To Bewitch a Devil

Chapter 303  Levina and Lucien

20 years ago...

...

Every day, she lived in the fear of it being her last.

The rain had been unforgiving for days, pouring as if it wanted to flood. But that night, it poured with a vengeance, warring the earth with roaring torrents that uprooted trees and displaced roofs.

For the first time in a long while, Rea could feel her heart beat steadily in her chest, and not hung up in her throat, aware of every smell, every sound, every movement.

She slumped down on a high chair, the wooden furniture creaking under her weight, and stared outside the window in her dank cottage. It had been Vineta, one of the Mothers – the five head witches – that had brought her there a week ago. When Rea had seen the small cottage hidden away like a precious gem underneath the crawling roots of the giant tree, she knew it would do for a while.

"You can't keep moving around," Vineta, one of the few witches alive, had chided softly before she left. "Here is safe. And you have to trust me."

So two weeks had passed, the longest she had ever stayed in one place. Food had been stocked beforehand, mostly dry bread, and fruits, but the thatched roof did nothing to contain the rain that came at impromptu hours. The pails littered around at different points of the hut proved her point, the water hitting the bottom with loud pattering noises, soothing Rea in an odd kind of way.

She was supposed to keep moving, she had to. It was unsafe to stay in one place for too long. But not a soul had passed for a long while, and she had grown tired, her legs swollen, nausea in her throat. Even a powerful witch like her was not spared from the symptoms normal women felt.

A hand reached down her swollen belly just as a soft kick made to its surface. She smiled down at her unborn child, growing more restless by the day, different limbs poking out occasionally to remind her of its presence.

"I am here child," she rubbed at the foot, and it disappeared back behind her skin. "Mama's always going to be here."

The last statement was a tricky one, so she made sure not to promise. There were men out to get her and kill her on sight. Men whose loyalty was sworn to the Crown, and they wouldn't care if she was with a child if they captured her, a relief to them for sure to obliterate her entire line.

A chill not from the rain ran through her as she imagined one of the hundreds of ways she could be killed. They could aim the knife at her belly straight, making her watch as the child died before she died, killing her twice before she died.

Lightning stroked the sky, pulling her away from her horrid thoughts. It brightened the night into a momentary brilliant white, and it was then Rea saw the cloaked figure outside the window.

She gasped and crouched. They had found her.

Panic set inside her, and she wondered how many of them would be outside. Twenty? Too small. Fifty? A hundred?

A hand flew to her belly, protective, frightened. She would fight like her last breath depended on it.

She reached for the weapon always kept by her side, one of the many daggers Vineta had kept in there for her safety. She could kill the one she saw and run, disappear into the woods, and find somewhere to hide.

The hand rested firmly on her belly, drawing strength.

Rea pushed herself up and hid in the shadows behind the door. Anytime now, the door would be broken down. Anytime now, she would fight through the thin line between life and death.

A knock came. Her hand tightened around the dagger.

"Hello?" Came a female voice. Not what Rea was expecting, but it could be a ploy. She would be fast, kill the woman, push her out of the way, and run.

"I have come alone," the woman called over the thunderous rain. "I have come to see you. Please, I am not the enemy, please let me in."

She knocked again, frantic. Rea made the fast decision to open the door, and she wedged just a little space open just as a gust of cold wind entered first, then the first step of the woman came over the threshold.

In a flash, Rea had the tip of her dagger against the woman's neck. "What do you want?" She asked the woman. "Who sent you?"

"No one," the woman said, face hidden behind the dark cloak and voice feeble from fear. "I come alone. Believe me. I have been looking for you for weeks."

Rea didn't lower her guard. She pushed the weapon closer to the woman's skin. "And why is that?" Rea hissed. "Who told you where to find me?"

"You aren't as safe as you think you are," the woman whispered. "But I am glad I found you first."

Rea tapped the woman's sides for any hidden weapons. After she was sure she had none on her, she backed away and closed the door behind her.

The woman pulled down her cloak. Rea flicked a spell into the air, and the dagger in her hand lighted up like a lantern, giving her a good look at the woman's face.

Pale eyes in deep, hollow sockets stared at Rea in fright. Dark hair was plastered to her face. She was soaked to the bone, and a tremor coursed her, leaving her as a shivering and pitiful mess.

"Speak," Rea ordered.

The woman's eyes fell on the witch's protruding belly, and there was a softness to it that Rea could tell she had no worries about being harmed by her visitor.

