Work Text:
Elodie the Purehearted sat by the window of her tower, tapping her wooden hand against the arm of her plush armchair, as the quill on her desk dutifully scribbled the last paragraphs of a letter. A gift from the Magister of Eastbreach, the enchanted feather could never quite keep up with her dictation, leaving her with a few moments of quiet contemplation while she waited for it to finish.
The Archmage of Kinrest didn’t particularly mind, of course. It had been a pleasant day, after all, if uneventful. The Mages’ Council had managed to avoid a single argument at their monthly meeting for once, making her role as its chair surprisingly smooth. With the young Queen meeting with foreign dignitaries and the Academy of Mysteries out of session until the end of winter, she had been left with an afternoon freer than she’d had in years.
She’d finally had the chance to tend to her alchemical garden instead of having an apprentice do it for her. She’d taken part of the harvest to the city infirmary and helped tend to the sick and wounded, just as she had first done as a young healer nearly two centuries ago. And now she had finally had the opportunity to respond to letters from friends and colleagues across the Kindred Kingdoms, apologising profusely for such late replies, of course.
Her mind was jolted back into the room as the quill jumped into its inkpot with a clink, fanning slightly to dry the writing on the page. Elodie smiled, taking the letter, placing it in an envelope and tracing the tip of her wand over it to seal it. All done. She scooped up the rest of them and headed across the room to the door.
Just as she opened it, a short girl in a green robe bumped directly into her, knocking the letters from her hands. “O-oh, goodness! Archmage, I’m so sorry! I was just about to knock! Look at the mess I’ve made…”
“Please, Alice, it’s no bother at all. It’s not like I’m in a rush.” Elodie smiled, bending down to help her. Alice was the newest apprentice the Archmage had taken on – a little clumsy, but a prodigy when it came to human nature magics. When she had opted to join the Academy of Mysteries instead of some circle of musty old druids, Elodie knew she had to scoop her up. “Was there something you needed?”
“Hm? O-oh, yes, there was. Well… I came to tell you that… U-um… There’s been an… incident…” Elodie gave a resigned sigh. Of course she couldn’t have one full day without something going wrong. She could hardly complain – it came with the robes – but she had been hoping she could get dinner at an inn for once, instead of having to eat at her desk.
Still, the elf kept her disappointment to herself. “An incident, you say? Well, most of the time you’re rushing up here, it’s about a catastrophe. An incident seems relatively relaxing by comparison,” she chuckled warmly. “What’s the issue?”
“Someone was trying to break into the Academy. At first, we thought it was just another spoilspell, but when the Battlemages apprehended her, well…” The apprentice hesitated. “It turns out it was Tabitha the Wretched.”
Elodie froze. She felt a dull ache spreading out from the wrist of her witchwood hand and a sting in the crystalline eye in her left socket. After a moment’s silence, she slowly handed her mail to Alice and cleared her throat, a painfully forced smile across her face. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, apprentice. Please take these to the courier and then tell the Battlemages to bring her up.”
The apprentice waited a moment. “But… Is it wise to…?”
“Please, Alice. If I couldn’t handle her, I wouldn’t be Archmage, would I?”
_____
The sound of the ancient grandfather clock that sat behind Elodie’s desk seemed deafening as she silently waited, keeping an eye on the door. It had been at least a decade since she had last seen Tabitha, the greatest enemy of the Kindred Kingdoms and her lifelong nemesis. Their last encounter had ended with a duel that lasted hours. She had won, though not without great cost. She held her battle wand tightly in the wooden replacement hand that had served as a reminder ever since.
After what felt like an eternity, there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” the Archmage called with a singsong voice that had only the slightest shake of nerves in it. A pair of Battlemages wearing anonymising masks entered. Elodie inhaled sharply as she saw the woman they held between their arms.
Tabitha the Wretched was her opposite in almost every way – while Elodie was short for an elf, her nemesis was tall for a human, with sharp features. While the elf dressed in modest robes, Tabitha wore an elaborate dress, with the dramatic flair that practitioners of the dark arts so often favoured. And while the Archmage had spent her life working for the people of the Kindred Kingdoms, her opposite lived in the self-serving pursuit of power, often leaving destruction in her wake.
