A Witch In Time: Origins Book II

By Bastian Darhk

Welcome, dear mortals, to a Witch In Time: Origins Volume II. Our tale focuses on A Witch's life, whom in Origins Book One: The Ripper, went by Lillie. Though, she did not start her life as a Witch but rather a Thief.

Travel to the biblical streets of Sodom and meet a girl child, Deroar. The one destined to become one of the greatest mystics in the Bible, the Witch of Ienodar.

Follow along as she journeys across time and space, attempting to thwart her fate. Watch as she struggles against the manipulations of supernatural beings. They meant for her to become one of the most virulent weapons ever created to end a war that has raged for eons. What they failed to take into account was her humanity. What she was unable to take into account was her desire for revenge. And how it would carry her down a river of blood, shattering her soul, destroying all of their plans.

Only with the loss did she discover the truth, and with it, the key to her freedom. Her soul was composed of many pieces, and she must reconcile the many parts back into a whole.

To succeed, she must surrender to her destiny. And she must become what fate has always intended her to be...

- A Witch In Time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bastian Darhk
• Release date: Dec 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005955076

Bastian Darhk

Bastian Darhk is the pen name of American Author Eric Kurten. Eric has been interested in writing since he was a teenager. His interest in writing includes the genres of supernatural, fantasy, and horror. With the Origins Series, he has developed a world of dysfunctional monsters with many personal struggles. His first volume, Origins Book One: The Ripper, was self-published in 2016. The second volume, A Witch in Time: Origins Book II, was also self-published. Its release date was in October of 2020. A third book is currently in the early stages of being written, focusing on continuing characters involved in the first two books.He is currently working on a new series that departs from the World of Origins. The series instead focuses on the life of a professional working mother who also happens to be a serial killer. With seven children, dysfunctional marriage, and an unusual career as a psychiatrist, she takes out her frustrations with finality. The tentative date for the release of this book is next Spring. And it will be a continuing series with several books imagined, telling the complete history of the characters.

Book preview

Chapter One

Child, do you remember the day we met, and you accused me of being a thief with no thought of your actions?

Deroar smiled as she heard a shrill voice echoing in her ears, coming from the past. Deroar did not recognize the anger of the woman as directed at her. At the time, she had not been self-aware and so never considered someone might get angry with her.

Thief, anything her eyes touch, so her hands follow, and off they leave along with her, guard your valuables!

Deroar clutched her purse tight and stared around with wide eyes. Imagine someone stealing from these hard-working women! She determined it would be best to leave before this unknown person tried to rob her - it could prove to be dangerous! The girl walked with quick steps toward the open door of the brothel. Passing a door hanging open to her right, close to the entrance, she became distracted. On a table was a polished piece of glass; someone must have discarded it. It was unthinkable to leave such a valuable bit so unguarded, especially with a thief on the loose!

There was little else of interest inside the room so much that she forgot what piqued her curiosity. Howls of rage rumbled around her like peals of thunder. Deroar skipped away from the angry voices. She could not help but wonder who could have inspired such irritation among the bawdy whores. Outside, Deroar examined her green eyes in the stone's polished surface. She paused as she thought to herself. 'What a lovely piece of glass', and then she pondered how it came into her possession.

Deroar moved on into the market that ran along the street parallel to the building of the whores. A broad man with a ragged turban tilted on his head, and a snarl on his fat lips spoke with displeasure at the sight of her. Framing the stall around him were mounds of fruits, vegetables, and bushels of grain.

Child, bother another vendor, they are here aplenty in this bazaar - when you appear, things go missing. My eyes are slower than your hands is all I can figure because later, I see those missing items in your hands - taunting me.

She found no one else standing near to see whom the man addressed with such ire. Deroar felt confused. She was sure that he could not be accusing her of such deeds, for she had never stolen from anyone!

The perpetrator must have already fled the scene, seeing the fierce warning scowl on the face of the man. Shrugging, Deroar walked away from the vendor and his glaring eyes. Absent of thought, Deroar brought a ripe piece of fruit to her mouth, smiling as juice flowed over her tongue.

There was an epidemic of rudeness that she stumbled to on this day. The very next stall framed by two full wooden doors, which a vendor slammed shut in Deroar's face. The woman working the booth sighed with exasperation as she yanked them closed. A man's face filled with blood met her at the next stall. The following stood shut, though someone waited inside for her to pass.

Growing bored with the continued avoidance of her - Deroar decided to move away from the vendors.