"My name is Sorcha, and I looked for you for so long," the woman started, voice raspy. "I...wanted you to perform a spell. You see, my husband and I have been trying for a child. I have been barren for so long. I have drunk every herb, gone to every apothecary, treated my body with the utmost care, but... I have nothing." Her eyes watered.

"And what would you have me do?" Rea asked.

"I know you can help me," the woman said, desperation clinging to her words. "I know you are the most powerful witch alive, and you can conjure a spell to help me get a child of my own. I know that's why... they want you dead. But please do something. I traveled for days, not even stopping in this rain, don't turn me away."

Rea looked above the woman's head to the door. How long before the soldiers find her if this commoner could? Was there a place where she and her child would ever be safe?

The woman clutched unto Rea's arm. "Please," she begged. "Please help me."

It won't be long now. They would eventually find her, and she would die with a child who would never see the world.

"Please," the woman pleaded.

Rea put a hand on her belly. Her child. Her baby. She would do anything to protect it. Anything.

And so, she knew exactly what she had to do.

"I will help you," she told the woman, and Sorcha sagged to the floor in relief. "Stay there." She instructed her and moved to the other end of the room where the cubicle of a bathroom was.

She had to do what needed to be done.

A tear fell from her eyes, blurring her vision as she clutched the small aventurine bead pendant on her neck. If it had been someone else, perhaps one of the soldiers...the fear that had gripped her when Sorcha found her, she couldn't let anything happen to her baby.

Sorcha wanted a baby, but Rea made sure she wouldn't know it was hers. Her baby would be loved by this woman as her own.

So she sifted through her memory for the spell, one of the oldest ones, the words croaked out with difficulty, and her hands held onto her belly.

The light was soft, glowing, making its way past her palms and illuminating the small space.

Still with her back turned to the woman, Rea chanted on, and the light grew, the purity of the soul forming into a shape. First, it was little legs, then little hands, and the head.

Rea stared at her child. Forgive me, she said through her mind, I am doing it for you.

And so, she turned to the woman, and a loud gasp came from her.

Rea walked over to the woman, each step harder than the last, and she held the bright light of the baby's soul in her hands. She closed her eyes and pushed her palms on the woman's belly.

And just like that, her baby was gone from her. "Take care of the child," Rea said.

The woman, locked in disbelief, held her own belly as the light dimmed inside of her until it disappeared.

"Now, leave," Rea ordered before she changed her mind and took back her child. "Thank you," the woman's voice was filled with so much gratitude. "Thank you."

She rushed out of the cottage, and Rea could feel the emptiness of the place close up on her, like the emptiness of a womb that had once housed a child. She took her dagger, and long after the woman had gone, she slipped out of the cottage.

From a distance, she heard the footsteps of the soldiers hurrying down to the cottage.

The night Sorcha would give birth to the child was a night that would never be forgotten in her household, but that night as well, something eventful was happening in the King's palace.

That night, the Crown Prince was going to be born.

The hexagonal star, a rarity, and the marker of the birth of the son that would take over the throne was spotted by the King's sage, Master True.

The King was nervous. From one of the chambers, he could hear the scream of the Queen pierce the air. From another, the scream of his concubine followed, both in labor, both holding the weight of the future to come.

"Your Majesty," someone called him, but he wasn't paying attention as to whom. "They will both be fine."

But if the King revealed to whoever it was that tried to assure him that his mind was more on his concubine than the Queen, would the person find him evil?

But behind the doors of the Queen's room, a greater evil lurked. As she pushed the child, sweat soaking through her clothes, her eyes met those of her chief maid, and a silent understanding passed through them.

She and the concubine had conceived at the same time, and as if the King had not insulted her enough by showing the concubine more love and affection, he had promised that whoever bore him a son, the child would be made a crown Prince.

And she would rather die than witness the day the King will crown his concubine's child if it were a boy, and leave her to rot away into nothingness in the Palace.

"Leave," the Queen instructed the other maid that popped her head into the room. She needed as much discretion as she could get to carry out her plan, but she was dizzy and tired from the pain of pushing the child out. After all the trouble, it better be a boy.

"Push, your Majesty," the head maid urged, her face focused between the thighs of the Queen. "You are almost there. I can see the head. I need you to use all your strength, your Majesty."

And so, the Queen channeled every iota of strength left, and she pushed with everything she got.

A baby's cry tore through the room, and when the Queen saw the way the maid's face fell, she knew the baby was a girl.

"Your Majesty...," the maid trailed, but the Queen pushed herself up on her elbows.

