The forest had grown restless. The moon hung like a bloodied coin above the treetops, its pale glow spilling across roots and branches twisted in unnatural shapes. An eerie silence pressed over the woods—no owls, no wolves, only the slow groan of the trees as if they sensed the storm to come.
From the north came Elisa, cloaked in white that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. Her long hair cascaded like silver water, and with each step, the ground hardened with frost, leaving a trail of rime across the dead leaves. The witches who followed her kept a respectful distance, their faces pale, their eyes gleaming with cold reverence.
From the opposite end, shadows shifted and thickened until they coalesced into the shape of another woman—taller, darker, her form half-hidden by a swirling cloak of black smoke. Around her, the forest seemed to rot, bark cracked, leaves curled into ash, and the very air thickened with the stench of char. Behind her stood her own circle—the Black Witches, their eyes gleaming red like embers in the dark.
The clearing between them pulsed with tension. Two forces—both feared, both cruel—about to clash.
Elisa's lips curved into a cold smile.
"You dare crawl into my forest, nameless one?" Her voice carried like frost breaking glass. "You always did hunger for what is not yours."
The Black Witch leader tilted her head, her face unreadable beneath the hood. When she spoke, her voice was a hiss, low and venomous.
"Your forest? All this land is dying, and yet you cling to scraps of ice and bone as if they crown you queen. But you are nothing, Elisa. A relic of weakness dressed in white."
Elisa's hand lifted, pale fingers curling as light sparked in her palm.
"And you are a shadow that festers because you fear the sun. You feed on rot, on fear, on ruin. But power belongs to those who can command it… not those who scavenge."
The Black Witch laughed, a sound that made even the trees shudder.
"Then let us see who commands."
The ground shook as both unleashed their fury.
The Black Witch's hand shot forward, and black fire erupted, surging like a tide across the clearing. The flames clung to everything they touched, not burning but corroding—trees sagged, grass shriveled into dust, the very air seemed to choke.
Elisa stepped into it. With a snap of her wrist, white lightning arced, splitting the darkness with a blinding flash. Frost spread out in a circle from her feet, meeting the black fire head-on.
Steam roared skyward as ice and shadow collided, creating a blinding shroud that swallowed the clearing.
The witches behind both leaders staggered back, shielding their faces, some crying out. The ground split under the pressure, roots snapping like bones.
The Black Witch's laughter rose above the chaos.
"You waste your strength defending, Elisa. Always clutching, never claiming. This is why your kind falters."
Elisa's eyes glowed an unnatural white. Her voice was steel and storm.
"And this is why yours will never reign. You destroy, but you cannot hold."
With a scream, Elisa slammed her staff into the ground. Spikes of ice erupted, jagged and glistening, tearing upward to pierce the black fire. The clearing filled with frozen towers, each humming with magic.
But the Black Witch only grinned. She raised both hands, and the ice began to crack. From the shadows of each spire crawled tendrils of darkness, winding upward like serpents, strangling the ice until it shattered into shards.
The battle raged on—white light against black fire, frost against rot, every clash shaking the forest to its roots. Branches splintered, trees toppled, the ground opened into fissures that swallowed roots whole.
Finally, both leaders halted, breathing hard, their powers circling them in violent halos. Elisa's white aura glowed sharp and cutting, the Black Witch's shadow swirled thick and suffocating.
The Black Witch leaned forward, her voice dripping with mockery.
"You cannot banish me. You cannot kill me. You can only delay me, as you always have. But power slips, Elisa. One day soon, it will tip—and when it does, your pretty white reign will end in ash."
Elisa's lips curved, though her eyes blazed with fury.
"Then hear this, nameless one. Step into my lands again, and I will carve your shadow from the earth. I will scatter it to the winds until even whispers of you are forgotten."
The Black Witch chuckled, turning, her cloak dissolving into smoke.
"Try."
Her figure melted into darkness, vanishing between the trees. The Black Witches followed, slipping into the shadows like carrion birds.
Elisa remained in the clearing, frost still thick beneath her feet, her chest rising and falling. Her hand tightened on her staff as her followers gathered close, silent and wary.
The forest was ruined—half blackened, half frozen, scarred by their fury. The line had been drawn tonight and it was far from over.
