The familiar sound of rubble being crushed under the weight of a heavy foot, a silk robe kissing the dirty stone floor as the wild gusts of wind made their existence felt, in harmony to the heavy breaths echoing through the enclosed cave, all marked his return. 

I always look forward to them. The reassuring sounds of his return.

They tell me of the position my dear moon is, on my sky. Just as they bring the pleasant news of their desperation.

By every aging moon I have waited for him. Never have I ever waited as happily as I do this moon.

The time has come now, rightly.

This cave that has felt and lived my every breath has been a good companion for such long years. It was now time to whisper my goodbye. 

There is only darkness in my prison, in this cave, but I can see his shadow approach me as clearly as if it fell upon a sunlit wall. For past a hundred and thirteen years I have stayed still, unyielding to his wishes, but today I let my limbs stretch. Today, I allow my body to shiver. Today the gold chains around my hands, feet and throat will scream and cry as they unbound. The patience that my eyes held for so long can finally flow in liquid salt to reap its fruit. The promise that had been born through my anguish over the years will finally reach its claws out.

"Do you still have any spirit left in you?" His voice bounced on the cave stones, feeling my hungry ears.

A ghostly smile itched my eyes, but my lips remained submissive. My time to smile is yet to come.

He slowly reached out to lift my face up, to stare into my eyes.

An echo of surprise, danced in the cave. I assume he expected me to look him in the eyes as always.  An unusual sight of me curled up into myself, shivering like a baby fawn in winter with downcast eyes, must be a sight to his sore eyes.

I knew exactly how they all have been longing for my submission. 

A booming laugh filled up the cave, shaking its hundred and thirteen years core of silence.

"Finally!" he laughed, "You are ready to be out of your cage little bird."

Fool. I thought with an internal laugh of my own. 

Not a bird, you just let a snake out of its hole.

Twirling his glass of whiskey with his eyes closed, he tilted his head back to rest upon the sofa, waiting. 

People often had the misfortune of assuming the wait in his eyes was the mark of wisdom come much earlier upon his gaze. He always wished for someone intelligent to look at him and understand how calculating and cunning he was. At least then he wouldn't have to play this boring game all on his own.  

The Big double door of his study room swung open on their own as his servant announced his entry. He was soon stopped by his commanding yet seductive—quite like the warm whiskey he preferred—voice, "whatever news you have brought, better be a good enough excuse to spare your life." Still in the same state he took a hearty sip of the warm whiskey. "For I am not in a mood to be disturbed, but quite ready to commit murder."

His servant smiled and confidently walked closer to him, "The seventh Master of The Novem Coven has released a prisoner witch from the whining cave, Sire." His next words were whispered with much excitement, "and if the clues my crows bring is to be trusted, she might be The Caged witch... The Ninth Master, Sire!"  

Once done delivering the news the loyal servant squared his shoulders and eagerly waited for the praise. 

His confidence wavered a little when his intimidating master gave no immediate response. With nervous energy he stared at him and waited for nearly half an hour before the alluring witch raised his glass of whiskey and brought it closer to his lips. Finishing his drink, he opened his eyes, looked straight at his servant and smiled.

"I guess you earned nine spare lives today, Fraahem."