Page 54 of Professor and the Seer
She smirked and murmured, “Weak fool.”
I wondered why I had to see a woman rejecting her husband. Why did it matter? What did this have to do with the Warden’s curse or the pillar under the castle?
Time fast-forwarded again, but I only knew because the once-tall candle had melted into a puddle.
The woman donned a cloak, drew the hood over her head, and grabbed the basket with the notebook sitting on top. I found myself curious as she exited her room, her actions sneaky as she kept to the shadows, making her way down to the main floor. She encountered no one, and yet she remained cautious as she kept going down, the passageway roughhewn in comparison to the more finished parts of the castle.
She’s heading for the secret cavern.
She paused in the area that would later become a dungeon, pulling forth a candle, which she lit and set atop a barrel. The flickering flame showed a storage room messy with barrels and crates stacked at random. She glanced around before huffing and heaving aside a shelving unit to reveal an opening in the rock. The entrance to the cavern before it got its gate.
She tossed back her hood and grabbed the candle before she entered the tunnel that led to the cavern, but not the one I remembered. For one, the pillar wasn’t yet etched with anything but rather remained rough stone like the rest of the room. The hole at the top of the cavern still existed, but it was dark, like the night outside.
New? The circle etched on the floor beside the pillar, the outer parts of it inscribed with runes. Runes like the ones on my back.
What the heck?
I crept closer as the woman used her candle to light others spread out in the chamber, their flickering flame casting moving shadows on the walls. She shed her cloak and dumped her basket, the notebook falling to the side as she grabbed pouches and the vial that excited her earlier. She sat in the middle of the circle and set out a brazier, which she lit. She began to chant, low and unintelligible, punctuated with her dropping pinches from the pouches, pouring the vial, each addition to the flame in the pot changing its color.
I don’t know how long the ritual took, other than it must have been hours even as it felt like seconds. The hole in the ceiling lightened as dawn banished the night.
With that brightness, the ritual finished with the woman slicing her palm and dripping blood onto the fire, which caused it to sizzle and smoke, the cloud of it thick enough I could barely see her. When it cleared, she didn’t stand alone. A tall figure stood in that circle with her, wearing a cloak that wisped and curled around the body.
Holy shit.
My jaw dropped and stayed on the floor as the apparition, with obvious disgruntlement, snapped, “Why do you summon me?”
“Is that a way to greet a former lover?” she purred, dropping her outer robe to the floor, leaving her clad only in a thin garment that left nothing to the imagination.
“I’d rather not speak to you at all,” growled the guy we’d named Reaper.
“Still miffed I married him and not you?” was her coy reply.
“More like thankful I didn’t get trapped by your perfidious nature.”
Discontent twisted her lips. “I made a mistake.”
“No, you thought he could offer more than me. And he did. Look at you, a grand lady with her own castle.”
“Who is nothing more than chattel,” she complained. “Kept hidden away on this stupid island.”
“Your regrets are not my concern.”
“Don’t you miss me?” she said with a pout as the gown slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor. She stood there nude but for a pair of cheap-looking bracelets on each bicep and a matching one around her neck.
“No.” A flat reply and I almost cheered. Good for Reaper for not being seduced by her antics. “Release me from this summoning.”
“Not until you give me what I want.”
“I will give you nothing. Ask your husband if you have need.”
“But he doesn’t have what I desire.” She pressed herself to Reaper, and I’d have sworn his floating cloak recoiled from her touch.
Despite him wearing a hood, she tried to kiss him.
He finally had enough. A hand shot out from his sleeve, answering part of the question of what hid under his robe. He grabbed her by the hair, trying to peel her away. His other hand went around her neck, which was when her husband barged in, a glower on his face that only deepened as he saw his wife in the grips of another.
“You would cuckold me in my own home!” he bellowed, brandishing his sword.