The Sorcerer's Victim

Special thanks for the help, support, and inspiration to my dear friend Your Master. Without him, this new creation would not exist. Thank you, my friend!

****

"Mom! Mommy! Take me away from here!" pleaded the girl crucified on the altar. "Mommy! I beg you, save me from this horror!" — her mental scream pierced space and time. Exhausted, driven mad by panic and pain, the girl was no longer praying to the gods; she was calling out to her dead mother. She begged for death, but no one answered, no one interrupted the suffering of the innocent victim. And before her eyes, vivid scenes from the past constantly arose...

****

Divlyana

On that day, she turned sixteen. So happy and carefree, she was running home from the fair when she collided with an unrealistically handsome stranger. Tall, slender, broad-shouldered, a brunette around forty with unusual dark-purple eyes, his sensual lips curved in a slightly ironic smile.

"Careful, beauty!" — he smiled at her, in no hurry to release the girl he had caught during the collision.

"Forgive me, sir," Divlyana stammered, freezing under the predatory gaze of his piercing purple eyes.

"I'll forgive you if you take me to Lyubava, the local witch," the stranger laughed velvety, brushing a blue-black strand of hair from the embarrassed girl's face.

"Oh," Divlyana became even more flustered, "that's my mom, sir."

"Ah, I was wondering who you reminded me of. So, will you take me to your place, girl?"

Divlyana, freeing herself from the man's hands, felt more confident:

"Of course, I'll take you. Mom is always happy to have guests. Who are you? How do you know my mom? What's your name?"

Questions poured from the girl's lips like peas.

The stranger smiled indulgently, watching the light, lively girl with a predatory gaze.

"I am a sorcerer. And my name is Michael. Your mother and I studied at the same academy. And what is your name, beautiful creature?"

Divlyana's cheeks flushed with embarrassment:

"Divlyana."

"What a wonderful name," the sorcerer drawled, "and it suits you very well. Divlyaaaaana..."

"Here we are," the girl beamed a radiant smile, sparks of joy dancing in her blue eyes. "Mom, mommy, you have a guest!"

"Divlyana, daughter, why are you shouting?" Lyubava came out to meet them. "Who's there for me?"

Lyubava turned sharply pale when she saw who had entered behind her daughter.

"Mom, this gentleman is here for you," chirped the girl, noticing nothing.

"Divlyana, go up to your room, get ready, guests will be here soon."

"Okay, mommy," Divlyana kissed her mother on the cheek and rushed upstairs.

"You have a lovely daughter, Lyubava," Michael said in a velvety voice, "just like you in your youth. Well, hello, my star!"

"What do you want, Michael?" Lyubava was clearly not happy about the unexpected guest. "And don't you dare touch my daughter!"

"Lyubava, my dear," the sorcerer parried lazily, "I come in peace. To take back what's mine. You remember, don't you?"

Lyubava turned even paler.

"Yes, I remember. Just swear by your Gift that you won't touch Divlyana."

Red sparks flashed momentarily in the sorcerer's eyes, and he replied harshly:

"Give me the book, Lyubava, the easy way! I'll wait until tomorrow, my dear! Think about it for now."

Michael turned sharply and left. Lyubava sank heavily onto a bench, barely holding back tears. The mistake made in her youth had come back to haunt her at the worst possible time. "Why, oh why did I take that book! Michael won't leave me alone now..."

The witch's stupor was broken by her daughter's ringing voice:

"Mom, I'm ready! Look, does my new outfit suit me?" — she twirled before her mother, showing off a cherry-colored dress with a snow-white underskirt and the finest lace.

"You are my beauty, daughter! Let's go set the table, the guests will be here any minute."

"And where is your guest, Michael?"

"He left, he had urgent business, he just stopped by our town briefly," Lyubava hugged her daughter, "let's go have fun, today is your special day, dear."

The gathered guests, the hired musician, gifts, the birthday cake. Divlyana was happy, not noticing the sadness in her mother's eyes.

The birthday passed merrily. Divlyana, flushed and laughing, saw off the last guest and went to her mother.

"Mommy! Thank you! This was the best birthday of my life! Now I'll become a real witch too, like you?"