“Hello, Tabitha,” Elodie said with the gentlest smile she could muster under the circumstances. “Please, take a seat.” She turned her head and nodded to the Battlemages, quietly dismissing them.
“El…” Tabitha murmured as the guards closed the door behind them, remaining where she stood. “I…” She swallowed, evidently deeply uncomfortable to be here.
“Care for tea?” Despite the situation, Elodie was determined to remain cordial. She flicked her wand and a teapot sitting on the desk came to life, pouring its contents into a pair of cups. She placed one in front of herself and pushed the other across the desk. When the dark mage remained standing, not even looking up, the elf frowned. “Would it be too optimistic to think you’ve come to turn yourself in and face justice for your crimes?”
After another moment of silence, Tabitha looked up. Something about her was diminished in some way. Her emerald-green eyes seemed duller. Her hair lacked its usual lustre. Could it be age? No, not likely. The two were of a similar age, having both graduated from the Academy at the same time, but Tabitha looked no older than she did two centuries ago. Any human with her longevity had long cast off the shackles that the passage of time placed on her body.
But then the Archmage realised there was an unusual feeling in the air. The room’s flow of magic seemed to be avoiding Tabitha entirely.
“I fucked up, El… I…” Were her eyes watering? “My apprentice, Olivia, she… That worthless worm… She betrayed me, I…”
“That tends to happen when you cavort with those without any moral or ethical-…”
“I don’t need one of your fucking lectures, El!” Tabitha snapped, and Elodie gripped her wand tighter for good measure, though the human seemed to pose little threat in the state she was in. “She cursed me! And now I can’t… I can feel the magic in me missing, it’s…”
Elodie almost pitied her. Here was the woman who had taken her eye and hand, who had left countless cities in ruin, who she had spent her whole life fighting… And yet now she was utterly powerless. She felt… Was it relief? No, it was more than that – she felt glad. She leaned back and took a sip from her teacup before speaking again. “A curse has to have a counter. The counter she weighed upon it was…?”
The dark mage’s cheeks burnt bright red and once more, she cast her eyes downward. “A… kiss. A single kiss of truest hatred... That could only be from you… So please, would you just…?”
The room went silent, save for the ticking of the grandfather clock. As it became evident that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate joke, Elodie found a bemused smirk crawling across her lips, much to the witch’s chagrin.
“Really, now, Tabitha… I know we fooled around when we were young but that ship sailed when our paths diverged, don’t you think?”
“This is serious, El! This isn’t about some old fling! Think of how it would feel if you lost your power!”
Elodie paused. An appeal to empathy felt utterly hollow from Tabitha. She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk and locking her fingers together. “And why, pray tell, would I want you to regain your magic?”
“I-I…” Tabitha seemed caught off-guard. The prospect of having to justify her demands was something clearly long forgotten to her. “I know! My apprentice, she’s dangerous! You would need someone close to her to track her down, and…”
“And would you give up the dark arts and repent after that? No more wanton destruction, no more necromancy, no more taking control of people’s bodies your own ends?”
Tabitha stood silently, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. Elodie thought not. The power that dark magic offered was addictive, and she could count on one hand the number of mages who had ever turned away from that path.
“Then we have nothing left to talk about.” She rapped the tip of her wand against her desk, sending an unnatural echo through the room. The door opened, and the two Battlemages waiting outside stepped in. “Please escort our guest to the city dungeons. She will, of course, face the Arcane Tribunal for her crimes in due time, but I assure you, it will be perfectly safe to house her as any other non-mage would be.”
The two masked figures took hold of Tabitha. “Please! I-I’m nothing without my magic, I need it!” she called out desperately, struggling against them. It was a truly pitiful display for someone of her infamy, but Elodie couldn’t help but feel immense satisfaction watching it. As her greatest adversary was dragged off, she closed her eyes and reclined. She decided she would open a bottle of wine she had been saving for a special occasion, a capstone to a delightful day.
_____
The dungeons beneath Kinrest were solemn and dreary, as would be expected. Lit only by candles and the meagre light that came in through the cell windows, it lacked even the few comforts the holding cells under the Academy had. Keeping magical prisoners satisfied was necessary. The ordinary ones, less so.
Elodie the Purehearted held her robes up slightly so as not to drag them along the damp stone underfoot. She avoided being down here when she could. She typically preferred not to look upon the mundane cruelties required for a good society, though from time to time, her position and expertise necessitated a visit.
