"The Novae Terrae, volume 2: Power War", by Bloodwitch Luz Oscuria

This is the third excerpt from my novel, "The Novae Terrae, volume 2 : Power War", in its version translated by Andreea Mirică.

The weeks have passed with incredible speed since the arrival of Tomasz, Mylena and the two Eternals who accompanied them at the citadel of Poenari, in present-day Romania. Winter is well underway, as Tomasz opens his eyes this morning from his bed in which he lay the night before, tired as rarely before. In recent months he has spent most of his time training for combat and has now mastered the art of fencing.

He had a hard time getting serious about it because he refused to understand the point of fighting with such a primitive weapon, while we are in the twenty-first century. But the Eternals made him realise that this is the only art that they master and that they can transmit to him all their knowledge. He frowned, but he accepted his fate. He had read the Hunters’ Record Book several times, which had even become his bedside book. He had deduced from this incessant reading he would do every night before falling asleep that he had little choice but to follow the orders of the Eternals.

The anger that he felt through the lines written by his grandfather, Stanislas, in the book had made him think again and again about the wisdom of listening to the Eternals. But he still had to face the facts, for if he was now underneath the citadel of Poenari, it certainly was not for a vacation. Especially since the climate did not lend itself so much to leisure. Indeed, winter in Romania is not the most merciful.

As he wakes up calmly like most days, crying reaches his ears. He sighs impatiently. Few of the mornings go that way, but he still hates them as much as ever. Especially when the day before he spent many hours perfecting the Eternals’ way of teaching him to fight. He throws off the blanket that kept him warm, with a growl that betrays his irritation, and finally stands up.

But as he pushes open his bedroom door and prepares to go into the adjacent room, he realises that the door is already open. He frowns as he approaches the landing. Looking inside, he sees that it was Mylena who got in before him. The Witch knew how to keep her word, that day when she announced to him that he had to have a child, and for that, he had been grateful to her.

Now they both had to take responsibility for what they had done. The result is in this room, and it is this little being that he heard crying a few minutes earlier. Much to the Witch’s vexation, she had given birth to a girl, and not the boy hoped to carry on the line of the Hunters. Such a thing had never happened before, the companions of all the Hunters having tirelessly given birth to a boy. But not this time.

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