The party begins to lower down into a mesh of thick trees and vines. Arthur has a hard time maneuvering through the tangles of the forest. The witches seem to know which steps to take. They hurriedly rush ahead of him, sensing they are close to their hidden sanctuary. Arthur turns to see if they were able to carry Amalya through with ease. He could barely see an inch in front of him; his eyes constantly covered by green. The ground was strange here. Not a single footprint was left behind thought the dark brush. Surely there was magic at work here. As soon as he lifted his foot up from the spongy ground, it seemed to breathe to life, covering up any sign that he had passed through. The farther he walked the thicker the foliage became. He pushes through with a new determination, wanting to be free of it.
After a few hurried steps, his leg slips and he tumbles forward. It all happens so quickly he does not even notice that he’s falling downward passing through the earth. The deep smell of mud and wood engulf his nostrils. The wind sweeps through him like a sudden gust. Before he has time to think, he falls face first against a hard surface. His head jolts upward to scan his surroundings. He finds himself in a small circular room. The walls are a deep yellow wood with no windows to speak of. A few elegantly placed benches sit neatly against each wall. Arthur gets to his knees and stands. The ceiling above him is non-existent. The walls around him just seem to stretch up into a deep blackness with no end in sight.
He could hear a slight stirring outside the walls. Arthur backs up from it; ready for whatever enemy he may be faced with. Part of the wall smashes through as Ren is hurled into the room. He falls to the floor, his hands and feet still bound together. Arthur looks up to see Namari and one other witch standing in the doorway. She looks up at him to speak, “You must stay here.”
“I don’t think so,” Arthur tries to move past them but the nameless witch raises a twisted blade to his throat. He stops, not wanting to cause any unrest between them.
“You must stay here.”
“Where are you taking her,” Arthur frantically rambles, “What happened to my sister?”
“She is with the mother now, she will not be harmed.”
“Ha,” Ren struggles to his feet and sits grungy against the wall. Arthur glances at him before redirecting his gaze back to Namari, “Why are you keeping me here? I need to be with Amalya.”
“No man is allowed to gaze upon the mother without the mothers blessing,” the silent witch spoke while pressing her blade closer to his throat, “you must learn your place.” Arthur stands firm looking at Namari. She does not break from her concentrated stare. After a moment, she spoke, “I will come for you when you may see her,” she lowers her partner’s weapon with gentle fingers, “Stay here.” The two witches quickly turn and the wall closes behind them. He did not understand how they could be so cold after treating him so warmly. Perhaps he was just naïve, perhaps he was desperate.
“Do you honestly believe they’ll come back and get ya,” he turns towards Ren who is still propped up against the wall, “It would be a damn miracle if yer ever saw her again.”
“Hold your tongue,” Arthur trudges towards a bench and sits down, “I do not want to hear you speak.”
“Don’t be daft. You can feel somethin’ is off about this place.”
“They have shown me nothing but kindness for aiding them, they have done nothing to gain my mistrust.”
“Of course they did,” Ren clears his throat, “That was the only way of getting’ you and yer sister here. Honestly what choice did ya have.”
Arthur folds his hands to rest on his knees. He looks at the floor, “You found us and handed her over without question.”
“What was I goin’ to do, fight a small army of witches all on me own, with an unconscious girl in me arms?,” Arthur looks towards him, “Besides you were there…”
“Half beat and broken. What could I have done?”
Silence passes between them. The air around them was beginning to grow cold. Arthur rests his head against his hands, praying to Marin with all the strength left in him that nothing bad would happen to Amalya. If they wanted to kill them they would have done so on sight. He did not think they meant to hurt them, but stranger things have happened. He hopes his gut was not lying to him; this had to be right. He hears Ren shifting uncomfortably on the floor. A dreadful sigh escapes his lips, “You put yer trust in the wrong sort Arthur.”
“I seem to have a problem with that,” he raises his head to look at his betrayer, “or have you not noticed?”

Hours begin to feel like days. There was no indication of how long they were in there. No one came to bring them food or water. The room never grew dark or bright but remained a dull haze, which made it impossible to tell when morning had come and night had begun. Arthur lies on the uncomfortable wooden bench staring up into the nothingness above him. He did not feel hungry or thirsty. He only wanted to be sure Amalya was safe. She was breathing although it sounded labored. It was just as if she were sleeping, hopefully, she was someplace else; something more pleasant than this.
Ren continues to try and talk with him, but his efforts are futile. Arthur feels as if he has nothing more to say to him. Though his anger had subsided, he was still unsure of what was to come. When they leave this place if they ever did, would Ren be a prisoner to the witches? He wanted nothing more than to leave him to his fate, he deserved so much punishment he could not even begin to describe where to start. It would be best if he never saw him again. Amalya would have a more difficult time accepting it. She respected him, no matter how much of a bastard he was.

