Lola did not recognize her new location aside from the snippets she had gotten from the tracking spell, enough to realize she was in the right place. The smell of herbs assaulted her nostrils and the residual magic that washed over her was enough proof that Dorcas wanted to be found in her last moments.
She cautiously stared across the room in case whoever killed Dorcas was lying in wait and set a trap for who might come for her body. But Lola was able to sense there was no one around with the use of her magic and scanned the rest of the room. It wasn’t until Lola stepped into a corner hidden away from view with a curtain that she spotted Dorcas on the bed and she froze.
If Lola was not sure she felt the bond break last night, she would have thought that Dorcas was fast asleep with the way she laid down. Her throat felt parched and her feet heavy as lead as she dragged it over to the bedside.
Dorcas looked extremely peaceful facing upwards, but her chest did not rise and fall as she slept. She was abnormally still and the smell of death engulfed Lola, and that was enough to scatter the control Lola had been holding onto.
Her legs gave out and she collapsed on the bed, tears sliding down her cheeks as her face distorted in pain. She reached for Dorcas’ hand, registering with sorrow how cold and stiff it was.
"Nunc soror adsum. Tace, soror tua tandem hic te ut pereat." I am here now, sister. Be still, your sister is finally here to see you off.
Lola spoke in their native tongue, tears pouring down her cheek like a stream while her chest arched greatly. She had not been there for Dorcas. How lonely she must have felt in death, the guilt gnawed at her chest.
When she was younger, Dorcas was the witch Lola looked up to, the same way her sister Marci admired her. The witch was her mentor, guardian, and friend for years until she decided to split ways with the coven and pursue her own vision. Lola had always imagined that the next she heard of Dorcas, it would be great tales told about her – not exactly news of her death.
Lola cried and cried until her eyes hurt and she couldn’t produce tears anymore. She stayed in a kneeling position on the bed, holding onto Dorcas’ cold hand dozing off for a while and waking moments later with a startle.
At first, Lola looked disoriented and pale, as if waking from a nightmare except it was reality and it was one where Dorcas was dead. Nausea rose to her throat as she stared at her sister’s corpse. Dorcas was really dead, reality set in and it left her feeling numb.
The few minutes of rest cleared Dorcas’ head and she was in better reign of her emotion. She spotted the gaping wound on Dorcas neck. Whoever killed her slit her throat and left her to bleed out. Lola was shaking with fury at the realization, her hands clenched into a fist. What had Dorcas done to deserve such a cruel fate? Such senseless murder. Whoever did this was going to pay and it was going to be a slow, painful death.
But Lola noticed something else. Dorcas bled out, still, there was not an ounce of blood on Dorcas’ body or clothes. She was clean. For such a violent murder, she should not be in this relaxed position on the bed either, unless someone did this.
Was it the murderer?
By chance, was Dorcas’ death a mistake and the guilty party decided to pay their last respect this way - or perhaps, he or she was trying to cover up the scene of the murder? Lola hardened her heart, mistake or not, whoever was responsible for this would pay in the worst way possible.
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