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Ginika’s POV
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Mom…
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I feel a splash of water on my face, and my consciousness leaves my awful dream. I wake up, but still keep my eyes closed.
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It’s been nine long years, and all I feel is pain and bitter agony every time I wake up from that dreadful dream. And it would have actually been better if I had found something… anything! But I haven’t got nothing save for trauma, which has thankfully lessened over the years though.
In fact, I got more information experiencing it live and direct than dreaming about it, but I won’t relent till I get something.
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Looking back, do I regret asking Mistress Dolha to make me dream about the worst moment of my life every time I snooze? No.
If not for anything, it helps me renew my vengeance pact with myself. It helps me hate the Vampires more and more for taking my loved ones.
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I feel a second splash, and I decide to open my eyes this time.
More than a hundred pairs of eyes stare right at me in a manner I could care less about. The only two pairs I cared about belong to my friend, Prince, who is looking at me with worry, and Mistress Diya, who has anger and disappointment swimming in hers.
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Can’t blame her. I’m not exactly the best student.
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“Dry yourself up,” she commands.
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She had drenched me with very cold water and now wants me to dry myself up, knowing fully well I’m still a Non-bloom and can’t use magic like other witches.
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I look down at my soaked white gown, close my eyes, trying to act like I'm doing something, and lazily breathe out incantations. “Aezt limf goonad plelp...”
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“Just stop, chère, you’re making her angrier. Let me do it,” Prince, who is seated beside me, nudges and whispers with an amused look on his face.
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In less than five seconds, he manages to make me drier than a desert. I shoot him a small thankful smile, then turn my attention to the culprit standing on the podium. I put on the best 'apologetic' face I could summon and bow my head.
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“I’m sorry for sleeping in class, Mistress.”
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She narrows her eyes and shakes her head, knowing I lied and would definitely do it again.
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“El manho sim,” she says, which means 'God bless you.'
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“Sim!” The whole class choruses as a way of saying ‘Amen.’
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The lesson continues, and I tune out their voices, deciding to admire my surroundings instead. The hall is exquisite.
The soaring ceilings, adorned with intricate, age-old runes, seem to touch the very firmament itself, and the vast expanse of the chamber bathed in a soft, ethereal light that emanates from countless enchanted sconces lining the walls.
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The hall’s architecture is a testament to both artistry and magic. Enormous, arched windows punctuate the walls, allowing the streaming radiance of the spiritual realm to cascade into the room. Stained glass depicting ancient spells, their colors dancing with the play of spectral energies.
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In the center of the hall, a massive, circular platform stands, its surface etched with mystic sigils that pulse with arcane power. This is the focal point where lessons in spellcraft are conducted, a stage for the convergence of magic and mortal will.
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Rows upon rows of seats, exquisitely carved from darkwood, radiate outward from the central platform.
The air is filled with the scent of ancient tomes, herbs, and the lingering traces of spells recently cast.
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I slide my attention to my fellow witches, each clad in pristine white gowns that billow like the sails of enchanted vessels. Their attire is a symbol of purity and potential, and alongside them, the wizards are resplendent in their crisp white trousers and matching tops.
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At the head of the class stands the venerable Mistress Diya, an Indian woman in her late 50s whose aura commands respect and admiration.
Her regal presence is accentuated by the flowing red gown she wears, a symbol of her mastery and abundant wisdom.
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The enormous black grimoire she was reading from disappears in her hands, signaling the end of the class.
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Thank goodness, because I was ready to abscond at any moment.
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“I will be expecting your assignment in my next class. There will be a small class holding next week at the Zolt hall on Sanguine Divination. It's not compulsory, but it would be nice to see you all there,” Mistress Diya says, dismissing us, and turns to speak privately with a student.
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I stop immediately at her words. Something catching my attention; Sanguine Divination.
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Reading the blood of the undead.
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I couldn’t miss this. Any knowledge I could get on the Vampires was always welcomed.
The amulet I found eight years ago that killed my mom and friend had the word ‘BALAN’ engraved at the back of its pendant. I had only recognized it after the whole chaos had died down.
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I should have known. I really should have. Only a damn Vampire would be capable of perpetuating such evil and diabolicalness.
Only the Vampires would want to amass immeasurable power and take over the universe.