Elisa's circle of white witches drew closer, whispering among themselves in harsh, urgent tones. Their faces were pale, streaked with fear and awe at the storm their leader had unleashed. One, her voice trembling, broke the silence first.
"Elisa ," she whispered, clutching her staff tightly, "this fight will repeat itself again and again. Each time, the black witch grows stronger. We need… we need Archon."
Another leaned forward, her hood slipping from her head, eyes glittering with sharp conviction.
"She is your daughter, born with blood that no other witch carries. Only she can end this war. Without her, we are fighting shadows with candle flames."
The circle murmured agreement, some voices desperate, others bitter.
"It is time."
"Bring her to us."
"She must choose her place among us."
Elisa turned sharply, her white hair gleaming in the broken moonlight. Her gaze silenced them. For a moment, even the forest seemed to hold its breath.
"You think I do not know her strength?" Elisa's voice was cold, cutting, yet heavy with something more—a flicker of restrained emotion. "Archon is unlike you. Unlike me. Her gift does not bend. It does not follow command."
Zyra, braver than the others, stepped forward. "But if she refuses? If she chooses to remain in the palace among the mortals? Elisa, the Black Witch will tear her apart, and with her, us."
Elisa's grip on her staff tightened, her eyes flickering with something unreadable—anger, fear, longing.
"We cannot force her. Do you hear me? If we push, she will resist. And if Archon resists…" Her words trailed, her jaw clenched. "…she will not only destroy the Black Witch. She will destroy us too."
A heavy silence fell, the witches glancing uneasily at one another. The name Archon lingered in the air like a forbidden spell.
Far across the forest, in the hollow where the Black Witches gathered, the shadows breathed and hissed around their nameless leader. Her followers bent close, voices sharp with worry.
"Mistress," one croaked, her skin cracked like dried bark, "if Elisa's daughter joins her, we are finished. You saw it—the frost nearly consumed your fire tonight. What if the girl awakens her full strength?"
Another snarled, her eyes gleaming red. "We all know that Archon carries the old magic. A magic not even you or Elisa could tame. If she joins the White, we cannot match them."
The Black Witch's hood tilted, a smile slithering across her unseen face. Her laugh was low, cruel, cutting through their fear like a blade.
"Do not tremble before a child," she hissed. "Archon is powerful, yes. But power alone does not keep one alive. Her days in that palace are numbered."
Her followers leaned closer, their fear momentarily halted.
"What do you mean, Mistress?"
The Black Witch lifted a hand, and from her cloak of smoke, the shape of a raven formed—its eyes gleaming with a dark omen. It circled, then dissolved into ash.
"There is an enemy in the palace," she said softly, almost with delight. "One who smiles in her face, yet carries the blade that will gut her. She will destroy her for me. For us."
The witches murmured darkly, a mixture of doubt and eager hunger.
"And when Archon falls?" one asked.
The Black Witch's laughter echoed through the trees.
"Then Elisa falls. And when Elisa falls—the forest, the lands, the throne itself will bow to shadow."
The white witches shivered where they stood in their ruined clearing, while the black witches hissed and clawed in the dark.
Above them both, the moon slipped behind a cloud, plunging the forest into silence once more.
-
The first letter came quietly.
Evelyn had sealed it with a dainty mark of roses. The words were sharp, her hand pressed into the parchment with a force that betrayed her eagerness.
"We cannot keep watching her rise. Meet me. We must plan. The girl must be eliminated."
Selene read the letter in the solitude of her chambers, her eyes narrowing. She reached for her quill and parchment at once, but her reply was slower, deliberate.
"No rashness. We must be careful. Suspicion is a greater enemy than Aurora herself. If we are seen together, the girl will suspect. Worse still, His Majesty… or Queen Ava. Avoid me in public. Smile at her. Let us move in shadows."
The letters ended there, but the performance began.
At every gathering, Selene avoided Evelyn's gaze, even when they stood side by side at the King's banquets. Evelyn, however, perfected her smile. She leaned close to Aurora with syrupy warmth, laughed when she spoke, touched her hand as if they were newfound sisters. It was so convincing that even Aurora, who once suspected Evelyn's venom, began to believe in her change of heart.
The oddest of all was Selene. She had ceased her little barbs—the sharp comments, the icy stares. She did not taunt. She did not sneer. She kept her silence.
