Chapter 3: Chapter 3 – A Face That Wasn’t Hers

If there is a god, they most certainly hate Emily. Or at least, that's the impression she had always gotten. Why else would god's followers burn her sisters at the stake and drown her in a river?

But perhaps not, because when she woke up after dying, she could only call it a miracle. How else was such a thing possible. Magic has its limits, and she knows them like the back of her hand.

Emily woke in a body that wasn't hers. She was wearing… Well... she didn't really know what she was wearing. Nothing like this existed before she… Died.

'I died.' She pinched the back of her hand and shook her head but didn't wake up. This was real. Not some illusionary construct cobbled together by a warlock or twisted spell from a magician. She would have noticed immediately if this was an illusion. That sort of thing is a witch's bread and butter.

She was sitting on the edge of a little stream, her clothes soaking wet and covered in mud. All around her were shiny… things, crumpled and covered in writing that she could instinctively read and yet not understand the meaning behind the words. 'Heineken? Smirnoff and Buckfast, what do they mean?'

"Where- Where am I?" She mumbled, her voice coming hoarsely through her parched throat.

As she went to stand up, a thin, black brick about as big as her hand fell into the stream, smashing against the rocks. She bent down and picked it up, trying to make heads or tails of the strange object. It appeared as though it was made from dark glass, and the back was covered in colourful stickers.

Thinking it looked valuable, she kept it, stowing the strange object in a bag she found near where she had woken up. After grabbing everything she needed, Emily began to walk on shaky legs.

She wasn't sure how she did it, but after an arduous struggle up a steep embankment, she managed to walk out of the secluded valley, overgrown by brambles and thick deciduous trees. There, she found herself in a rundown graveyard full of tombstones, where dates and names had been scrubbed clean by time.

In the distance, she could make out the roar of… something. Perhaps a baby dragon? It was about that volume. 'But why would there be dragons in this area? Unless the pact has been broken… No, they would never cross the Lay Lord. Even I think twice before making him angry,'

The graveyard was surrounded by overgrown trees and a fence that consisted of equal parts vine and metal. Over the tops of the trees, she could just barely see a slate roof, no, tens of them. 'How long was I dead? Or perhaps the more important question is, how am I alive?'

As she stumbled through the graveyard towards the source of the noise, she felt a sharp tug on her ankle. Emily turned around, finding a small black cat with green eyes. It was biting her ankle aggressively, clinging to it as though it was the last life raft on a sinking boat.

"What do you want?" Emily asked, more curious than annoyed.

The cat leapt back, seeming frightened by the sound of her voice. Or, well, it wasn't her voice, but whoever's body this was. It squeaked up at her before slinking behind an ancient tombstone, peaking out nervously.

Emily shook her head and laughed. A hearty thing that could have brought life to a funeral procession. "Silly little thing," She shook her head and continued on out of the graveyard, stumbling onto a gravel path that led to the road.

Although it wasn't anything like any road she had seen before. It was smooth and all one colour and raised slightly at either side. 'What magic did they use to get the road so flat? If a cart were to travel on this… It could go twice as fast!'

Her attention was suddenly grabbed by another distant roar. It was getting closer at frightening speeds, and from the sounds of it, it was angry. Emily tensed up, clicking her fingers and getting ready for battle. But nothing happened.

She clicked again; the beast was almost upon her now. But there was no response. Her wand didn't materialise, and her cloak stubbornly refused to leave its internal space. Or rather, now that she was looking, she could see that there was no internal space for it to leave. This body had not been awakened. She. Was. Helpless.

The distant roaring beast rounded the bend in the road, and Emily froze. Never in all her years had she seen such a… thing. She struggled for the words. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. It looked as though a cart had been given life and set free from the horses that pulled it, running off on its own. It was entirely fashioned from metal and glass, and she could even see the man inside. He was gorgeous, with all his teeth and the well-kept hair that only the wealthy could afford. 'He must be royalty. Only a royal could possibly ride a sentient carriage and look so clean.'

