2 - The death of a seer

The weather prognosis was right. A raging storm arrived in the town of Orilon that night. Surprisingly, not a drop of rain fell an inch outside the borders of the town. It rained all night long. And it rained red.

Real blood precipitated over the whole town throughout the night as the high-speed winds threatened to destroy all along its path. Uprooted trees crashed on park cars and blocked the roads. The Redwater Lake flooded, looking redder than ever— vanishing the sleep of those dwelling in the bayou. Couples huddled together on their couches to get more warmth and parents tried to calm their panicked children every time they shrieked as a blaze of lightning flashed outside the window.

Just across the Centaurus Forest, in the town of Everwinter, a witch quietly watched the storm play in front of her eyes in a crystal ball. One by one, the images moved, revealing the calamity that occurred in the neighbouring town. A town which was once theirs and was taken away from them a long time ago. 

She felt every shiver the townies felt but the reason behind it was altogether different. They knew it was a storm. They heard the sound of thunders and watched the blazes of lightning illuminate the cloudy sky every few seconds but she knew it was no ordinary storm. This was a warning by nature itself. One that had to be taken seriously by its servants. 

It was warmer that night in Everwinter; one could simply term it as the warmest night of the year. Was it another yet sign by nature? 

"These are… the consequences of your deeds, Margaery." Came a fragile but furious voice from behind her. It was almost a sinister moment for her. She had forgotten she wasn't in her room anymore. 

Margaery twirled her fingers around in mid-air and the moving images in the crystal ball stopped. It now looked opaque as ever, a glossy purple supported by a golden stand. She spared a moment to examine her tiny reflection in it. 

Weary eyes stared back at the middle-aged woman. A few wrinkles appeared on her forehead and beneath her eyes but other than that, none of her features gave her away as the mother of two. Locks of ash blonde hair cascaded down her back, gorgeous as ever that suited her porcelain complexion beautifully. She had the kind of cheekbones that men still fawned over but she was also married to one that loved her regardless of her external features.

In between heavy breaths, the old woman behind her talked again, "The coven… must be… alerted."

Margaery sighed softly before turning around graciously to watch the fragile, wan figure of her birth-giver lying on the bed, covered with thick blankets. Only a few strands of hair remained on her head; all as white as snow. Her skin clung to her bones weakly. One could trace the outline of each bone through her skin. Her face crinkled into several folds, almost concealing her eyes and when she talked, not a single tooth was visible in her mouth. 

Margaery walked closer—she was still full of life, unlike her own mother who was only moments away from kissing death. And even in these last moments, she didn't cease to be annoying.

She settled herself on the edge of the bed and inched her hand closer to hold hers. 

"What are you talking about, dear mother?" Margaery asked a question, an answer to which she dreaded. She had her suspicions but hoped they wouldn't be true.

One by one, all of Diana's organs had ceased functioning. Her eyes, foremost. Then her limbs followed, tying her to the mercy of those around her. She had to be carried around, fed and cleansed every day on time. While most of the other witches in their coven considered this an honour, her own daughter Margaery ignored her like the plague.

Then how did she find herself near her mother at this hour of the night while all were asleep? Had her daughterly feeling finally risen after seeing her on her deathbed?

"The seed of our downfall… that you sowed has grown into a huge tree… one that shall be the death… of us all. This blood shower is an i-indication." The old woman said as she struggled to breathe. While her heart was beating feebly, her mind seemed to be the only organ working sharper than ever. 

"An indication of what, dear mother?" Margaery begged for a confirmation from her mother, someone who saw all that no one could see.

With trouble, Diana heaved in another sharp breath before replying, "I see it, daughter. Nature's sign. The prophecy… it has been put in place." She warned.

Margaery's calm voice soothed her already numbed senses, "Of course you do. They don't simply call you a 'seer'."

As the word escaped her lips, she lost track of everything for a moment. Where she was, with whom or when. All she thought of was her little daughter, the one that wouldn't be so little anymore. 

Had it really been eighteen years? Eighteen years since she was forced to abandon her own child. Only because she was born with a mark that deemed her to be cursed. A newborn child? Her baby?

"The coven… must be warned. Right now." The words escaped Diana's mouth, one at a time and brought Margaery out of her thoughts.

She tightened her hold on her mother's pale, bony hand, "I will, mother. Trust me." She reassured the old woman.

"Kill her now, Margaery. Before she kills us… all." Diana's fingers twitched within her grip. 

"I will. You can rest now, mother." Her voice was barely above a whisper. 

"Please, kill her…" That was all Diana said before her lips stilled along with her whole body. Her eyes drifted close into a slumber, one from which she would never wake up.

"No harm will come to my daughter because no one will find out. I will take this secret to my grave just like you have." Margaery whispered softly to the lifeless figure, as a sole drop of tear travelled down her cheek.