The Last Witch E t h a n C a m p b E l l Cavern’s awake trilogy - Book I The Last Witch Ethan Campbell Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2024 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C The Last Witch The Last Witch Ethan Campbell Cavern’s awake trilogy - Book I Ethan Campbell An Ovi eBooks Publication 2024 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C The Last Witch T he night was alive with shadows , each one crawling closer to Chloe as she stood in the ruins of the ancient grove. Her breath came in short gasps, her heart pounding against her ribs like a war drum. The Obsidian Blades had found her again. They always found her. The cold air shimmered as Chloe raised her hands, a glowing sigil forming in the space between her fin- gers. The trees whispered warnings, their leaves rus- tling as if urging her to run. But she stood her ground, her voice firm as she chanted the incantation. “Eldraen fira lumina! Obscuro vinca estra!” The ground beneath her erupted in a fiery barri- er, the flames twisting into a serpent that hissed and lunged at her attackers. Three figures emerged from Ethan Campbell the shadows, cloaked in black armour etched with runes that seemed to drink in the moonlight. The leader, Kael, stepped forward, his scarred face illu- minated by the flickering fire. “Your tricks won’t save you tonight, witch,” Kael sneered, drawing a curved blade that pulsed with dark energy. “We’ve waited too long for this moment.” Chloe tightened her grip on the spell. “You’re fools if you think you can snuff out magic. It’s older than your blades, older than your hatred.” Kael laughed, a cold, humourless sound. “And yet here you are, the last of your kind, hiding like a rat. Shall we end this chase?” Kael motioned, and the two hunters beside him charged through the flames. Chloe swept her hands outward, the fire serpent splitting into two small- er streams that coiled around the attackers. One screamed as the flames licked his armour, but the other reached her, blade swinging. Chloe ducked, her hand flashing upward to un- leash a burst of blinding light. The hunter stumbled, and she kicked him back into the fire. “Kael!” Chloe shouted, her voice sharp as a blade. The Last Witch “Why do you serve death when you could wield pow- er? Magic isn’t your enemy, it’s your salvation!” Kael stepped forward, his movements deliberate. “Save your breath. The Obsidian Blades are human- ity’s salvation. Magic breeds chaos, and chaos must be destroyed.” He lunged, faster than she anticipated. Their blades clashed, his steel against the shimmering force of her conjured dagger. Sparks flew as the grove echoed with the sounds of combat. Chloe pivoted, narrowly avoiding a fatal strike. Her foot caught on a root, and she stumbled. Kael grinned, seizing the moment. He thrust his blade forward, and Chloe barely managed to deflect it, the force of the blow sending her sprawling onto the ground. “Enough running, witch,” Kael growled, raising his sword for the killing blow. But Chloe wasn’t done. She slammed her palm into the earth, and the ground erupted with thick vines that twisted around Kael’s arms and legs, dragging him backward. “You’ll regret this,” he spat, struggling against the magical bonds. Ethan Campbell “Perhaps,” Chloe said, her voice trembling with ex- haustion. “But not tonight.” She pressed her hand to a pendant around her neck, its green crystal glowing as she whispered a telepor- tation spell. The grove dissolved into mist, and Chloe vanished. Chloe collapsed onto the stone floor of her hidden cavern, her vision swimming. She clutched her side, blood seeping through her fingers from a shallow cut. The teleportation spell had drained her remain- ing strength. The cavern was silent, save for the faint hum of the protective wards etched into the walls. Chloe crawled toward a low altar carved from obsidian, where a single crystal orb rested. She placed her hand on the orb, and it flared to life, projecting images of the past, present, and future in its swirling depths. Her voice was hoarse as she spoke. “Tell me... what must be done.” The orb pulsed, and a voice, deep and resonant, filled the cavern. “The line of witches must not end. The apprentice is near, but time grows short. Train her, or darkness will claim all.” The Last Witch Chloe closed her eyes, the weight of the prophecy sinking into her bones. She saw glimpses of a young girl—wild, defiant, and brimming with untapped power. “But she won’t accept this fate,” Chloe whispered. “She’ll hate me for it.” “It matters not. The doom comes regardless. The ap- prentice must rise, or the world will fall.” Chloe staggered to her feet, her resolve hardening. She limped to the edge of the cavern, peering out at the jagged cliffs that surrounded her sanctuary. In the distance, the horizon glowed with the first hints of dawn. “They’ll find me again,” she murmured. “And when they do, I’ll be ready. But first...” Her fingers curled into a fist, sparks of magic flick- ering around them. “First, I find her. The reluctant one.” As the sun rose, Chloe stepped into the light, her wounds forgotten in the face of what lay ahead. The hunt was far from over—but this time, it was her turn to hunt. Ethan Campbell II. The village of Bramble Hollow was quiet, its cob- blestone streets bathed in the pale light of a crescent moon. