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Last night replays in my mind. My thoughts are heavy, but not with despair. For once, there’s something grounding me, something steady. Someone.
Lucian.
I can’t stop replaying the way he held me last night, the way his voice wrapped around my frayed nerves and pulled me back from the edge. He didn’t push, didn’t demand answers I wasn’t ready to give—he just… was there. And in the quiet, when the weight of everything threatened to crush me, he reminded me I didn’t have to face it alone. I never knew how much I needed that until he gave it so freely. He’s done it before, sure, but the more he reassures me the more it fully sinks in.
He’s so much more than the enigmatic vampire I first met. He’s my tether, my calm in the storm. The way he looks at me—like I’m something precious, worth fighting for—it’s overwhelming. He sees parts of me I haven’t fully understood yet, parts I didn’t even know were there. And when he says I’m strong, when he says we’ll get through this together, I almost believe it.
Almost. But that’s more than I had before him. And for now, it’s enough.
I’m still reeling over what happened in Mr. Fallon’s office. How easy it was for Blackthorne to just assume I’m up to shady things. Yes, I am fully aware it looks like me in those photos, but to just drop me without letting me explain before making a decision? Now I have to jump through hoops to get the administration to listen. I’m devastated over it. I was really enjoying my classes, and I felt like I was learning so much. I enjoyed my professors and building a bond with Marisol.
But now it’s all gone to shit. It’s just one more thing on my long list of things to figure out. Right now, though, I have to change gears.
The doors of the Witch’s Guild creak open, the sound reverberating through the vast, silent halls. As Ravenna steps inside, I follow close behind, nerves twisting my stomach into tight knots. The air immediately feels heavier, charged with an energy that prickles my skin.
The entryway is breathtaking—impossibly grand, with a vaulted ceiling painted like a star-filled night sky. Constellations shimmer faintly above us, their faint light playing off crystal chandeliers that cast tiny rainbows across the polished black-and-white marble floor. The scent of sage, ancient wood, and something faintly metallic lingers in the air.
Nicole and Rebecca hover beside me, their presence a small comfort in this overwhelming space. Nicole glances my way, offering a faint smile that does little to ease the tightness in my chest.
“Stay close,” Ravenna murmurs, her voice low but firm as we walk deeper into the Guild. “This is not a place to wander. There are many things going on, and I’d like you to not get caught up in them.”
The corridors stretch endlessly, each one lined with tall arched windows that overlook the moonlit Delaware River below. I catch glimpses of the water’s silvery surface between the thick velvet drapes, and for a moment, it feels like the Guild exists in an entirely different world.
“What a beautiful place,” I whisper, struggling to keep my voice steady.
“The Guild chose this land centuries ago,” Ravenna says without turning. “It holds power, like all sacred places. It was the Guild that built this sanctuary atop it.”
We pass witches along the way—men and women of all ages, dressed in flowing robes or modern clothing that looks out of place in such an ancient setting. Some carry books or bundles of herbs; others clutch staffs adorned with glowing runes. None of them stop to look at us, though their presence makes the space feel even more alive, as if the very walls hum with their combined magic.
I struggle to breathe as the weight of the atmosphere settles over me. Every step deeper into the Guild feels like stepping further into an invisible current of power. By the time we stop in front of an ornate double door etched with glowing runes, my palms are slick with sweat.
Ravenna turns to face me. “Once we go inside, speak only when spoken to,” she warns, her gaze sharp. “The elders are not ones to suffer interruptions or idle questions.”
My throat feels dry, but I manage to nod.
Nicole leans in close, her whisper light in my ear. “You’ll be fine. Just… don’t freak out.”
Rebecca offers me a reassuring look, but even she looks unnerved.
Ravenna places her hand against the center of the door and murmurs something in a language I can’t recognize. The runes glow brighter, and the doors swing open soundlessly, revealing a room that takes my breath away.