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The surname ‘Balan’ belonged to a Romanian Vampire. Not just any vampire. But one from the oldest vampire Clan. The Balan Bloodline.
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Possibly an Ancient.
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I don’t know who exactly yet, but as long as I have their bloodthirsty amulet, we will find each other.
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As I look at Mistress Diya conversing, I feel Prince approach me by the side.
“Why do you look like you want to turn her into a croissant?” he says.
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I smile at his thick French accent and lightly ruffle his blond hair.
“Don’t give me ideas, man.”
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“Would be splendid, chère. By the way, we got news.” He whispers the last part.
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My ears and heart perk up at that, and I instantly turn to fully face him.
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“Really? Is Petunia done with her class? We need to meet up asap.”
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“Non. I don’t think she is finished; I can still feel her casting spells.”
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“Alright. I need to see Madam Tohell. She’ll probably be done with the class soon. Let’s meet up at Yabo’s Sweets in like 40.”
He nods in agreement, and I bid him farewell with a peck on the cheek.
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Prince and his twin sister, Petunia, are probably the closest I have to friends right now. I was reluctant to get close to them in our early years, fearing history would repeat itself, but the French duo insisted, and here we are. They have been a great help, and I don’t know what I would do without them.
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I smile, thinking about them as I walk to my next destination. Except, my legs develop a mind of their own, and I find myself being led to a different place.
My countenance changes upon reaching there, and the tears painfully swim up but never make their exit. I fiercely hold them back as I gaze at the golden statue in the mini temple.
I wash my hands and feet at the fountain beside the entrance as I prepare myself to enter.
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The statue depicted my late mother in all her regal grace and ethereal beauty. It stands tall, adorned in a flowing gown that seems to cascade like liquid gold, frozen in the midst of a celestial dance.
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She is beautiful. She was beautiful.
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My eyes glisten with unshed tears, my heart heavy with both grief and a profound sense of connection. Her spirit still lingers here; I feel it.
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I drop to my knees on the cold floor and whisper a short prayer. With a humble touch to her feet, I pay my respects to my mother, feeling the weight of her love and legacy fill the atmosphere.
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From my peripheral vision, I see a female figure stand up from the chair she was sitting on at the far right. I didn’t know someone was here.
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I turn to greet Madam Tohell, a venerable member of the Congress of Witches. Even at age sixty-two, she still commands attention, especially with her towering height. She should be at least 6’6ft.
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Her jet-black hair cascades down her back, marked by streaks of white like strands of moonlight woven into the night. It was always meticulously arranged into a top bun, but now it isn’t.
It was a law always to let your hair down or flow freely when coming to reverence any of the fallen priests or priestesses.
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She approaches me slowly with a small smile. Pity for me is evident in her warm forest green eyes.
I quickly bow to greet her.
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“Oh no no, love. It’s alright, please rise. You need a hug.”
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I run into her arms, surely needing the comfort in my vulnerable state. She repeatedly tells me I’ll be fine while stroking my back with her warm pale hands. Her long red gown wrapped around me makes me feel secure.
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After about a minute, I disentangle myself and flick off the lone tear that threatened to escape. I hold her wrinkled hands and give her a proper, genuine smile.
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“How have you been, Madam? I was actually planning to come visit you but didn’t know when I came here.”
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“You were meant to come here, my child. It was fate’s will. And don’t worry about me, I’m more worried about you. Have you been eating and sleeping well?”
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“Yes, Madam. I get by well. I just finished my master’s and thinking of going for a doctorate, but I want to chill out for a bit and think through life.”
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“Hmmm, don’t be hard on yourself, child. Take your time to enjoy your youth and find yourself a good, established man to start a family with in the future.”
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I playfully roll my eyes with a smile. “Oh, here we go again…”
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Madam Tohell chuckles and squeezes my palms. She then gets serious and cups my cheek with her right hand.
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“Anything yet? Felt any difference as of late?”
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I know what she means, so my voice gets smaller.
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“Nothing yet, ma’am. I feel like giving up.”
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“Never say that, love! You will bloom one day. It may take days, months, years… but you will bloom one day.”
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I smile at her hopeful words.
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We both exit the temple with me holding her hand for assistance.
As she washes her hands and feet, I look back at my mum with a smile, and her statue smiles back at me.
I wash my own and tie my big, long afro back into its previous bun, while Madam Tohell waits for me.