It was Lira who noticed first. One evening, as she brushed Aurora's hair, she whispered softly,
"My lady, have you not seen it? The queens—especially Queen Selene—no longer look at you as before. It feels… strange."
Aurora only smiled faintly in the mirror. "Perhaps she grew tired of the game."
Lira frowned, unconvinced.
But to the outside eye, the change was wondrous. Queen Ava, seeing her son's wives united, felt relief wash over her. For once, there was no hissing, no venom, only laughter and polite words. She called it peace, not knowing it was an illusion woven with careful hands.
Then came the night of their first secret meeting.
Evelyn walked into the appointed chamber with a little thrill of anticipation. The chamber was dimly lit, fire casting long shadows across the stone. She expected Selene alone. Instead, another figure sat with her—Virelda, her posture regal, her eyes sharp.
Evelyn paused at the door. "Queen Virelda."
Selene lifted her head and smiled, the kind of sly smile that had always carried daggers.
"I thought it wise to invite her. After all, her hate burns no less than ours. Three heads bring greater results than two."
Virelda's lips curved faintly as she studied Evelyn.
"I wondered at Selene's silence these past weeks toward Aurora. Now I see why. And you…" her gaze hardened, "…I thought you truly came to make amends. That perhaps guilt or wisdom softened you."
Evelyn's own smile sharpened. "A lie, Virelda. Nothing more. I came with one reason alone—the same reason we are all gathered now."
The air thickened. Selene's smirk deepened. Virelda said nothing, but her eyes lingered, testing, measuring.
Then the whispers began.
Selene leaned forward first. "We need only implicate her. A theft, a scandal, a small treachery. It will be enough to stain her."
Virelda shook her head immediately. "That will not work. His Majesty would bleed himself dry to prove her innocence. Accusations will fall like dust from her gown."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Then we destroy the evidence after. Leave nothing behind."
Virelda let out a humorless laugh, her voice smooth but edged with steel. "You know His Majesty. If he does not want Aurora punished, then she will not be punished. Evidence or no evidence."
Evelyn's voice broke through, calm but laced with venom. "That is why I am not here to implicate her."
Both turned to her.
Evelyn's smile widened. "I am here to kill her. To wipe her from the earth."
The chamber fell into silence. The fire crackled. Selene's eyes widened, then slowly curved into delight. Virelda's face, however, remained unreadable, carved from stone.
Selene let out a soft laugh, tilting her head. "So deep your hate runs. Very well. If death is the answer, then I am in."
Virelda finally spoke, her voice quiet, probing. "Do you think killing Aurora will be so simple? Tell me then—how do you plan it?"
Evelyn's answer was immediate. "Poison."
Selene's followed quickly. "A blade. A quick thrust. No one would stop me."
Virelda's laugh this time was richer, almost mocking. She leaned back, her dark eyes glittering.
"Not surprised of you, Evelyn. But you, Selene—I confess, I expected more wit. Do you not know His Majesty? If she is poisoned, he will command an investigation that will strip the palace bare. If she is stabbed, he will turn over every stone to find the culprit. And mark my words—he will trace it back to us."
Her gaze sharpened. "Besides, Aurora is never alone. She does not eat from every dish. She is watched, protected, guarded."
Selene scowled. "Then what do you suggest? How can she be killed without suspicion?"
Virelda leaned forward, her smile thin, precise. "Only under a circumstance where death wears another face. Where no one questions, because the cause seems natural… inevitable."
The chamber stilled.
Selene's eyes brightened suddenly, the thought striking her. "The royal women's hunt."
Evelyn's head snapped up, her smile breaking wide. "Yes. Perfect. We kill her in the forest. Claim she was taken by a wild beast."
Selene's laugh rang sharp, delighted. "Blood in the leaves, claws in the skin—who would question? Not even His Majesty."
Virelda said nothing. Her face gave nothing away, but after a long silence, she gave a slow nod.
Agreement.
Selene and Evelyn laughed together, their mirth bouncing off the chamber walls. Evelyn's eyes glittered with satisfaction, Selene's with mischief.
Virelda sat still, her smile faint, her gaze distant. She did not laugh. Her silence was deeper, heavier.
But she nodded once again.
The pact was made.