The circular chamber is illuminated by soft, flickering light from floating candles. The domed ceiling above is painted with shifting constellations, as if the very cosmos were alive here. At the center of the room sits a massive table carved from black obsidian, its surface polished to a mirror-like sheen.
Three women sit around the table, their presence so commanding that I instinctively stop in my tracks.
The eldest—or who I assume is the eldest, judging by her skin and hair—sits at the center, her white hair pulled into an intricate braid that falls over one shoulder. Her crimson robes shimmer faintly in the candlelight, and her piercing silver eyes lock onto mine with a sharpness that makes my stomach flip.
This is exactly what I envisioned when thinking about a guild full of witches. Not the people dressed in modern clothing like me, but this…this room and these women.
There’s also a woman with rich, dark skin and coiled golden hair that seems to catch the light. Nicole resembles her in many ways, her bone structure, her skin, her hair. The woman’s necklace of polished gemstones clinks softly as she moves, her gaze warm but penetrating.
The third woman is tall and elegant, her silver hair cascading in waves down her back. Her beautiful gray eyes flicker with intensity, like the calm before a thunderstorm. Her deep blue gown glimmers faintly with embroidered stars that seem to twinkle as she shifts.
“Sylvie Rosenthal,” the eldest says, her voice resonant and firm. “You have arrived at last.”
The sound of my name from her lips makes my breath hitch. I step forward, unsure of what to do, my legs stiff and unsteady.
“Sit,” the silver-haired woman commands, gesturing to a chair near the table. “We have much to discuss.” She gives me a knowing look. “My name is Eldara.” She motions to the second woman, the one who reminds me of Nicole, and says, “That is Calidora, and that is Etta,” she says gesturing to the woman with the long silver hair.
I nod at the three women before me and then glance at Nicole and Rebecca, who stay back near the door. Ravenna gives me a slight nod, urging me forward. My legs carry me to the chair, my footsteps echoing loudly throughout the room, every step feeling like I’m wading through quicksand.
Calidora leans forward, her voice melodic but firm. “Your mother came from a long line of original witches—the Everdawns. It is a name spoken with reverence among the witches in these walls. Your lineage is one of power, resilience, and great sacrifice.”
I blink, caught off guard from their immediate compliment of my lineage. “I wasn’t aware of any of this until recently,” I manage to get out.
“That’s because your family shielded you from this world,” Eldara cuts in. Her tone carries no malice, only a matter-of-fact certainty. “But shielding does not erase destiny. The blood that runs in your veins carries a weight few can bear.”
Etta nods slowly. “Your ancestors were more than witches. They were architects of balance, protectors of the fragile peace between mortals and immortals alike. They were also known for being the first great healers of our kind.”
My heart pounds in my chest. The idea of my family being so important to the supernatural world feels impossible to reconcile with the quiet, ordinary life we led before everything fell apart.
Eldara folds her hands on the table, and I admire the rings encasing her fingers. “Your sister, Lara,” she begins, her voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts. “Ravenna has informed us of her particular issue. Restoration of her humanity is possible—but it is not simple. Nor is it without risk.”
“I’ve been told as much,” I admit. “What kind of risk?” I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
The three women exchange a glance with each other before answering. “The ritual requires immense power, precision, and sacrifice. It demands more than just magic. It demands the blood of a vampire and an artifact of great significance—one that is now tied to the Solstice Society.”
I stiffen. “The Solstice Society? They have it?”
“They guard it jealously,” the storm-eyed witch says, her tone sharp. “And retrieving it will not be easy. Without it, the ritual is impossible.”
“I was told this has been done before. Was there a different artifact used?” I ask, suddenly feeling my cheeks heat. Maybe I shouldn’t have told them I know anything about it at all.
“We had one of our own join Solstice, and she brought it with her. They can be very convincing, especially with their dark magic. It was a nightmare. Still is,” the silver-haired witch says.
My chest tightens as their words sink in. “Will you tell me what happens if the ritual fails?”
