Untitled Witch Story Chapter 1

Amet, a young witch, awakens in a strange earthen room, trapped by an unknown enemy.

With the shock of the impact caused by her sudden landing beginning to wear off, she brushed the ground with her fingertips. This revealed the surface she lay prone on to be some kind of hard-packed earth, with small stones and bits of gravel mingled among what felt like dead leaves and the dry roots of plants. She inhaled in the chill of the quiet darkness, motivated by the realization that if sight and hearing brought no answers, maybe she could find some by way of scent.

The result was not specifically helpful, but did yield some interesting observations. Though the floor was fairly dry, the air held in it an aroma of dampness mingled with the heavy, sickening perfume of dead flowers. It seemed that she was underground.

Stiffly, she sat up. All of a sudden, it hit her that she didn’t know how she had arrived in this pitch-black flower’s tomb, and a wave of panic hit her. The unknown size of the dark space seemed to become constricting, suffocating. She remembered she was intensely claustrophobic.

To hopefully ease her rising hysteria, she began by tentatively raising her hands toward what would inevitably be the ceiling, and to her immense relief discovered that she felt nothing but the cool air of the space above. Fueled by this, she proceeded to reach around herself with slightly less trepidation, and detected no walls within an arms-width range.

“Oh,” she had just remembered something else. She snapped her fingers and suddenly a sphere of light illuminated itself. The Obb hovered over her hand; a small, glowing orb that faintly lit up her bleached curls and dirt-smeared skin, tanned from the summer now coming to a close.

It was unusually dim, though. She must have been drugged or something… a potion maybe? Probably one of those TruSpell brand incapacitators that a lot of controversy had surrounded lately, and for good reason. The brand was high quality, but as one might assume, potions used for knocking people out and leaving them confused aren’t usually employed with the nicest intentions.

Remembering a lesson in overcoming attacks on mental clarity, she placed an index finger on each of her temples and inhaled.

“One, concentrate. Two, clear. Three, open.”

She blinked, and felt instantly better. The Obb brightened to fill what she could now see was a small room with a low, warm light. She remembered that she was Ametrine, she had been kidnapped by some a******s for who know what reason, and now she just wanted to go home.

Amet stood and brushed herself off. With an arsenal of spells and charms surely at their disposal, why her assailants had decided to take her down with brute force was beyond her, and now she had to deal with wasting energy on healing all the scratches and bruises that they had been kind enough to grace her with. While holding a finger to each wound in turn, she walked around the room with the Obb floating close behind.

It seemed to be a kind of root cellar, with a stone ceiling and dirt floor. Wooden worktables sat at both ends, and they were piled with herbs and flowers that mingled with bowls and jars and bottles filled with who knows what. A bit off-center along one of the longer walls was a flimsy-looking wooden door with just a piece of knotted rope as a handle. She approached it and tried to push it open, but it didn’t even move in the slightest. Pressing on it was akin to what it might feel like to press on any of the earthy walls surrounding her, and it was solid and immovable despite its apparent frailty. Someone had done quite a nice Locking Spell on the place.

Through the cracks in the door, she could see nothing but darkness, which wasn’t surprising since advanced types of Lockings often came with the added effect of making the entire Locked area cut off from the rest of the physical world.

Though seeing that the location she was currently trapped in was relatively spacious was truly a relief, lingering claustrophobia and fear of being underground still plagued her. Amet muttered a quick Umbrella Shield Spell to at least alleviate some of the fear of the ceiling falling in and crushing her. All she could do now was wait for whoever had placed her here to decide to visit.

Author's Note

This is a story that I may or may not return to working on eventually depending on how I feel about it, so if you like it so far, please let me know!