A Cold Spring–Episode 3: Coils of Enchantment

Welcome to Sorchia’s Universe—A-Z Blog Edition.

Day 3 of the #AtoZChallenge. This year, my offering is a serial story—a Gothic fantasy featuring vengeful witches, disappearing castles, betrayal, and romance (PG only for this one.) Remember to Join Sorchia’s Universe to be eligible for the giveaway at the end of April.

Have you missed an episode? Never fear! I’ll share a pdf of the story so far every Monday.

In the meantime, catch up with these links.

Episode 1

Episode 2

I write novels, too, so check out my Books .

Episode 3: Coils of Enchantment

Lucia’s enchantment coils into the form of a snake, its head poised to strike. It looms above me, blots out the moon, blots out the stars, blots out my last fragment of hope. I fill my lungs, pull strength from the earth and the air and the water and the fire inside the doomed castle. One final blaze before the eternal cold of death. One killing strike before darkness descends. But my child and I will not die alone.

 

In a fractured second, I weave a curse of my own and bind it with the magic of my ancestors, with the hatred of a hundred generations, with the essence of a thousand souls who cry for vengeance. Such a curse will be visited back on me ten times but I don’t care. I will be the handmaiden of Hecate who makes sure Lucia pays. Every living thing in this valley will die with me—with us.

 

“Goodbye, Maddock, my love,” I whisper.

 

In the distance, the castle shimmers with heat. He may be dead already. My heart speaks to the sleeping spirit within my womb.

 

“Goodbye sweet child. I might have named you Melody or Petunia or Lavender or Pearl or any of a thousand family names for victims of Lucia’s dark magic. If the Universe grants us a new life, perhaps we will meet there.”

 

A tingle of ice on my neck, a tremor in time, a subtle shift of energy rocks the ground beneath me, shudders in the murky, smoke-thick air. The curse perches on my tongue, but the will to speak withers into dust and blows away on a wintry gust.

 

Reliving the terror of ensorcelled paralysis, I dig my fingernails into the cold garden mud.

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s post. Episode 4: Down, Down, Down

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