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, and the soft hum of crickets filled the night. But in the corner of the village, atop a sloping hill where the orphanage stood, the air was charged with a strange tension. Calla leaned against the orphanage’s weathered wall, her boot scuffing the dirt. She stared up at the stars, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at her all evening. “Calla!” The sharp voice of Matron Bess snapped her attention back. “Get inside before you catch your death. You’ve done enough brooding for one night.” The Last Witch Calla didn’t move. “I’ll come in when I’m ready.” Matron Bess sighed, her stern face softening. “You’re sixteen now, Calla. That’s grown enough to know the world doesn’t wait for anyone. Not even angry girls who think they know better.” Calla shot her a glare. “Good thing I’m not waiting for the world, then.” The forest outside the village rustled unnaturally, its trees bending as if bowing to some unseen force. Chloe emerged from the shadows, her silver hair glinting faintly in the moonlight. She held a shard of obsidian in her palm, its surface glowing faintly. “This is the place,” she murmured. The shard pulsed, guiding her steps. She reached the edge of the village and paused, her senses alert. Something was wrong. The air was too still. A faint growl carried on the wind, and Lara’s heart sank. “Shadow beasts,” she whispered, gripping her staff. “They’re here already.” Calla’s stomach knotted as the distant growl reached her ears. She turned toward the forest, squinting into the darkness. Ethan Campbell “Probably just a wolf,” she muttered to herself. But then came another growl, deeper, closer. “Matron!” she called, stepping back toward the or- phanage. “Did you hear that?” The response never came. Instead, a low, rumbling snarl erupted from the treeline as a massive shadow- beast burst into view. Its body was made of swirling black mist, its glowing yellow eyes fixed on Calla. She froze, her blood turning to ice. “Run, child!” came a voice from nowhere. Calla turned to see a woman emerge from the shad- ows, her hands glowing with an otherworldly light. The woman, tall and imposing, raised her staff and slammed it into the ground. A shockwave of light rippled outward, momentarily stunning the beast. “What the ...who are you?” Calla stammered, step- ping back. “No time for introductions,” Chloe snapped. “Do you want to live or not?” Calla hesitated, then nodded. “Then follow me!” The Last Witch The shadowbeast recovered quickly, shaking off the light. With a deafening roar, it charged at the pair. Chloe spun, her staff tracing a sigil in the air. A bar- rier of shimmering energy formed just as the beast slammed into it, snarling in frustration. “This way!” Chloe shouted, grabbing Calla’s wrist and pulling her toward the forest. “Wait, no! The village...” “Will be ashes if you stay here,” Chloe interrupted. “Now move!” The barrier shattered behind them, the beast in pursuit. “Why is this happening?” Calla yelled, her voice rising in panic. “Because of you,” Chloe said bluntly, not looking back. “Me?” “Yes, you. Now keep running!” The beast lunged again, its claws raking through the air. Chloe turned, muttering a spell. A burst of fire exploded from her palm, forcing the creature to retreat momentarily. Ethan Campbell “That won’t hold it for long,” she muttered. “Are you some kind of witch?” Calla asked, still running. “Yes.” “And you think this is my fault?” “Yes.” Calla stopped dead in her tracks, yanking her arm free. “You’re insane! I don’t even know you, and you’re blaming me for...” “Shut up!” Chloe hissed, her eyes flashing. She pointed to the village below. The scene was chaos. More shadowbeasts prowled the streets, tearing through homes as villagers screamed and scattered. Fires spread, their orange glow illuminating the destruction. Calla’s voice faltered. “No... no, this can’t be hap- pening.” “It is,” Chloe said grimly. “And if you don’t come with me now, you’ll die like the rest of them.” Calla’s fists clenched. “I