“I suppose I should tell you now, I’ve come here to die.”
Clara’s eyes widened as Sabine’s words sunk in. The murmurs that spread through the rest of the coven were too hushed to make out, but she already knew what her brothers and sisters were saying. They couldn’t let her die here.
Nobody would dispute Sabine’s right as High Priestess to choose her own time of death, but it was forbidden to do the ritual outside of the Sanctuary. Clara pushed to the front of the group. She squinted, but she could find none of the ceremonial instruments needed to perform her Last Rites.
Sabine stood empty-handed at the base of the mountain. No dagger, no grail, no boxes or chests that might be used to hold them. The fire built at her feet was less than a foot in diameter, its flames barely reaching the height of her ankles.
The mutterings slowed as the rest of her coven picked up on the same. This High Priestess was young, a fact only eclipsed by her exceptional power, and she had a tendency to speak in metaphors. This would probably be something about ego death and detachment.
“I’ve done good in my life, and I’ve done bad,” Sabine continued once the whispers were silent. “More good than bad, I hope, but the things I did wrong--” She paused, lowering her voice as she turned her gaze to the flames. “Those things I regret. Forgive me.”
Clara shivered. Something in Sabine’s tone--
No. Sabine couldn’t die here. No unenchanted objects could harm her body. The sun was nearly past the horizon, and the air was getting cooler. That’s all it was. She shook her head to clear her thoughts as the High Priestess spoke once again.
“We call what we do magic. Illusion. But that’s not true. It’s all real. The illusion is that any of it was mine.”
Sabine traced her fingertips across the surface of her pendant. She toyed with the ancient quartz, rolling it between her fingers as her playful laugh filled the air, and Clara exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
That relic held all of the power gathered by the coven through the ages. Worn by every High Priestess since the first, it belonged to them all. Sabine slipped the chain over her head and held it high, dangling the crystal in front of the crowd with a smile.
“I’m supposed to pass this down to the one I choose to take my place. I won’t do that.”
Clara’s chills came back with a vengeance. A void filled the space where her heart should have been, and the gasp that caught in her throat was echoed all around her. This talk was no longer symbolic.
The High Priest stepped forward. Twisting her lips into a smirk, Sabine shook her head. She extended her right arm toward him, fingers spread and palm perfectly flat. He stood motionless before her. As she passed her hand through the air, her energy stretched across the space between herself and the gathered coven.
Clara couldn’t breathe, but frozen in time, she didn’t need to. She could do nothing but listen as Sabine addressed her captive audience.
“I’ve left your books in your Sanctuary, but they don’t have the answers you’ll seek. There’s only one answer. It’s eternal, and divine, and it’s already in you. I tell you this now, to remember when you’re ready to hear it. I love you.”
Dropping the pendant into the flames, the High Priestess issued her final command.
“Now, sleep.”
Clara’s world shattered with a burst of violet sparks.
When she woke in the morning, her coven lay scattered on the grass, stirring as they emerged from their slumber. Only Sabine’s lifeless body was still.
The fire to her left was a pile of ash. Clara hugged herself tightly, rubbing her skin with her palms as she tried to warm up.
It wasn’t working, but she didn’t know what else she could do.
Inspired by the 5 Minute Freewrite Prompt - Witches provided by the lovely 
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