This time, however, was the rare occasion that she had personally requested to see someone. She knew she could wash her hands of her now. She could… no, she should let procedures run their course. But she felt a responsibility to involve herself. A compulsion, almost.
She followed behind the jailer through the corridor of cells, not sparing a glance for the prisoners gawking at the Archmage of the city through the bars of their doors. They reached the end of the hall, where there was a cell that got a little less sunshine than most.
“Thank you, Harold. That will be all.” The jailer nodded and left Elodie alone. A dishevelled Tabitha the Wretched sat on a wooden bench against the wall of the dismal little cell. No longer in her extravagant robes and with her hair let down, she cut a far less intimidating figure. “Hello, Tabitha. Are your accommodations to your liking?”
Upon hearing the Archmage’s voice, the human sighed and turned her head. “Just tell me what you want and leave me to my thoughts.” There was so little fight in her. Was that regret for her choices in her voice? No, more likely regret for expecting someone as good as Elodie to spare some kindness for someone like her.
Elodie held back a smile. Knowing the kingdoms she swore to protect were safe was one thing, but seeing her nemesis in such a state brought her personal satisfaction, though she was loathe to admit it.
“Mind if I come in?” Before her nemesis could reply, Elodie waved her wand through the air. The chains against the wall rose up and grabbed Tabitha. They coiled around her like snakes before yanking her pulled her against the cold stone, pinning her by her wrists and her neck. It was a situation any mage with a modicum of training could escape from with ease, but in her current state, it only served to emphasise how powerless the witch was.
“Unhand me, you…” she spluttered.
“Calm yourself, Tabitha. It is merely for my own safety. If you weren’t dangerous, your path in life wouldn’t have left you in a cell.” The witch’s cheeks burned red with indignation. They both knew how little threat she posed in this state, but she could do little to do but play along with the charade.
Elodie tapped the lock with her wand and opened the rusted door, closing it behind her to the sound of screeching hinges. She stepped forward, finding the cleanest patch of wall to lean against. “I have been… considering your request.” It took a few moments to sink in before Tabitha’s entire demeanour changed, perking up and paying rapt attention despite her predicament.
It was a bald-faced lie. Elodie had no intention of restoring her prisoner’s power. But Tabitha wasn’t to know, and the temptation of playing with her nemesis was too powerful for the Archmage to resist. She wasn’t sure whether to call it curiosity, justice, or revenge. Whichever it was, she knew Tabitha already deserved far worse than a little toying.
“A mage like you... There’s so much good you could do, were you not wasting it on selfish pursuits of power…”
“Selfish? How dare you call me…” Tabitha blurted out instinctively but quickly realised she should hold her tongue. She knew she was in no position to speak freely. After a couple of seconds to moderate herself, she spoke through gritted teeth. “I… appreciate it, El… I know we’ve had our differences, but you can’t imagine how… empty it feels, to not have the feeling of magic flowing…”
“I said considering,” the Archmage interjected. “You are a threat to the kingdom, and I know, if left to your own devices, you will simply return to your old ways. I’ve never been able to convince you. If I had, you never would have walked the path you have. But now I have a chance to exorcise all that evil and wretchedness from inside you, piece… by… piece… Do you think you can handle that?”
“I… can. If that’s what it takes…” Tabitha murmured. Elodie shook her head a little, more to herself than anything. While most dark mages were skilled manipulators, her nemesis preferred brute force, and thus her lies were weak and unconvincing. Honest or not, it didn’t matter for Elodie’s purposes.
The Archmage stepped forward, looking her bound nemesis up and down. It had been so long since they had been this close. Even in the duel that cost her a hand and an eye, they had been a battlefield away from each other. And yet now, she was able to place her witchwood fingers on Tabitha’s hip without fear for her safety. More than safe, she felt powerful. It was intoxicating. “Good. I certainly hope so.”
Elodie felt bold. “Not to mention,” she moved in, standing on tiptoes and trailing her fingers up until they held the human’s jaw. She tilted it downwards and leaned in until their lips were close enough that she could feel the witch’s breath on her own. “I could never kiss someone as disgusting and wicked as you’ve become.”
