Page 40

XANDER

The boards on the porch creaked faintly under our weight as Orion and I approached the front door to the coven leader’s home.

The house loomed, sagging under the weight of time and magic.

It didn’t belong here—maybe we didn’t either.

Even the air was thick with unnatural magic, but it didn’t deter me.

I lifted my hand to knock, hesitating for the briefest moment before my knuckles hit the wood. The sound echoed—too loud, like it challenged the quiet to fight back.

“Feeling nervous, Frosty?” Orion’s voice was laced with his usual smugness.

“Just staying alert. You should try it sometime.”

The corners of his mouth twitched, but he didn’t reply. Instead, his hand brushed against the ring—the same as the one we all wore—which showed his nervousness.

The door creaked open before I could knock again, swinging inward as though the house had finally decided to let us in. The witch appeared in the doorway, framed by dim light. She was striking with her long white hair that fell in waves to her waist and her sharp, pale eyes.

“You’re late,” she said simply, her voice smooth as glass. “At least you knock. Unlike your brother,” she smiled. “He didn’t stay long. Please, come in.”

“After you,” Orion muttered dryly. He didn’t like this any more than I did, but we didn’t have the luxury of turning around. Whatever this witch knew, we needed it.

I stepped inside. The interior was opulent, decayed, and instantly unsettling. Herbs and smoke curled in the air. Heavy curtains blocked the light. Every surface was cluttered with strange artifacts: tarnished silver candlesticks dripping with wax, glass jars filled with murky liquids.

The witch closed the door behind us, her hair glinting faintly in the candlelight as she led us towards the living room. There were no chairs, just an array of plush cushions scattered across the floor. She adjusted two so that they sat across from the fire, gesturing for us to sit.

I didn’t like it, but I sank onto one of the cushions. Across from me, the witch perched with the ease of someone who had nothing to fear, her movements deliberate and fluid. Orion hovered in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight. His distrust was palpable.

“Don’t be shy, Silverthorn,” she said lightly, her tone amused as she gestured to the empty cushion beside me. “I promise, the fire won’t bite. Unless, of course, you do first.”

“I’ll stand, thanks.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile, her gaze lingering on him a beat too long before turning her attention to me with knowing eyes. “Now then, Frostbane, why don’t you ask what you’ve clearly been dying to know?”

“How do you know our names?”

“Your names have echoed through the veil for a millennium. My name is Serenia. I am the High Witch of the East Coven. Though… you may have heard less flattering names,” her gaze flicked briefly to Orion.

Orion stiffened. “Yeah, we’ve seen enough of what your kind do to last a lifetime.”

Her laugh was soft, almost melodic, but there was a bite to it.

“Still clinging to old grudges, I see. How very human of you.”

“You were the seer who helped Eve,” I said, keeping my voice measured. “Why?”

Her eyes flicked back to me, the firelight gleaming in their pale depths. “A favor,” she said simply. “To the veil that blesses me.”

“That’s it?” I pressed, my brow furrowing.

“I owe her nothing, just as I owe you nothing. The veil demanded balance, and I provided it to her. But you?” She leaned forward slightly. “If you’re here for answers, you’ll find that they come at a cost.”

“We’re not making any deals with you,” Orion snapped, his tone hard as steel.

I didn’t look at him, my focus locked on the threat before me. “What kind of cost?”

Her smile widened. “Truth, Frostbane. It’s a simple exchange. You ask a question, and in return, I take a truth from you.”

“No,” Orion growled, stepping closer. “She’s playing you, Xander. Witches always do.”

“We need answers, Orion. Sitting around and waiting for them to come to us is taking too long.”

He scoffed, shaking his head, but didn’t argue further. I turned back to Serenia, meeting her gaze head-on. Her smile widened, and I could’ve sworn the shadows around her grew darker.

“Good,” she purred. “Ask your question.”

I paused, calculating the best way to get clear answers from her. Witches were slippery, and I’d leave nothing to chance.

“Is it true the Phoenix fire is on Earth?”

Her lips curved into a knowing smile. “It is more than true—she was dragged here, though not by chance. Fire follows fuel, and your kind provides plenty.”

Her words, though vague, gave me exactly what I was looking for. My kind. Someone had brought the Phoenix to Earth on purpose. A Titan no less.

