CHAPTER 18: THE PRICE OF POWER

In the town of Haselburg, the Administrative Board of the Sicilian Empire scoured the area for any possible clue behind the incident. Even after four hours of searching, the Board found nothing that could lead to the Dark Witches.

While returning to the capital city, Envoy Regina Draper, a dignitary of the Administrative Board, said, "Envoy Egnatius, the disappearance of the townspeople is clearly linked to the Dark Witches. And during the Windborn occurrence, the High Conclave made it clear they would be handling such matters. We need to inform the other members of the Conclave about Haselburg’s incident."

With a hardened expression, Envoy Egnatius replied, "Not tonight, Regina. First, I need to question the girl and deal with her myself. Tomorrow evening, there’s a Conclave meeting in Versimoil regarding the recent investigative findings. I’ll inform them then—about the town, and the girl."

"Fine, but the Conclave may object to not being informed sooner," Regina warned.

"They surely will," Egnatius replied in a flat tone. He paused, then added thoughtfully, "But I suspect there’s a connection between this girl and Vincenzo. I need to find out what it is—and whether I can use it against him."

Far away, deep within the capital city’s dungeon, Anneliese sat on the cold ground of a dark cellar. Night had fallen, turning the already dim dungeon into a suffocating void. So much had happened—the book, her family, the gallows—and yet, all she could feel now were the watchful eyes of the prisoners in the adjacent cells, ready to pounce.

A man from the left cell whistled and called out, "What did you do to end up here? Let me help you! Come closer—I know how to unlock these doors..."

Others joined in with mocking voices, "Come here... Come to our cell... We’ll help you escape... Just let us touch you once..."

Sitting motionless in the center, Anneliese said nothing, staring at the ground. She waited for the Head Officer to arrive, hoping to plead her innocence regarding the day’s events.

When she heard footsteps, her eyes flicked toward the sound. The head guard unlocked the gate, and for a brief second, a flicker of hope lit up her eyes—only to vanish when she saw the subordinate who had escorted her to the dungeon. He stepped inside the cell as the guard closed the gate behind him.

Sensing danger, Ann gathered dust from the floor into her palm. The subordinate knelt, placing one knee on the ground, his other leg up, hand resting on it. The dim yellow light from the wall sconces cast faint shadows across his face. When she saw his hand reaching toward her, she scrambled backward until her back hit the wall. There was nowhere left to go. She felt his grip clamp down on her ankle, and she kicked with her other leg, knocking him backward.

Gritting his teeth, he cursed, "You bitch!"

He lunged at her again. Before he could grab her hand, she threw dust into his eyes. She didn’t bother screaming—no one would come. As he stumbled back, trying to clear his vision, she dashed to the iron door and turned the handle. To her surprise, it gave way, and she pushed it open.

But before she could step outside, Gabriel seized her hair and dragged her back into the cell, slamming her against the wall. Her head struck the stone, and pain shot through her skull. Clutching her forehead with one hand, she used the other to punch him with all the strength she could muster. The blow only enraged him.

Gabriel slapped her with such force that she collapsed. Her head spun, and a metallic taste filled her mouth. She tried to push herself up, palms scraping the cold stone, but a hand yanked her leg back. She glanced down, struggling against the grip, and when another hand slipped beneath her dress, tracing up her thigh, she finally screamed, "NO!"

Summoning her remaining strength, she shoved his hand away. At her touch, he recoiled in pain and let out a cry. Ann saw the charred fabric of his sleeve and glanced at her own hand—hot to the touch. She didn’t know what had just happened, but she no longer cared. She would use whatever power she had to defend herself.

As he approached again, she raised her hands to shield herself. This time, red flames flickered from her palms, and her eyes glowed an unnatural blue.

Startled, Gabriel backed away and bolted out of the cell, locking the gate behind him. Trembling with fury and fear, he shouted, "You! A Dark Witch disguised as a human! I’ll tell everyone—you’ll be burned alive tomorrow in the city square!"

With that, he stormed down the corridor.

Anneliese sank to the ground and stared at her hands. "What was that? And how did it happen?" she murmured.

She didn’t know if she should feel relieved for protecting herself or terrified by the fact that her hands had burst into flame—fire that could cost her life. Her breath came in shallow gasps. Had that really been her? The heat still lingered in her palms, but the cold fear inside her was worse. What else was hidden inside her—waiting to escape?

She clutched her hands to her chest, as if hiding them could undo what they had done. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind: "Stay small. Stay quiet. Don’t draw attention." But there was no going back now.

Exhaling shakily, she covered her face with both hands. Another set of footsteps echoed in the passage. When she looked up, the Head Officer stood before her.

The Envoy crouched down, examining the bruises on her forehead and cheek. His expression tightened.

Turning toward the subordinate, he barked, "Don’t you know no one touches the prisoners unless I give the order?"

Gabriel stepped forward, stammering, "Sir, the girl tried to escape—so the head guard had to restrain her."

Anneliese didn’t try to explain. She knew no one here would believe her, so she stayed quiet, eyes cast downward.

"Tell the head guard to come," the Envoy said coldly, "and bring a whip with him."