Tabitha gave a low growl at the provocation and suddenly attempted to lunge toward Elodie’s mouth. The elf pulled back just in time, her plush lips just out of reach. She lifted her wand and pressed it firmly into the flesh beneath the witch’s chin. “Oh, Tabitha…” She tutted and shook her head. “Why would I restore your magic if I can’t trust you to restrain yourself?”
The wand began to glow slightly before unleashing a shock through Tabitha’s body, the chains crackling with energy. She cried out, though Elodie knew it was a fraction of what her nemesis had inflicted on her last they met. She finally withdrew her wand, her hand shaking from shock at her own actions. “You have a long way to go. Get some rest,” she blurted out quickly.
“You… fucking… bitch…” was all Tabitha could pant, the chains unfurling as she collapsed on the floor. Elodie swiftly left the cell and locked the door behind her.
As she turned the corner, she stopped, leaning against the wall and panting from adrenaline. She usually tried to treat prisoners with the utmost respect, regardless of their crimes – never like this. Guilt washed over her. But as her nemesis’ furious shouts and the rattling of her cell door filled the air, the rush was overwhelming. She couldn’t help but grin.
_____
It had taken some convincing. The Arcane Tribunal was known for being fiercely independent, and any attempts to influence them were usually futile. But thanks to Elodie’s impeccable reputation and years of building connections, she had managed to sway enough tribunes to her view. It meant those bridges were likely burnt, but it would be worth it.
Now, Tabitha had been formally placed in her custody. Officially, the Archmage was going to be trying a radical new approach to reforming practitioners of the dark arts, though she had no illusions about her chances of success. However, once Alice brought the witch to Elodie’s personal quarters, wrists bound in conjured vines, she began having far more unofficial thoughts.
“A pleasure to see you, Tabitha, as always. Did the trial go well?” Elodie said in her singsong voice, sending her apprentice away with an uncharacteristically dismissive wave of her hand. Alice frowned a little as she left.
Tabitha remained silent. After her stay in the dungeon, her regret had further soured into resentment. She stared down at her keeper with a look that Elodie knew all too well. It was the same look she saw on the faces of spoilspells, those who despised mages for the power they wielded over them. It was a hatred driven by fear.
Good. Cruel mages like Tabitha were the reason people feared magic in the first place. It was a perception Elodie had spent her life as a role model trying to dispel. It was only appropriate for her prisoner to experience that same feeling now.
“Oh, Tabitha… It’s been so long since I’ve seen you at a loss for words…” Elodie stepped forward, placing her hand on the mage’s cheek. “Remember back at the Academy, before you took the wrong path, we…”
Tabitha grabbed her by the wrist and snarled, “Just tell me when you’re going to uphold your end of the bargain.” Elodie smiled and slowly started to lean in. Just as their lips were about to touch, the prisoner yelped at the feeling of sharp thorns suddenly jutting out from the witchwood of the Archmage’s hand, protecting its owner.
As Tabitha released her grip, Elodie’s fingers wormed their way up into her hair, twisting tight. She yanked her down until she was close enough to hiss in her ear. Her patience was running thin. “There was no ‘bargain’, Tabby. You came crawling to me, expecting me to have sympathy for you, to ignore what you’ve taken from me, for old time’s sake, didn’t you?” The thought left a dull ache spreading through her fingers. “No. I am going to fix that broken heart of yours once and for all, and only then will you have the kiss you crave.”
She whipped out her wand, shoving Tabitha onto her grand, four-poster bed. With a swift flourish, the simple robes her nemesis had been provided with were reduced to tatters, exposing her skin beneath. As the witch tried to sit up, she quickly found the ropes holding the curtains around the bed open twisting themselves into knots and binding her to the frame.
“This is insane!” Tabitha protested. “This isn’t like you, El. This…”
Elodie climbed on top of her and trailed her wand along her prisoner’s body, lingering on her heart. She began to twirl it around, making subtle shapes between Tabitha’s breasts. As her chest began to rise and fall, Tabitha’s objections trailed off into a mixture of pained and pleasured moans.
It was a spell the Archmage had taken great care in crafting – a potent weave of purifying suffering and powerful healing, being sent through Tabitha’s body at the same time. It wouldn’t cause permanent harm, but it was more than enough to give the witch a taste of her own medicine. Elodie leant down, placing her head against the pillow as she watched the witch writhe and grab at the ropes.
