>> CHAPTER 10: The Meeting
Agatha did not respond to Radan's provocation. She just looked at him in silence, trying to process what she had just seen.
"You... what are you, anyway?" she asked, her voice firm, but still with a slight tone of disbelief.
"A wizard? That's impossible. There have never been men with magical power. Not even in ancient eras. It's... impossible."
Radan shrugged, seeming to find the statement amusing.
"Well. If you don't know, imagine me. When I woke up with these powers, I also had no idea what they were. So, since I didn't find a better name... I decided to call myself a 'wizard'. Simple, isn't it?"
Agatha continued staring at him, still confused, but without knowing what to respond.
Meanwhile, Radan extended his hand, and the bodies of the demons — now just bloody carcasses — rose slowly from the snow, floating in the air. The blood dripped in thick drops before freezing from the cold.
With a simple gesture, he moved the bodies and placed them on the sled that was right behind.
"You're going to take the demons' bodies?" Asked Agatha, frowning.
"Yes," he replied, adjusting the load with a small hand movement. "I want to study them calmly later. And also show them to the other witches in the Frontier Village. Who knows, just like me, they also didn't know that these monsters are around."
Agatha looked again at the bodies, lightly touching the rigid arm of one of the demons, as if searching for something. "And what kind of power is yours, exactly?" she asked, intrigued.
Radan scratched his chin, thoughtful. "Basically, I can move, hold, push and squeeze things. That's the basics."
She raised her eyes to him, skeptical. "That... hardly explains what you just did."
Radan arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Agatha pointed to the body of the first demon, the one whose head had been destroyed. "The explosion came from inside out. No external force would cause that... it's as if something exploded from inside, until it ruptured everything."
Radan looked at the body for an instant, then turned his gaze back to her with a half smile. "Well... That was something really different, but it's a bit hard to explain how I did it now."
She crossed her arms, still intrigued, but preferred not to insist.
Radan climbed onto the sled, adjusting himself naturally. "So, let's go?" he asked, looking at her with a light smile.
Agatha looked him up and down and then looked at the sled with distrust. "What exactly are you going to do with this? Do you want me to get on there too?"
"Yes," he said, patting the seat beside him. "Don't worry, I don't bite."
Agatha let out a tired sigh, but ended up giving in. She climbed onto the sled carefully, adjusting her cloak.
"I hope you know what you're doing," she murmured, crossing her arms.
Radan just smiled, raising one of his hands. The sled began to float smoothly, rising a few centimeters above the snow.
"Relax," he said, with a confident smile. "I always know what I'm doing... more or less."
And then, the sled shot at high speed through the sky of the frozen forest, leaving behind the ancient tower and the frozen remains of the demons.
Several hours had passed since Radan and Agatha left the tower.
Meanwhile, in the Frontier Village.
The sky was already completely dark.
And in Prince Roland's palace, a heavy silence dominated one of the rooms.
Anna was still lying, motionless, in a deep sleep.
Beside her were Nightingale, always attentive, Nana Pine, who observed in silence, and Prince Roland himself, who did not divert his gaze from the young woman even for a second.
Suddenly, Nightingale raised her face, her gaze becoming more serious.
The air in the room became dense, heavy, as if something invisible was moving.
"It's starting," she murmured, feeling the flow of magic vibrate around.
"Anna's magic... is awakening."
Roland approached a step, tense. "So this is it... What is the Awakening?"
Before Nightingale could respond, all the candles in the room went out at once — fuuush — plunging the room into total darkness.
Nana let out a small scream, and Roland instinctively placed himself in front of her.
"This is... the devil's torture?" asked Roland, trying to see something.
"You said this process was terribly painful for the witch... but Anna doesn't seem to be feeling anything."
Nightingale frowned, trying to capture the energy. "I don't know... this is different."
Then, as if the room breathed, all the candles relit at the same time.
But this time, the flames burned in green — a vivid green, pulsing, that illuminated the room with a supernatural glow.
"What...? What's happening?" Roland asked, surprised.
In the next instant, Anna inhaled deeply.
"...Hum..."
Her eyes opened slowly, reflecting the green light of the flames.
"Anna!" Roland exclaimed, relieved, approaching quickly. Nightingale also knelt beside the bed.
"Are you okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Let me see... are there injuries? Any internal bleeding?" Roland fired questions, his voice hurried.
"Your Highness," interrupted Nightingale, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Anna just woke up. Give her some time."
Roland breathed deeply. "Right... Sorry."
Anna slowly turned her head, her gaze still a bit confused, and raised one of her hands.
"Hum?" Roland murmured, looking curious.
