The housing system looked almost identical to that of the human realm, with thatched roofs and a few tall buildings scattered throughout, creating a curious blend of old and new. It looked almost normal, save for the occasional bursts of magic and the strange, glowing artifacts displayed in shops and hos. The air buzzed with an unseen energy, and Islinda could feel the hairs on her arms stand on end.
Despite their attempts to blend in, Islinda and her companions couldn’t help but draw attention. Three cloaked figures walking through the heart of the witches’ realm was not a common sight. Islinda, the smallest of the trio, was sandwiched protectively between Aldric and Azrael, both of whom exuded dangerous auras.As a result, anyone who glanced their way quickly turned back and minded their own business.
The streets were dirty and muddy, evidence of a recent downpour. Islinda carefully picked her way through the muck, trying to keep her cloak clean. As they walked, they passed various shops and stalls, each one offering a glimpse into the strange and wondrous world of witchcraft. Bottles of glowing liquids, enchanted trinkets, and spell books were displayed prominently, their mystical energies palpable.
As they ventured deeper into the town, the atmosphere grew darker. They entered a dilapidated street lined with whorehouses, the air thick with the scent of smoke, herbs, and cheap perfu. Islinda’s cheeks flushed as she witnessed scenes that were far too explicit for her comfort.
A woman pressed against a wall, her eyes glazed with lust and moaning as a man humped her from behind, his trousers around his knees. None of them gave no care to the spectators around them. Islinda quickly averted her eyes, pulling her hood further down to hide her embarrassnt.
The street was teeming with won dressed provocatively, so wearing little to nothing at all. They leaned against buildings, smoking and making catcalls as the trio passed by. One particularly bold woman approached them, her eyes locked on Aldric.
However, a single, icy glare from Azrael sent her scurrying back, her face pale with fear. That one move seed to have a sobering effect on the rest. The won and n along the streets gave them a wide berth, avoiding eye contact as they passed through. It was as if they instinctively knew that these three were not of their realm.
"How long till we get there?" Islinda asked, her discomfort growing with each passing mont.
"Not long now," Aldric replied, his voice tinged with concern. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, guiding her through the narrow, filthy streets
As they continued, the surroundings beca increasingly decrepit. The buildings were in worse condition, their walls cracked and roofs sagging. The air was heavy with the stench of decay and desperation. Islinda kept her eyes on the ground, focusing on her steps and trying to ignore the lascivious stares and crude remarks that followed them.
Finally, they arrived at a small, unassuming house at the end of the street. The windows were shuttered, and the door looked as though it hadn’t been used in years. Despite its appearance, there was an undeniable aura of magic emanating from it.
"We are finally here." Aldric finally announced.
"Thank the Ravens," Azreal looked like he would have strangled Aldric if they had walked another mile.
Azrael walked towards the house and Islinda followed suit, but Aldric’s hand caught her arm, pulling her back. She turned to him, confusion etched on her face.
"What is it?" she asked, noticing the anxiety flickering in his eyes.
Aldric gulped, hesitating before he spoke. "I might have sothing to confess."
Islinda’s brow furrowed, her concern deepening. "You can tell anything," she urged gently.
Aldric t her gaze, his voice barely above a whisper. "I might have accepted services from the witch in the past."
Islinda let out a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "That’s understandable, Aldric. We’re here to ask for her services now, aren’t we?"
But Aldric’s face remained unsmiling. "You don’t understand."
The seriousness in his deanor made Islinda’s heart skip a beat. "What’s going on?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry.
The silence stretched, and Azrael, unable to bear it any longer, stepped in. "Aldric used to sleep with the witch. They were once lovers."
Islinda’s eyes widened in disbelief. "What?"
Aldric scowled at Azrael, annoyed that the words hadn’t co from him. "It was a transaction, Islinda," he explained quickly. "Nothing more. It was just a part of the deal."
Islinda nodded robotically, her mind reeling. Aldric, involved with the witch they were about to et, the one who was supposed to create the glamor for her? Who else had Aldric been involved with that she didn’t know about? She tried to push away the wave of jealousy that threatened to overwhelm her.
"It’s okay," she managed to say, forcing a smile. "We have more important things to worry about right now. Let’s go et the witch."
"Islinda —"
"It’s okay, Aldric. Let’s go."
Aldric did not believe Islinda one bit, but there was nothing that he could do. And like she said, they had no ti.
Azrael stepped forward, raising his hand to knock on the door, but before his knuckles could make contact, the door ominously swung open. He turned to look at them, eyebrows raised. "That was not ominous at all," he comnted dryly, then bravely stepped inside, followed by Islinda and Aldric.
The interior was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old wood and sothing else Islinda couldn’t quite place—sothing sharp and tallic. As they walked through the narrow corridor, Islinda’s senses were on high alert. She could feel the presence of powerful magic all around them, humming just beneath the surface. Every so often, she caught glimpses of strange symbols etched into the walls, glowing faintly in the darkness.
They finally reached the living room, and there, Islinda saw the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. At once, Islinda felt a pang of jealousy twist in her gut. Damn Aldric!
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