She could feel the searing heat coming off of Tabitha. Tugging away the tatters of her clothes, already drenched in sweat, she smiled. It had been an age since she had seen her body so exposed. “Not like me? Aren’t I being merciful?” she whispered into her nemesis’ ear. “This is but a fraction of the pain you’ve inflicted on others. And yet you’re so used to dishing it out, you’re not used to taking it, are you?”
Tabitha squirmed under Elodie’s spell, writhing against the bedsheets. Through gritted teeth, she turned to look at her tormentor, by now wearing a broad grin. She winced and just about managed to hiss, “I should have taken your other eye too.”
Elodie stared, in intense fury boiling up inside of her. Her hand, until now holding her wand with only the lightest touch, clenched tight. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t form words. Instead, she climbed back on top of Tabitha and twisted the wand against her. The witch arched her body as it was wracked with an unrelenting surge of suffering, untempered by any of the soothing healing it had been before. Placing one hand on Tabitha’s jaw, the Archmage moved her wand further across her body, leaving a deep, stinging pain in its wake.
After a few moments, she stopped. She pulled back her wand and took a deep breath, but when she looked down, she found the sweat-drenched face of Tabitha, smiling weakly up at her. “Oh, El… I always knew you had that spark of spite inside you, buried deep under that good girl act…”
Dark mages tended to have high pain tolerances. Their magics often came at great cost to themselves. Anyone who had lived as long as Tabitha had would have to be used to enduring such agony, a fact that Elodie had failed to account for. But she had come too far to back down now – seeing her nemesis’ smug, mocking look drove her on. She thought for a moment. It was time to change tack.
She slid her wand between Tabitha’s legs, pushed it inside her, and began filling her with the healing magic she was most skilled at casting. Her prisoner gasped at the sudden, overwhelming pleasure. A familiar, welcome feeling, pushed to an agonising extreme. “Y-you think this will do anything? A little healing? There’s nothing to… t-to heal!”
There was a faint glow emanating from Tabitha’s skin by now, and judging from the way she responded to the touch of Elodie’s hand sliding over her breast, she was becoming ever so sensitive. “Not quite, dear Tabby…” She slid her hand further up the wand’s handle until she was able to reach her thumb out and twirl it gently around the witch’s clit. “Maybe it won’t heal that scarred soul of yours, but those desensitised pain receptors…” She chuckled to herself. “I wonder if you’d ever want to dabble in the dark arts again if your body has to learn how to cope with how it feels once more.” Let her inflict the pain herself, and Elodie could keep her hands clean.
Tabitha whimpered and panted. The Archmage sent pulse after pulse, wave after wave of the tingling sensation rippling through her body. She gently lowered herself, robes pressed against bare flesh, and leant in until she was face to face with the quivering mess of a woman. “Would you even want to go down that path again? It breaks the mind of most who walk it… Could you survive it a second time?” The Tabitha she knew would and could, but she could still make it a path of renewed suffering.
Once more, having her nemesis so helpless in her hands emboldened Elodie. She took Tabitha’s lip between her teeth, being careful never to let their lips touch, and tugged on it, grinning as she did. From the way she scrunched up her face, she could tell Tabitha found even that to be an unbearable pain in her current, hypersensitive state.
“What’s the matter, Tabby? Where’s that fight gone?” By now, the ropes binding the witch to the bed had loosened their grip on her, though she still held them tight as she squirmed. From the sharpness of her breath, Elodie expected she was approaching climax by now. “Could it be that you’re too desperate for release?”
Tabitha gave a pitiful murmur in the affirmative. As Elodie trailed a finger along her chin, she leaned over to her ear and whispered. “But only good mages get to cum... And you’re so very bad...”
With no hesitation, she abruptly cut off the healing spell and sent agonising pain through Tabitha’s body. The witch screamed out, helplessly pinned beneath her nemesis, as her newly vulnerable pain receptors were overloaded.
_____
At the far edge of the Kindred Kingdoms, a short distance from a town abandoned long ago, stood Tabitha the Wretched’s tower. Now guarded from the outside by a pair of Battlemages, it had been easy to ascend. No wards were active, no magical creatures stood guard, unable to draw power from their creator.