A green flame appeared in the palm of her hand, alive, oscillating — it didn't burn the air, and also strangely didn't release heat.
"The flame... turned green?" Whispered Nana, open-mouthed.
"This... isn't normal," said Nightingale, attentively observing the glow of the magic.
Roland took a step forward, still trying to understand. "Anna... can you—"
Before he finished, a boom shook the room.
BOOOOM!
The huge windows shattered with a flash of energy and wind.
The air was taken by fragments of glass and snow.
And, in the blink of an eye, a floating sled crossed the windows and entered straight into the room, landing with a dry impact on the carpet.
Roland, Nightingale and Nana jumped back, instinctively ready to react.
But they weren't the only ones.
Anna, still half trembling, opened her eyes in alert. Instinct came before thought.
She got up from the bed in a quick movement, extending her hand forward —
and a vivid green flame ignited in her palm, growing and dancing like a small sun.
On the sled, two figures.
A woman wearing an elegant dress,
with long light blue hair that reflected the moonlight's glow, and beside her — a man with a calm gaze, who got off the sled as if nothing had happened.
Radan let out a sigh and looked around.
"Great. It seems we've arrived."
Agatha brought her hand to her forehead. "You... entered through the window of a castle."
Radan shrugged. "Door, window... everything leads to the same place, doesn't it?"
Nightingale recognized him immediately, widening her eyes.
"Radan!?"
"Hi, Dear," he said, waving as if he had just returned from any stroll. "I brought company. And... some interesting problems."
Roland blinked a few times, trying to process the scene in front of him.
"Radan?" he asked, surprised. "You... are one of my militia men. The archer who faced those demonic beasts in the invasion."
Beside him, Nightingale narrowed her eyes. Her tone became low and attentive:
"A witch..." She murmured, observing the woman beside Radan. It's the flow of magical power swirling inside her.
Roland heard the murmur and turned his gaze to the unknown. Her white dress, adorned with golden details, seemed ancient but still maintained an air of elegance and authority. And there was also something noble in her posture and firm gaze.
Radan raised one of his hands, in a carefree gesture.
"Well... hello everyone. I apologize for the window — it was urgent, and I ended up coming too fast."
Agatha took a step forward, assessing the environment.
"You said there was a witch going through an awakening, but I don't see anyone in danger."
Roland pointed to Anna, who observed everything in silence.
"It was her. But, from what it seems, it's already passed. And it seems her power evolved."
His gaze lingered on the green flame that burned in her palm. "Before, it was a common flame in orange color. Now... this seems different. Stronger."
Agatha narrowed her eyes, intrigued. "Evolution of magic upon awakening? That was something rare, even in my era."
Radan approached Nightingale, but before he said anything, Anna advanced half a step, the green flame growing in her hand like a warning.
Radan looked at that, sighing.
"You know... I came here spending almost all my magical power to bring this witch named Agatha — who, by the way, knows the secret for a witch to go through the awakening without suffering much. She told me that, in your case, it was already late, because you were already going through it. But I thought it better to come and leave this recorded with your friend Nana."
He made a funny face.
"But I arrive here, and I'm received like this? I even feel hurt."
Anna didn't respond, the flame pulsing in her hand.
Radan just snapped his fingers — and the flame went out as if it had never existed.
"And, let's face it... It's not like this fire would hurt me."
Nightingale sighed, touching Anna's shoulder.
"Don't worry. He's like that. A bit... irritating, but he's a good person."
"Friend?" asked Roland, frowning. "So... who is she? And what the hell are those things on your sled?"
Radan let out a small laugh, passing his hand through his hair as if trying to ease the mood.
"Calm down... no panic." He looked sideways, with a half smile. "And don't look at me like that, Nightingale, it's not what you're thinking."
Then he pointed with his thumb to the woman beside him.
"This is Agatha, a witch — as you must have already noticed."
He breathed deeply and continued:
"Summarizing the story... I found her frozen, in the basement of a tower that's almost in the heart of the Misty Forest.
When she woke up, she started asking me a bunch of questions about things I'd never heard of: demons, some city called Taqila, and other strange things.
So I explained what I knew — where we were, about the four kingdoms, and also about the current situation of the witches."
Radan gestured lightly while speaking, trying to keep the casual tone.
"That's when she got agitated. She said the four kingdoms were just destroyed territories, that the nobility system no longer existed and... that she had never heard of the Church."
He paused, looking at Roland and then at Agatha.
"So I started thinking that maybe she had been frozen for a long time... like, a very long time.
