Saved By The Mad Duke
Chapter 116: The Fire Witch

Chapter 116: The Fire Witch

It was decided, primarily by Ahspid, that the ritual would be performed in his tower in order to make sure that in case of an unexpected turn of events, the rest of the castle would be safe.

Upon stepping into the mage’s room, Aideen could not shake off a peculiar wave of emotions washing over her.

’I’ve never ventured into Ahspid’s quarters before. Now, it feels odd to imbue his room with my mana... I can sense his mana through my magic’s touch. This place exudes an overwhelming sense of loneliness. Who could have thought...’

As the princess’s mana continued to weave its presence throughout the mage’s room, the prevailing feeling of solitude only intensified. She pondered whether Ahspid preferred to dwell in such seclusion, and if so, she could not help but question –– why?

’Being here makes me finally realize how little I actually know about him. I’d like to think that we have managed to develop a certain connection, but we still never talk about anything but magic. Will my attempt to get closer to him change anything? Sometimes... I feel like his childish antics are nothing but his awkward attempt to conceal his loneliness and sadness.’

"Ahspid," Bjarna commanded from the center of the room, "move all the furniture to the walls. I need as much space as I can get."

The mage nodded, preparing to snap his fingers, but Aideen rushed to intervene.

"Wait!"

"What is it, My Lady?"

Aideen hesitated, her hands clasped in front of her stomach as she tried to gather her thoughts.

"I am still not entirely certain we should proceed without His Grace present. He is the lord of the castle and if something were to happen––"

"Then you will need to shoulder the responsibility," Ahspid interjected.

Narrowing his eyes, he then approached the princess, his purple gaze firmly fixed upon her face as he continued,

"How long will it take for you to grasp that you are now the lady of the castle as well, Your Highness? Aideen Valentine is now your name. In His Grace’s absence, you are in command, and it falls to you to make decisions and be responsible for them. So, what will it be, My Lady?"

Aideen clenched her fists, her eyes ablaze with a strange fusion of determination and frustration. Her teacher’s words resonated deeply with her. She was no longer a helpless, powerless princess. She was Duchess Valentine, with the authority to make decisions. She had to remember that.

Moreover, what could possibly go wrong? She was surrounded by people who were equally strong and powerful, if not more so. Thus, there was no longer any space for her indecisiveness.

Locking eyes with the mage, she nodded resolutely and declared,

"Alright. Let us proceed."

"Good."

With a resounding snap, Ahspid intertwined his fingers, causing every piece of furniture in his room to shift to the corners, rendering the space even more barren than before.

Bjarna removed her black cloak, unveiling a long, flowing black dress adorned with a snugly embroidered corset around her waist, embellished with a delicate silver chain and a slender blade attached to it. She then detached the razor-sharp blade from the chain, handing it to Yuraon as she commanded,

"Here, use this. Ensure the cut is deep enough."

The King accepted the cold blade, scrutinizing it with his blue eyes, somewhat hesitant to believe that such a small instrument could even pierce his skin.

Nonetheless, when he pressed it against his open palm, he flinched as the blade sank so deeply into his flesh that it nearly grazed his bones.

’Goodness, that must have been so painful!’

The princess gasped, covering her mouth with both hands and shutting her eyes. Even though the sight of the young man’s injured hand appeared colorless to her, it was still too distressing to bear.

As the King’s blood began to flow generously down his hand, Bjarna seized his wrist, twisting his hand and applying pressure to both sides of the deep wound. She made the blood drip directly onto the floor as if she were squeezing juice from a ripe fruit.

With each generous drop, Yuraon’s blood filled the room with the distinct scent of iron. Once enough pooled on the cold floor, the witch pushed the King away, kneeling before the dark red puddle. A grin stretched across her face, her silver eyes sparkling with excitement and anticipation.

With careful precision, she began to dip her index finger in the young man’s blood and arrange a circle of ancient symbols on the floor. The crimson hue of her writings was a stark contrast against the muted tones of the mage’s bedroom; each rune pulsating with latent power, waiting to be unleashed.

Once the writings were complete, with a steadying breath, Bjarna began to chant, her voice low and melodic, the words ancient and potent, resonating with the very essence of her innate power. As she spoke, the runes upon the floor seemed to come alive, glowing with an ethereal light that cast strange shadows upon the walls.

The room, on the other hand, seemed to have lost the light, becoming darker and ominous with every passing moment.

Drawing upon her own well of power, Bjarna raised her hands, fingers weaving intricate patterns in the air as she summoned forth the spirits of the dead. With each movement, she could feel the energy building, coalescing around her like a tangible force, ready to heed her command.

And then, with a final incantation, the witch took the very same blade and slashed it across her left palm splashing her dark blood over the glowing runes. In that moment, the very air seemed to crackle with electricity, the boundaries between the living and the dead growing thin as the veil between worlds began to waver.

The room abruptly descended into complete silence and darkness.

All four of them appeared to have been stripped of the ability to move or utter a sound, as if the world itself had been suspended in oblivion.

Yet, amidst this stillness, there remained one person who could see everything.

Fixing her gaze on the runic circle drawn by Bjarna, Aideen widened her eyes, utterly shocked by what she beheld.

A powerful presence contained within the body of a beautiful woman, her long curly locks and radiant outline mirroring the scorching intensity of the powers lingering within her curse left on Yuraon’s body.

There was no mistaking it.

The fire witch was summoned.