can’t just leave them!” The Last Witch Chloe stepped closer, her voice softening. “You can’t save them. But if you come with me, you can learn to fight back. To stop this from happening again.” Calla’s heart pounded. The screams of her neigh- bours tore at her, but she knew Chloe was right. She was powerless here. “Fine,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll go.” Chloe nodded, already turning toward the forest. Before they could move, the shadowbeast leapt from the treeline, its massive jaws snapping shut inches from Calla’s head. Chloe reacted instinctively, thrusting her staff for- ward. A beam of light shot out, striking the beast in the chest and throwing it back. But the spell’s recoil sent Chloe to her knees. “Help me!” she called to Calla. “Help you? How?” “Use your magic!” “I don’t have magic!” Ethan Campbell “Yes, you do. Focus!” Calla hesitated, but the beast was already recover- ing. She raised her hands, mimicking Chloe’s earlier movements. “Do something!” Chloe shouted. Calla closed her eyes, her mind racing. She felt a strange warmth building in her chest, spreading to her fingertips. Without thinking, she thrust her hands forward. A burst of energy erupted, slamming into the shad- owbeast and disintegrating it in an explosion of light. Calla stared at her hands, trembling. “What... what was that?” Chloe managed a weak smile as she stood. “That, child, was magic. And it’s only the beginning.” The pair retreated deeper into the forest, the screams of the village fading behind them. Calla walked in silence, her thoughts a whirlwind of con- fusion and fear. Finally, she broke the silence. “You’re going to ex- plain everything. Who you are, what’s happening, and what you mean by ‘magic.’” The Last Witch Chloe glanced at her, her expression unreadable. “All in due time. But for now, just know this: you are the key to saving this world, whether you like it or not.” Calla scowled. “Great. No pressure.” Chloe chuckled softly, though her eyes remained wary. The prophecy had begun to unfold, and their journey was only just beginning. Ethan Campbell III. The sun filtered weakly through the gnarled branches of the Deadwood, casting long shadows on the forest floor. The air was heavy, laden with the scent of damp earth and something faintly metallic, like blood. Calla trudged behind Chloe, her arms crossed, glaring at the silver-haired witch’s back. “How much longer?” Calla asked, her voice sharp with irritation. “Until what?” Chloe replied without looking back. “Until you explain what’s actually going on. You drag me out of my home, tell me I’m the key to saving the world, and now I’m supposed to just trust you?” The Last Witch Chloe sighed and stopped, turning to face Calla. “Magic isn’t taught to the impatient or the ungrate- ful, girl.” She tapped her staff on the ground, and the air around them shimmered faintly. “But since you’re so insistent, I’ll give you the basics. You are a witch.” Calla blinked. “A witch? Me?” “Yes. The last potential one in this realm, as far as I know,” Chloe said, her voice carrying a weight that made Calla uneasy. “Your magic has been dormant, waiting for a trigger. The attack on your village was that trigger.” Calla’s fists clenched. “And you’re telling me it’s my fault that those... things came?” “No,” Chloe said firmly. “It’s not your fault. But your magic is tied to the prophecy. If you don’t learn to control it, worse things than shadowbeasts will come.” Calla looked away, her face a mixture of guilt and anger. “Fine. Teach me, then. Show me what to do.” Chloe raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s not that simple, child. Magic isn’t something you ‘do.’ It’s something you become. ” Ethan Campbell They stopped in a small clearing. Chloe set her staff against a mossy stone and motioned for Calla to sit. “Magic flows through everything,” Chloe began. “The trees, the air, the ground beneath your feet. But for a witch, it resides here.” She placed a hand over her chest. Calla frowned. “That sounds... vague.” “Of course it does,” Chloe said dryly. “Magic isn’t a recipe. It’s an instinct. Close your eyes.” Reluctantly, Calla obeyed. “Now,” Chloe said, her voice calm but command- ing, “feel the energy within you. Picture it like a spark, buried deep in your core. Focus on it. Let it grow.” Calla furrowed her brow. For a long moment, she felt nothing but the cold wind against her skin. Then, faintly, she sensed something, an ember of warmth, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat. “I... I think I feel it,” she said. “Good,” Chloe said. “Now guide it. Imagine it mov- ing through your body, down to your hands.” Calla concentrated, her breathing shallow. The