Chapter 722: Conflicting Desires
"She can stay by his side, until death comes for them both!"
Ashlynn’s frigid proclamation came with a surge of power, as if the entire forest surrounding the ancient fortress responded to the pain and grief of the Mother of Trees, lending her strength and support in her moment of fury. The air became so thick and oppressive with the weight of Ashlynn’s power that Isabell struggled to draw breath.
The fire in the hearth flared brighter as the flames gorged themselves on the dense, woody energy that flooded the room. Hanging above the flames, the forgotten tea kettle that Ashlynn had hung at the start of her conversation with Isabell hissed and whistled, sputtering madly as it boiled over and spitting out a cloud of steam.
"Ashlynn!" Isabell cried, pushing herself up off the sofa and struggling against the surge of energy that filled the room. Until now, she’d only seen the gentle, nurturing side of Ashlynn’s witchcraft, but now that she stood in the presence of a witch’s fury, she finally understood why the Church was so terrified of witches.
But no matter how terrifying Ashlynn’s power was, Isabell refused to retreat from it. Somewhere deep in her heart, the older woman felt that this might be the only moment she had to help Ashlynn understand her sister.
If she ran from this tempest, if she showed Ashlynn that she was afraid of her, then Isabell feared that the young noblewoman would never let her come close as a confidant again. And if she turned into an outsider, she would never have a chance to share the rest of what she knew.
"Ashlynn, please, listen to me," Isabell said, dropping to one knee as the pressure emanating from Ashlynn increased to a point that made it impossible to remain standing, much less approach any closer. "Please, you don’t know what Owain has done to your sister, what he’s still doing to her! Please, just, just listen. Just for a few minutes," she pleaded, looking up at Ashlynn with tears brimming in the corners of her eyes.
The Ashlynn she saw standing over her barely felt human. Even though the energy flooding into the room was invisible to Isabell’s eyes, Ashlynn’s hair danced wildly in a breeze that only affected the young witch.
Her eyes glowed a brilliant, emerald green that was so bright, Isabell couldn’t see the whites of her eyes or the dark spots of her pupils through the glow. Even her skin seemed to have transformed, with faint patterns emerging on her arms and chest that resembled the loops and whorls of woodgrain.