The Witch's Tower by Tamara Grantham (uplifting novels .txt) 📖

“Is it really you?” I asked the woman standing in front of me—the woman who appeared to be my mother.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“How? You died!”

“Yes.” She took a step forward. “But someone like me can’t really die. We are creatures of magic, my sisters and me. I came here after my death, and I can never leave. Come to me.” She stretched out her hand, her skin white and pearlescent. “It’s been so long. I’ve missed you, Gothel.”

“No. I can’t believe it. If you are who you appear, then why didn’t you contact me? I’ve been alone for so long.”

“I wanted to, but as I said, I am bound to this place.”

“You couldn’t have sent a message?” I asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” She took another step toward me, but I backed away. I’d hated her for so long—hated what she’d done to my life, but this wasn’t her. It couldn’t be.

“This has to be a trick.”

“It’s no trick.” Her voice sounded harsh, reminding me of the way she’d spoken when I was younger, bringing back memories I thought were forgotten. I flinched when she reached for me.

“Do you fear me?” she asked.

“I don’t know who you are.”

“Yes, you do. You know it’s me.”

“No.”

“Gothel, take my hand.” She outstretched her hand, palm up.

“I don’t want to.” In truth, I didn’t want her back. She’d shattered my world. But then again, I desperately missed her. We’d shared happy times among the chaos.

“You can do this. Just take my hand.”

Hesitantly, I reached out and grasped her fingers. They felt warm, her skin soft, just as I remembered.

“Mother?” I whispered. “It’s really you?”

“Yes, of course it is.” She pulled me to her chest and we embraced. The scent of cloves and clean linen enveloped me.

It’s really her.

I’d spent so many years feeling sad and angry, but as she hugged me, those feelings seemed so distant. When she pulled away, she brushed a tear from her cheek.

“My goodness, you’ve grown into a woman.”

“I’m hardly a woman.”

“Yes, you are. Look at you. You’re not a little girl anymore.” She lifted strands of my hair. “Still blue, I see.”

“Yes.”

“Why did we never think to use a spell to change it?”

“I’ve tried. Many times.”

“Well, it’s still a nice color all the same.”

“I suppose.” I glanced around the silent library. My friends were there somewhere. “Mother, I need your help. We’re here to find the magical shears and cut Rapunzel’s hair. You have to help—”

She held up her hand. “I know why you’re here.”

“You do?”

She nodded.

“How?”

“You forget. Your aunts and I know many things. Come, I will show you.”

She took my hand and tried to guide me away from where we stood, but I resisted. “You won’t take me to them, will you?”

“Of course not. I may know what they know, but I haven’t become like them. Not yet.” She sighed. “Now, let me show you what I have seen. It concerns Rapunzel.”

“Rapunzel?”

“Yes, and I am afraid it’s grave news.”

If it concerned Rapunzel, then maybe it was best that I follow her. We walked out of the open area and back into the stacks until we reached a stairwell. The glass-like walls reflected our images as we stepped down. Glancing up, I hoped I didn’t lose my friends as we paced down to the bottom floor.

We entered a small, circular room where a large crystal orb hung suspended in the air.

“What is that?” I asked.

“A scrying orb. I can look anywhere I please—even at your tower.”

She waved her hand. The cloudy glass cleared, revealing an image of the tower standing tall against the night sky. Fires burned around it, and in the light cast from the flames, I saw the silhouettes of hundreds of soldiers as they burned and hacked down the forest.

I gasped as I watched them work. My heart sank. “They’re burning the forest!”

“Yes. These are Varlocke’s men.”

“But… why?”

“Because they cannot enter the tower, so they’re attempting to destroy it instead. Varlocke no longer cares for the life of his daughter, but because of the spell, he cannot enter the tower. The tower’s magic keeps it safe from the fire for now, but it cannot last much longer.”

“How is that possible? He never had any trouble entering the tower before.”

“No, but you cast a spell on Rapunzel, did you not?”

“It was only a sleeping spell.”

“It was more than that. It was the spell given from one kindred spirit to another. Plus, you used your own life’s blood in the potion, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

“That spell was more powerful than you realized. It not only affected Rapunzel, but the tower itself, and the forest surrounding it. Even the plants and stones will protect Rapunzel now. The high sorcerer knows this, which is why he’s burning the forest to get to her. He believes he can no longer let her live. If she were to marry, her husband would be able to take his place as ruler. He will kill his only offspring to make sure that never happens.”

“We have to do something.”

“Yes, you must get to the tower as soon as possible, use the shears to cut the princess’s hair, and free her from the tower before it’s destroyed.”

“But what about the foretelling of the prince saving the princess and killing the witch. That’s me, isn’t it?”

“True, it is you. Don’t worry. Avoiding a foretelling is easier than you think. You only need to alter the people it speaks of. You must simply kill the prince before he kills you.”

I choked. “Kill him? I could never do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a good person.”

Her eyes darkened. “There is no such thing as a good person. Everyone has darkness inside. You’d do well to learn that. Once he frees Rapunzel, you must kill him without hesitation or he will kill you.”

“I refuse to do that.”

She eyed me, her gaze calculating. “Have you grown fond of this prince?”

“I…” My cheeks grew red.

“You have, haven’t you?”

I took a deep breath. “I