Canya stood frozen, her chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes darting between Mashahl—who still knelt before Samantha—and the calm face of her aunt. She couldn't grasp what had just happened. Moments ago, Mashahl had been towering, a being of overwhelming power. Now he knelt like a child caught stealing from the pantry.
Her lips parted as her voice found its way past her shock. "Auntie... how?"
Mashahl slowly stood and turned to face her. With surprising reverence, he extended the hide to Canya. She hesitated, glancing from it to him, and then slowly reached out to take it. The moment her fingers brushed the surface, the hide shimmered in her hands—crimson and gold pulses glowing softly across its surface like it breathed with her.
Something in the glimmer sparked a strange look in Mashahl's eyes. His mouth twitched, perhaps at the thought that he had relinquished something he shouldn't have. A thread of defiance flickered in him again. Maybe… just maybe, he could still bend this new "keeper" to his will.
Without warning, he lifted his hand, drawing from the pool of shadowy energy that had served him countless times before.
Samantha smiled—not with malice or mockery, just a soft, almost amused smile.
Then Mashahl froze. The energy fizzled into nothing. His limbs locked. Panic widened his eyes as he realized what was happening: he couldn't move.
Samantha took a slow step forward. "Still reaching for what isn't yours, are we?" Her voice was warm and measured, the tone of someone addressing a stubborn child.
Mashahl tried to speak, but his mouth was rigid.
"Enough," Samantha said, and like a command to the universe itself, he fell to his knees once again.
"I beg you," he rasped, trembling. "Forgive me. I didn't know who you were."
"You did," Samantha replied gently. "You just didn't want to believe it."
Mashahl lowered his head in shame. "I submit. I will not fight again."
"I hold nothing against you," she replied with a nod. "But your place is no longer here."
She turned toward Henry, who still lay unconscious by the edge of the cave. With a flick of her fingers toward Mashahl, she added, "Wake him. Heal him."
Mashahl obeyed without hesitation. A soft green glow passed from his hands and enveloped Henry. The cuts and bruises faded. His breathing steadied. His eyelids fluttered, and then he stirred, sitting up with a confused frown.
"What happened?" Henry muttered, rubbing his temples.
Mashahl helped him up, silent and subdued. Without further words, they both turned and began walking toward the mouth of the cave, disappearing into the deep shadows that led outside.
When they were gone, Canya turned sharply to her aunt. "Where's Allan? I haven't seen him since… since all this started."
Samantha's expression softened. "He met something. Something ancient. Whatever it was, it unlocked something in him—he became stronger as a spirit painter. It helped him overcome every obstacle placed before him. And in doing so, he escaped the Circle."
Canya's breath caught. "Escaped? Then he's safe?"
Samantha nodded. "For now, yes. But his journey isn't over."
Canya stared at the glowing hide in her hands. "And… you. He called you the Keeper. What does that mean?"
Samantha chuckled lightly. "That's just what the people in this province call me. There's no throne or title behind it. Just fear."
"But why? What are you to them?"
Her aunt shrugged. "Some say I hold the key to death itself."
Canya's eyes widened. "Do you?"
Samantha gave a wry smile. "That's the thing about witches. People believe what they want. Sometimes the myth is more powerful than the truth."
"But you stopped Mashahl… with just a look," Canya pressed. "That's not myth."
Samantha sighed and walked toward her, laying a hand gently on her shoulder. "You'll understand more in time. But now isn't that time. You have questions—good ones. But they can only be answered once you're ready."
Canya frowned. "Then when?"
"When we're out of the cave," Samantha said. "When we leave the Circle. And when Allan is back with us. He needs to tame Mashahl—not just stop him, but truly tame him. Only then will things begin to make sense."
"But... you already have control over Mashahl," Canya said, confused.
Samantha's eyes glinted with something deeper. "Control and understanding aren't the same. Mashahl was bound by fear. Allan must bind him through purpose."
Canya took a slow breath, letting the weight of those words settle inside her. The hide pulsed again, warmer this time, as if in agreement.
She nodded. "Alright. We leave the Circle. We find Allan. Then you'll tell me everything."
Samantha smiled and gestured toward the cave's mouth. "Let's go. The Circle has kept its secrets too long."
As they walked side by side toward the light ahead, the shadows behind them shifted and settled, as if watching them leave. The cave, once filled with darkness and deception, now seemed eager to let them go.