The Rise of The Night

Nightshade examined the bottles of herbs that lined the rickety shelves. The wood was dusty and white with cobwebs, but the glass bottles gleamed in the sunlight, labels peeling and rubbed away from extensive use. The name of the herb followed by its usage was plastered on every bottle. She plucked a few from the line- rosemary for clarity, white peony for strength, and bay leaves for success. Evanora would never notice, the trusting fool.

She hummed to herself as she flounced down the hallway, the heavy weight of the stolen tarot deck hidden in her tail guard alongside a shiny silver knife she’d nicked from the armory.

The moon was starting to rise on the horizon, and Nightshade felt the telepathic link in her brain turn on. Lunari.

The moon witch had been a friend she’d made in her travels. She, too, had a penchant for exploring the dark side of magick. The darkness inside every dragon. The things that were forbidden.

Nightshade wanted power. Absolute power, in fact. She wanted everything to be under her control. If she had to do something that was dark and evil and not allowed to achieve it, well, the ends justified the means.

“When will it be ready?” she hissed. Furtively, she glanced around to check if her teacher was within earshot.

Evanora was a powerful with, specializing in potions, elixirs, and alchemies. She could brew anything given her magickal labratory and enough time. She could turn copper and nickel into gold and silver, if she wanted to.

She was not greedy, not like Nightshade was. Her wealth was in knowledge. She traded it freely, training the next generation in mages and magicians. She was kind, and that made her useless.

She didn’t have the nerve to push the limits of what she could do. She could have been a powerful dark witch. She could have made civilizations burn, but Evanora wanted to teach.

“Soon. The ritual must commence at moonhigh. Meet me at the cliffside when the moon is half high.” Lunari turned off the link. Nightshade turned to enter her quarters, only to find Evanora lounging on her bed, playing at nonchalance.

She jumped to her feet and stared into her student’s eyes. “Nightshade. I told you this isn’t safe. Please, you could get hurt.” Her eyes were wet with tears and she took a step towards Nightshade.

She pushed past her in disgust. “Don’t try to stop me, Evanora.”

The moon was quarter high. Soon it would be time. She laid out the tarot cards, rearranging them in perfect order, starting with The Fool. It was a dragon in muted shades of brown and grey, juggling brightly colored balls. Boring. Two dimensional. Unmoving.

-

By the time Nightshade finished her task the moon was half high and she strolled down the steps of Evanora’s crumbling home, slowly walking towards the side of the cliff. The smooth rocks were lit by the glow of the moon, and the white fur of the dragon was almost silver.

“Lunari.” She called out by way of greeting. She flicked her tail in response, acknowledging her arrival.

They spread out the cards in a circle around Nightshade, starting with the major arcana and going through each suit of the minor arcana one by one. The moisture in the air solidified into ice, connecting each card to each other card and then to Nightshade.

Lunari stood off to the side, lending her strength to Nightshade for the coming ritual. The moon climbed in the sky, nearly reaching its apex.

They waited with bated breath for the highest point of the arc to be reached.

The two witches began chanting, fast and loud. “Invocato spirituum in terra, flame, ventus et aequor.”

I invoke the spirits of earth, flame, wind and sea.

“Da mihi fortitudinem et imperium”

Give me your strength and power.

“Liga eam rem ad te essentia.”

Bind to this object your essence.

Lunari cut off, allowing Nightshade to finish the chant.

“Da mihi potestatem a Deo”

Give me the power of a god.

“Unde flectere voluntatem meam.”

Bend this object to my will.

“Mihi dominabitur.”

Give me dominion over it.

“Vade Satana: Mundus spirituum est naturalis. Ego adhuc retinetis quod essentia virtutis.”

Begone, spirits of the natural world. I will retain your power and essence.

The cards swirled and cavorted. The fool card in particular had changed, taking on the appearance of Evanora. Nightshade thought this amusing. The artwork on the cards came alive, moving and dancing, kissing and killing each other in equal measure, bloody, passionate scenes playing out in cartoonish realism, both grotesque and compelling.

A distraught voice screamed out. Nightshade looked terrifying, the cards crowding around her and singing ghoulishly. She radiated an evil glow that made her difficult to look at.

Lunari was on the side lines, slightly bored. She’d completed the ritual, and that was all that was promised by her.

The voice took them both by surprise. Evanora crested the hill, racing at full speed. “Please- tell me it isn’t completed, tell me there’s still time!” a sob wracked her frame. She was torn between sorrow and betrayal.

Nightshade turned towards her, a grin on her face that was far too wide and far too toothy to be dragon. Evanora reeled backwards in horror. “No.”

She barely managed to choke it out before Nightshade pinned her to the ground, claws embedded deep in her shoulders, preventing any movement.

“I warned you not to stop me! Now I’ll have to punish you, and I quite think you won’t like it!” She giggled like a child. The sound was revolting.

Evanora had never put walls up to prevent any of her students from entering her mind. She believed in being an open book, and she so rarely received visitors that her shielding was rusty.

Nightshade tore through her mind with no respect for the precious commodity within. Magick users were in short supply, especially those as skilled as Evanora.

Her once faithful pupil could not bering herself to destroy her magick completely, rather, she twisted it into something that would lead others to resent her, to curse her for falling so far.

Her mind unraveled and Nightshade put it back together in the most slapdash way, like a hatchling learning to sew. The patchwork was lumpy, things that didn’t line up quite right.

She still excelled at elixirs, but only for things that did not exist yet. Her spells could barely do more than make eyes a shade darker or change the color of a single scale.

Most insulting of all, she made Evanora happy. There would be no attempts to restore herself, no sadness over what was lost.

Nightshade released her mind with a violent puncture. She should have screamed.

She laughed instead.