She tossed away the pit of a fruit, but did her stomach praise her, no it did not. The grumble it unleashed matched the ferocity of the initial vendor. At least the man with his sweaty muscles turning the spit did not seem irritated by her presence. A broad smile of large white teeth shone against his sun-darkened skin. He chattered at her in an unfamiliar language. Deroar ignored this and nodded her head as if she understood every word.

The spit paused as the man burst into deep laughter, watching the girl slice off pieces of meat. He waved her away when he noticed a man approaching with a menacing look about him. The two men argued and gestured toward Deroar with repeated hand motions.

Fleeting fascination, to hear the words striking against each other. It sounded to Deroar's ears as if sabers were crashing together. The transition to annoying and then frustrating lapsed in less than a full minute.

Continuing on her way, Deroar melded with no effort into the crowd. She vanished long before the men realized she was gone.

Hopping onto the damaged wall surrounding the city - Deroar dumped out the contents of her pouch. Sun glinted on the polished piece of glass and metal coins she did not remember having at the start of the day.

She had found a comb made of bone, several scarfs of varying colors, and three more of the rosy fruit. These were the very ones the man had piled high and would have left to rot in the sunlight if she had not come along. Thoughtless people benefited from her mindfulness, though they rarely thanked her for it.

Deroar mused over it and spoke these thoughts aloud. She was not worried if someone overheard her, they might want to reconsider and thank her. In her accounting of the items, Deroar failed to notice the one-piece clasped in her hand. She was tracing her fingers over a metal disk with a raised pattern on its surface - the carvings were intricate.

Raising the medallion to her eyes, Deroar stared in awe at the formations, and it was a key, no it was a lock with a key in it. She shifted the amulet in her hand to catch the sun, and an image lifted from its surface - it was a list with thirteen names. She began reading them when a shadow fell over it and disrupted the hologram that relied on sunlight. A hand reached out and snatched away the precious disc from her grasp without warning.

"Mister, that is the treasure that I discovered today when someone left it unattended.

You are welcome to hold it for a few moments, I guess, it is lovely to look at, and it has a hidden secret too! When you tilt it in the sunlight, there is this scroll picture that lifts into the air and reveals names.

Well, I guess if I tell everyone what it contains, then it is not much of a secret, but I am sure you would never tell anyone."

You say you found this discarded, and I am curious to where this was, are you able to tell me the place where you located it? Because you see, I have an amulet quite like this one, and it seems someone thieved mine this very day.

Deroar's eyes grew large, and her mouth formed a perfect circle as she said in a conspiratorial voice.

Do you know that there was a plague of thefts today, although they occurred near me, I never saw the thief! He or she was fluent in their trade because I was unable to see them performing these actions.

Lemuel pondered the sincerity of her words, but he detected no malice or deceit.

What is your name, girl child, if I am not too bold to ask this of you?

Deroar giggled as she dropped down to the ground and moved closer to the man. Strange that he took a few steps away from her reaching hands, as she offered him a greeting.

I am Deroar, so the whores of the local house tell me this is what my mother called out when she would summon me as a young girl.

My name is Lemuel. I am the assistant to the master of the Guild of Thieves. Your touch is natural, and you have an ability that few are born with and must work with diligence to get.

She noticed that he never did move within the limits of her reach, careful to shift his steps to match those she made. He did this without conscious thought, wanting to maintain the distance between them.

What makes a thief to you, young Deroar?

What an odd question to ask, are you not aware what one is, has a robber never stolen from you before? From the loose tunic and leggings you wear, your strong build and swift reflexes, I would judge you to be a thief!

Deroar stumbled back, and her mouth formed another perfect circle again. She scooped all her possessions into her sack and pulled it close to her body.

Lemuel tossed his head back, laughing so hard that tears streamed from his eyes. He clutched at his stomach as it cramped with pain, and snorted air through his nose to control his breath.

Deroar found the man's laughter was infectious. She reasoned that a man who could find humor in such a moment could not be a danger to her. Deroar joined Lemuel in laughter, and it formed a lasting bond between them.

Paying no attention to where they walked, Deroar's fascination with Lemuel was complete. Although he commanded her attention, she somehow heard little of what he was saying. When they came to an abrupt stop before a stone wall at a dead-end alleyway, she looked around in confusion.

Deroar asked in a calm voice filled with complete sincerity.

Have you brought me here to steal from me?

No child, this is the entrance to the Guildhall of the Thieves, all initiates must come here to face the council.

Deroar nodded with a solemn look on her face, better to pretend that she knew what he was saying.

Lemuel reached into his tunic, where he uncovered his pendant. When he placed the necklace against an ordinary stone, a loud grinding noise sounded. A section slid away, revealing a hidden passage that disappeared into the darkness. Deroar raced past Lemuel with a loud giggle fading into the black.