"You know what to do," she said to the maid.

With a firm nod, the head maid wrapped the baby in a shawl and cradled it close to her bosom to muffle the noises coming from it. She left the room, moving fast, eyes darting around. She made sure the hallway was empty, made sure she wasn't seen.

She slipped into the concubine's room just as a baby's cry tore through the room. The maid attending to the King's mistress, one privy to the plans of the Queen, nodded her head at the head maid.

The concubine had birthed a boy, and he was going to be the crown prince.

The concubine slumped on the bed, breathing ragged, her body weak and covered in sweat. She reached her hand out, but could barely open her eyes.

"My baby," she called out. "Let me see my baby."

The maid attending to her wrapped the male child, and the head maid made the quick exchange with the female, stealthily leaving the room as quietly as she came in.

"Your Highness," the maid cooed at the child in her arms. "It's a baby girl. Congratulations."

The concubine reached out a hand, but could not stretch it too far. Her baby, her daughter. Her eyes refused to stay open, and the maid rocked the child, watching her warily.

"My baby," she called out.

The maid placed the child on the concubine's chest and ran to the door. Over her mid- consciousness, the concubine heard the maid's faint yell for the King. Against her chest, the baby moved, and she wanted so badly to hold her and bless her face with kisses.

Footsteps found their way into the chamber. Soon, the King's face was above hers, the worry pouring from it.

"Arwen," the King called, putting his hands on her cheeks.

"Our daughter," the concubine said in a weak voice. The King lifted the child, and tears brimmed in his eyes as he stared at the child, a product of their love. Tiny hands reached for his face, and he laughed at the little pink tongue sticking out, in search to latch for milk already.

"She's beautiful," the King said. But when he looked over at his love, she had turned a deathly pale colour.

He rushed to her side and knelt by the bed. "Arwen? What's wrong?" He shook her, and she gave a light groan. "Someone get me the physician! Now!" The King yelled, and footsteps thundered off into the night.

"Don't worry," Arwen said. She put a hand on the child and felt the little beats of her heart. It calmed her in a way no medicine could ever.

"I know you will take good care of her," Arwen said, the tears now streaming down the sides of her face.

"No," the King's voice was grave. "No, Arwen, listen to me. The physician will be here soon, he will treat you, and you will be fine. I promise. You will take care of her yourself."

Arwen smiled at the certainty in his voice. If only she could take it in and pump it through her blood, it would be enough to give her back the life that slowly slipped away from her. But even magic couldn't go that far, and her eyes drooped close.

"I love you," she whispered, and her lips remained parted, her breathing stilled.

The King slumped on the ground. No, it wasn't possible. His Arwen, with her bright auburn hair and hypnotizing beauty, couldn't leave like that. She couldn't.

But the reality staring right at him was crueler than any enemy's sword that could slash right through him.

"Arwen," maybe if she heard his voice, she will get right back up. "Arwen, listen to me. Wake up." There was not a single movement from her. "Arwen! Get up! You can't leave me! Please get up now!"

The King was shaking her, yelling, and he was vaguely aware of the child crying in his arms. Someone held his arms, and he lashed out like a wild animal. The baby was taken from him, and as he was carried out, he fought the hands holding him blindly, the tears pouring down his face as his wail tore through the hallways.

The Queen stepped out, weak, but after hearing that cry from the most feared person in all of the five Kingdoms, she had to go see what had happened. Her heart thumped in fear; had she been found out? Were the maids not careful enough?

Nevertheless, she would have them both killed before dawn the next day.

"What happened?" She asked one of the maids that had gathered around the concubine's chambers.

"Your Majesty," the maid bowed. "Her Highness...has passed away." The Queen gasped. Arwen had really passed away?

She hid the relief that washed through her, and in the arms of the other maid, she saw the baby girl, her own true child, still trying to be calmed.

She handed the male child born of the concubine to one of the maids and stretched out her hands for the girl. "Bring her."

The maid held the girl out to the Queen, and immediately the child nestled into the crook of the Queen's arms, she stopped crying. The Queen smiled down at her, her daughter, her baby.

She was no Crown Prince, but she was beautiful, and she was hers.

"Get the wet nurse here," the Queen ordered. "And tell the King I take this beautiful girl to be mine."

In the next few days that followed, the Prince was named Lucien by a grieving King.

In the next few days, the barren woman's baby was named Levina by a very joyful father.

Two babies, two different lives, yet when their paths collide, the world rumbled with a forewarning massive enough to shake the foundations of the earth.