Eldara leans forward, her piercing gaze holding mine. “If the balance is not perfect, the magic could turn on you. You could lose yourself entirely. Or worse, you could lose Lara forever.”
Her words hang in the air, heavy and smothering.
Eldara speaks again, her voice softer now. “Thirty years ago, a young witch attempted a similar ritual to save her brother. The magic consumed her. She was lost, though her brother survived. It is not a path to tread lightly.”
I clench my fists, forcing myself to breathe through the storm of fear rising within me. “But it is possible,” I say, my voice firm despite the tightness in my throat. “You’re saying there’s a chance.”
Etta, once again, nods slowly. “There is always a chance, Sylvie. But you must understand the stakes because they are quite dire. Once you begin, there is no turning back. You cannot start the incantation and decide you’d like to back out. That will shift everything as we’ve ever known it.”
Ravenna places a hand on my shoulder, grounding me. “Sylvie,” she says gently, “you must be certain. This isn’t just about saving Lara. This is about whether you’re willing to risk everything—for her and for yourself. This will affect many more than just your sister. It will affect you, these three women before you, and me as well. All of us who are helping you with it will be subject to peril.”
I take a deep breath, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” I say, my voice steady. “I’m prepared for the consequences.”
I don’t know if it’s true. But I don’t see any other way out.
The witches exchange a look, a silent conversation passing between them in the same way Nicole and Rebecca converse. Finally, the eldest nods. “Very well. Then you must prepare yourself—for what lies ahead will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine. We are privy to your recent studying, your recent classes you’ve taken. Those will surely help you, but we also need to meet with you again as well.”
Ravenna takes the lead and explains how I will study with her and a fellow colleague of hers and we will learn the incantation.
“After we feel you’re strong enough to handle it, we can reconvene with our elders and move forward. We will need to get our hands on the stolen artifact, which will be a challenge in itself. I have a feeling you won’t have a problem with the vampire blood, though.” She looks at me, giving me a soft smile, and I nod.
As we leave the chamber, the weight of their words presses heavily on my shoulders. The path ahead feels impossibly daunting, but I don’t have a choice. I’ll find the artifact. I’ll face whatever comes next.
Because failure isn’t an option—not for Lara, and not for me.
* * *
The next room Ravenna leads us to feels entirely different from the grand, ceremonial chamber we just left. This one is smaller, warmer, with the faint scent of lavender and cinnamon filling the air. Soft golden light spills from sconces on the walls, illuminating shelves lined with jars of herbs, ancient books, and vials of shimmering liquids.
“This is where we can practice the incantation and continue building up your strength in a safe environment,” Ravenna explains as she gestures for us to enter. “It’s a sacred space, designed to focus and amplify magical energy. You’ll need every advantage you can get.”
The air in here feels heavier, electric, as though it thrums with an invisible current. I step inside cautiously, my fingers brushing against the edge of the long wooden table that dominates the center of the room. At its heart is an intricate carving of a sigil—a symbol I don’t recognize but can’t seem to look away from.
Ravenna moves to the far side of the room, where another woman stands waiting. She’s tall and willowy, her auburn hair pulled into a long loose braid that falls over her shoulder. Her olive skin glows faintly in the warm light, and her amber eyes seem to pierce straight through me.
“Sylvie, this is Cassandra,” Ravenna says, her tone respectful. “She’s an old friend and one of the Guild’s foremost practitioners of restorative magic.” Ravenna places a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder and gives her a warm smile, which the woman returns.
Cassandra turns the same smile on me, though there’s a weight to her expression that suggests she knows just how impossible this task feels to me right now.
“So you’re the Everdawn heir,” Cassandra says, her voice smooth and rich. “I’ve been told you’re a quick learner. That will be necessary here.”
I swallow past my ever-growing anxiousness, feeling the weight of her gaze as though it’s pinning me in place. “I’ll do my best.”
Cassandra’s lips twitch into something like a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s what we all hope for, isn’t it?”