Elodie had brought Tabitha here, ostensibly to look for clues about Olivia, Tabitha’s traitorous apprentice. The Archmage, however, was far more interested in testing how effective her rehabilitation had been.
Wand pressed firmly to the back of the witch’s neck, she led her into the room at the tower’s peak. It wasn’t dissimilar to her own office, in many regards. Shelves full of magical tomes surrounded them, though they had skulls in place of bookends. There was a case full of ornate wands, some carved from wood, some bone. Unlike in her office, however, there was a vast ritual circle taking up most of the room, drawn in chalk and charcoal.
There had evidently been a struggle here. Scrolls were scattered around and shelves knocked over. The circle was smudged and some of the ritual objects had been broken. As Elodie squatted down and traced the lines of the circle with a finger, filling in the blanks in her mind, she frowned. Fifteen smaller circles branched out from the edges, each with an object, or at least the remains of one, save for one.
Such a ritual was complex and onerous to prepare, but very distinct. “So that’s what happened.” She turned to Tabitha, a weary look on her face after months of ‘purification’. “This is the ritual to become a lich. And I’m assuming your apprentice wasn’t happy to be the sacrifice.” She tapped the empty circle with a finger.
Tabitha swallowed but said nothing. She didn’t need to.
“So that would make these…” Elodie reached out and picked up one of the bones that was placed at each point on a pentagram. “…’Five Fingerbones of Truest Hatred’s Dexter Hand’, would it not?” The reason for their last duel suddenly became clear. It hadn’t been a loss for Tabitha at all like the Archmage had thought. The witch had claimed Elodie’s severed hand for this purpose.
Again, no response from Tabitha. Elodie could cite the Lichmaker’s Codex from memory. To claim they were anything else would be folly. The bones explained why the countercurse involved her, at least – the apprentice must have used whatever materials were at hand, binding Tabitha’s fate to the digits’ original owner.
Elodie inhaled sharply, collecting the bones in her witchwood hand and looking down at them. After a moment’s hesitation, she crushed them in her fist, sprinkling the powder on the floor.
After a moment, she stood back up and turned to her prisoner. “This tower. You will burn it down. You will destroy every part of the wretched life you built,” she ordered, with cold directness.
Tabitha finally opened her mouth. “And then will you give me the kiss I need? Once I have nothing left to go back to?”
“Yes,” Elodie lied.
The witch stared, heavy bags under her eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care,” Elodie snapped. “You do not get a choice. You do as I command you, or I make you.” She reached into a small pouch on her hip and produced a fire striker and a piece of flint. She held them out and waited.
It was several seconds of silence before Tabitha spoke up again. “No.”
Elodie clenched her wand so hard she thought it could snap. Without hesitation, she turned it on Tabitha, sending a now-familiar agony through her whole body. She dropped to her knees, wincing and staring up, her breath heavy. “I said… no…” she hissed.
As much as the Archmage increased the intensity, Tabitha continued to stare up at her. Elodie hesitated, before twisting her wrist and casting a spell she had never used before in her life, one of compulsion – dark magic. Tabitha was tugged to her feet, limbs unnaturally stiff, and took the fire striker from her hand.
It wasn’t until Elodie had made Tabitha move to take the flint that she felt it. Spreading out from her arm, with only her witchwood hand being spared, she felt the muscles tightening throughout her entire being. An intense, sharp pain overwhelmed her. With no tolerance for casting dark magic, her very body rejected the spell she had cast, every cell of her flesh reeling, desperately trying to pull away from its actions, moving in all directions at once.
Soon, she was collapsing, grip loosening, wand falling to the floor with a clatter. She had been on the receiving end of such spells before, and yet this pain was unimaginably worse. After what felt like an eternity, she felt hands around her back, catching her. She looked up to see her nemesis’ emerald eyes, staring back.
Tabitha moved in and pressed her lips against Elodie’s. Everything seemed to stop – the pain, the anger, the hatred, even time itself. The two stood there, embracing each other, as their lips locked together. There was a thrumming in her ears as she felt a tingle rush over her skin. The sound grew louder and louder, as the ambient magic of the room began rushing through her body, into Tabitha.
