Chapter 251: Stone Of Tepcha

Anastasia's doubts confirmed. The witch belonged to the kingdom of Draoidh. "How old are you?" she hurled her next question, hating every bit of coldness coming from the witch. 

The witch grinned, showing her full set of white pointy teeth and fangs that were freshly dipped in blood. "I am as old as you and as young as this Lore. I am you and you are me." She ran her claws over her arm and stopped when they reached her shoulders. Effortlessly, she poked her arm with her pointy claws and drew blood. 

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"Ahhh!" Anastasia gasped at the pain. The blood around her old wounds had caked, and the blood from her fresh wound flowed over them. She slumped in the front and clenched her jaws. She heard the witch licking her claw and savoring her blood. 

"So full of power and so dangerous…" he hissed. "Your sacrifice would be the ultimate. It would end our struggle and we are going to unleash our force on this world." 

Anastasia steered the conversation back. "What do you mean? You are as old as me and as young as Lore?" 

The witch snapped her head in Anastasia's direction and glared at her with black eyes. She gnarled, "Enough of history lessons." She rose in the air and pulled her up roughly, grabbing her arm. Amidst her cries of pain, she said, "It's time for your sacrifice. We have to take you to the Stone of Tepcha!" 

Anastasia jolted and felt as if the floor beneath her had moved. She was feeling too weak as she hadn't been fed for a long time. Her stomach churned as hunger pangs became hunger aches. She wobbled to her feet. "How long have I been unconscious?" she asked. 

"Two days," the witch answered without hesitation. "Now move." 

Her hands were tied to the chains. "I can't," she replied, putting her hands up in the air. 

The witch snapped her fingers and the chains fell apart. Along with the weight of the chains, Anastasia also dropped on the floor. The witch hissed out of frustration and grabbed her arm again. "Get up!" The chains were replaced by dried, brown thorny vines around her wrists and ankles that dug into her flesh. The pain was beyond her power to bear. She winced as tears stung her eyes. 

Anastasia's breath was dragged when she somehow pulled herself to her feet, and then generally asked her, "Are you a werewolf?" 

The witch stopped in front of her and grabbed her throat with her clawed fingers. Anastasia's face became red for the want of air. "I— I—" she grabbed her hand with her hand. "—am sorry." 

The witch left her and snarled, "You ask too many questions." Then she grabbed her arm and started taking her out of the cellar. When they reached the iron bars, the bars moved as if listening to the command of the witch and allowed them to go forward. Anastasia heard Lila's footfalls behind her. As she walked in darkness, she couldn't see the surroundings and stumbled. The witch snapped her fingers and a torch lit weakly on the left, cascading the cave in its faint yellow light. 

"Ugh, the heat!" the witch snapped. 

For the first time Anastasia saw what was there in the cave. The place was littered with bones—old and new. The floor was stained with dried blood and putrid meat. She shuddered at the sight. "How many have you sacrificed?" she asked in a shaky voice. 

The witch chuckled. "We didn't keep a count, but we needed the power of every one of them." She shoved her ahead. "Fast! We don't have all the time in the world. The stone awaits… It is thirsty. It wants blood." She smacked her lips. "Once you are dead, there will be a new uprising, a war across the Lore. We will take over everything, everyone… except Vilinski… And soon, you will cease to exist… cease to put problems in our plans." 

"If you are going to sacrifice me, don't think that you are going to succeed. Ileus won't leave you," Anastasia retorted acerbically. 

"Ileus…" The witch took his name gloomily. "He will come after you, but we will kill him too. Ileus…" 

Anastasia swallowed her anger and anxiety that was now thrumming in her chest. She could feel her magic stirring inside her. Her pointy ears twitched. 

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"Ileus is the true guardian of the Lore," the witch continued. "He is your protector. He was m—" Suddenly she grabbed her arm tightly. "Stop talking to us. Come now. The time is going fast. We need to put you on the altar soon." 

All of a sudden, Anastasia turned and lunged at the witch. She plunged her dagger right in the center of her chest. "There! Die!" She shrieked as she twisted the dagger in her heart, despite the thorny vines eating into her flesh. 

The witch's skin parted to accommodate the dagger. Black blood flowed out and she watched it, stunned. She looked up at Anastasia whose face was twisted with anger. She had pulled the dagger back in her hand and looked at the gaping wound in the chest. 

The witch creaked the bone of her neck by turning it on the sides and then her body stitched together. The wound healed as quickly as it was formed. Anastasia stared at it in stunned silence, her hand still in the air with the dagger from the tip of which, blood was dripping.

"Gods," she said in a hoarse voice. "What are you?" Her legs became heavy and numb and she staggered back. She stared in the obsidian eyes of the witch. The witch floated towards her and backhanded her with eyes full of loathe. The impact was so huge that Anastasia's body was swept with numbness. She fell on the ground, darkness shrouding her once again. Nightmare came. 

'Whip her Maple

Whip her

To the otherworld we will ship her

I will watch her bleed

And then eat.'

Anastasia woke up to fuzzy lights that hovered in her vision. Her lungs felt devoid of air and she sucked in air sharply. She felt the coldness of a stone beneath her. Stone of Tepcha. 

"Is she awake?" a man's voice came from behind her.

She tried to turn her face to see him but the chains around her were too tight and she cried in pain when they dug in her flesh. 

A plume of darkness floated over her and she saw the witch floating in an inverted horizontal position hovering over her. "She has…" 

"Good," said the man. "We need her awake for the sacrifice." 

Anastasia's throat went dry. She turned her head around and found that she was surrounded by several men, all hooded and covered in black cloaks. Were they her followers? Some of them had torches that cast a yellow glow over the gray stone. 

"It is time," the man said. 

Her breath lodged in the throat when she saw the man moving towards her side and handing an axe to the witch. 

"I am sorry Anastasia," the witch said, as she floated back to vertical position. "No one should have your fate." She swirled the axe in her hand. 

Anastasia should have felt afraid, but she felt angry. "I would be worried about your fate, witch!" 

The witch picked up her axe and raised it in the air. She brought it down with force, but before she could strike—

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