“I’ve given you your answer. Now it’s my turn,” her gaze sharpened, locking onto mine with unsettling clarity. “Do you care for her because she reminds you of Titan? Or because you think saving her will save yourself?”

The question twisted something in me, hitting far deeper than I’d expected.

“Do those things need to be exclusive?” I countered.

“Clever evasion, but the veil sees the truth,” she smirked. “Next question?”

I flexed my fingers to keep my frustration in check as I thought of my next question. It had to be direct, or she would find a way to dodge it.

“Why do the daema believe Eve has this power?”

Something flickered in Serenia’s eyes—amusement, maybe pity.

“You’re missing the bigger picture,” she said, her voice carrying a faint, almost mocking lilt. “It is not what the daema believe, but what her existence means for both worlds.”

Her words were maddeningly vague, leaving more questions than answers. Orion scoffed behind me, his patience clearly wearing thin. Serenia ignored him, her eyes still locked on me.

“For someone who leads,” she said, her tone sharp and cutting, “you’re surprisingly afraid of being followed. Do they know how little you trust them? How much you doubt their loyalty?”

The accusation burned, but I refused to flinch—to give her an inch of that doubt that had followed me across to earth all those years ago.

“When the time comes for me to be tested again,” I said evenly, “I hope to prove their trust wasn’t in vain.”

She studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable, before giving a faint nod.

I pressed forward, unwilling to let her take the reins entirely. “What is Pathos’s plan? What does he know that we don’t?”

Serenia’s smile was indulgent. “Pathos has seen the bigger picture far longer than you have,” she said. “Even if his sight is blind. Time is ticking, Frostbane, and he’s waiting for you on the other side.”

“What does that mean?”

“You would die for her, wouldn’t you?” she said instead. “A noble thought. But tell me this—what if the fire demands her death, not yours? Will you let her die to save the rest?”

The air in the room seemed to vanish, the fire suddenly too bright, too hot.

“If it comes to that, we’ll find another way.”

Serenia’s expression shifted, something almost like disappointment flickering across her face. “Then our time is done,” she said, her tone final.

“That’s it?” Orion snapped, stepping forward. “You barely told us anything.”

Serenia’s head whipped toward him, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“If you do not wish to hear the words the Veil has to offer, you are free to leave,” she said coldly.

Orion tensed, but he didn’t push further.

Serenia watched me rise, predator’s eyes tracking every move.

“I do hope to see you again,” she said with a wave. Orion stalked out of the door, his frustration clear.

I hesitated. “One more question—but not for me, this is for her. Is her fate sealed?”

I honestly didn’t know if I wanted to know the answer, but I had to ask. I had to know if there were any other options if we did find the proof we were looking for.

“The girl you protect holds the spark of a Phoenix,” she said. “But you know more than most what this power means. Fire consumes all it touches. Be certain you’re ready to burn along with her, little god.”

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The truth was… I still didn’t truly understand how I felt about Eve. Or if I would have enough strength to stand by and watch her fate consume her.

Without a word, I turned and followed Orion outside, the door sealing shut behind me.

Orion let out a low growl, kicking a loose rock off the porch as he turned on me. “That was a goddamn waste of time,” he snapped, his voice low but seething. “She played you, Xander. That’s all witches do—they play people.”

“We needed answers and we got them,” I said, my jaw clenched. My mind was already reeling, spinning through the endless possibilities and how she might have twisted the truth just to mess with us. It wasn’t enough, not yet, but it was worrying nonetheless.

“Got them?” Orion scoffed. “She didn’t answer anything! All she did was twist words and toss riddles around.”

He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean the trip was a waste of time. The pieces of this vast puzzle were starting to click into place, if only I could zoom out enough to see the whole picture.

“We need to get back to Eve,” he muttered, his voice sharp. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

I nodded, though my mind was already elsewhere. “Drop me off at home first.”

Orion turned to me, his brow furrowing. “What? You’re just going to leave her with Ragnar after all that?”

“I need to assess what she said—strip the truth from the theatrics.”

“Right,” he scoffed, but he didn’t press further. With a muttered curse, he stalked toward the car.

I slid into the passenger seat. The engine roared to life. Trees and lights smeared past the window as my mind circled the same question: What bigger picture was I missing?