On the night before the death of the Count, Brianna regained consciousness. Her heavy eyes opened slowly, revealing the silent hall of the castle. Around her, dozens of cold and somber statues — works of the Count — rose like petrified sentinels, watching her with lifeless faces. A shiver ran down her spine. She swallowed the tension, breathed deeply and clenched her fists. The silence was suffocating, but she needed to act.
" I need to go... " she murmured, her voice hoarse, loaded with urgency. " We do not have much time. "
Brianna stood up. Her eyes rested for an instant on two statues in the corner of the room, as if asking permission. A slight shudder ran through her shoulders before she turned to the corridor, muscles tense, ready to move. The castle seemed to trap every sound, every shadow, in almost supernatural silence.
On leaving, she pronounced, in an ancient tongue:
— Monstra mihi viam quae nos sanguine iungit. (Mostre-me o caminho que nos une pelo sangue.)
With a quick cut on the palm of her hand, the blood drippped on the floor and spread like a luminous thread, guiding her through the castle. Each step echoed in the empty corridors, breaking the silence like a warning drum. She followed the thread with calculated steps, eyes alert to any detail, until she reached a closed door — the limit of that silent labyrinth.
On opening it, the room before her seemed devoid of form, empty to common eyes. For Brianna, however, that emptiness spoke. A brief and ironic smile touched her lips; she let out a contained sigh.
" Really, old habits do not change easily. "
She advanced to the center of the room, breathing controlled. Ancient words escaped her lips:
" Phasmatos. "
From the floor golden flames rose, forming a circle that flickered and lit the space. In the center, the light intensified, and Brianna continued:
" Via occulta mihi revelatur et iubeo ut mihi pareant. "
The heat of the flames tore the illusion that hid the place. The floor became damp, the air heavy and cold; the irregular walls resembled an ancestral cave, and every shadow seemed to whisper forgotten secrets.
In a low voice:
" Illumina. "
Torches lit on the walls, casting dancing shadows and creating corridors of light and darkness. Brianna advanced to a door at the end of the corridor. On opening it, she encountered lined cells; pregnant women and young prisoners occupied them, and, just before the altar, four dead priests. The tension in the air was dense.
A girl was sitting near the altar, visibly exhausted and frightened. On seeing Brianna, she widened her eyes at the visitor's wavy white hair and bright eyes; a scream escaped her throat, her body shrank in panic. Brianna raised her hand and recited, firm and quickly:
" Silentium. Loquere! "
The magic enveloped the girl, calming her. Her breathing returned to a more controlled rhythm, and her voice returned, trembling, but audible. Brianna approached, conveying reassurance with gentle gestures.
" Besides these four, is there anyone else? " she asked, voice firm, attentive to the girl's reaction.
The girl hesitated, looked around and pointed to a wall. Brianna nodded and turned to the cells. She stopped before the circle in the center of the room and pronounced precise words:
" Transvehite ad tutum locum et protegam vos! "
A soft glow enveloped the women and young people in the cells; they disappeared one by one, transported to the castle room, where they would remain protected.
Brianna then turned to the wall.
" Reveal. "
The concrete opened, revealing a secret corridor. Without hesitating, she entered, steps firm and silent, until the path unfolded into a forest hidden by magic. The moon bathed her white hair, and the wind blew among ancestral trees. Ten guards patrolled the place.
She tried to cast a spell, but an inscription carved on a rock blocked her magic. She breathed deeply, fists clenched, eyes shining with determination, and murmured, ironic and furious:
" It can only be a joke. "
She observed the guards for an instant. Ten enemies, all armed; but her look said that none would be a match. She breathed, absorbing the tension of the wood — every muscle tense, every nerve ready.
The guards advanced at the same time, blades and clubs raised. One agile step to the left: Brianna dodged a direct strike, using the enemy's arm as a lever to spin the body and hurl him against a tree. Before he could recover, another came with a thrust; she bent down, grabbed the armed wrist and twisted, using his weight to throw him to the ground.
A spinning kick knocked down another who attacked from behind. Each movement was fluid and lethal, anticipating force and rhythm. When a tall guard struck with a club, she grabbed the wrist, spun and used the impact to throw him against a nearby rock.
Two guards advanced together, encircling her. Brianna rolled on the ground, rose with agility and delivered precise elbows and knees. One of them fell unconscious before even noticing the origin of the attack; the other received a kick to the chest and was thrown against a trunk.
The last four hesitated, trying to surround her. Brianna slipped between two, used one's arm as a lever to knock the other down; in sequence, she spun and applied quick knees and elbows, knocking down the two remaining. Each blow was calculated; each fall, inevitable.
In less than a minute, the wood returned to silence. Ten guards fallen on the ground, injured or unconscious. Brianna breathed controlled, eyes burning with determination.
Then Brianna looked around and, shortly after, went on in search of the last priest. But, a little after entering the long forest, a memory crossed her mind: "Brianna, remember: the truth does not always reveal itself to the eyes. The illusion hides in the absence of questioning."