As she was wondering just why a royal would be near her home, another car drove by and then a bus. To her, it looked like a hulking beast, a monstrosity that could rival ogres. It was all she could do to stare gormlessly at the road, watching each car as it whizzed by.

This was perhaps the moment in her life when she felt most afraid. Nothing was the same. Not the world, not her. In merely a few minutes since waking up, she had experienced so many things she couldn't explain, and she was sure there was more to come.

A suffocating, overwhelming panic settled over her like a smothering blanket. 'What should I do?'

And then a boy tapped her shoulder.

You are reading story The Devil’s Rise at novel35.com

'He must be royalty too,' she thought, noticing his beautiful clothes and perfect teeth. She didn't want to offend the boy, so she nodded as he rambled on about already knowing her. Nothing he said made any sense, but at least he offered some explanations about the things she saw.

He took her hand and led her through a sprawling metropolis where every person she saw looked well-fed and happy. People kicked a 'football' because it was fun. And the boy ran into a shop, returning with water in a clear 'bottle' as he called it. She had never seen anything so fresh and clean. It was like magic. And she knew magic.

When she arrived at his house, having asked many questions and received many confusing answers. Emily had figured something out. As she stared into the mirror, looking at a face that wasn't hers, looking at Clare. Emily wasn't sure what to do. She was in someone else's body. She was a thief. This was a cardinal sin. To possess a body was punishable by soul extinction, and she had done it… somehow.

The hot water battered her shoulders, and the grime left her body in muddy streaks down her legs. She was in heaven. But if this was heaven, then Emily was the devil. She had stolen her spot there from someone else.

She put on the clothes Matthew had given her, finding that the red 'hoody' fit weirdly. Which made perfect sense, considering she was wearing it wrong. After fixing it and eating the best bread she had ever tasted, Emily stared into Matthew's eyes. Guilt turned like a screw in her stomach, and in the end, she couldn't help but tell the truth.

"I am not Clare," The relief was instant, and yet the regret was crushing. 'I shouldn't have said that. If I had just lied, he would have given me more nice things,'

Matthew froze, muttering to himself, "I know she hit her head, but this is ridiculous,"

'What? He doesn't believe me?' Emily frowned, "No, I'm being serious. My name's Emily,"

Matthew rolled his eyes and took a deep breath, "I bet Emily is just your middle name or something like that, Clare. Please sit still while I call your parents."

Emily stomped on the kitchen floor angrily, "Why aren't you listening to me!?" She shouted.

"I am listening. You're just speaking nonsense," Matthew was looking at her funny. She didn't like that look. He was looking down on her.

"Listen here! My name's Emily, and I am a witch from the 1600s…." She shouted, breathing heavily.

Matthew looked at her, not with the disgust and revolution she was used to, but with utter incredulity. His eyebrows almost hit the ceiling, and he suddenly burst out laughing, "I'm so sorry!" He wheezed, "I know I shouldn't laugh, but this is getting ridiculous. Can brain damage even do all this?"

"No, it can't!" Emily shouted, stomping in frustration, "I don't have brain damage. I am telling you the truth!"

He wiped a tear from his eye and, while grinning, asked her, "So you're saying you aren't Clare?"

"Yes!"

"So, who is this?" Matthew brought out his phone and showed her a picture of him standing beside her. They were sitting beside each other around a campfire and laughing.

She stared at it wide-eyed, "What is this- this magic?"

Matthew shook his head, "It's not magic; it's technology. And this is a photo of the two of us."

Emily peered closer, frowning intensely, 'Why does that scenery look familiar?' She wondered, noticing the creepy, gnarled trees silhouetted behind the campfire. Something about them struck a chord in her.

"This... where is this?" She asked, squinting at the photo.

Matthew laughed, "Come on, we were there last week. It's the Witching Circle,"

You can find story with these keywords: The Devil’s Rise, Read The Devil’s Rise, The Devil’s Rise novel, The Devil’s Rise book, The Devil’s Rise story, The Devil’s Rise full, The Devil’s Rise Latest Chapter