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Story: The WitchSlayer

She clenched harder to get it out.

All she could see was blue as it encased her, all she could hear was the crackling of electricity, and she thought she may have been able to smell it.

And then it was gone. All that energy she’d felt was expelled violently from her shaking body.

She gave a sigh of relief.

Her eyes closed, and her body went limp as she crumbled against the ground as she fainted.

Rurik came to check on Amalia when he saw she was kneeling at the ward of his cave.

She’d been acting more strangely than she usually did.

In the beginning, it had been to his advantage, this female fucking him with lustful abandon. Screaming, moaning, and grinding like a crazed and desperate woman. He’d seen pleasure-hungry whores less animated than her.

That was exciting to witness.

But then she had become reserved, seeking to be alone when he had wanted more of the screaming, moaning, crazed, and desperate woman.

She seemed panicked and eventually shouted at him to leave her be. With a huff of anger, he left, not wanting to be berated when he knew he’d done no wrong.

To see her later just sitting at his ward with her hands against it had caused him to frown. She’d never knelt or pressed her body against it before.

“Let me out,” she asked of him, and he couldn’t.

He couldn’t allow her out there even when she seemed distressed to go.

Perhaps one day he could let her, in many, many years when the Elders truly knew she wouldn’t run. If they discovered somehow that he let her outside now, even if it was with him, they would take her and then punish him.

She began screaming at him to let her, bashing on his ward, and he had winced at how much she needed it. He could see how badly she wanted to throw herself into the rain.

He still couldn’t.

Then, to his wild shock, she passed through his ward. He watched her open it with her hand and saw her surprise that she managed to open it.

Then, like she no longer cared, she bolted into the rain.

When Rurik tried to chase after her, his head smacked against it like his own ward wouldn’t let him pass. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Since he was the caster, he was the one person who wasn’t supposed to be impacted by it.

His front paws leaned against it, now clawing to get through it in the same way she had been.

His eyes widened when he saw it – a steady and strong release of power. Blue lightning shot from her and into the sky.

Smaller, thinner strokes of lightning branched out to touch the tops of trees, to touch anything alive. He flinched when one came to strike against his face.

His ward should have allowed it in. It was only when he opened his eyes to see why he wasn’t being harmed did he realise that it wasn't his magic stopping him from leaving, but hers.

She had shielded him from the burst of power. Her magic glittered as it fought against the strike that was still trying to reach him.

His eyes wandered back to her.That is not witchcraft.The shield might be, he could scent it, could see that it was. What she was releasing, however, wasn’t. But he knew what it was.

That is dragoncraft.It was his kind’s magic.

The only other Witch he had seen produce dragoncraft such as this, that could release lightning, was Strolguil the Vast.

His eyes widened further.How did she obtain this power?

Yet, it wasn’t red.

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