"Daughter, to become a witch you need to study. What I've already taught you is not enough. The Gift needs to be developed, my dear," Lyubava replied, smiling. "Next week I'll start preparing you for admission to the Academy."

"Hooray!!!" Divlyana hugged her mother. "Mommy, I'm so happy! Thank you! Thank you!"

Lyubava laughed with her daughter, temporarily driving away the anxiety and fear from the meeting with Michael.

"You'll strangle me, you rascal! Alright, time for bed," Lyubava ordered, kissing her daughter on the cheek. "Tomorrow morning you'll start preparing potions."

"Good night, Mom!" Divlyana ran upstairs.

"Good night, daughter," whispered Lyubava, suddenly turning serious.

She sank heavily into a chair and became thoughtful.

"How untimely Michael appeared! Fool! Why did I agree to take the book then?! I'll give him the book, and let him get lost!"

Lyubava resolutely rose and headed to the storeroom, where she opened a secret compartment and took out a large book wrapped in thick cloth. Just as she was about to unwrap it, there was a quiet knock on the window. Startled, Lyubava blew out the candle and went to see who had come at night. A magical messenger was beating against the window.

"From whom? Could it be from Michael?" — the witch thought, opening the window.

And indeed, the messenger was from the sorcerer.

"I'll be waiting for you with the book tomorrow at the forest edge right after noon." Before Lyubava could finish reading, the messenger dissipated in the air.

"I'll give him the book, and let him get lost. I just need to send Divlyana away. I don't want my daughter to know anything about my past," thought the witch, pressing the cursed book to her chest and heading to her bedroom.

***

The morning was sunny and warm. From the morning, Lyubava and Divlyana gathered orders from their regular clients. Ointments, infusions, potions... Time flew quickly with the usual chores.

"Daughter, today you deliver the orders, then stop by the butcher's shop and pick up the fresh veal. And in the evening, we'll work on the plan for preparing for admission to the Academy."

"Okay, mommy. Then I'll run."

Divlyana rushed off, taking a basket of orders.

"Well, it's time for me to go too," muttered Lyubava.

Taking a basket with the ill-fated book at the bottom, she set off towards the forest. Greeting and smiling at the townspeople's greetings, she walked slowly and majestically to meet Michael. No one suspected that these were the last hours of her life.

***

Returning, Divlyana, of course, did not find her mother there. And when Lyubava had not returned by late evening, the girl ran to the neighbors, telling them her mother had disappeared somewhere. A sleepless night passed unnoticed. And in the morning, the search began. People were found who had seen Lyubava heading towards the forest. When she was found in an abandoned homestead, Lyubava was dead. Her body seemed drained of life; it was withered and aged. Divlyana, learning of her mother's death, wept inconsolably, burying her face in the shoulder of the neighbor, the bakery owner. At that moment, Michael appeared. Seeing the crying girl, the sorrowful faces of the neighbors, and the policeman, he frowned and asked:

"What's happening?"

"And who might you be?" asked the policeman.

"I am an old friend of Lyubava's, we studied at the academy together," the sorcerer replied arrogantly. "Allow me to introduce myself, Michael or Blake, a sorcerer of the highest level of four-element magic."

"The witch mistress was killed, we found her a couple of hours ago in an abandoned homestead in the forest."

"Lyubava was killed?" Michael said in surprise. "Who could raise a hand against the only witch in town?"

The policeman

shrugged:

"I don't know, Master Sorcerer, but it seems magic was involved here," he lowered his voice. "The witch looked like a mummy, even though she disappeared yesterday evening. We've called for a mage from the capital. We've never had such cases here before."

"Lyubava, Lyubava, who took your life, my beauty," Michael muttered as if to himself, moving away from the policeman.

Squatting down next to the crying Divlyana, he carefully touched her hand:

"My girl, be strong, I will definitely find your mother's killers." And turning to the neighbor hugging the girl, he asked: "Has the girl been given a soothing decoction?"

"No, Master Sorcerer," the plump baker's wife looked at him fearfully.