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We arrive at her covenstead, and she opens its large door made of purple fog, and we head inside.
I help her sit down on her desk chair, then proceed to help her tie her hair back into its usual bun.
She signals for me to sit on the opposing chair, which I obey.
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“I won’t lie, my dear, I am very worried. The longest a witch stayed before blooming was thirty years, and she ended up dying during her blooming ritual.” Madam Tohell was visibly worried, and that made me feel sad and… guilty.
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“Yeah, Zoe Scott. I’ve heard of her.”
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“May her soul rest in peace. I don’t want you to turn out like that, so I need to take your matter very seriously. I will be tabling this before the congress to know our next course of action. But for the mean time, you need to do something for me, child.”
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She conjures up a small, shapeless glass object from her hand and places it in my palm.
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“I need to monitor your spirit levels and other important things to help in this case. So, you need to breathe into the glass until it becomes… erh… frosty every morning. You do this before you eat or drink anything.”
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I look at the mystical object in my hand. It is cold… almost like I’m holding ice, but I don’t feel the usual sting associated with holding an actual ice block.
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“If you don’t feel comfortable doing this…”
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“No, no, no, Madam, I must. Anything to make me bloom faster,” I reassure her of my commitment.
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“That’s the spirit, dear. Here are some chocolate cookies for the road; you used to like them.”
She conjures up a nice-looking petite bag of cookies. I used to like them, but now I don’t because they remind me of Mariam; she was addicted to these.
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Still, I thank her and accept them, putting them in my gown’s pocket. Prince and Petunia would love them. I give her one last hug and head outside.
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As I step out, the wind welcomes me with an enthusiastic gust, massaging my hair and swirling my gown in a playful dance.
I breathe it in and look around; towering, luminous trees sway in unison with the wind’s whims, their leaves casting ethereal shadows on the ground.
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After a minute or two of enjoying the blissful breeze, I silently contemplate walking far to the Ozzy Trea where a portal to Earth is, or just screw it and ask a fellow student to help create a quick portal directly to my home.
Ugh… I should have asked Prince to wait for me.
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Making up my mind, I start walking back to the school building, praying I still find students there. At that thought, I hasten up my steps.
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On arriving, I immediately spot Sarai, a newly bloomed witch carrying a stack of old-looking white scrolls, and heading my way. I thank the heavens for such a sight and run to meet her.
She gives me a wide smile and bows slightly to greet me. I do the same after catching my breath.
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“Is everything alright, Nika?” Her tanned face holds worry on seeing me in my state.
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“No, no… I mean yes. Wait, what am I saying? I mean no, I really need your help to go back home because of my… um… condition. I don’t have the strength to travel all the way to Ozzy.”
I give her my best puppy face.
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She laughs and shakes her head.
“Oh, I would surely love to help you. It’s an honor. But thing is, I just bloomed, so my hands aren’t quite steady yet. You might end up in a dumpster,” she grimaces.
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“A dumpster’s still better than trekking to Ozzy, babe! Come on, let me help you with that so you can get started.”
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I quickly grab the scrolls she was carrying before she changes her mind. She thanks me, then proceeds to dry her palms on her robe and begins creating the gateway.
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The shimmering portal begins to take shape, its edges dancing with hues of cerulean and amethyst. It swirls and pulses with a life of its own.
Sarai looks proud of her work. But I notice it’s shaky and not well done.
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“Not bad, babe, but if I go through that, I might end up in something worse than a dumpster. The connection’s not strong and it lacks balance.”
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Her smile fades, and she looks at her creation deeper, realizing the truth in my words. She sighs and places her hands on her hips in frustration.
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“This is why I hate doing portals.”
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“Don’t say that, hun. As a witch, it’s one of the most important things you have to master. You are getting there. Now you just need to steady your breathing and do it one more time… think about oceans.”
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She quizzically looks at me. I drop the scrolls on the ground and go behind her, placing my hands on her shoulders to help.
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“Trust me. My source is a ten,” I reassure her with a kind smile.
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She erases the first portal and attempts it the second time. This time, it comes out looking way better and stronger.
I think she realizes it from the way her mouth is slightly ajar in surprise.
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“This is the best I’ve ever made!! How did you know all these, Nika?”
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I chuckle and whisper, “I’ve seen too many people create portals for me… so I’ve learned a thing or two.”
