Chapter 119

Olivia

The witch’s hut was an enigma in and of itself. Nestled amidst thickets of age-old trees, it felt both inviting and ominous. The cracked voice of the old woman and her single, milky eye that peered out from behind her mop of gray hair were equally as ominous.

“I’ve been expecting you,” she said.

She opened the door a little wider. Casting a nervous glance at one another, Nathan and I stepped inside.

The dim lighting cast an ethereal glow, which shimmered against the dense canopy of dried herbs and trinkets hanging overhead.

The atmosphere was thick, punctuated by the burning incense and an underlying note of aged wood. The aroma of burning sage and other unknown herbs wafted through the air, slightly dizzying yet rejuvenating all at the same time.

Despite its unassuming appearance, the hut emanated a power that was palpable.

The witch, a woman with a weathered face, her silver hair braided intricately and adorned with gemstones, looked up from where she stood.

Her age was indiscernible; she looked both incredibly old and young at the same time. I quickly came to the conclusion that she had no age; like her house, she was an enigma.

Perhaps she was here before the forest, or perhaps she simply popped into existence the moment we stepped out of the car.

“You come seeking restoration,” she surmised, her voice rich with experience. She glanced down at the box and smiled. She was missing a lot of her teeth.

Neither of us dared to ask how she knew the reason behind why we were here.

I clutched the wooden box tightly, my knuckles white from the pressure. Nathan glanced at me with a nod, urging me forward.

“Yes,” I hesitantly confirmed, holding the box up for her to see. “But there’s a small problem. We don’t have the key.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Locked away secrets often hold the most power. But sometimes, to regain power, we must break barriers.”

Nathan, always one for direct action, gently took the box from my hand before I had a chance to react.

He placed it on the stone floor and with the heel of his boot, forcefully broke the lock. I gasped, but the box creaked open to reveal the skeletal remains of Alvin’s hand.

There it laid on a small silken cushion inside the box. I was both amazed and disgusted.

The witch drew in a sharp breath but remained composed.

“A friend’s hand?” she inquired, her gaze never leaving the bones.

“Yes,” I whispered, “and we need to give it back to him. We need to make him whole again.”

She hummed softly, reaching out to touch the skeletal fingers.

“This will require careful intervention. But first, he must be prepared to receive it.”

From one of her shelves, she procured a glass vial filled with a deep blue liquid. “This is a sleeping draught. Administer it to Alvin. The sleep will ensure no external disturbances during the ritual.”

I didn’t care to ask how she knew his name. Instead, I hesitantly took the vial, my fingers brushing against hers. The chill of her strangely cold touch sent a shiver down my spine.

“And after he's asleep?” Nathan asked.

The witch mumbled something to herself in a language that neither of us could understand. Nathan and I both watched as she scurried over to a tall shelf laden with all sorts of vials and bottles.

She rifled around for a minute or two, still mumbling to herself, before she returned and presented a small clay pot to us. It was sealed with red wax. The aroma emanating from it was a mix of lavender and something earthier.

“This salve is to be applied on the severed end. It will prime the limb to accept the hand.”

Nathan frowned, clearly puzzled. “But the hand… It’s just bones. How will it—”

The witch silenced him with a look. “Bones are the foundation. With the ritual, the essence will be restored. Flesh, blood, tendons—they will all regrow.”

She then handed Nathan a rolled parchment, tied with a thin silver thread.

“The incantations,” she explained. “Both of you must chant them in unison. The energies of two united souls have far greater power than one. But you must both mean it. You must both want it. I know you, Nathan, will struggle with that.”

A silence hung heavily over our heads. My eyes widened as I glanced back and forth between Nathan and the witch, whose eyes were locked in a silent battle. Neither of them said anything, and neither of their faces betrayed any emotion.

Without a word, Nathan took the parchment from the witch.

Nathan unfolded the parchment, scanning its contents. His face, usually so stoic, displayed a flicker of uncertainty.

“We need to read all of this? Out loud?”

The witch nodded. “It’s crucial. Your intentions and the chant must harmonize. The universe listens intently to a heart that speaks its truth.”

Sensing our apprehension, she added, “But remember; it’s not just the words. It’s the intent behind them. You’re doing this for Alvin, for your friend. Let that guide you.”

My throat tightened at her words, and I nodded. “We just want to set things right.”

The witch tilted her head back, causing her hair to fall away from her hidden eye. There was nothing there; just an empty divot where her right eye used to be.

I was startled, and it was all I could do not to gasp in shock at the sight; but something also told me that she wouldn’t have been offended if I had.

Her gaze, however, shifted between the two of us in a way that almost made me forget that she only had one eye… As though she could still see out of the eye that was missing.

“Then proceed with genuine intent and clarity,” she said. “It will serve you well.”

Nathan, ever the pragmatist, cleared his throat.

“There’s also the matter of your fee.”

The witch smiled faintly, revealing a row of surprisingly white teeth. I furrowed my brow, remembering how her mouth had been nearly toothless just a few moments before.

“Ah, yes,” she said. “The mundane always finds its way into the mystical.”

Nathan swiftly counted the notes and handed them to her, their fingers brushing momentarily.

She received the payment, her expression unreadable. “May the winds of fortune be with you.”

With a final nod, we left the hut.

The door creaked softly behind us as it closed, sealing away the secrets and powers within. The journey ahead was daunting, but as Nathan and I walked side by side, the box’s contents now exposed to the moonlight, there was a shared understanding—a mission to right a wrong and a hope that, together, we could achieve it.

“Nathan,” I said once we were out of earshot of the hut and the car could be seen in the distance. “How did she…”

“Don’t ask,” Nathan said. “Don’t say anything; not until we’re far away. We’re still within her territory, and the woods listen. Witches don’t take kindly to prying questions.”

I nodded slowly, choosing to take Nathan’s advice. It wasn’t until we were far down the road and the town was slowly coming back into view that I thought to ask again, but by that point, I had greater things on my mind.

The vial containing the sleeping potion and the container of salve clinked against one another in my pocket as Nathan drove. In my lap, I still held the box containing Alvin’s skeletal hand.

Soon, Alvin, I thought to myself, biting my lip as we saw Alvin’s little house coming into view. Soon, you’ll be whole again.

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To be continued