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Amalya wakes up to the smells of the sweet honey and chamomile. Gentle wafts of smoke hang loosely in the air around her. She opens her eyes carefully as they adjust to the unrelenting light pouring down on her. She finds herself having a hard time sitting up. A heaviness forms in her chest, causing her ignite an unrelenting cough. She covers her mouth as she falls onto her elbow against the bed. A gentle hand touches her shoulder. She turns to see a very decorated woman, her skin as dark as ash and eyes as light as the moon itself. She gives her a consoling stare ant mutters something in a tongue Amalya cannot understand.
Her cough subsides as she takes in a gulp of sweet air. It immediately helps reduce the heaviness in her chest. The d ark faced woman places her hand on her back and helps to sit her up. She then grabs a small bowl from behind her. Handing it to her carefully, Amalya takes it in her hands. The bowl steams with a fresh scent of flowers and moss. The liquid poses an unattractive color but the woman encourages her to take a sip. She brings the bowl to her lips and sips down the strange concoction carefully. A bitter taste enters her mouth, which causes a dis comfort in her throat. The moment she swallows it, the bitterness subsides. The liquid goes down easily, leaving a warm minty tingle mingling down her throat.
She hands the bowl back to the woman, who takes it without question. The woman stands up and exits the room through a large draped doorway. Amalya takes a moment to observe her surroundings. The entire room was elegantly draped with warm colored fabric over the deep wooden walls. There was a number of small tables and another bed, warmly covered with very inviting comforts. There were a number of herbs and plants sitting on the tables, adorned with small bowls and pestles. Her mind begins to wander; there was no doubt in her mind that the woman who brought her that drink was a witch. But how did she get here? Did they find her out in the forest? That night remains a vague memory; the camp burning to the ground, the strength in Commander Donnik’s arm, Ren saying her name…
“Ren,” Amalya can feel her eyes begin to water. She quickly takes in a deep breath to try and recant any sadness she might shed for him. She wonders where he is now; captured by Donnik and his men?
“No,” she said aloud unintentionally, “He is too smart for that.”
The thought of Ren immediately changed to her brother. Panic begins to set in not knowing if he escaped from the camp safely. She struggles with the soft blanket draped over her legs. Despite the soothing nature of the incense around her, she finds her joints and limbs are stiff. She manages to set her feet on the floor before having to stop to recuperate. She looks towards the swaying drapes over the door, “Arthur! Arthur!”
The dark skinned witch immediately pushes through the doorway and looks at her. “My brother,” she manages to say without much strain, “Where is my brother?” The woman does not answer but immediately leaves once again. Amalya struggles to stand, holding on to the side of the bed for support. She slips onto the floor; an immediate cough escapes her throat. She covers her mouth with her arm before noticing that she is not wearing her own clothes. Her arm is bare…bare and in the sunlight. She pulls up the baggy sleeves hanging off of her body. The sun hits her skin as if it were reflecting off a mirror. Amalya cannot remember the last time she had seen her arms so naked, so unprotected. She immediately tries to cover them, fearing what might happen if they linger in the light too long. She then notices that her legs are bare as well, hanging out from under her outfit like fresh pale meat. She tucks them to her chest in an attempt to protect herself. The warmness from the rays felt strange. Her skin begins to tingle from her feet to her fingers. She grabs the blanket off the bed. She wraps it around her body, huddling in a ball against the bed.
Her heart begins to relax with the knowledge that she is no longer in danger. Her hand moves up to pull her long hair out of her face, “My hair,” she thought, “I rarely feel it down.” It feels so strange having it not neatly in a tight braid against her head. She carefully runs her fingers through it, enjoying feeling its freedom for a rare moment. The sun seems to ignite her hair, making it feel softer and warmer that it ever had before. She had forgotten how long it was. She turns her head to gaze upon it. She was shocked to see how radiant it looks in the sunlight; free to fall where it wanted. The paleness of her fingers complements its deep red color, almost igniting it into a new brilliance she had never seen before.

The curtain flutters open again. The dark skinned witch stands with another more assertive looking woman; her hair was long and dark which accompanied her tan skin. Amalya recognizes her as the witch who was tied up with Arthur. They stare at her sitting on the hard floor. Amalya waits for them to speak, hoping one of them would tell her what would happen next. The dark haired witch walks over to her, “I am called Namari,” she bends down and reaches her decorated hand towards her, “Come.” Amalya is reluctant to make a move. Her eyes never leave the witches face, “Where is my brother? Is he alright?” She nods her head once, her hand never flinching once from its peaceful hover. Amalya sits up a bit, “Where am I?”
“All of your concerns will be answered,” she moves her hand closer towards her, “Come.” She really had little choice. She was here and could not think of a way to escape. So far it seems that these witches have healed her and taken care of her, but for what cause? Just as a kindness to a wandering stranger? There had to be another motive in play. The only way for her to find out was to do what she was told, no matter how unsure she was. Amalya reaches up from underneath her protective blanket and takes her hand. Namari pulls her to her feet and the three of them walk out of the sunlit room.