She said that tower was a research laboratory, but when I looked around... everything there seemed old, corroded, abandoned for centuries. So the most logical hypothesis was that."
Radan gave a light sigh, adjusting his posture.
"After that, some demons appeared. I killed them. And... here we are."
He finished with a simple hand gesture, like someone ending any story.
Roland kept his gaze fixed on Radan for a while, as if trying to understand what exactly was in front of him. Finally, he spoke, with a calm tone but loaded with curiosity:
"So... you killed these things... Nightingale... Is he a wizard?"
The question hung in the air, and the silence that followed was almost uncomfortable.
Before Radan responded, Nightingale crossed her arms and said with simplicity:
"Yes. In a way... he is."
Roland arched his eyebrows, clearly confused. "But wasn't that impossible? Aren't only women who possess this gift...? Men, according to the Church, don't have the structure for that."
Nightingale gave a light smile, but without humor. "Well. And yet, there he is — walking, breathing and breaking the rules of logic." She looked sideways at Radan. "He is... a mystery even to me."
Roland frowned, thoughtful, but decided not to insist for now.
It was Anna who broke the silence. Still standing, beside Roland. She asks:
"You said this witch, Agatha, knew a way to go through the Awakening without pain... and without risk of dying. Is that true?"
Nana, beside her, raised her gaze, attentive.
Radan turned to Anna, scratching the back of his neck as if trying to remember the best way to explain. "Yes. She told me about it on the way. Basically, the problem starts when a witch's body reaches the limit of magical energy. If she doesn't use the power, it accumulates and... the body breaks."
Anna frowned, still not understanding completely, so Radan made a gesture with his hands, simplifying:
"Think like this: a witch's body is like a bottle, and the magical power is the water inside it. When the bottle fills, and you keep trying to put more water, what happens?"
"It overflows," Nana answered immediately.
"Exactly," said Radan. "But in the case of witches, it's not just overflowing. If the power keeps forcing to enter, the body bursts. That's why many die in the process. What Agatha said is that, to avoid this, the witch needs to 'open the bottle' — use her power regularly before her Awakening. That way, the body renews and withstands the increase in energy."
Roland, who listened attentively, took a light step forward and completed the reasoning, thoughtful:
"So... the problem isn't in the magic itself, but in its stagnation. If the power doesn't circulate, the body collapses. It's like a blocked river — if the water doesn't flow, the pressure destroys the dam."
"That's right," confirmed Radan, satisfied with the comparison. "A blocked river... It's a good way to say it."
Roland passed his hand over his chin, thoughtful. "So witches die not because the Awakening is cruel, but because they were forced to hide and repress their powers... I understand now."
Nightingale took a step forward, her eyes shining with excitement.
"This... this changes everything!" she said, with a smile appearing on her face. "If it's true, we need to take this information to the Witches' Association. Many of our sisters are about to go through the Awakening... and if they know this, maybe they can survive!"
She turned to Radan, her expression firm.
"Can you take me there tomorrow, at dawn?"
Radan crossed his arms and nodded, calm.
"Of course. That won't be a problem. I was planning to go there anyway with you."
Agatha slightly frowned, looking at Nightingale.
"Witches' Association?" she asked, curious. "How many are there? What exactly do you do? Are there other groups like yours?"
Nightingale seemed surprised by the direct question, but answered without hesitating.
"Our group... the Witches' Cooperation Association, has more than fifteen sisters. Our main goal is to protect and rescue witches persecuted by the Church. Many of them still live hidden, afraid, and we do what we can to bring them safely to the group."
She crossed her arms and thought for a moment before continuing.
"As for other groups... I don't know for sure. I've heard rumors that there are, yes, other witch organizations scattered around. But we've never managed direct contact with any. Each group seems to survive in its own way."
Agatha listened to everything in silence, analyzing every word.
"And what is your final goal?" she asked, with a more serious tone.
Nightingale sighed and answered with a small nostalgic smile.
"We search for a place called Holy Mountain. Our leader, Cara, believes this place exists — and that it's the only one where a witch can live free, without fear of the Church."
Upon hearing this, Agatha lowered her gaze, thoughtful.
"Holy Mountain..." she repeated, in a low voice.
She stayed silent for a few seconds, before raising her gaze back to Nightingale.
"This name... existed also in my era. But it wasn't as you think."
Everyone turned to her, attentive.
"In those times, we spoke of the Holy Mountain not as a physical place, but as an idea. A symbol." Agatha placed her hand on her chest. "It meant just a world where witches could live in peace, without worrying about the demons."
She breathed deeply, her gaze distant.
"If you're searching for a point on the map... I fear you'll never find it."
.....