NOVEL NEXT Chapter 46 Witch
Reth reached down and pulled Elenya up.
"We have to get her out," he told her, putting his arm around her shoulders. She whimpered, holding onto his sleeve as if it were the sole thing that could possibly sustain her.
Behind them, the watchtower was ablaze. Flames roared through the rubble, filling the air with the scent of ash and rock.
Then—footsteps.
From the smoke emerged Seris, her sword halfway drawn. The instant her eyes fell upon Asthia, she stiffened—her gaze narrowing, keen with fury and distrust.
"Seris," Reth said, ending the silence. "Help her."
She gave Reth a stern glare. "You actually want me to help her?"
"Either stand there," Reth snarled, "or help me."
Seris's eyes darted from Elenya's burnt blisters to Asthia's white, trembling form. She cursed and pushed her sword back into its scabbard.
Asthia gave her a sideways glare, her eyes clenching. "You… You. What are you doing here?"
Seris's lip twisted. "Rescuing your useless hide, it seems."
Asthia rigidified, attempting to yank her arm free. "I don't need your assistance."
Seris dragged her up anyway, hold tight and unyielding. "Sure. You can hardly stand, but go on, keep acting."
Asthia's mouth compressed, her face white with agony but her tone thick with poison. "I'd rather fall than get your help."
Reth barked, his voice slicing through their struggle. "Enough! Both of you."
For a moment, the only noise was the fire crackling and Elenya's soft whimper.
Seris let out a harsh breath, her anger rising to something icy. She crowded in close, speaking only to Asthia. "Don't make assumptions. I'm not here for you. I'm here because he requested."
Asthia's breast heaved and fell, shuddering with fury she was too drained to unleash. She longed to spit the words back at Seris, but Seris's grip and the inferno surrounding them pressed her tongue against her teeth.
"Argue later. Currently, we need to leave here."
Asthia's lips quivered. Pain consumed whatever reply she would have made. She clung to Seris, wordless.
As they were walking away.
A woman stepped forth, shrouded in dark robes. Dark hair cascaded like ink down her shoulders, her face wan and serene—too serene, as if the devastation around her was nothing.
[Warning: Hostile Entity Identified – Serapha, the Witch of Silence]
[Threat Level: Catastrophic]
"."
Catastrophic.?
The term repeated itself in his mind like a curse.
"What…?"
"Witch of Silence…" Reth whispered, the words barely leaving his lips.
Before he could steady himself, Seris barked forward, her voice sharp as ice. "Who are you, woman? Stand aside, or—"
Serapha did not so much as glance at her. Her eyes stayed locked on Asthia, as though the others were little more than shadows.
The air thickened. Smoke pressed inward. Even the flames crackled into uneasy hush.
"I came for her," Serapha murmured, quiet but undeniable. "Leave her, and you may leave as well."
Her mouth curved into a knowing smile, as if the ruin around her—the fallen watchtower, the smoke, the moans of the broken—were nothing more than trifles. She tilted her head, black robes whispering against the ash like sound made visible.
"Since you ask…" Her voice was soft, but it carried, resonating unnaturally in the ruin. "I am Serapha. The Witch of Silen—"
"you brats, would you slow down?" A voice interrupted.
Varric Solthane came into sight, his robe ashier than usual, satchel full and jingling off his hip.
He stopped short when he saw the sight at last.
Asthia half-sagged in Seris's arms. Elenya leaning against Reth. And across from them—Serapha, still, black hair moving without wind, her eyes colder than rock.
Varric blinked.
"Oh." His voice fell, but not much. "Well that's… not good."
Seris's gaze flashed to him, anger flashing. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Trying not to suffocate from smoke," he retorted, swatting soot from his beard. Then he looked over at Serapha once more. His brows furrowed. "Wait a moment… did someone just mention Witch of Silence?"
The silence grew heavier.
Varric, oblivious, waved a dismissive hand. "Bah! Don't go casting that name about. You'll attract her attention, and then—pfft—" he gestured explosively with his hands, fingers spread in a dramatic flourish. "We'll all be pancaked. Awful way to go, really. Messy. Not a good idea. I don't suggest it."
No one said anything.
He squinted at their immobile faces, then let out a bark of laughter. "What, did I get it wrong? It's a name! Serapha, Witch of Silence!" He shouted even louder, as if attempting to demonstrate something. "There, see? Nothing hap—"
The air grew cold.
Serapha's gaze shifted to him finally. The ruins themselves fell quiet in her attention, flames crackling into stillness. A massive weight pressed down on air, on lungs, on mind.
Varric's words choked off in mid-air. He went rigid as her attention pinned him like a bug. His knees very nearly gave way. His satchel slid, scattering coins and a bitten apple over the marble.
"Oh," he breathed again, but this time the word cracked, brittle with fear. "Ah. Right. You're. actually here."
Serapha did not blink. Her voice was gentle, but it vibrated through their bones:
"You use my name as if it belonged to you."
Varric swallowed hard, beard twitching. "In my defense," he croaked, "I didn't think you'd. uh. RSVP."
No one laughed.
Reth stared at Varric, dumbfounded.
For a moment, Reth wondered if the man was suicidal—or simply brain-addled. To stumble into this inferno, coins jangling like a drunk merchant, and then provoke that… whatever she was—it defied all reason.
"Elenya?" he whispered, shaking her gently. No response. Her skin was fever-hot beneath his hand, her breath faint and uneven.
Asthia, still half-draped in Seris's grasp, had turned her head despite her own ruinous state. Her eyes, sharp even in their haze of pain, fixed on Elenya. The venom she'd spat only moments ago was gone, replaced by something quieter—fear. Or perhaps guilt.
Her lips parted, but no words came out. d d