Sealing the passageway before continuing after Deroar, Lemuel waited in the darkness, listening. He heard the patter of her steps as she raced along. Never once did the girl pause. She moved almost as if she could see in the darkness as bright as the daylight.

Lemuel shook his head, discarding the thought as nothing more than fancy. It was not possible.

Every thief could transverse the catacomb of hidden tunnels running beneath the city. Training included memorization of every passageway until they could navigate by instinct. They learned to touch, taste, and smell their way. It was important never to become dependent upon one sense to survive because it would cost your life.

Moving with swift, decisive steps, Deroar ran almost the entire way, without training.

Reaching the entrance door to the council chamber without injury was quite a feat. The path Deroar chose allowed her to avoid every trap, and not one sprung to cause her harm. It was unnatural; once more, he had the feeling she was more than she seemed. It was as if she possessed some ability to detect the hazards and avoid them. Lemuel's felt ill when he heard a soft rustling; the girl was trying to open the door!

"Child, do not attempt to engage the door; there are safeguards against tampering!

Lemuel waited for a response, but only silence greeted him.

Flaring a torch, Lemuel held it aloft, shinning it on the small body lying still at the base of the door. The massive inhalation of his breath caused the flame to dance, and sent a shower of sparks flying.

Reaching out a hand to her small frame, Lemuel hesitated. He was afraid to touch her, fearing the contact. If Lemuel moved her, his last memory would be of her warm flesh, and that would be worse than feeling cold skin. He would be experiencing the evaporation of the essence of her life force. Feeling foolish, he grabbed her by the shoulder.

Deroar turned an expectant face to Lemuel smiling.

"I noticed there were several protections in place for this door. I guess they were not aware we were coming, or they would have disabled these traps.

I removed the double needles dipped in poison from the tumblers in the lock. Once triggered, the first needle would kill someone within minutes. The second delayed-release seems like it is an unnecessary precaution.

I am glad I disengaged the trip line along the bottom of the door before you startled me!"

Lemuel wanted to pick Deroar up and shake her, but instead, he smiled, shaking his head.

Girl, you astound me with your simplification of everything. There is nothing complex about you or the way you live. There is something that is not normal about you. The real you, underneath - even if hidden from you on the surface.

Deroar grew bored when people talked about her. Did they not realize that she knew about being herself? It seemed plain to her that she knew who she was. She was herself, after all.

Opening the door, Deroar felt disappointment, facing her were four more closed doors. How convoluted did these people have to make it for someone to approach them to speak?

Lemuel watched Deroar as she considered the four portals before her. Approaching each one, she scrutinized them to think about her choice.

Lemuel walked to the far door with stealth, ensuring that the girl did not detect his movements.

Deroar nodded, moving to the door and opened it without worrying about any further traps.

A tunnel ran straight into a small circular room. Ledges ringed the room from floor to ceiling, providing built-in seating. Men, women, and even children sat and laid about on the narrow circles of stone. Along the rear curve of the wall sat a long rock table with seven chairs. There was one near the center, left vacant for Lemuel. As Deroar stood before the council table, she examined those sitting at it.

On the left was a stern woman with pinched features, she appeared as if she were straining to think. Her willowy body tall and thin did not give the impression of flexibility - instead, it made her imposing.

Next to her was a wisp of a boy with long, light hair falling over his sparkling blue eyes. A sneer matching the glint in his eyes gave him a cruel appearance.

Lemuel's familiar face gazed upon her with interest but also tenderness. The man to his right was the leader. Commanding the attention of those assembled, he radiated an air of absolute authority. His broad features kept the heavy folds of his flesh from concealing his eyes. Each breath he inhaled shook the mounds of flesh that made up his massive body.

Expressionless was the best word to describe his eyes, pale and blank. Those eyes noticed everything, but they also looked as if they saw nothing at all. Fingers laden with bejeweled rings drummed a beat on the hard surface of the chair.

Next to him was a woman of indiscernible age. Her short hair was the same dark shade as her pale eyes, not black, but more like ash. Smooth skin hung from the sharp planes of the bones beneath. Paying no attention to what was transpiring, she buffed her fingernails.

On the right was a pale-skinned man and woman with matching features. The familial resemblance was unmistakable, brother and sister. From their exposed muscled skin, littered with scars - they seemed more suited as warriors. Their matching set of bared teeth were stunning white against their dark complexions.

When the leader spoke, his voice reigned over his people, but it was not dominant. It was the strained voice of one who demands respect as expected from tradition.

Lemuel would not have brought you before the council unless he saw something special in you.

Deroar was quick to boredom, and this man held no interest for her. She supposed she was to address this man. It seemed he wanted her to prove something to him.

