My Long Lost Mate - Chapter 148

“Do you have a knife?” She asked, turning around to face me. Her purple eyes shone brighter under the moonlight, and her fatigue looked clearer than ever. Even though the events from before took a toll on her, she refused to let them hold her back. If not, it only fueled her determination. I can see it from her eyes.

“What do you need a knife for?” I returned her question as I pulled the pocket of my pants, showing her that there was nothing inside.

“I need to… check something,” she said, rubbing her hands together as she looked at the sigil on the ground.

“Andrew!” I called, making him stop his antics at once. He was on his knees, pinching the cheeks of one of the children around. As the ritual was already over, there was no problem with us non-witches stepping inside the sigil. “Do you have a knife?”

“A knife? Why would I have a knife?” He frowned, standing up as he brushed off his pants. “A strong man like me wouldn’t need a weapon to fight,” he walked towards me, shrugging his shoulder as he continued to brag about his strength. “Well, maybe someone like Jack would need one because he’s dumb and—” he stopped, finally realizing the meaning behind my question. “You’re asking me to look for one, aren’t you?”

“You’re getting smarter,” I smiled.

He had a questioning look on his face when he heard my words, as if he wasn’t sure whether they were meant to be an insult or a compliment. Either way, he didn’t like what he heard. I’d much prefer to let his little brain think about the answer himself.

He turned towards one of the houses, still thinking about the meaning behind my words with a frown on his face. I’ve known for years that his brain isn’t one of his best qualities.

I let Andrew slip out of my sight, returning my attention to my mate—but not before noticing Zeke, who always looked like he had somewhere else better to be. Still, he always got the job done, so I have no complaints about him. A man with few words who excels at his job—my absolute favorite.

Should I ask him to relay the message to the White Church? Even if Violet found a way to return these people to normal, I still need the other white witches to purify the puppets. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to let them know about this as soon as possible, regardless of whether or not they agree to this request.

It would be good if those white witches were like Maggie. Blinded by money. Things would be much easier if that was the case.

“Zeke, I need you to tell the White Church about the situation here,” I said, seeing him nod to my order. “Just to be safe, pretend you’re going there to ask for a blessing or whatever things they do there. We only need the white witches, not the priests.”

He gave another nod, ready to leave, but stopped when I grabbed his cape. He glanced at me, confused, but said no word.

“Do you mind if I borrow your cape?” I asked, and he gave me his cape without further question after seeing my very bare chest. I’ll say it again: Zeke is my favorite warrior. Andrew stands absolutely no chance.

With Zeke gone, I hunched down to level with Violet, who was scratching the sigil on the ground. The sigil wouldn’t even smear no matter how hard she rubbed it.

“Did you find something?” I asked, covering her small body with the cape I got from Zeke. She gave me a small smile, thanking me for my gesture.

“I think it has something to do with this sigil,” she said, returning her gaze towards the sigil. She continued to rub the sigil, but the blood wouldn’t go away. “Did you see how the sigil is connected to the people here?”

At first, the sigil was shaped like a star inside of a circle, but now, the lines which formed the star inside continued outside of the circle, going towards where the villagers were standing. Some lines were completed, and some stopped mid-way. While the adult villagers were standing outside of the sigil, the children remained inside.

“Can you see it? The difference between those whose feet were touching the lines and those who weren’t.”

I glanced at the people and frowned, seeing no difference between them. They looked the same, as still as a statue. Pale, unblinking milky eyes, bluish mouth, rigid body, hollow face. They looked dead. Alive—but dead.

Seeing the confusion in my face, she seemed to realize something and quickly took my hand in hers. With a single touch from her, the world I see immediately transforms into something entirely new. Now I see it.

Magic.

Though they appeared the same before, now I can clearly tell the difference between them. The people who were touching the lines had some kind of a mist, something black hovering around them, whereas those who didn’t touch the lines didn’t have it around them. Wait, no—they too, have it, but very light that it’s hard to notice.

No wonder I couldn’t find anything when I looked at them. It turns out it’s only meant to be seen by those who possess magic.

I quickly glanced behind me, to where the puppets were and noticed that they were surrounded by the same mist, albeit a darker mist.

“What do you think?”

“That clearly means they have black magic on their bodies, right?” I asked, and she nodded. “The darker the mist, the greater the control those black witches have over them. Those mists are the black magic controlling them, aren’t they?”

“I believe so,” she said, nodding again. “I think the sigil is what links them to the blood witch. The reason why we can’t see any sign of a black witch during the ritual is because she’s using her fully controlled puppet—” she halted, frowning, “—Doris, to do the ritual in her place. I saw the same black mist coming out of her body when I stabbed the knife in her chest.”

“But what about when I found you with Doris?” I asked as I tried to wipe the blood from the sigil, but to no avail. “She looked pretty sane to me.”

“I shot her with a silver bullet,” she let her gaze fall, feeling her guilt getting back to her, but continued, “The silver must have temporarily hindered the witch’s control over her.”

That makes sense, but it still doesn’t explain why Doris was different from the other puppets. It looked more like Doris was possessed by the black witch rather than controlled.

“So, we have to remove this sigil in order to return them back to normal, right? Do you have any idea to do it?”

“I do have an idea…” she paused, as if unsure whether to tell me. “…but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“We won’t know unless we try,” I smiled as I assured her, giving her a sprinkle of confidence. “Care to elaborate?”

“It’s…” she bit her lower lip, stealing a few glances at me before continuing, “Do you know how white magic is opposite to black magic?” I nodded. “Well, apparently, when both sides meet each other, they will naturally neutralize the opposing magic, making it to be non-existent. That’s what happened when I tried to destroy the magic orbs.”

“So?”

“So… don’t you think it will work the same with blood?” She asked, and I finally knew why she was hesitant to tell me. She was well aware that I would not allow her to do anything that would harm her.

“Are you saying you’re going to use your blood to neutralize the blood on this sigil? That’s why you asked for a knife?” I asked, and she nodded only after a few seconds passed. “Violet—”

“But you said we won’t know unless we try!” She quickly intervened, knowing full well what I was about to say. Obviously, this is not the right way. I know we’re desperate to find a solution to this problem, but harming her is not one of them.

“You’re weak enough as it is,” I grabbed her shoulders, making her look straight at me. “I can’t let you do that even if it’s for the sake of saving these people. I’d rather wait for another four hours for the other white witches to arrive than let you do that.”

“You said we won’t be able to achieve anything without making any sacrifices,” she mumbled, using my words to get right back at me. “I’m trying to do just that.”

“I know, but—” I groaned, knowing that she wouldn’t back down until I let her. “—I’m not losing you in order to save these people. Did you see the size of that sigil? Even if what you said is right, I don’t think a single drop or two of your blood will be enough to do that.”

She frowned at me, clearly opposing.

“I’m doing it,” she said blatantly. “I’m not going to let those black witches turn these people into something like… like Doris, again.”

The pain was visible on her face, and the determination that came from that pain was what drove her to be so stubborn with her decision.

I know where she is coming from but… to me, she is much more important than these people. The thought of letting her do that to herself didn’t sit right with me. I didn’t want her to be in any more pain than she already is.

Am I being selfish?

Just as I was about to refuse her suggestion, Andrew came back and scratched his head, asking, “Uhh…. do you guys still need a knife?”