Thoughts and Fears

The bag shoved over my head hours ago made it impossible for me to know what was going on. There was a cool, thick air swirling around my torso, which I assumed was magic to guide me down this never-ending hallway. Based on the heavy footsteps surrounding me, about three or four witches were walking with me. I must be a celebrity here; evidence suggested not the good kind, though. 

We walked for a few more moments, until finally a deep voice came from in front of me demanding “stop.” As the words left their mouth, the magical tether wrapped around me immediately tightened. 

Although I tried to present myself as calm and nonchalant within the very few interactions I have had with the witches so far, unease consumed my body. I hated them. I feared them. I wanted to know them. Witches have neighbored my father’s land for centuries, when they were shunned from living in the kingdom, but it wasn’t until my father's reign that coexistence began to get ugly. About twenty-five years ago, members of the palace’s staff went hunting for food in the mountainous forest between witches’ land and ours. They never returned. When the bodies were recovered, the doctors were certain the wounds were caused by a bear. My father angrily claimed it had been witches who had slain his workers. From that moment on, whether he was right or not, my father had a violent hate towards witches which spread through the kingdom within days. I was bred from my birth to feel the same way, and I did. But sometimes, somewhere in the back of my mind, there was a tiny little spark of curiosity in the witches. However, each time it showed itself, I immediately forced myself to shove it back down. 

Suddenly, the hall was consumed by the noise of heavy, ancient doors creaking and groaning as they were opened directly in front of me. With no warning, the magical tether yanked harshly on me, I assumed pulling me directly through those doors. After walking about a hundred steps, the same voice as before demanded me to stop and a hand pressed against my shoulder, shoving me down on my knees. That can not be good. Before I could even take my next breath, the bag was ripped off my head, the change of lighting blinding me. I blinked hard a few times as the room around me became clearer. A throne room. I was in the most grand throne room I have ever seen in my twenty-one years of life. The room was shimmering in gold, with at least five chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and banners of a brilliant navy blue draped from different spots on the walls. As for the witches I had entered with, I could not see the faces or even their full bodies, but I felt their commanding presence beside and directly behind me. There was one other witch in the room, seated directly in front of me on a gold throne, who I recognized immediately from my father’s haunting tales. 

“Prince Dorian, we meet at last. I am simply dying to get to know you,” the High Master of the Witches, Thero, said to me with a smirk. I said nothing in response.

I had nothing to say to the High Master’s attempt at a joke. I am sure Thero has had his inner circle of witches keeping tabs on me since the moment he took power. From what I have been told, Thero is only a few years older than me, twenty-four at most. He stepped into the role of High Master when his mother suddenly died about five years ago. I was never told what happened to her, but I would not be surprised if my father and his court had something to do with it. 

“And hello to my friends. Commander, you have done good work collecting him,” he said to the person to my left. I did not dare to turn my head to get a look, afraid that one of the witches would curse me or whatever else they did. It seemed that the very witches standing around me were his trusted inner circle. 

“Thank you, High Master. Your praise is much appreciated. We think he will be a valuable resource,” spoke an airy, feminine voice. 

The High Master’s eyes swept across the people standing around me. “Thank you, all of you. I hate to admit it, but I am happy you are all home. It has been too quiet around here for the past few weeks. Esper, I have even taken to starting the never-ending list of books you have recommended to me.” I quite ‘Hmmm’ came from one of the witches behind me. 

“I told you he’d missed us. Every time we leave he says he won’t, but he always does,” the witch on my right side said with a deep laugh. 

“I am afraid I am already regretting saying that,” Thero rolled his eyes with a displeased look. “You are all dismissed to rest and take care of yourselves. One of you, bring our guest of honor to the Old Library before you retire for the afternoon. I hope to see you all this evening for dinner.” 

“I’ll bring him,” said the male as he grabbed me to pull me up to my feet. I was able to get a better look at him as he turned me to face the other two witches. He was slightly taller than me, with sharp, dark features. 

“Thank you, Sterling,” the commander responded. I now faced her and who I assumed was Esper. Both females were terrifyingly beautiful. Before I could take in the three witches anymore, Esper stood high on her toes and shoved the bag back over my head and the magical harness wrapped around my body tugged me forward to walk. I wondered which one the magic keeping me prisoner belonged to as we journeyed back down the hall. 

We had walked for a minute or two when the commander’s voice murmured what sounded like a goodbye and the footsteps of the two female witches began to move down another hallway. I did not feel a change in the cold magic that surrounded me, so it must have been Sterling’s doing. We kept walking, making three sharp turns along the way. Finally, the magical rope tightened, stopping me from walking any further, and the bag was once again removed. I was standing on Sterling’s right watching as his left hand hovered over the door knob of the room. Without even using a key, the lock clicked and he twisted the knob, swinging the door open. The room we entered certainly looked like what was once a library. It was not massive, maybe the size of a large bedroom, with the walls completely lined with empty bookcases from floor to ceiling. It had appeared that all the furniture in the room had been stripped out. Without saying anything, Sterling pushed me inside the room, slamming the door shut. As I felt the magic around my arms and torso loosen into nothing, I heard the lock click. What a strange, beautiful place to keep your prisoners. And with that, I was left alone with nothing but my thoughts and fears.