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She giggles and picks up the scrolls.
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“I do hope you bloom one day, Nika. You would be a badass.”
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“Aww, thanks dearie. I owe you one.”
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And with that, I step into the shimmering portal, a rush of sensation engulfing me. It was as though I was being pulled through a whirlwind of colors.
In the next instant, I find myself standing in my living room.
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The room is hushed, and the only sound audible is my own breath.
I sit down on the floor, trying to steady my eyes and body so I don’t fall down.
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After getting myself together, I turn back to look at where I came out from; my standing mirror. It mirrored the characteristics of the portal Sarai had prepared for me, but then it goes back to looking like an actual mirror, and I know what’s coming.
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I quickly grab the armored shield I got as a birthday present from my mom and cover myself, making sure my back is to the mirror.
I move farther for extra security and wait for the inevitable to happen. It does.
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With a sharp, crystalline shatter, the mirror explodes into a thousand shards, scattering across the room like fractured starlight.
It was a cheapie, but I’m still sad it’s gone.
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After making sure I’m safe from both the physical and spiritual damage of the mirror, I unravel myself and place the shield back in its position.
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“Hey Alexa! I’m back. Switch on the lights, please.”
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“Welcome back. Didn’t hear you come in though. Lights coming on.”
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Of course, you didn’t.
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Before I know it, my penthouse is lit, and I set forward to cleaning the mess on the floor.
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After I’m done cleaning, I head to my comfy couch and plop on it visibly tired from my trip. Before I know it, I’m using it as a bed.
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I remember something. Actually more than one thing.
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The twins are waiting for me. We are supposed to meet at Yabo’s.
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The lovely gift Madam Tohell gave me.
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I quickly grab my phone and text Prince and Petunia that something came up, and I could be late.
Petunia would chew me out.
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Having gotten that out of the way, I begrudgingly sit up, ready to tackle the next issue on the list.
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I carefully bring out the glass object I had tucked in my hair earlier. I set it on the white center table, then lean back on the couch to think well.
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I think I spend more than ten minutes just staring at the object and thinking of what to do.
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My phone’s beep interrupts my thoughts, and I’m brought back to reality.
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Checking it, I smile at Prince’s message.
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‘Take ur time chère. I knew this would happen, so tuni and i are still at home. text me when u ready ready 4REAL!!!! n lunch is on u!!!!!!!!!!’
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I shift my eyes and focus on the source of my concern, and having made up my mind on what to do, I pick up my phone and quickly send a text to an old friend and partner in crime.
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‘Hey b, hope u good. Can u swing by my place real quick? got a cool job for u. I need u to do the glyph spell on yourself before reaching, and pls come with some of mama’s ashes. And VERY IMPORTANT, hit me up once u get outside my complex, I’ll come meet u outside.’
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Not satisfied with just sending the text, I dial her number, and after four rings, she picks up, and I quickly end the call.
Oh, how she hates that, which is why I do it.
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Feeling satisfied and sure she would see my text now, I march into my closet to pick out my outfit.
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Vivian is not your typical witch. She’s a rogue witch, unattached to any coven or organized magical community, a choice that often leaves her on the fringes of the mystical society she was born into. However, that is exactly why I like and work with her.
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And unlike other rogue witches, who are weaker due to their lack of formal training and community support, Gloria is an exception.
Her mother was a formidable witch who practiced Sunik magic and passed on the knowledge to Vivian.
We met by chance eight years ago, and a comradeship blossomed from our shared need for revenge.
I want to find the vampire who killed my mom, and she wants to find the vampire who killed her mom.
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I hear my iPhone ring and rush back to the living room. Sure enough, it's my favorite witch calling.
She's here. I pick up, but she ends the call right away. I chuckle and roll my eyes. Then I quickly grab my coat and head for the door.
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Upon reaching the condominium's reception on the ground floor, I spot Vivian sitting on the bench, engrossed in a game on her phone.
Typical Vi.
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She's dressed in pink overalls that complement her flawless ebony skin. She notices me approaching and greets me with a wide smile before closing her phone. I quickly hug her; it's been a while since we've seen each other.
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"Gosh, Vi, you're gonna kill me one day with that Paco Rabanne," I tease.
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She laughs, "That's punishment for disrupting my beauty sleep."
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"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, babe. It was so sudden, and I just had to call you."
