The Half Blood Book 2

Daphne made her way home, shedding her clothes as she headed for a quick shower.

She recalled Agate as a detached woman who preferred solitude over company, and had a particular distaste for warm climates.

She resolved to begin her search in the small towns of northern Iceland, early in the morning before the sun had a chance to rise.

Despite her eagerness to locate the witch, she knew it would be futile at this late hour.

It was past eleven at night, and Daphne lay in bed, restless and unable to sleep. She wondered about her brother’s whereabouts. Was he being tortured? It was a distinct possibility.

Even though the five lords had agreed to release them unharmed after the prisoner was rescued, they hadn’t promised to spare James from torture.

Hang in there, James. Just a little longer. She wanted to weep, her frustration and restlessness overwhelming her. But her body was devoid of tears.

She had cried them all out when Maret was pushing her to her physical and emotional limits during training.

Hours ticked by, and despite her body’s desperate need for sleep, her mind refused to rest. She glanced at the clock; it was nearing four in the morning. It was time to begin the search and rescue mission.

After a brief stint in the bathroom, she finished dressing, pulling on a pair of black jeans, a light blue woolen blouse, and black boots. She swept her hair up into a simple topknot.

She grabbed her black leather jacket and a few accessories, and without wasting any more time, she vanished from the place.

She began her search in every small town in northern Iceland, asking the locals if they knew a woman named Agate, providing them with a physical description.

But none of the mortals recognized the witch. Gradually, Daphne started losing hope. Could it be that Agate wasn’t in this country?

Or had she stopped using that name? Numerous possibilities raced through her mind.

With only one fishing town left to explore, Daphne arrived in Siglufjörður. She stopped at a bakery, repeating Agate’s description and name.

The woman running the bakery didn’t understand Daphne’s language well, but when she mentioned the name Agate, a young man of about sixteen said, “Are you looking for Agate?”

“Yes, do you know her?” Daphne asked him, feigning kindness.

“Yes, I’m running an errand for her. Would you like to come with me?” The young blond with blue eyes had a friendly aura.

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.” She smiled at him.

They left the bakery together, heading towards the outskirts of the town.

“And how do you know Agate?” the boy asked.

“Agate is like a grandmother to me. She raised me for many years, but then I moved abroad for my studies and lost touch with her.”

She lied, hoping that providing some information would satisfy the boy’s curiosity. Luckily, it worked.

They chatted about the weather, the locals, and how the young man had met Agate.

Despite her best efforts to engage in the conversation, she couldn’t. Her mind was preoccupied with finding the witch and obtaining information about the prisoner’s location.

The boy led her to a house located far from the town. She had to admit, the place Agate had chosen to hide all these years was breathtakingly beautiful.

The mountains and fjords painted a serene picture, evoking a profound sense of freedom.

The so-called house was small, with one part of the roof covered in grass and the other painted black.

The walls were white, and the frames of the small windows were a dark orange—too quaint to be a witch’s dwelling.

The young man opened the door without knocking. Daphne followed, always staying a step behind.

“Mrs. Agate, I’ve brought what you asked for. You have a visitor,” the young man called out as he headed towards the kitchen, leaving the bag on a square, light wooden table.

Daphne heard footsteps approaching from a room. When the figure emerged, she couldn’t help but smile. But Agate didn’t return her smile.

“Thank you, Adalberg. You may leave now.”

The young man nodded and made his exit, but not before bidding Daphne goodbye.

Daphne followed Agate into the kitchen, where she began preparing two cups of black tea.

“Agate, it’s good to see you again.”

The witch remained silent. She placed the two cups and a small white ceramic bowl filled with sugar cubes on the table.

“Thank you.” Daphne sat down and added two cubes of sugar to her tea, stirring until they dissolved in the hot, dark liquid.

“How did you find me here?

“Turns out, the demon lords have eyes and ears everywhere. They’re the ones who tipped me off about your whereabouts. They’ve got James, Agate. I have to free someone to save both our lives.”

“I’ve been expecting this day,” Agate said, sipping her tea.

Daphne could sense the animosity radiating off her, but she believed there was more to Agate than met the eye. She wasn’t as wicked as she appeared, or at least Daphne hoped she wasn’t.

“Agate, I need to know where the prisoner is.”

Agate held her gaze for a moment. She knew this day was inevitable, the day she’d have to betray Rothvaln. It was a necessary evil for a potential greater good.

Yet, she was certain her plans would unfold as she’d envisioned them when she first met Daphne. After all, she’d predicted the young woman’s destiny.

“The prisoner is a demon, isn’t he?” Daphne asked.

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s hidden away in The Wicked Land, deep within the Desert of Perdition.”

“Desert of Perdition…” Daphne echoed, unfamiliar with the name. “How am I supposed to free him?”

“You’ll need assistance to get in and out undetected. Once you’re in, you won’t be able to escape on your own.

It won’t be a walk in the park, but I trust you’ll use your smarts. After all, only a mortal can free the demon.”

Agate began to chant in a language Daphne didn’t understand, and a small, hardcover book with a red cover materialized on the table.

“Take this to Evanora. You’ll need powerful allies to help you escape the Desert of Perdition once you’ve freed him.”

“How can the Witch Queen help me?” Daphne picked up the book. It was unmarked. Judging by its size and handwritten pages, it seemed more like a personal journal.

“Don’t open it!” Agate snapped. “It’s not meant for your eyes.” She glared at Daphne, then added, “Evanora can’t assist you directly, but she’s been favoring someone for years.

“The Shadow Master, she’s the one who can help you navigate that place.”

“The luna, the Lycan Queen? Are you sure? I thought she and Rothvaln were involved somehow.”

“She’s your only hope. Give the book to Evanora. Ask her to take you to the Lycan Queen.”

“Agate, how do you know all this?”

“That’s not your concern.”

“Who is this demon?”

“How long did they give you?” Agate asked, skillfully dodging the question.

“One week.”

“Then you need to leave.”

Daphne took the book. She wanted to embrace Agate, but she knew the witch wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment.

Suddenly, she remembered something. She took off the necklace with the black stone ring and offered it to Agate.

“Keep it. It’s rightfully yours. Does Rothvaln know you have the ring?”

Daphne tried to recall. She didn’t think Rothvaln had seen the ring, as she always kept it hidden under her clothes.

“I don’t think he’s seen it. I always keep it concealed.”

“Good. Always keep it with you. Don’t return here. Don’t seek me out again. Now leave.”

Daphne wasn’t hurt by her words. Clutching the book, she was whisked away to the court of the Witch Queen.