Chapter 242: Planting the Seed
Standing before Ashlynn, Amahle swept her crimson eyes across the entire island, taking in every detail and ensuring that there was nothing present that could interrupt their ritual. Now would be the worst time for a disturbance, but when she looked, her eyes found that the Ancient Willow hadn’t taken even the smallest of mice as residents of its island.
The willow stood alone, perhaps because it had been hurt so badly in the past. Even a tree as placid as the willow could grow unwelcoming if it was abused. Whatever the reason, it meant that there was nothing present that cold disrupt her ritual once she began.
"Cross your hands in front of your body and touch your hips," she said. "This is the gentlest way I know to bind you for a long period of time," she explained as her spider-like limbs moved rapidly around Ashlynn securing her arms and legs in place, affixing her to the trunk of the Ancient Willow tree.
For a moment, accounts of the burning of vampires and witches flashed through Ashlynn’s mind. The Church was no stranger to lashing those it deemed heretics to a post when it purified them with fire, but in every image she’d seen of those grizzly executions, the prisoner’s hands had been bound above their heads in a manner that looked like their arms would be torn from their sockets if they were stretched any further.
Amahle’s bindings were much gentler and Ashlynn felt more like she had been secured in place than restrained. The ritual would require her to stay in close contact with the Ancient Willow for days but as Amahle carefully checked each loop of spidersilk to ensure that it produced no discomfort, Ashlynn felt confident in following the older witch’s instructions.
"This part will hurt," Amahle cautioned. She drew the polished knife and place the tip directly above Ashlynn’s breast bone, holding it in place while she looked deeply into Ashlynn’s eyes. "It’s okay if you cry out. Pain is part of this process. Anything I do to dull the pain would also dull your mind and increase the risk of losing control of the energy. Please endure," she said.
Without waiting for ascent or even acknowledgement, the powerful witch made a deep cut in Ashlynn’s chest, directly over the breast bone.
Of all the injuries Ashlynn had endured since suffering a brutal beating from Owain on their wedding night, this was one of the most severe, but also one of the least painful. The knife was incredibly sharp and Ashlynn only became aware that Amahle had made the cut when the tip of the knife scraped against her breast bone and a rivulet of bright red blood began to spill down her chest, staining the bodice of her dress before dripping to the ground.
Before she could comment on the lack of pain, however, two of Amahle’s spider-like limbs moved with gentle precision, holding her skin in place above the cut while tugging beneath the cut like she was holding open a pocket.
Burning pain flashed through Ashlynn’s mind and for a moment, she struggled against the silk threads holding her in place, but Amahle’s bindings gave her no room to move or interrupt the delicate process as it unfolded.
"I am Amahle, Mother of Thorns," the witch intoned, her eyes glowing a deep crimson as she began her right. "In the name of my younger sister, Ashlynn, the Mother of Trees, I plant this seed within her so that she may grow her first seed of witchcraft." As she spoke, she held the small, fluffy willow seed up high.