The Vampire & Her Witch Chapter 1642: Going for a Stroll

Amahle’s gaze was fixed on Mamao, her eyes wide, processing the astonishing revelation.

Violca, who had taken over her mentor's position as Mother of Storms, had performed an exceedingly rare act among the Great Witches: she had adopted one of the orphans left behind by her predecessor's coven. In three generations, encompassing six witches, such an event had occurred fewer than five times, with the last instance being by the former Mother of Tides.

While not strictly forbidden, the practice was often avoided for pragmatic reasons. The trials for adopted witches were reputedly more than twice as challenging as their initial witch-making trials, and less than half typically survived the adoption rituals.

More significantly, it signified the new Great Witch’s willingness to allocate one of the coveted spots in her coven to an individual chosen by a predecessor who died before she was even born. Covens were like families, meticulously formed through deliberate selections. Thus, Violca relinquishing that prerogative felt profound.

"No, she didn't relinquish a choice," Amahle mused, piecing together the Mother of Storms' logic. "She made a distinct choice. But why?" Amahle’s focus intensified on Mamao. "Why would young Sister Violca bring Makya into her coven, darling? And who else is aware of this?"

"No one knows. Cousin Makya said only witches could know, and I gave my word I'd tell you and the coven," Mamao blurted out. "But no one else, because he doesn't want most people to find out. And it's truly sorrowful because he mentioned that even as the Sandstorm Witch, his time is drawing near, given his advanced age," she explained.

"But he said that Auntie Violca is searching for a Sovereign," Mamao continued, barely pausing for breath. "And she instructed him to watch over the west while she sailed east to seek clues about the missing ones. She aims to discover ruins in the east from an ancient empire. I truly wish I could accompany her; it sounds incredibly exciting, but it's far too perilous over there, so I know I can never go and..."

"Breathe, Honey-dew," Saini interrupted, gently placing a finger on her lover’s lips. "And don't go saying such frightening things," she added, a slight pout on her face directed at Mamao. "None of us will ever cross the sea. Just knowing Auntie Ashlynn took Tala east of the mountains is terrifying enough, isn't it?"

"The Human Church is indeed a fearful entity," Amahle concurred. "But it's not the only source of fear, and Tala has her own burdens to bear," she reminded the coven. "Too much is unfolding simultaneously. Everything is about to become exceedingly complicated for people everywhere," she stated, shaking her head at the number of situations seemingly spiraling out of control.

Soon, a decision would be required regarding her own stance.

Years prior, Amahle had transformed the Briar into a sanctuary, intending it as a haven for those who found themselves adrift in the world due to the great upheavals that reshaped it every couple of generations. Her aim was to provide a refuge for individuals like Talauia, who possessed formidable adversaries and required the protection of a thorny fortress to lead a simple, ordinary existence.

For several decades, Amahle had remained within the Briar, akin to a spider at the heart of its intricate web, while permitting her most gregarious witches to gather intelligence from the outside world. She had subtly influenced events, borrowing one of the Harbinger of Death’s progeny to comprehend the stolen capabilities of the Human Church, or offering sanctuary to those she deemed worthy of her protection. Yet, she had never imposed her will upon the world's trajectory.

Now, a new Mother of Trees was poised to wage war against the Human Church and their usurped Sovereigns, having allied herself with the Harbinger of Death to achieve this goal. The Mother of Storms was venturing into dangerous territory in pursuit of something only she fully understood, and she had reinstated the aging Eldritch Emperor to his position as the Sandstorm witch to facilitate this mission.

The Mother of Tides had dispatched her swiftest messenger to confer with the Father of Calamities and Ashlynn’s family, and the declaration that the End of the World was 'imminent' struck Amahle as the most absurd pretext imaginable for provoking one of the most unstable of the Great Witches.

"Everything is poised to become exceedingly complex for many," Amahle reiterated. "But here, things remain uncomplicated. This place is still our home, and no one—neither the Church nor any vampire—will be permitted to sow discord within it," she declared resolutely, suppressing the faint tremor of anxiety she sensed taking root in her coven's hearts.

"However, perhaps it is time for a little excursion," Amahle suggested, a minor resolution forming in her mind, in hopes that it would lead to a more significant decision. "When the mountain snows have receded, we shall journey to visit Little Sister Ashlynn," Amahle proclaimed. "All of us."

"For merely a month or two; I have no desire to be away from home for an extended period," she added swiftly. "But we can observe Tala’s progress, deliver the seed destined for Ashlynn’s subsequent witch, and make the acquaintance of her entire coven," she elaborated, mulling over her prospective visit. "You are aware that she selected a Cypress Seed from the Briar’s trees to be her next witch, succeeding the young Heila," Amahle remarked. "Will it not be a delight to meet the individual to whom she bestowed it?"

"Oh! What a delight indeed, and I happen to possess another seed as well," Mamao exclaimed with fervor, delving once more into her satchel. "Upon informing Cousin Makya of my intention to procure a seed for Auntie Ashlynn, he resolved to obtain one for her too, sourced from the western shores, as a token of welcome should she ever consider visiting Thousand Spires. I am certain it is within this bag somewhere," she stated.

"Additionally, Jacques, I have a book for you," Mamao announced, setting a sizable, leather-bound tome upon the table with a resounding -THUD- that was substantial enough to cause the eating utensils on their plates to tremble. "It pertains to the Wetlands of the West, and I have gathered samples of indigenous flora for your perusal, along with..."

Following the book’s arrival on the table, a cascade of other items swiftly appeared. Vials containing meticulously preserved blossoms from distant lands, correspondence from seldom-seen acquaintances, sachets of spices so precious, given their distance from their origins, that they were reserved for special occasions, and a myriad of other marvels that had been compactly stored within the pair of traveling satchels brought home by the Blackberry Witch.

As it was the longest night of the year, ample opportunity presented itself for Amahle’s coven to savor their reunion, expressing gratitude for the considerate gifts and marveling at the curious objects until their hearts were warmed and filled to overflowing with affection and care.

Nevertheless, Amahle’s thread of apprehension remained unbroken. Upon the arrival of spring, she resolved to lead her coven to the Vale of Mists, intending to personally assess the state of the world. And thereafter… then she would determine her course of action regarding her discoveries. She could only hope that, by the time she felt prepared to enact her own plan, the opportune moment would not have already slipped away.