The Witch's Mind and the Final Battle

The spell Salomon had cast on her had already faded. Driven by the gale, the rain lashed at her without obstruction, nearly forcing her eyes shut. Wanda wiped the rain from her face and struggled to keep her footing amid the unceasing tremors and slick ground. She knew she absolutely could not show weakness, because the monster before her—with leathery skin and jet-black claws on both hands—would seize every opportunity to kill her.

She barely remained standing. The stabbing pain in her knees nearly kept her from straightening her legs, and the wounds on her palms made it difficult to perform precise, complex casting gestures. After James Boone transformed and shifted the battle from a contest of spells to hand-to-hand combat, magic became her only defense against the Vampire's attacks, which were nearly impossible to see. The small pistol she carried for protection was useless, and she did not believe the short blade at her waist could solve the problem. The only Silver Stake capable of piercing the Vampire's skin was currently embedded in its claw. She could not follow the Vampire's movements with her eyes and could only fight and evade using her senses, which surpassed those of ordinary people.

All magical potential manifested as unusual physiological phenomena. Even the mad Witches in old villages had only gone insane after seeing things they should not have seen. These phenomena took the form of exceptional intelligence, keen intuition, and so on. They reflected the connection between consciousness, soul, and body. Wanda had studied the basics of this.

She closed her eyes and sank her consciousness into the silvery-white plane.

The wind of Aether swept across her face. She smelled the Vampire's fear and heard what it was thinking. Its unguarded mind was a chaotic mess, filled with countless vile thoughts