Arthur's pov.
The chamber was dim, filled with flickering candlelight that cast long shadows on the stone walls.
We sat quietly glancing glances at each other as the black witch continued with her work.
Amelia moved to her, whispering something to her, the witch turned to her with a cold glare.
“What do you know about black magic?” She questioned her, her expressions flickered to disdain. “What the hell do you think you can do to help me?”
Amelia frowned, stepping back. “I just wanted to help, you don't have to be harsh with your words.”
I winced as I clutched my wounded arm. The pain was almost unbearable, I can't believe this was what my victims had to pass through before they died.
Amelia walked to me. “Who does she think she is?” She eyed. “I am almost the best witch in our time, just because I don't practice black magic doesn't mean my powers aren't as powerful as it.”
I smiled, despite the pain. “It's okay, Amelia, just let her go to work.”
Amelia rolled her eyes as the bla
