As they moved down the stream, the woods seemed to become quieter with every step. Birds stopped chirping. The wind stopped singing as the river stopped humming. Trees stopped their dance. Ptolema's blood felt the shift of how the earth seemed to stop. Her heart pumped but it was as if no blood was in her veins to pump.

"Do you feel it too?" Droian asked while walking beside Prolema. She stopped, as did the others. All around them the world shivered in their wake. The universe struck at them with a powerful blow - no! - not the universe, but someone from above, within the skies.

They all look up to see whom had struck out at them to knock them backwards onto the hard ground beneath them. Problems squints her eyes into the gloomy sky above to see only the clouds above them.

"Keep moving, but hurry up. We must walk fast and not stop until we make it there," Ptolema orders all of the others while she stands and brushes dirt from her uniform.

The mud squished beneath their feet as they ran into the depths of the unforgiving woods. The hollowness of the death in the forest swallowed them whole. No one dared defy Ptolema or speak to the wood's creatures. Here, within the trees and shrubs, darkness slithers through all.

Asher looked around at the bark on the trees and swallowed his nerve down, "We're here."

"Where is 'here' exactly?" Droian asked while searching the sky and terrain around them.

"The witchcraft circle," Ptolema replied. She had almost forgot about the Circle of Witches. If you do not put the witch's dead body onto the circle and burn it with the blood of it's killer, then the witch is able to be reincarnated again, even from its own ashes.

"Did the king ask for the body to be reincarnated?" Iris asked.

"He never said," Droian answered with a click to his tongue.

Ptolema started at the circle. She cleared the ground with her foot carefully. The leaves crushed under her foot as she slid them around the dirt. Sparks started to fly as Irik began to set the Circle-Stones into their places to begin the witch-embalming.

Each stone he placed down became more and more heated as the circle formed into its place. As Irik began to finish putting the rocks into the circle, a spark began to fly in the center. Bigger and bigger the spark flies with every new rock that is placed; until finally, Irik places the last and final rock within the circle's circumference. A huge green and yellow fire filled the rocks within the circle. Whispers of an ancient witch language began to chant silently into each of their ears.

Ptolema steps up to the circle with the witch's body in her hands. She readies herself to throw the dead corpse into the fire when Asher presses his hand on her shoulder, "Are we sure this is the right thing to do?"

She glares under her blonde hair at him. And with that death-defying look, Asher backs away a few steps to let her do what she needs to do.

As the fire hisses for its meal, Ptolema throws the corpse into the fire. Her eyes eat in the image of the green-yellow fire burn the body into ashes. She knows the spell to speak for the witch-embalming. Though she would raise suspicion to the people around her, she speaks the ancient tongue that the language calls for. Slowly she chants it, all the while waving her hands in the fire. She hopes that the spell works. As she scans for any sign of the spell working, Ptolema feels the stares of her companions behind her. She knows they are staring wide eyed at her. Although none will tell the king, blackmail will most likely be used in this situation.

The fire slowly begins to die down as the head of the witch starts to form again. The rest of her body still remains ashes, meaning that Ptolema's spell had worked. A slight smirk starts to form on her face. She knew the spell would work (mostly).

Droian was the first to speak, "And where did you learn that spell?"

"None of your damn business!" Ptolema yelled back at him while kicking to rocks out of their circular shape. Irik starts to help her remove the rocks out the shape, he seems the least impressed at the spell she had just cast then the others. He actually seemed impressed and slightly more happier than he was before. Ptolema saw the happiness in his eyes as she grabbed the witch's head and slammed it into one of her empty shoulder bags.

"And how are we going to explain to the king who cast the spell for the witch's embalming?" Asher asked while grabbing his own bags and walking after Irik and Ptolema.

"I will talk to him, and you all will not speak unless I say so," Ptolema ordered.

"And if he asks one of personally?"

"Tell him that I went behind y'alls backs to go to do her embalming myself!" The annoyance in her voice spread throughout the forest.

"Ptolema?" Droian asked while struggling to put his bags onto his back and walk.

"What is it, Prince," she retorts back.

"Just... when we get back to the castle, you need to know that Irik needs to be hidden."

"I can handle myself," Irik says while squaring up to Dorian.

Droian's little body had no comparison to Irik's muscular shape. Ptolema could not help but to laugh as Droian cowardly stepped back like a deer. Irik smirked and stepped back up to catch up with her leaving the coward in his dust. Droian looked at him like the Devil looks at Hell.