Chapter 101 The Gift Of Spring

• *Xelina*
• The last echoes of battle fade beneath the heavy tranquility settling over Montelune. The white witches, led by my grandmother, weave their ancient magic like threads of silver light unraveling a tangled black tapestry. The corrupted coven’s evil voices, now broken, shrieking in fury, shrink and twist into ragged old hags, grotesque and pitiful.
• Our warriors, ferociously unyielding, drive the evil back, banishing them as Mireth, Ferna, and Nimera were cast out before. The cursed bleakness is retreating, dissolving into the cold night wind.