Ravenna gestures to the sigil on the table. “This is the spell’s foundation. Before you can attempt the ritual itself, you’ll need to understand the incantation’s mechanics and how to harness your own energy to sustain it.”
Nicole and Rebecca stand off to the side, their presence a silent reassurance; that’s all I’ve asked of them—just to be here for me. I glance at them, drawing strength from their quiet confidence before turning my attention back to Cassandra and Ravenna.
Cassandra begins tracing the sigil with her finger, her movements deliberate and precise. “This incantation requires more than just words. It’s a weaving of power, intent, and connection. Your focus must be absolute, or the magic will unravel.”
She looks at me, her expression grave. “And if it unravels, it could take you with it. Surely our elders informed you this is not for the weak.”
The weight of her words settles over me like a lead cloak, but I force myself to nod. “What do I need to do?”
Ravenna steps forward, her voice gentle but firm. “First, you need to build your strength. This isn’t just about magic—it’s about endurance. The ritual will demand everything you have, physically and mentally.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, my stomach twisting with unease.
“It means you need to prepare your body as much as your mind,” Cassandra says. “Meditation, physical training, proper nutrition. Magic draws from your life force, and if you don’t have the reserves to sustain it, the spell could drain you completely.”
I nod slowly, the enormity of the task settling in. “And the incantation itself?”
Cassandra gestures for me to step closer. “Let’s start with the basics.”
She begins to recite the spell, her voice steady and resonant. The words are unfamiliar, a mix of harsh consonants and flowing vowels that seem to hum with energy as she speaks them. I repeat after her, stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables at first but gradually finding a rhythm after a few minutes of repetitive practice.
“Good,” Cassandra says. “Now, try again, but this time, focus on channeling your intent into the words. Speak them as though you’re shaping reality itself. As if you can move mountains with your palms.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, letting the words flow from my lips. As I speak, I focus on delivering the intent, and I feel a faint stirring in the air around me, as though the room itself is responding to the magic I’m trying to summon.
“Better,” Cassandra says, nodding. “But you’ll need to do more than stir the air. This spell requires precision and strength in equal measure.”
Ravenna steps forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Sylvie, you’re doing well, but this is just the beginning. You’ll need to practice until the incantation becomes second nature—until it feels as natural as breathing. Like your body could do it on its own.”
I nod, though the enormity of what lies ahead feels like a mountain I’m not sure I can climb.
“Let’s try again,” Cassandra says, her tone encouraging.
And we do.
For the next hour, we work through the incantation, breaking it down into smaller sections and practicing each one until the words begin to feel less foreign on my tongue. By the end of the session, my head aches, and my muscles feel as though I’ve run a marathon, even though I haven’t moved from my spot.
“You’re making progress,” Cassandra says, her expression softening slightly. “But this is only the beginning. The real challenge will be sustaining the spell during the ritual.”
“How do I do that?” I ask, my voice hoarse from repeating the incantation over and over.
“By building your reserves,” Cassandra says. “Focus on strengthening your body and mind over the next couple of weeks. Like I said, meditation, exercise, eating the right foods—these are all essential.”
“And don’t forget rest,” Ravenna adds. “Between each of your practice sessions, you’ll need to wind down. Your body needs time to recover, especially as you push yourself further.”
I glance at Nicole and Rebecca, who both nod in agreement. “We’ll help you,” Nicole says firmly.
“Whatever you need,” Rebecca adds.
Their support bolsters me, but the weight of the task ahead still feels overwhelming. I know this is only the first step, and the road ahead will be long and difficult. This is what I’ve asked for, and I’m well aware there is no turning back.
“You’ll continue practicing the incantation as you work on your strength and endurance. Don’t let a day go by without at least one attempt. We don’t want you overexerting yourself, but your body and mind need time to turn this into muscle memory. Small bits of time each day will work wonders for you,” Cassandra says with a knowing smile. “You’re welcome to come back here and use this room anytime you like.”
I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the unknown and hoping I can do this without destroying Lara and myself—and these women in front of me—in the process.