" Damn... old habits really do not die " she murmured, running toward the place where she had faced the guards. In the middle of the way, she tore a branch from a tree. Her white eyes began to transform: thin and shining lines moved in the irises, like a web in formation. In the center a small circle appeared — similar to the pupil of a needle — the symbol of the weaving.
In a quick movement, she spoke:
" Vola! "
The branch shot through the wood with supernatural speed, cutting between trees and leaves, hitting the priest, who fell with a muffled scream. On arriving, Brianna found a woman with straight white hair, tanned skin and equally white eyes. The silence was heavy.
" It has been some time, Countess Caeté " said Brianna, firm.
The countess groaned in pain as she removed the branch from her leg, but kept a serene smile.
" You will not call me mother? You may be going through puberty, perhaps... " she answered, with cutting calm.
Anger flashed in Brianna's eyes.
" You lost that right when you sold your family and your people. "
The countess kept her posture.
" As the last daughter of Salem, you must already have realized the truth, and I presume you had your encounter with the last Weaver. So you, more than anyone, should know why I did all of this. "
" Nothing you say will justify your betrayal " Brianna retorted, fists clenched. " I have only one question before killing you: what spell did you use on the Count? "
The countess averted her gaze, serious.
" It is better that you do not get involved in this. There are things you do not understand. "
Brianna picked up the fallen sword of one of the defeated guards; the blade shone in the moonlight, and she raised her stance.
" Since you are not willing to tell me, I will have to force you. " Her eyes still shone with the mark of the abyss.
The countess looked into her eyes and spoke, serene:
" You entered the abyss... but even so you were not rejected by them. "
Brianna smiled, lethal and bitter.
" They wanted it that way. That day, the only way some of us escaped was to enter the abyss, but, besides me, no other returned. What motivated me was knowing that, after leaving there, I could kill you; it was the only thing that made me endure all that pain. "
The countess, with a melancholic look, said:
" Brianna, everything I did was to protect you. If your hatred for me keeps you alive, I will not mind accepting it. But, I'm sorry, I still cannot die. "
Before she could finish, Brianna advanced with the sword raised, her eyes in fury. The countess raised her hands and murmured ancient words; a wave of white energy enveloped her, suspended her body and threw her against the trees. The sword fell, and she collided with a trunk.
Brianna, confused, asked:
" How is it possible? They... they abandoned you? "
The countess remained motionless, the expression calm and imperturbable. A cold smile curved her lips as her serene eyes pierced Brianna, evaluating every centimeter.
" They may consider me an abomination of nature " she said, the calm voice cutting the heavy air. " Therefore I learned expression magic, so as not to depend on anyone beyond the gods of magic. Few have that power. "
Brianna gritted her teeth, feeling the wounds throb with every beat of her heart. Every muscle of her body hurt, but the fury that burned in her chest.
" I understand... you resorted to dark magic. So now I know how to stop you " she said, voice trembling, but firm, eyes shining with determination despite the pain.
The countess tilted her head, evaluating Brianna with a mixture of curiosity and contempt.
" I understand... you wanted to know what kind of magic I used. Was that all? " she said, the voice loaded with challenge. " You have become smarter. "
Brianna made a titanic effort to support herself standing, her shaky legs and aching arms trembling. But the pain only fed her determination.
" When I passed through the abyss, I was able to acquire knowledge about expression magic. But, unlike you, I can still use natural magic and ancestral/spiritual magic. From the beginning, I could use magic. " She breathed deeply, lungs burning, voice firm despite the effort. " Wasn't it you yourself who told me, mother: 'The fool displays his weapons, but the wise wins by seeing those of the enemy'? "
The countess kept the smile, watching Brianna fight against her own exhaustion, each gesture a silent challenge to her authority.
Brianna clenched her fists hard, blood running between her fingers. Her look burned with hatred, but also with unbreakable determination.
" If you block my access to natural magic, I will only have to resort to ancestral magic. And I warn you: the ones who died are waiting for you on the other side. "
A cold smile curved the countess's lips, the voice cutting like a blade:
" It is not only about strength and intelligence. The game of life is won with the wisdom that only time builds. "
Brianna swallowed, eyes narrowing with anger and despair, breathing heavy and irregular.
" Then, reveal! " she ordered.
One of the trees trembled violently, creaking, and revealed Karna's body trapped among the branches.
The countess spoke, each word a blow of ice in Brianna's mind:
" You have two options: let me go and save him, or try to kill me, and I cut his connection with the earth, sending his soul to the void. You know very well what will happen, Brianna. "
Brianna clenched her fists so hard that blood began to drip from her hand. Her voice came out low, deadly, loaded with fury:
" Go away... but, next time, I will kill you. "
The countess smiled — a smile so cold it seemed to crack the air — and whispered, almost as if she feared someone beyond them listening:
" Beware of the Democrats. They promise salvation and bring chains; do not trust promises that wear new shirts. "
Shortly after pronouncing this, the countess disappeared, as if the air had swallowed her.
First day of the ninth month of 2035. The day on which the Count would meet death.