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"No worries, princess. You sounded urgent in your text, though. Is there a problem? And like why did I have to wait down here?"
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"Long story. Come on, let's go, I'll tell you on the way. Did you do the spell?"
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I knew she did, but I still asked. I link my arm through hers, and we begin heading back up.
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"Yes, I did. Now, explain."
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"I need you to cast the spell on both me and my apartment before entering. That's why I asked you to wait out here. I've got an object that may be a spyware. I want your help to figure out if it is and understand its capabilities."
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She looks at me with a worried expression before nodding in understanding. We enter the elevator, and she turns to me.
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"I think we can start now."
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I nod in agreement and extend my left hand. She takes it and begins casting the spell.
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The Glyphbound Veil is a spell that cloaks an individual or object from the prying eyes of any spiritual or mystical relic. It creates an ethereal shield that obscures the target from mystical surveillance and prevents spying spiritual objects from discerning their actions, thoughts, or presence.
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The spell is cast as the elevator reaches my floor. We both step out and make our way to my apartment.
Upon reaching the door, she repeats the same spell to cloak the unit, and with that, we enter.
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"Wow, you've got a piano!?" Vivian exclaims as she runs to inspect the dove-white piano in my living room.
She looks like an excited child.
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"Oh no, it's my mom's. Just brought it here and got it cleaned."
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"It's so fine! I don't want to know how much it cost," she says, admiring it.
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I laugh.
“Priceless! Do you need the A.C on? Would it be better for-"
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"Yes, yes. The colder, the better. Now, let's see what's making you all finicky today."
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I point to the object sitting on my center table. Vivian goes to sit on the floor and begins examining it while I quickly adjust the air conditioner. Then I join her at the center table. She has taken out all her tools, ready to investigate.
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"Do you need a blanket or cardigan?" I ask her in case she feels cold.
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"I'm fine. So, what do we have here?"
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I sigh and begin narrating the events that led to me obtaining this object. When I finish, Vivian appears to be thinking hard, trying to figure things out.
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"So, you don't trust Madam Tohell?"
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"Nah, it's not that. I'm just tired of people butting into my life and... I mean... I get that they are worried, considering my predicament, but it's just too much, and it gets frustrating, and... it's so much weight on my shoulders..."
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"Oh dear. Stop, stop. I totally get it. It's gonna be alright."
She pats my shoulder reassuringly.
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"Like I'm the daughter and only child of the high priestess, and I haven't bloomed. It can't get worse than that, can it? I have all these witches coming at me all the time, and I don't know if they are genuinely worried about me or just want to steal my mom's powers... it's just too much, you know."
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"Take your time, Nika. Don't let anyone make you feel otherwise. You are your mother's daughter, and no one can take that away from you."
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Her words make me feel better. "Thanks, babe. You're the best. Okay, come on. Let's dissect this shit”
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“You might wanna use the ashes,” I tell her, referring to her mom’s ashes in the miniature bottle she brought.
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“Nika, I think you’re underestimating me. I only use this for extra, extra hard spells. This seems like a piece of cake. Just watch the master work,” she boasts.
She didn’t lie. She is a master, but I don’t think she realizes that she’s dealing with a grandmaster here.
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I hold back my laughter and shrug. “Okay, Master, if you say so. What do I know? Let me quickly fix us something to eat.”
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She nods, and she begins working. I head to my kitchen and begin preparing Yam and Egg sauce for us.
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Twenty minutes later, she still hasn’t made any progress.
“Damn, this is harder than I thought. I’m gonna need a minute.”
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“Sure, take your time. The food is ready,” I reply.
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I scoop out my portion onto my plate and make myself comfortable on the bar stool, ready to eat.
Next thing I hear is a groan of frustration from Vivian making me decide to worsen the situation.
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“Everything going well, Master?” I tease.
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“Oh, shut up, Nika! You and that food are distracting me, that’s all,” she retorts.
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I burst out laughing. “What a lame ass excuse! Just accept mama’s help. Mother knows best.” I continue to tease her.
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“Fine, fine. I’ll use them ashes. But I’m taking five bottles of wine home!”
She finally relents and starts spreading a bit of the ashes on the table and starting from scratch.
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Finally, she makes some progress, and I can tell by the way she looks up, looking possessed.
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After a while, she comes back to her senses and looks back at me with a smile of triumph.
