The Vampire & Her Witch Chapter 1760: Laying To Rest (Part One)

While much of Vale City joyously celebrated the end of the Lothian line and the conquest of the march, a solemn procession made its way along a narrow path outside the walls of the ancient fortress.

Talauia led the way, surrounding herself with soft, glowing lights that resembled fireflies. Her wings thrummed with a low hum, but even she found it difficult to exude her normal energy as she guided the team of horses through the dark.

A portion of that difficulty came from the nature of the moment. It wasn’t a time for smiles or laughter, and even she recognized that. But another portion came from the... thing in the wagon behind her. It reminded her of the Bloody Sandbox Tree that helped to guard the Briar, but that was a Witchwood Tree, nurtured by the blood of the Mother of Thorns herself. There wasn’t anything unnatural or wrong about the witchcraft that had created that tree.

The thing in the wagon, however, was another matter entirely, and Talauia shuddered to think what Mother Amahle would say about it if she ever laid eyes on it.

Behind Talauia, Liam sat in the driver’s seat of the wagon that held the ’Sacred Sapling,’ feeling distinctly out of place as he drove along a path that had never been designed for such a large and cumbersome wagon.

The sounds of horse hooves thumping on frozen ground, combined with the protesting creak of the wagon’s axle and the crunching of wheels rolling over the frost-covered earth, felt far too loud in his ears, reinforcing just how isolated they’d become once they left Vale City and the Ancient Fortress behind.

Any other time, Liam might have felt honored to be included in such a small, select group of people. The Thistle Witch led the way, lighting their path with soft, floating lights that seemed to push back the cold, frosty mists of the Vale. Behind him, the procession included only the vampires and witches of the Vale. Liam was the only ’ordinary’ person present, fulfilling Ashlynn’s orders to bring the sapling to its final home.

It should have been an honor, but the burden carried by the people behind him was so much heavier than the sapling and the tons of soil it lay in.

Sir Ollie and Lord General Thane walked directly behind the wagon, each one supporting the ends of a long box of rough-hewn cedar. What would have taken four men to carry barely seemed to trouble the witch or the vampire who marched along with the solemn dignity of knights paying their respects to one of their own.

Virve trailed behind them, supported by her old friend Lennart and accompanied by a worried-looking Heila. The Oak Witch’s steps were unsteady, and she stumbled more than once. She had yet to look within the box, but she already knew what it contained. Sharp claws tore open old wounds within her heart, and at the moment, she didn’t feel like the mighty Oak Witch... She felt like a little girl who just wanted to hold her father’s hand again while they walked through the forest together.

"Are you scared, Papa?" A much younger Virve had asked her father on one of the last days she’d seen him alive.

"I’m not scared of humans," he’d replied in a voice that was deep and gruff. He reached out with a paw that felt massive to his daughter, who was still very much a cub, and he stroked the fur behind her ears, smoothing it into place.

"Compared to the Frost Walkers in the High Pass, humans are much smaller and weaker, almost as small as you, Miss Mischief," he teased. "I’m not scared of fighting them. I’m scared they’ll sneak past me because they’re afraid of my claws," he said, flexing his claws before his daughter’s eyes. "I’m afraid they’ll come to burn our homes down again if they’re allowed to come close to the Vale of Mists," he said.

"That’s why I have to go and fight them on Airgead Mountain, with Lord Jalal’s men," he explained. "I know it’s far away, but I promise, Lady Nyrielle is right. This is the best way to keep you all safe."

"You already told me that," Virve pouted. "But what if the Frost Walkers try to bully us? Who will guard the High Pass if you have to go so far away?"

"They won’t come down from their mountain," he said, pulling his daughter into a fierce embrace. "But if they do, I know you’re just as brave as I am, and almost as strong," he lied. "So you have to be the one to guard your mama if anyone comes to bully her, you understand?"

"Mmm," Virve had said, clinging to her father’s broad, strong chest. "I promise, I’ll keep mama safe and no one will bully us. So you... you come home to us soon... because... because I’m still little," she said. "And I can’t guard mama for long..."

Virve had been determined to do everything she could to keep her mother, and her village, safe from harm while her father and the other soldiers from her village were away. She’d even gone to stand guard at the western gate every day for a month until she slowly realized that her father was right and the Frost Walkers wouldn’t come down from the mountain top.

But as fierce and determined as she was, her claws couldn’t protect her from the news that her father had fallen. No armor could shield her heart, and the beasts of grief and sorrow that devoured her mother weren’t enemies she could slay.

It had taken a year for her mother to waste away, and in that time, Virve had raged and screamed and begged and pleaded. She’d shouted that he must still be alive, out there somewhere, trying to come home, and she’d run away to look for him three times before Bassinger had convinced her of the truth.

Now, after all that time, her father had finally come home, and she could finally lay him to rest in the place where Ashlynn intended to nurture their coven’s Enchanted Grove... That way, she could at least guard his rest...