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Story: The WitchSlayer

It wasn’t tainted from the way Strolguil had obtained that kind of power, and didn’t have the foul stench that came from blood magic. It hadn’t been obtained by drinking his kind’s blood by the bucketload for years.

It was pure.

When her scream finally died and the blue lightning ceased, she fainted. The shield he could see now that he knew it was there, faded.

Rurik galloped out of his lair to approach her, almost sliding in the rain next to her body with his speed.

Rain harshly pelted his scales while he gently used a claw to turn her to see she was truly unconscious. He stared down, dumbfounded by what he’d just seen and utterly confused by this Witch.

It was stolen magic she had used, a build-up of it.How did you obtain it?Where did she get it from, and why hadn’t she needed to release it before?

Conflicting emotions began to spiral inside of him, unsure of what to feel or do as rain poured on them. It hadn’t been stolen viciously. It hadn’t been taken by tearing apart his kind, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling unsettled that she’d gotten it.

She shouldn’t be able to wield such power, and it was obvious she hadn’t been able to contain it. She obtained so much of it that she couldn’t hold it in.

Where do I take her? To the bed or the prison?He wasn’t sure. First, he needed to think on where she’d stolen it from.

Until he realised it hadn’t been stolen at all but had been given to her... by him.

Rurik took an unsteady step back, bringing a paw up to rub it against his face.

I did not know this was possible.

And if he didn’t know, then she didn’t.

This had been an accident, although how she gotten it hadn’t been. That wasn’t her fault, but his own.

She stirred, and he came forward to carefully slide the points of his claws under her until she was resting in his large paw. He’d woken her further by doing so, and he watched her eyes flutter open before coming to look up at him.

Her eyelids flickered each time a droplet of rainwater pelted her paler than normal face.

She looked docile as he walked her inside while balancing himself on three legs. Because he was holding her, she was able to pass through his ward without issue, having been invited in.

“I feel much better now,” she said, her voice small and lax. “Thank you for letting me outside.”

He wasn’t the one to allow her through, she’d done it herself.Did she not know?

With the dragoncraft she’d been filled with, she hadn’t needed to think or chant her way through his ward. She wanted out and the strength of power let her.

That was no easy feat considering the magic in place was one of the most powerful wards known to his kind. The one she slipped through last time had been much weaker, only preventing Witches and pixies from his lair.

She has been holding this power for a while.And now that he knew where it came from, he knew how she managed to get through his magic the first time.

His ward had sensed his kind’s magic the day she knocked her head and hadn’t barred it from moving through it.

Rurik walked her into her alcove, understanding he didn’t need to take her to his prison.

“You are not angry with me?” she asked when he laid her on the bed so she could rest.

He could tell she didn’t have the energy to be seated or moving.

His head moved side-to-side with a frown. “No. You have done nothing wrong.”

Her eyes fell away to look at her hand resting against the furs. He stood back so he wasn’t towering over her.

Her gaze came back to him as she spoke. “Do you know what happened to me?”

“Yes.”

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