They exit the room into a large open hall. Again the ceilings seem to stretch up to the sky. A number of small rooms adorn every wall, surrounding a huge winding staircase. There seems to be no end to them. Amalya looks straight up into the hollowness of this mysterious structure.
“Can you climb my lady?”
Her head jerks back in surprise. Namari and the darkly skinned witch look at her expectantly. Her eyes sift to the intricate staircase, “My lady,” Namari speaks again, “Will you be able to climb?” Amalya looks at her unknowing, “I…I think so.”
“If not Rani will carry you,” They walk onto a small platform leading onto the stairs, “Come.” They step onto the first step. The structure is firm and unwavering. Amalya looks down, following the stairs as the wind they’re way into nothing. It was impossible to tell where they lead, either up or down. Namari takes the lead in front while the dark skinned witch, whom she now knows to be Rani, follows close behind.

Amalya could not keep her eyes off of the elaborate detail of each step. Everything was made of a hard deep wood. Each stair seems to carry a story of small etchings and designs. The railing surrounding them was smooth, held together by deep ridges of an intricate pattern of vines and leaves climbing up with them. As they ascended higher and higher, the air became fresher. Amalya can feel a small breeze blow through the strangely shaped structure. Every so often they would pass anther floor loaded with a multitude of doorways.
Amalya did not know how long they had been climbing before she begins to find it hard to take a step. Her grip on the railing becomes more forceful as she tries to pull herself up with every step. Rani takes her arm and carefully lends her strength. Her support becomes a welcome relief but only for a moment. Amalya can feel herself finding it hard to catch a breath. Rani slows down and indicates that she is ready to carry her if need be. Amalya shakes her head, “No,” she says softly, “I’ll be alright.” Rani turns towards Namari who has stopped to in front of them. Amalya looks at her, “I’ll be fine.”
“We are almost there,” she states before turning back to the task at hand. Amalya welcomes Rani’s support as they continue to climb up into the sunlight.

They finally reach the top. Rani gingerly releases Amalya’s arm as she clings to the railing to catch her breath. There was almost no noise, only the gentle sound of the wind blowing through the trees. Amalya looks up and sees an empty floor. It’s flat with no windows or doors except for one huge archway in front of them. Her eyes wander up. The ceiling is a spectacular sight; large hollow tubes of all sizes sprout upward in a flurry of different directions. The whole structure was made of wood; there was not one scrap of metal to be seen. Namari walks towards the door and places her hand on its surface. Amalya slowly walks towards her, Rani not far behind her. Neither witch gives her any indication of what was about to happen. She walks up to her, clutching the blanket around her.
“You do not need to wear that my lady,” Namari speaks eloquently. Amalya clutches the blanket closer to her body, “I cannot be exposed to sunlight for too long.” She gets no reaction, just a slightly accepting stare. Amalya thought she could see a slight hint of enthusiasm but she was finding out the hard way, it was almost impossible to read a witch. Rani steps in front of her, placing her hands on the other side of the grand door in front of them.
“Very well,” Namari states, “The mother will see you as you are.”
The door swings open. An immense amount of blinding light hits Amalya’s face with unrelenting force. She shields her face from the rays by pulling the blanket over her head. Although it provides a slight relief, the light continues to make its way through. She can feel the wind grow stronger and the sound of rustling leaves almost becomes deafening.

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Arthur stands in the room, his body facing the wooden door. It must have been days, maybe weeks since he has seen the outside of that door. He was unsure but truly did not want to learn how long he had been a captive. Ren remains tied slumped on the floor. There have not been many words between them since they were first imprisoned there. Despite some harrowing attempts, Arthur had nothing to say to him. There wasn’t much he could do to mend what had happened. Does it really matter? Would he even see him again after he was released from here…IF he ever would be released. Maybe Ren was right, maybe he was a fool thinking he could trust these witches. They were banished, after all, no city or home would dare risk having a witch amongst them. Could they really be trusted? Arthur was having a hard time believing in such a thing. The only person he could truly trust was Amalya but at the same time…

There was a quiet rattling on the other side of the door. Despite this happening before, Arthur was always hopeful that the door would open. He has not seen nor heard another person in days. It was strange how he never felt hungry or thirsty. Even if there was someone to give them food and drink it didn’t matter. The only reason for them to open that door was to set him free. Ren looks up, “Yer wasting yer time…standing there…” Arthur reluctantly poses a glance in his direction. He has not noticed how ragged he was beginning to look. Dark rings hang around his eyes. His straggly dry hair hangs loosely across his deep sunken face. Arthur was almost surprised to see how much he was suffering. A part of him wanted to help him; the part that still considered him a friend.

