For the Hate of God

One wrong move, little witch

Rowena’s POV

“All right, little witch. You and your little gang of witches are allowed to fight side by side with us.” He said with a chortle as if he had heard the funniest joke ever. The next second, he straightened up his face and came closer to me while stomping over my, still unconscious mate. Omar groaned and whimpered under the weight of Malleteagan’s body and the force of his impact. While still standing on the torso of my unconscious mate with one boot and hovering over his neck with the other, he faced me with fury etched on every feature of his face and tugged a handful of my braids.

“..but, be sure, one wrong move, little witch…” he growled, inches away from my face, forcing me to look at his vile eyes.

“… and I will snap the neck of your dear mate like a toothpick. And you know what? I will make you watch it. And that will be just the beginning of your torment…shall you or your witches dare to betray us, that is, of course. But none of you are that stupid, of course! Right, little witch?” He gritted a threat through his teeth. In a swift movement, he released my hair, moved the foot which was hovering over Omar’s neck and jumped forcefully with both feet on his chest.

Omar remained unconscious but gasped, heaved and winced.

Erzelus then moved one foot to kick my mate with full force into his ribs while the other was still firmly on Omar’s torso, still pressing his chest and blocking him from breathing. Omar was coughing blood and gasped for air. He will choke with his own blood if he doesn’t let him go. Erzelus then finally moved away, turning his back to us. With that gesture, he showed that he does not see me or witches as a threat at all.

“Now, we shall take care of fallen soldiers and rest before we go to Macabantrah.” He turned to his commanders and said with a casual tone. It sounded as if he discussed the seating arrangements for a dinner.

And you…” he turned around, pointing a finger at me.

“…make sure that you take good care of healing of that treacherous rebel of a dog laying on the ground.” I don’t know what holds me from attacking this bastard. He is a disgusting, demented creature.

As everyone took their leave to rest, I lowered myself to my knees and looked at the unconscious man lying down next to my feet. Despite looking like he went through a meat grinder, my destined mate is undeniably a beautiful man. He has a masculine, square-shaped jaw, full of thick raven-black beard and a slightly squared-shaped face framed with tousled black hair which reaches his shoulders. His hair, although now dull and full of gore from battle and battery he suffered from Malleteagan, is still giving magnificent contrast to his rosy complexion. He is not even remotely bulked up with muscles as Malleteagan is, but he is still out of ordinary tall and muscular man. Wolf….Whatnot.

His well-sculpted yet lean body and perfect yet masculine facial features are now tarnished with the savagery of the beast whom I had to plead for mercy. I had to plead with him for shelter for us and our coven. That is how low I stooped. And then…one really starts to think about Raamalen’s words. Was it really about choosing between my family and a man? What will happen to my little sisters now? They are in Lacrimavlian dungeons, and there is only one way to save them now. I sighed and looked at my mate. Do we all have such a low value to those who rule over us? My mate was a faithful friend and warrior to Malleteagan. That is why he promoted him to the status of beta warrior. One wrong move and his alpha disowned him and mauled him to the verge of life and death.

Same with me. So am I just changing one deranged master with the same or even greater evil? With watery eyes, I leaned down and started to drag my mate through battle debris and dust.

For what are the witches?

We were born with a gift, which is more of a predicament than a blessing. Humans of the Earth realm haunted us, stoned us or burnt at stake. I went through it all. I was haunted like a wild animal during the Inquisition times, burnt at the stake, hung at Salem, and tortured during the Enlightenment era. I ran away from the human realm to Soovaree, and here…we are, the least powerful and lowest-ranked beings with powers that walked on these grounds. The weakness of our bodies makes us ideal targets for enslavement by those who offer us protection.

And no, we are not forced to stay or run errands for them. But we are coerced to do so for smidgens of security and protection. Because if we don’t, we will be useless, a liability and a risk, the weakest link in the chain. And those who are not of good use are those who are disposable, replaceable, and they don’t need to be protected. It is all a matter of interest here. Well, in here and in any other realm. As soon as we were not part of someone’s interest, we were not protected. So, we obey commands, even when these are opposed to our values and beliefs. We are selling ourselves, our powers and souls like ho.okers just to have something that we can remotely call safety and protection. We are being deceived and manipulated by those above us. Manipulated and controlled by a promise to be cared for if we obey their rules and norms.

We changed the chains of imprisonment in the human realm for a token of protection disguised in a new form of covert slavery in the realm of divinity and demons. The only difference is that we sold our souls for protection to the highest bidder. We are still risking our lives. For what? For protection? They don’t care about us, and they will not protect us.

In the first instance, when they would need to choose between themselves, their ulterior motives and us, we will be sacrificed without an ounce of remorse or mercy. Anca is living proof. Well, unliving proof… To hell with all, even when I think of my mate, he is proof of how little worth our lives have for celestials. Although they are different species than humans, it all comes down to the same pattern.

Are we witches that feeble that we depend on the protection of some demons or celestials? And now, I got this dead-weight predicament of a wolf on top of all the problems that the coven is facing. I have tried to drag this man, but he is as heavy as a boar. After a few attempts, I stumbled and fell backwards. My hair dipped in something sludgy on the ground, probably leftovers of some demon killed during the battle.

I tried to shake away whatever the crap in my hair was. When I touched my braids, I realised it was figments of exploded intestines of lord-knows-what demon mixed with black dust and mud of Konneyard. I have dropped my mate to the ground at the same instance with a shriek. His numb body fell with a loud thud and I started swatting the gore off my hair frantically while crying and screaming.

Then I felt someone’s hand on my shoulder, warm and reassuring. I turned my head to see Marleeken looking at me calmly. She was as calm as if we weren’t in the middle of havoc in hell. Marleeken and I were not friends, nor were we enemies, but something in her always creeped the sh.it out in me. Was it her link to Marcellus or her creepy eyes, or was it her eerie beauty altogether? I don’t know, but I wouldn’t want to get on her wrong side, that is for sure. She wasn’t a woman of many words. That’s why she probably got along so well with Marcellus. I know they were lovers for many centuries. They were probably having a contest at who could stay silent longer when they were together.

She finally spoke, which I found even more daunting. Her voice was as eerie as her aura, which gave some serious Samara vibes.

“Rowena, you are a blood witch. You possess the ancient powers and black magic within you. Probably some other abilities that even I am not aware of. I am quite sure that you are among the most powerful blood witches who walked across all the realms, if not the most powerful one. So, put your sh.it together and lead the army of witches to victory, welfare and freedom. I will be here next to you, gloating in our victory. For us. For witches. For your sisters. For your mate. For freedom. Now, you have a mate to heal. Get to work.” She said with a dreadfully calm tone, while I started to heal my mate. This is the only way to drag him away from the battleground. He will have to heal and walk on his own. I cannot drag him. He is as heavy as a boar.

“What about your mate!? Tyler is your mate isn’t he?” I blurted out, and as soon as I said it, I figured out I shouldn’t have.

“Mind your own business, Rowena, and focus on your mate. Witches cannot afford to fall behind because of you. You are slacking because of this dog of yours, who is still lying on the ground. You need to heal him. Sort this out, we have an upcoming Macabantran battle to plan. Erzelus, that is how Malleteagan wants to be called now, stated that we will take care of fallen alliance warriors, rest couple of hours and continue towards Macabantrah soon. Your dog needs to recover by then.” She said and left.