Natalia’s failed awakening has far-reaching consequences than she can ever imagine.
When a child fails, he or she does not fail alone.
Failure spreads out to its surroundings, like the butterfly effect. Everyone around you is as affected by your failure as they are by your success.
And when your identity is special, the pressure you face is tougher than you can imagine. There is a lot at stake. Perfection is required of you, and this slowly but inevitably becomes the norm. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, true. But for the scion of the crown-wearer, things are worse.
You cannot fail.
You dare not fail.
Estelle Vane is one of the most powerful witches to ever walk the Earth, but even she is not exempt from this convention.
One of the motives behind the witches’ acceptance of a hybrid as their supreme ruler is due to the potential she possesses. Who cares if her blood is diluted? The power inherent in it is already greater than most. This is one thing you do not see often, and even if they want to complain, who has the power to go against Evanora?
Silence does not always mean consent, and Estelle understands this. So when her assistant informs her of the presence of some powerful witches at her reception, she is not surprised.
The opposers are here again.
“Did they give an indication as to the reason for their sudden visit?”
“No, my queen. They said that they were here to see you for a very important matter and that they would only speak to you alone. No one else.”
Of course, they would only speak to me alone. How else would they be able to commit treason without proof?
“Tell them that I am on my way to meet them. In the meantime, you can serve them refreshments and make them feel at ease.”
“Yes, my queen.”
The assistant bows and exits her office.
Estelle smiles ruefully. Every leader to his or her own- no kingdom is ever truly free of opposition, no matter how good or just it is. Evanora would say that light is accentuated by darkness, and thus they must be allowed to co-exist.
“I apologize for keeping you waiting. I hope my assistant served you well.”
No one responds, but Estelle is unperturbed. The witches in the reception of her office are the most troublesome group of people she has ever dealt with since she was appointed the High Witch, but it will take a lot more than ignoring her question to ruffle her feathers. She did not get to where she is by being petty.
Instead of losing her temper at the obvious show of disrespect, she decides to remind the witches of how powerless they are before her. Actions speak louder than words, especially to obstinate hags like the ones in front of her.
As her aura pervades the entire room, the witches try to stand their ground but fail. Miserably.
Estelle makes no move to stop even after a slight incline of the head from one of the witches. You cannot disrespect me and then offer a half-hearted, pitiful excuse for an apology.
“We accept your apology. And yes, your assistant has served us well.”
Estelle does not miss the strange glint in the eye of the hunch-backed witch as she mentions her assistant. She pretends to not notice that the others are lightly smirking too. Sometimes, the best response to those who think themselves wise is to play the fool, until they realize in the end that they have only been a part of your plan all along.
Evanora is famous for such face-slapping tendencies, and as one who was more or less trained by her, Estelle would not be any worse at it.
Adopting a haughty tone, she increases her aura even more, and the sounds of eardrums bursting rent the air.
“I do not need you to accept my apology anymore. I want you to apologize to me. Now.”
The witches try to ignore her, focusing on healing their burst eardrums, but the look on her face promises that things will only get worse from here. Biting the humble pie, they grudgingly apologize.
Hmm. Retreating to advance. It seems that they have gotten smarter. Unfortunately, they are not the only ones who have been increasing their skills.
The High Witch retracts her aura as quickly as she released it. She conjures a high chair and sits on it.
“You may sit.”
Only then do the witches return to their seats.
“I would like to know, dear sisters,” Estelle resists the urge to shudder at the mention of the word ‘sisters’. The only persons she will ever regard as her sister are her biological siblings. These hags sitting opposite her do not even make the cut. But the High Witch is not just a position. It is a symbol of peace and unity. There cannot be any form of discrimination from her to anyone.
“The reason behind your sudden visit.” She places an emphasis on ‘sudden’ so that the witches can at least recognize that they are neither welcome nor expected. They have no business here. This is the best way of expressing her displeasure without coming off as condescending or stuck-up. She cannot give any reason for these troublemakers to incite another uprising, not when rumors of war are at large.
The spokeswoman of the group rises to her feet and steps forward.
Let’s hear what these troublemakers have to say. Who knows what they’ve come up with this time.
“We would like to know your opinion concerning an occurrence of great import.”
“And which occurrence of great import is it that requires you to storm my office and demand an audience without a prior appointment?”
“The Awakening of your child, my queen.”
The eyes of the High Witch widen involuntarily, but she regains her composure within a split second.
How on Earth did they find out?