To Bewitch a Devil

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Neera felt an amalgamation of all three in her when she opened her eyes. There was something awake in her, a kind of waking up that was of the strangest kind. She stretched her hand up as if reaching for the ceiling.

“Zavian,” she called. She sat up fast, too fast, and ended up a little disoriented so she had to hold her head to control it from spinning. The space next to her was empty, and she could feel the panic pulse through her veins.

“How?” She asked. She spotted the mirror in the room. Quickly, she slipped out of bed and hurried to it.

She was gobsmacked at the person staring back at her. She touched her face, her hair, her arms, she was truly wholly there.

“I’m back,” she said, not knowing if to be happy, not knowing what emotion was suitable for that moment.

“Zavian,” she called out again. She made a run for the door, and the guards standing right outside the chambers were quick to stand in her way.

“I’m sorry, your Majesty,” one of the guards said. “But the King’s orders are to keep you in here till he arrives.”

“When will that be?” Neera asked. “I need to see him now.”

“Your Majesty,” the other guard spoke. “We are simply to obey his orders.”

.....

“Then please, get him to come to me,” Neera pleaded.

“He’s not in the castle at the moment.”

“Find him, send him a message, please, it is urgent,” Neera said. The guards were not used to so many pleas from royalty, and they both exchanged glances, clearly uncomfortable by it, and moved by the urgency of her tone.

“We’d send word to him at once, your Majesty,” the guard promised.

“Thank you,” Neera said. “Thank you.”

She entered the chambers again and had no choice but to wait for Zavian’s return. The place was just as she remembered it, but the furniture had changed, out of maintenance rather than decorative reasons. Zavian hadn’t been one to bother about beauty, that had been her job.

She stepped to the window, and a rush swept through her at the view. Everything looked even more beautiful, more alive, and with so many flowers.

“How?” Neera repeated to herself. “How?”

She had been asleep for so long, and the dream had played in her head, bringing back a life that had been scraped off her identity, and erased from her memory. A tear escaped her as she had to relive the suffering she had endured at the hands of many, and she wiped it, craning her head over to the door to see if Zavian was back.

Neera returned to the mirror. She had to look at herself again to be sure she wasn’t dreaming. This time, a hand reached out to touch her reflection.

“You’re back, Lilah,” Neera said. “You’re back. And it’s not a dream.”

....

“We are going to have to discuss this new development in the Council meeting next week,” Azriel said.

“What new development?”

“The land allocation,” Azriel answered, and studied his friend. “Did you hear what I was saying this whole time?”

Zavian only stared at the sword in his hand. It had been an afternoon of long sparring, and both demons, both great in strength, had been relentless in winning. Zavian was glad he did it, and outside the castle walls. It worked well to remove his mind from everything going on in his life.

“Yes, I was listening,” Zavian pushed himself off the rock he was seated.

Azriel waited a moment, then asked, “And how’s Freya?”

“The same as you saw her.”

“And the witches have been involved?”

“Yes, and everyone else I could think of,” Zavian said. “She won’t respond to any of them.”

“But if the witches,” Azriel stepped closer to the King and lowered his voice, “if they could bring back Neera, surely this should be easy for them?”

“There is still a matter of will and fate.”

“Tell me again how that works.”

“When Neera came back, she was fated to, for she wasn’t meant to die then. And she fought to return, that’s where the power of self-will comes in,” Zavian explained. “That’s what Anna told me.”

“So, Freya isn’t fighting to return?”

“She’s still breathing, so we could take that as a fight.” Zavian answered.

“I believe she would be fine,” Azriel said. “It hasn’t been easy without her, and I have missed that massive brain of hers.”

Zavian gave a light chuckle. “I have a hunch she would ask for a fight when she wakes.”

“She would complain about how laying down for days made her weak,” Azriel said. “You know, I just had the brilliant idea of how to get her to wake up.”

Zavian was interested. “And what is that?”

“Take all her weapons, and all her books, and threaten her by her bedside that you’d set them all on fire. She would fight everything to wake up.”

“I should have thought of that as my first resort.” he said, bursting into laughter;

“Brilliant, right?”

Zavian gave a good laugh, drawing it all the way up from his belly. Azriel’s eyes twinkled with satisfied mirth.

“I know I would regret saying this,” Zavian said. “But I miss that angry Freya.”

“You’re going to regret it the minute she’s up, and I miss sparring with her. She is a worthy opponent.”

“And I am not?”

“You are manageable, to say the least.”

“Careful there, Azriel,” Zavian warned. “You will regret saying that and you know it.”

Azriel gave a careless shrug and tucked away his knives. Zavian’s spirits were lifted, mainly because Azriel was there to make everything better. It sparked the flicker of hope, and he would wait till the day Freya would open her eyes, and he would yell at her for putting him through so much worry, and hug her for coming back to him.

That love-hate relationship between siblings would be back in no time.

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