"Alright," the sorcerer began to give orders, "take the girl to her room, I'll find a decoction now. You, sir policeman, please escort the outsiders out of the house, the girl needs peace now. And keep me informed, I intend to take part in the investigation of Lyubava's murder."

No one even thought that it was Michael who had killed the town witch Lyubava. He actively joined the search for the killer and unobtrusively but persistently took charge of caring for the grief-stricken Divlyana.

****

Time passed. Lyubava's killer was never found. And Michael completely took over caring for Divlyana. The townspeople admired him, his care for the girl, his selfless help to people. And they turned a blind eye to some oddities in his behavior, his periodic absences in an unknown direction, attributing it all to sorcerous affairs.

Divlyana gradually came back to life, the pain of losing her mother softened, and the girl smiled again. She practically replaced her mother, preparing potions for the townspeople. And Michael became something more to her than her mother's friend and guardian. Every touch of his, every warm smile caused a thrill in the girl. Love was growing in her soul, the first love for a man in her life.

****

For two years, Michael taught and cared for the young witch. For two years, Divlyana filled with magical power. And all this time, the sorcerer encouraged the pure feelings growing in the girl for him, pretending not to notice anything. And so, Divlyana's eighteenth birthday approached. Michael planned a luxurious celebration for her, inviting almost half the town.

"Why, Michael?" the girl asked. "I don't want a noisy celebration. I'd rather go to mom's grave."

"Divlyana, you are a future witch! It's time for you to get used to attention," Michael was adamant. "You'll be studying in the capital, you'll have to go out with other students from the academy to royal balls. So get used to it, my girl."

In reality, Michael was simply diverting suspicion from himself in case the girl's disappearance came to light.

"Alright. But I'll still go to mom in the morning," the girl smiled sadly.

"Of course, my dear," the sorcerer hugged the girl tightly and pressed her to himself, "we'll go to Lyubava together."

Feeling the girl's tremor, he gently kissed her on the cheek, stroked her back. Divlyana raised her blue eyes to Michael, involuntarily leaning into his touch. And then she immediately became embarrassed, blushed, but did not pull away, instead resting her head on the man's shoulder.

"I love him! I love him! And he treats me like a little girl!" she thought. "How I wish he would love me too!"

"Soon, very soon you will be mine, Divlyana!" the sorcerer thought simultaneously with her.

****

Divlyana's eighteenth birthday began with a visit to her mother's grave. Michael accompanied the girl, helping her carry a huge armful of white lilies, Lyubava's favorite flowers. Divlyana wept quietly, kneeling before her mother's grave:

"Mommy, how could this be? Why did you leave me, my dear? How I wish to see you, even for a moment, to hug you, to press against you..."

Michael stood silently behind the girl, patiently waiting for her tears to subside. When Divlyana stopped crying and only occasionally sniffled, the sorcerer lifted her from the ground and, turning her face to him, kissed her on the lips for the first time. Barely touching Divlyana's lips with his, briefly brushing them with his tongue, he felt her tremble. Her tender lips parted on their own, but Michael had already pulled away and took a handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping the girl's tears, he said quietly:

"Don't cry, my girl, you're breaking my heart," with one phrase giving Divlyana hope that her pure love was mutual.

"Michael, I love you!" burst from her lips before she even realized what she was saying. And then she looked at the man fearfully.

He smiled softly at her and said, as if there had been no confession:

"Let's go, Divlyana, a magical evening awaits you!"

And in the evening, real magic truly began in the town. A tent set up in advance on the main square was filled with flickering lights, painting everything around in rainbow reflections. Magical illusions flared up here and there in the air, depicting scenes from Divlyana's favorite books. An orchestra played wonderful melodies. All the townspeople, dressed in their best outfits for such a celebration, could enjoy luxurious food, drink expensive wine, and dance. But the real miracle awaited the townspeople the moment Divlyana appeared. She walked along a path of illusory flowers, light, airy, like a fairy. Her snow-white dress with a scattering of diamond dust shimmered in the light of the colorful lights. The diamonds in her shiny black hair sparkled like dewdrops under the sun's rays. The girl was met with enthusiastic cries from the townspeople