Free Web NovelChapter 53: Witch...Impossible
Gessia
Never in my life had I been this angry. It burned through me, sharp and unrelenting. First, to be seen as incompetent as though I did not understand my own craft and second, to be proven wrong. I had infused those potions with magic drawn directly from my core. That alone should have made them more than effective.
And yet...
Staring at her felt like staring at a mistake that refused to correct itself. Something flawed that lingered far longer than it should have. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓
It was almost incomprehensible that she still looked so pale, so visibly sick, as though death hovered just a breath away. The longer I looked at her, the more my anger deepened, coiling tighter in my chest until I turned away and moved to sit at my table.
Breathe, Gessia, breathe. You are not useless. You are powerful, and you do not make mistakes.
Even if everything else fell apart, that was the one truth I refused to let go of. The one thing I would never allow my mother to strip from me.
Keeping my gaze fixed on the table, I reached for my bag and opened it with careful precision. Inside were my herbsrare, valuable, and painstakingly gathered. I pulled out a small stove, setting it up before selecting the necessary leaves and beginning the distillation process.
The thought of using more of my magic, of draining from my own reserves when I should have been building them, irritated me more than I cared to admit. It felt like a waste, like being forced to pour water into a cracked vessel. Still, I continued.
The only reason I had chosen the werewolf pack assignment in the first place was because they rarely fell ill. It meant fewer complications, fewer demands on my abilities, and more time to refine my craft.
And now this.
"Who knew I would be saddled with a problem... a burden... a stain on the very ground she stands on," I muttered under my breath, my tone low and sharp as I worked.
The process took time, but I did not rush it. Precision mattered. Control mattered.
Finally, I leaned back slightly, examining the result. The liquid inside the bottle shimmered faintly under the dim light, swirling with a density that spoke of the magic infused within it stronger than before, far stronger.
I extinguished the stove and lowered the lanterns, letting the room settle into a quieter glow before turning my attention back to Raven.
She sat slumped against the wall, her posture weak, her presence barely holding together. Even now, even after everything, she looked as though she could collapse at any moment.
It was infuriating.
I rose to my feet and approached her, but instead of immediately handing her the potion, I reached for a knife.
The blade caught the light briefly before I took her hand and made a quick, precise cut across her skin.
She jerked in surprise, her attention snapping back from wherever her mind had wandered, trying to pull away, but I held firm.
A bowl was already in place beneath her hand as I watched her blood drip into it, steady and controlled. Once I had enough, I released her without explanation, ignoring the shock written plainly across her face.
There was no need to explain.
Instead, I picked up two bottles and handed them to her.
"Drink one," I instructed, my tone leaving no room for hesitation.
As expected, she obeyed immediately, lifting the bottle and swallowing its contents.
I watched closely.
The cut on her hand began to close first, the skin knitting together as though the injury had never been there. Then her face color returning slowly, replacing that deathlike pallor. Her posture shifted, her breathing steadied, and she no longer looked as though she would collapse where she sat.
It worked.
Of course it worked.
But what unsettled me was how quickly whatever afflicted her seemed to take hold again.
"How do you feel?" I asked, my eyes narrowing slightly as I studied her.
"Good... great," she replied, her voice carrying a note of surprise that eased some of the tension in my chest. frёeωebɳovel.com
I nodded once before continuing, "Keep the second bottle. Drink it tomorrow morning."
I straightened, already moving on to the next instruction.
"You’ll spend the night in one of the guest rooms. A guard outside will take you there. Monitor your condition, and if everything holds, you can leave tomorrow."
She nodded quickly, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground, her compliance almost mechanical.
Now that she stood properly, I took a moment to truly observe her.
She was slender—too slender, bordering on frail—but there was no denying her beauty. Her features were refined, her pale skin smooth despite her condition. Her hair fell long and carried a natural shine that many would envy, and her blue eyes held an almost ethereal quality.
It was... irritating.
I was jealous of it.
There was a part of me that knew I could have had such traits if I had been born differently. If I had been an omega. But that kind of weakness came at a cost I would never accept.
Not in this world. Not when strength was the only thing that ensured survival. It was the one belief I shared with my terrible mother without question.
Stepping out of the room, I gave clear instructions to the guard stationed by the door, ordering her to escort Raven and remain alert for any changes in her condition.
Raven murmured something that resembled thanks, though it was so quiet it barely registered, before following the guard out.
The guard’s expression said enough.
Even she saw Raven as a burden.
I turned back into the room and shut the door harder than necessary, my attention immediately returning to the table where the bowl of blood sat.
A flicker of unease crept in despite my earlier confidence.
What if the potion failed again?
What if by morning she was worse?
Without an omega, my position here would be... precarious.
I exhaled slowly, forcing the thought aside as I reached for my book.
I opened it carefully, flipping to the necessary pages before beginning the spell. My movements were precise, practiced. This was something I knew well—something reliable.
This spell would reveal whatever disease lingered in her blood.
"Maybe it’s poison," I muttered, irritation creeping back in. The thought immediately brought Horria to mind, but I dismissed it just as quickly. She had no reason for something so trivial. She operated on a scale far beyond this.
The spell completed.
Nothing appeared.
My frown deepened.
I cast again, adjusting the incantation—this time focusing on the properties within the blood itself.
There should have been green.
Werewolf blood always carried it, sometimes mixed faintly with red to reflect human ancestry.
But what I saw— My breath caught.
A trace of green, yes—but overshadowed by something else. Purple and unmistakable.
My fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table as I stared at it, my mind struggling to reconcile what I was seeing with what I knew to be true.
That color did not belong there. It shouldn’t exist in her blood.
It was something only found in one place. Only in one kind of being.
"She’s... a witch?" I whispered, the words barely leaving my lips.
Impossible.
