been poring over old texts, whatever they had brought with them to this kingdom, needing to refresh his memory with spells, to spark a bit of inspiration.

But now he still didn’t know how to sleep. Not when she was out there with his brother, and he knew what Ajax would do to her.

He guided the coven down the cliff, carefully holding hands and making sure no one slipped. Each witch had a pack on her back and carried separate ingredients for the spell that he would guide them in. It would require far more detail than any of them had cast before.

But it was time to cut this coven’s teeth on dark magic. Whether they understood the implications or not, they all needed to take part in it.

Finally, he could see the cave. It was taller than most buildings. Pretty pale stones had been smoothed by the sea, and now that the tide was low, he could pick his way carefully through them into the back of the cavern. Seaweed made his progress slow, but it filled the air with a salty scent. The vast room crackled with unused energy. It was exactly what he had been looking for.

In the back of the cave was a natural stone altar. Flat and glistening, it was illuminated by a spear of sunlight breaking through the stones above. Elric imagined the witches who had first found this place would have known how special it was.

“Places like this were made for magic,” he said, his voice echoing in the grand space. “Up until now, I have only taught you how to use your own magic. Each of you has a different flavor of power. Some of you more physical, others immaterial. Each one of you is powerful in her own right, but a coven is more than just a single witch.”

Elric approached the altar, trailing his scarred fingertips across the smooth surface. He could feel every single sacrifice that had been laid to rest here. From chickens to horses to people, all of those lives were marred into the black stone. He could hear the humming of it calling out to him, whispering that he desperately needed to use the well of magic there. He could tap into it, if only he paid the price to do so.

“Come,” he said. “Bring your hands to the altar and greet all the witches who came before you. Your magic will recognize them, just as they will recognize you.”

The altar was big enough for each of the witches to stand shoulder to shoulder, their hands pressed against the stone. And he watched as each of them felt the power crackling between them. Energy lifted out of the very stones to greet them all.

Their eyes closed as one. Elric knew none of them would look around for a while now as the magic overtook them, but he watched them. He saw the inky magic that reached out of the stone and wrapped around their wrists. How they all swayed as one, just the slightest movement, like a calm spring breeze as they eased back and forth. The humming in his mind grew louder, pleased that he had brought them all here.

This was where they were meant to be. A witch needed a coven, a home, and an altar.

“Here is where our spell will take place,” he murmured, knowing his voice would mingle with the energy that currently held them in its grip. “Together, we will pierce through the wards that the God King has set and we will find our missing gravesinger. We underestimated him the first time we saw him, but he underestimates us now. A coven will always find a missing witch. No matter the cost.”

Then he allowed the stone to pull him as well. He could feel the hunger of his coven. They wanted to use this altar to sacrifice him and draw upon him, but that was a desperate thought. They knew it, too. It seemed Sybil had actually gotten through to most of them. They needed him, for now.

“Sybil,” he said quietly. “Will you please bring out the belladonna?”

She nodded, removing herself from the circle to take her pack off and bring it out. She placed it on the altar, then anchored herself again to the humming stone.

“Now, Martha, please crush it with the mortar and pestle I had you bring.”

The newer witch was from a rural area of the kingdom, far beyond the city limits. Freckles dotted her nose, and she had bright red hair that billowed around her head in an almost shocking volume. She was quick to make work of what he’d asked her to do, then only hesitated once she was done. She looked up at him for reassurance, and he nodded toward the altar.

Gently setting the stone mortar down, she tucked the pestle back into her bag before anchoring her hands again.