“That bad huh,” Ren leans against the wall, “It will take more than lack of nourishment to break me.” Arthur looks down for a moment, a bit confused by Ren’s complete decrease in physical health. Ren seems to notice the bewilderment in his face, “Let me guess…you have yet to be hungry or thirsty. You look a hell a lot better.”
“You have been here as long as I…”
“Not for the same reasons.”
A rush of wind suddenly breaks against his face. Arthur turns back towards the door. It was open with nothing but darkness beyond. It was quiet as if there was no one on the other side. Arthur takes a step towards the opening, his hands hovering in front of him. He reaches the opening, resting his hands on the frame.
“Yer going then,” he turns towards Ren who has yet to move from his small lonely place, “ Nothing’s keepin’ ya here.”
“What do you suppose this is?”
“Don’t know,” Ren coughs before taking a breath, “Could be they’re lettin’ you go, could be they’re going to kill ya.”
“Why would they kill me? I pose no threat to them.”
“All men are a threat to them,” he was quiet for a moment, “Yer think I was pullin’ yer leg when I was tellin’ ya no man who dares enter this place is ever seen again?”
“If Amalya is out there…”
“I know I know,”Ren slowly sits up, “If there’s a chance…”

They look at one another in silence. It was strange to leave him like this. He knows Ren deserves nothing better but if he was right…if no man ever leaves here alive…
They would not hurt him, he knew that with every fiber of his being. Even if they did want to, Amalya would never allow it…that is if she hasn’t imprisoned herself. If that was true he could not just sit and die here. He had to try and save her; giving up was not an option for him. He promised their grandfather…he promised he would protect her and everything she was. Arthur takes a step out the door, “Arthur…”
Ren struggles to his feet. He manages to push himself up, using the wall for leverage. Arthur notices how sad he looks standing where he would surely die. Despite what he had done, “If there was something I could do…”
“Yer don’t have to explain yerself to me,” Ren’s eyes grow heavy, “If this is the last time I see ya; I know you don’t want ter hear it but…” His legs begin to give way as he slides down towards the ground. Arthur rushes towards him, holding him up carefully and leads his tired today to rest on the bench. He steps back, not sure why he felt the need to help him. Knowing he may never see him again, that he would most likely die alone in this little wooden cell…it was not what he would have wanted for him; it is not what Amalya would want.
“If I could take it back I would; I swear to it…knowin’ what I know now…I would never have dun it.”
Arthur could not forgive him even though he could hear the sincerity in his trembling voice. He knew Ren was waiting for it, waiting to hear that all was forgiven so that he could die without regret. As much as he would not want the same for himself, he could not do it. There was a part of him that would not allow it. He was sure he would regret it later on in life but right now, in this moment, maybe Ren needs to know just how wrong he was.
“You were a good friend,” Arthur places a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I am sorry this had to end this way.”
Ren nods his head, “ I can take that.” His expression turns to one of determination, “When you find her…tell her I would take it back. Tell her I…”
“I will, I’ll tell her.”
He gets to his feet and turns towards the door. He doesn’t look back, fearing that if he does he will not be able to leave him there. He steps out of the door into the blackness. The quiet that surrounds him sends chills down his spine. Arthur takes a few cautious steps forward. The light from the room he illuminates nothing to view. It is just empty, void of any and all life. He can only hear his own breath rise and fall from his chest. He was weary to take another step, not knowing what might be ahead of him.
“Arthur…” a soft voice travels quietly into range. He turns to his left, “Whose there?” Silence takes hold once again. He takes a step towards where the voice traveled.
“Arthur where are you?”
I was Amalya, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it could be anyone but her. Ren becomes overcome with exhilaration. He rushes to his left, “Amalya!” The light from the cell disappears, as it slams closed. Blackness is all he can see in front of him. He stops himself from going any further. The voice does not come again, “Amalya,” he bravely mutter aloud, “Where are you?” Suddenly, a rush of wind knocks him off his feet. Arthur falls to the ground as the wind gets knocked out of him. Before he has a chance to get to his feet, a violent rush pushes him back to the floor. He can feel only the blast of strong wind over his face. It becomes impossible to breath. He can feel himself slipping before his mind closes to everything and all that is happening around him.