The wind had turned the grass into a sea of thrashing grey and green. They sky above was ink black and not a star could be seen. The roar of the ocean could barely be heard over the howling of the wind.
Elizabeth, Artur, and Cordelia raced through the field, towards the castle – though all they could see of it was shadow and pins of candlelight in the windows. Having just emerged from the woods, they did not yet know what had changed at the castle, or if their spell had even worked.
Only moments ago, they had been down on the beach, the wind whipping their hair from their faces and salty spray covering their faces like morning dew. To ignorant onlookers they world have simply looked like a company enjoying bonfire. But anyone who knew the area knew to stay away from suspicious figures in the night.
The fire was burning away at the oak wood of an old chest, one that held what they hoped was a magic jeweled necklace. They had spoken the words from the book, the words said to be spoken by Gaeneron himself against the Angles of the West. And now they stood, three corners of a triangle, hand linked like the hooked talons of a bat.
“Do you really think this is the best way to get rid of him?” Arthur asked. He was the tallest of the three of them and the broadest of shoulder, but he spoke more softly than both of the others.
“Of course.” Cordelia had responded, her voice sharp and confident. A smile licked across her face like a flame, exposing her pearly whites. “Fight fire with fire.”
“Magic with magic.” Elizabeth clarified. Her face was calm and steady. Though it had been Cordelia’s idea to cast a spell on the man who was dooming them all, Eliza had followed along quite willingly. Unlike Arthur who had to be coaxed.
“Fire has proven quite deadly to many of your kind,” Arthur whispered, “As has magic.”
“Exactly!” Cordelia snapped, not looking away from the pillar of smoke that billowed at the center of their formation. “And it will not take another. James was an easy victim. We could have expected that. But Lily? No. This sorcerer has power and we would be fools to let him run wild in our home. With our mother.”
“We’ve just never used magic before,” Arthur said, “What if something goes wrong?”
“Then we’ll fix it.” Eliza said, breathing out as calmly as she could. “Now focus your intentions.”
They all closed their eyes again and meditated as best they could. And then the wind picked up and thunder joined the sea in serenading them. Cordelia grinned and pulled on their hands. The broke apart and made for the stairs carved out of the cliff’s side. As they reached the top, Elizabeth and Cordelia with hopeful hearts and Arthur with growing anxiety, their cloaks billowed behind them and boon on their wet faces looked akin to sparkling diamonds.
As they crossed quickly through the woods that grew on the edge of the cliff and then through the field that separated their home from the edge, tension bloomed in their chests.
Both Elizabeth and Cordelia wore gowns of velvet and satin dark in color and heavy around their shoulders. Their corsets were laced with black silk ribbons and the lace at their breasts was black. Their heeled boots could not be seen but for the length of their skirts. Their hair – Elizabeth’s black and Cordelia’s blond – fell around their shoulders in looping curls.
Arthur, under his cloak, wore a black suit over a silk shirt and ascot tie pinned with a silver broach. His boots were shiny and black, the ones Cordelia had told him to wear. His chestnut hair was combed back and oiled into a pomp which narrowed into the bow at the nape of his neck, showing off his widow’s peak.
“What specifically did the book say the spell would do?” He asked, his long fingers pulling his cloak around him, not for warmth but for security against Cordelia’s bitter glances.
“It didn’t say anything specific.” Eliza shrugged, “Just that our will would be done.
“And since we will that Ignatius be gone, he shall be gone.” Cordelia added.
Arthur wasn’t convinced. He suspected that the storm was just that, not magical at all. He suspected even more that Ignatius would be expecting this – a hostile act from Cordelia – and that he would be waiting for them when they returned, staff in hand.
They reached the gravel of the path around their grounds and were soon at the back door of the castle. They entered as quietly as the could considering the doors were made of iron and made for the dining hall where they would usually find Ignatius and their mother supping.
The left dirty footprints on the stone floors and then on the rugs of the hallways. To reach the dining hall from the rear of the estate they had to go up a short set of stairs and through a sitting room. Their cloaks swept across the floor as they pattered towards the only door remaining between them and their potential success.
And just as they opened the door to burst in on the room, to see what their magic had done, and see their mother freed from the spells and charm of the man who had corroded her heart and darkened their home for weeks, they were outside again.
Elizabeth, Cordelia, and Arthur were surrounded by trees. The oil lamps of their castle were replaced by darkness and the cold of stone was replaced by the bracing chill of outside air. The only thing that remained steady was the rumble of thunder around them.
They looked around, shock showing on their faces. They all jolted as Arthur stepped on a twig and it cracked light lightning in the quiet. Before them they saw a small mass of stones and two crouching figures cloaked in a haze of candles.
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