Your leadership, or honorable leader, or glorious master of the Guild...

Child, that will suffice. Prove to us you are worthy of acceptance into this Guild, show us your great skills.

Deroar never noticed the dismissive tone he used. She had approached his seat and began to talk before he had started to reprimand her.

"He wants me to be a thief. He thinks my things belong to others. They do, but they misplaced them, and I find them. It is not my fault if they forget where they placed them, and I am the one who keeps them safe until they can reclaim them.

I imagine being a thief is similar, and it could confuse someone if they are not aware of how helpful I am."

Enough with your rambling child, it is enough to incite a man to tear his ears from his head to shut out your yammering!

Pausing to glare at the girl, the man noticed in the palm of her small hand there was his crucial ring. The large dark opal swallowed the light cast from the various torches on the chamber walls. Appearances were deceiving.

The large man launched himself from behind the table and onto the floor inches from Deroar. Snatching back his precious Guild ring from her hand, he spoke not a word. Glancing around, the leader realized the atmosphere was one of confusion. No one noticed what occurred between the two. It had elapsed in a matter of minutes.

The girl will proceed to the tests of the novice; she is worthy of the trials!

The followers responded to their leader's enthusiasm and exploded with excitement. The council members remained stoic, none expressing any emotion during this commotion. The leader was aware of this and eyed each one, lingering on each with his unflinching gaze.

"Lemuel, you will stay with the girl tonight. At dawn, you will take her to the task, observing her as she attempts the tests. Be mindful. The watcher is under scrutiny, and there must be no undue influence to achieve success.

I adjourn this council. We will reconvene in two days if the girl bears us fruit."

Members of the council cast furtive looks at one another before they exited the chamber.

As they walked along the darkened city streets of pre-dawn, Lemuel explained the tests. Deroar wanted to give her undivided attention to Lemuel. It was so hard when he talked about such annoying things!

"Deroar, you must get your hands on the items the council has provided on a list. Then you must return a specific item to a high-profile target.

You must convince them there was no theft in the first place, that you found the item, and are returning it.

Finally, you will find your way back the council chamber without any help."

The memory receded into the past.

Speaking in a somber tone unlike her, Deroar said.

"They set me up to fail. The council knew that the tasks assigned to me were impossible to achieve. I never asked, and I doubt you ever would have told me the truth at the time.

Why did the council fear my joining the Guild, and with such vehemence?"

"Girl, there are always schemes within schemes when you are dealing with thieves.

I was never sure of the real impetus behind their reluctance. What is undeniable is that the council was afraid of you.

Your skill exceeded us all. It threatened the council, as, before you, it was those men and women that were the best."

"You went against them, knowing it could have meant banishment or worse, death. You were my champion, though it took me years to realize it. The kindness of allowing me to believe I alone achieved the impossible.

I can never repay the kindness you showed me. You disbanded the existing council and released the vipers from their nest. As is their way, they devoured each other in their clamor for supremacy.

My life had no value, but you refused to surrender me at your peril."

We are here, my child, while they have passed into memories of the past. A purpose required our skills in the now, where we belong, where we are.

I am intrigued, and you know how difficult it is to pique my interest.

There are rumors of a powerful relic come into the hands of the Religious Guild. Dangerous to remain in the hands of men who follow their whims and claim direction of unseen Gods...

Chapter Two

Deroar heard Lem's voice inside of her head, repeating the same phrase, 'Girl, it is time for you to eclipse the rest.'

The rest he referred to were the other initiates who had risen through the ranks of the Guild of Thieves. Four other thieves were vying for the position of Master Thief, and there could be only one.

The saying, Thick As Thieves, was half real, as robbers were loyal to one another so long as they were not competing. If that were the case, then the saying No Honor Amongst Thieves was more apt to be true.

So it was that once every decade, there was a tournament held for elevating a thief to master. To enter the contest, one had to have achieved a certain skill level. And also have the sponsorship of a high-ranking Guild member. Fifteen candidates participated in various tests until only the top five remained. The other ten would have to wait another decade for another chance to compete.

The remaining tests were much more severe for the finalists. The task's design was to ensure that one thief would fail, and the cost of such was death. It assured that only the best would continue to advance. With each new challenge, the level of danger would only increase. In the end, only a single victor would remain alive to claim the Master Thief's title. The participants were not aware of the finality of the challenge. Only the council members knew the brutal truth.

Deroar was central in the line of the five initiates hoping to become a master of their craft. To her left stood two young men, the same age as she, seventeen winters. Both men had slight builds, with matching dark hair that hung from their heads in unkempt tousles. Hiding behind these clumps of hair were two sets of lifeless eyes. The constant scowls they wore were the only expression of emotion present. They were identical in every way, and none could tell them apart, so they became known only as The Twins.