Elodie pulled her nemesis in close, feeling as though she would drown in the sensation if she lacked something to hold onto. The void inside of the witch began to fill once more, and as it did, she became more and more enthusiastic, slipping her tongue into the Archmage’s mouth. It was a distantly familiar feeling, something from a lifetime ago.
Eventually, with some reluctance, Tabitha pulled away. Elodie stared back up at her, unsure of how to react.
“I missed this, El,” Tabitha whispered after a moment, gently running a thumb over her lips. “I hope we can do it again sometime.” Elodie felt the same. For everything they had been through, for all the cruelties they had inflicted on each other over the decades, it was nostalgic to be tenderly held in her Tabby’s arms, unbothered by the feud that had raged between them for decades.
It wasn’t until Elodie felt something sharp jabbing into her stomach that her attention was dragged back into the room. As she looked down, she found her wand in Tabitha’s hand, pressing firmly into her stomach. A moment later, a blast of force knocked her across the room, out of the arms that had felt so comforting only a moment ago. As she hit a bookcase, tomes tumbled on top of her.
“Tabby… You… You vile, evil, wretched woman!” Elodie screamed, scrambling over to the nearby case and grabbing the first wand she could reach. She recklessly shot fire across the room, missing and searing the stone wall, bricks falling loose. Tabitha countered with a spell that knocked the wand from the Archmage’s hand. It froze mid-air before turning around and stabbing into her leg.
Without hesitation, Elodie grabbed it and yanked it out, crying out in pain as her robes were stained red with blood. She fired off another shot. Tabitha narrowly dodged, though a shelf at the far end of the room wasn’t as lucky, erupting into flames. Before the Archmage had another chance to attack, Tabitha had levitated the remaining wands in the case, stabbing into Elodie like a pincushion. Her body gave out, collapsing to the floor.
There were sounds of clashing from downstairs. The Battlemages must have heard the scuffle and were climbing the tower, unexpectedly finding themselves facing wards and skeletal guardians springing to life. It didn’t sound like it was going well.
Elodie held the handle of one of the wands and channelled healing magics to staunch the bleeding. The flames were rapidly spreading across the room by now, though Tabitha paid them little mind. She was rummaging around, picking up items of importance to her and tucking them away in a small satchel that could evidently hold far more than its size suggested.
“What now?” Elodie hissed up at her. There was an utter detestation in her heart the likes of which she had never felt before. “Pretending your world isn’t burning around you? Running away from justice again?”
“No, El. Maybe your towers and offices and the status they carry mean a lot to you, but my magic is all I’ve ever needed,” Tabitha said as she glanced down at her. “And I’m not running. For once, I’m going to keep my end of the bargain.”
She pulled a ritual blade from a drawer in her desk and tucked it away with her supplies. “My Olivia is out there, somewhere, and the entrails of a traitor make for potent ritual materials, for those who have the guts to claim them…” She chuckled at her own joke, the self-assured smile she was usually seen wearing gradually returning with her powers.
The Archmage breathed heavily through her teeth, wincing as she shifted. She knew she was liable to pass out if she tried to turn one of the wands on the witch again. “This was not the bargain. You were supposed to hunt her down on my command. You were supposed to-…” A beam fell from above on the opposite side of the room, breaking some wooden floorboards as it landed. The flames were spreading.
“I have to go, El.” Tabitha turned, waving her wand in Elodie’s direction. The Archmage felt the pain in her leg numb, and the warmth of the heat die down. A protective charm, enough to stop the flames from consuming her or the tower from crushing her once it fell. After that, she would be on her own. “I’ll send you a letter when the deed is done. And after that, the next time I see you,” she stepped over, leaned in and whispered, “I will inflict on you what you did to me tenfold.”
Elodie grabbed her nemesis by the wrist, as tight as she could. “Leave now, and the next time I see you, I will kill you,” she hissed.
It wasn’t hard for Tabitha to yank her hand back. As she wrapped her cloak around her and approached the gap in the bricks of the crumbling tower wall, she turned back. “You know, it feels like you say that every single time, Elodie. But this time, something tells me you mean it.”
Tabitha the Wretched jumped, her cloak spreading into wings as she effortlessly glided away. Elodie the Purehearted watched as the burning building began to collapse around her, hearing the cries of the Battlemages below.
This time, she really did mean it.