To her right were two other young women, both a few years younger. The two could be mistaken as sisters, for they had dark hair and similar features, but not identical as The Twins. Hanging to the middle of her back, the older girl wore her hair in a tight braid. Deroar had heard Lem refer to her as The Spider. He said with a crooked smile and glint in his eye that she weaved an intricate web to entangle her prey. She felt irritation at this, but for what reason, Deroar could not say.

The younger girl had a short hair cut more accustomed to boys in style. Both shared honey brown eyes and delicate features. It made them appear like harmless girls, and nothing could be further from the truth. Deroar had heard Lem refer to the smaller girl as The Pretty Little Bird. Lem never clarified what he meant by the saying that this girl brought men to her nest with her sweet song.

Deroar knew with her red hair, green eyes, and white freckled skin; she was different from those around her. The Guild of Thieves was a diverse group, but no others were as different as she, and they made it known to her. Respect, yes, she had that because of her natural skill, but inclusion - never.

The only member of their Guild that ever treated her as if she belonged was Lem. But he had a bias. After all, he was the one who had brought Deroar in as a child and saw to her training. Without him, she would not be standing here. It was only so because he believed in her.

In his official role as the head of Guild of Thieves, Lem entered the small, unremarkable room. He stared at the five, giving no special consideration to Deroar - she knew Lem must remain impartial.

If you are expecting praise for standing here, you will find yourself waiting and wanting. Congratulations are for victors, and none of you are yet a Master of Thieves. The trial will begin when I abscond from this room. Rely on skill or luck as you will, but one will keep you alive, and the other kill you - choose carefully.

Lem left the room through a door behind the initiates, as another opened in front of them. Deroar stopped in the doorway and examined the place she was about to enter. It was a simple, stone block chamber with no adornments, with many torches hanging on the left wall. And although strange, there were seven sets of boreholes under each light.

Deroar assumed these were in place to vent the smoke. Along the far right wall stood five pillars and atop each of those sat a small stone box. Deroar took note that there were no doors or windows in the room, other than the one she stood.

The Twins picked up the boxes and immediately began throwing them against the floor. They were a solid cube with no seams indicating any hidden openings. The Sparrow approach was to inspect the pillar and box as a whole instead of as separate objects. The Spider lifted the container and closed her eyes. She used only her sense of touch to examine its every contour.

Deroar entered the room. She felt secure that if there were a hidden trap, one of the other's carelessness would have sprung it by now. Looking at the box from a distance, she felt no impetus to touch it. It felt as if it were of no value or importance, serving more as a distraction than part of the real test.

There were five traits essential to every successful thief. In no particular order, they were Discretion, Dexterity, Deceit, and Discernment and Determination. Deroar mulled over which of the five this task was to inspire. She ruled three out almost immediately, leaving her with either Discretion or Determination.

Determination seemed too obvious, a box with no openings, of course, one would have to work to open it. But if it were Discretion, for what purpose and how would it apply here?

While Deroar was deep in her musings, the Spider gave out a triumphant cheer. With her continued touching, a hole had opened in the top of the box. The other four followed her lead and soon had their respective boxes opened as well. Deroar felt deflated; she had been so sure it was not as simple as Determination. It appeared to Deroar that she had already lost before the contest had even begun.

Lemuel and five of the council stood pressed against the holes in the left wall. They were watching the series of events as they unfolded. He heard several of the members laughing under their breath. These fools should know that such a simple task in appearance was much more than it seemed.

Focusing on Deroar, he saw the look in her eyes. It was the distance that filled them when she was reasoning a problem. It was Lemuel's turn to snicker at the others. Each cast him a sidelong glance, unsure why he should find humor in his champion losing. When Lemuel was in good spirits, it made the others uneasy. He was known to have a mean sense of humor.

Lemuel nodded to himself as if he could hear their thoughts. And as his thoughts paralleled him, the laughter had inspiration in what was yet to come.

When the initiates looked inside and turned the boxes over, there was nothing within. None was foolish enough to reach inside, for that was an ancient ploy.

Deroar noticed a loose-fitting in the front of her column; it was long and thin camouflaging it well. She walked over and pretended to examine the box, the voices of the others harassing her, she ignored. Let them believe her slow, the last to act, and the so the loser, it was clear no one had won.

Concealing her movements, she pushed against the loose piece of the pillar. Deroar hesitated when she heard a latch release, but no trap sprung by opening the chamber. Inside lay a tight bound scroll which