~~~
.
.
.
The Rune Coven was quiet, almost eerily so, in the wake of the storm. The wind whispered through the broken spires and shattered glass-like frost that still clung to the ground. Even in daylight, the place seemed suspended between life and death, its usual vibrancy muted by the recent chaos. Trees, twisted and scorched, bore branches like skeletal fingers, and paths that had once glittered with magical runes were now dim and cracked.
Ares led the group with his usual impatience, boots crunching over frost-tinged stones. Hades followed close behind, his eyes scanning every shadow with careful, predatory attention, always aware of Hazel a step away. Lycan trailed near Hazel, his golden gaze flicking from the ruined paths to her every so often, though Hades' presence was like a tether, keeping the tension taut.
Hazel herself walked with quiet grace, silver hair catching the dim sunlight, the long cloak she wore brushing softly against the cracked stone. She was the calm in the storm — though inside, her mind churned with unease.
Ares halted suddenly, raising a hand. "I couldn't find anything related to what was being summoned, It's basically a ghost trail," he said, voice low, almost reverent. "Or… something made to look like one." His eyes glinted with suspicion. "Speaking of ghosts…" He let the words hang, letting the group lean in slightly. "I found something else."
The group turned to him, curiosity piqued. Hades' gaze sharpened, his dark aura flaring slightly. Hazel noticed the familiar tightening in his chest — that protective instinct that never left him.
"All the graves here," Ares continued, pointing ahead to a section of the Rune Coven's graveyard, "they've been… altered. Sigils carved into the stones. Symbols I've never seen before, not in my lifetime. And I'm willing to bet Alyssa hasn't either."
A hush fell over the group as they approached the graveyard. Once, it had been a place of quiet reflection, of reverence. Now, the storm had left it desecrated. Tombstones lay cracked, frost-laden weeds creeping over shattered memorials. The earth was churned, and the faintest traces of magical residue hung in the air like ash.
Alyssa came forward, stepping carefully among the graves, her robes brushing over the cracked stones. "You should have seen this place, Hazel," she said softly, eyes downcast. "Before… before everything happened. It was once a place of peace. A place for the Coven to remember their ancestors, their lives, the magic they left behind. Now…" Her voice faltered.
Hazel gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's still beautiful," she murmured, soft but unwavering. "Even now, even after the storm. The ethereal essence of this place… it still exists, it's beautiful."
Alyssa glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at her lips, though her eyes were tired, shadowed by loss and worry. "You see it…?"
Hazel nodded. "The magic hasn't gone. It's just in the air." she smiled seeing the beautiful yet tiny glowing lights floating and dancing around the graveyard.
The group moved forward, examining the sigils carved into the graves. Hades followed closely behind Hazel, one hand loosely brushing against her cloak as if unconsciously ensuring she was safe. Lycan trailed nearby, keeping his hands tucked into his cloak but his body tense. Ares moved with precision, analyzing the symbols with sharp, assessing eyes.
"They're ancient," Alyssa said finally, leaning closer to the stones. Her fingers hovered just above one sigil, her face pale as she traced it in the air without touching. "I've never seen anything like this. They predate even the Coven's earliest wards… This is old magic, older than any of our books. Some kind of… summoning runes, perhaps. But it's unlike anything I've ever studied and it's forbidden."
Hades' voice was low and almost inaudible. "Velia?"
Hazel stiffened slightly, sensing the tension radiating from him. "You think she did this, but she isn't a witch, is she?" she asked softly.
Ares snorted. "Do I think? I know. It's her signature. The storm, the summoning… she's leaving breadcrumbs. And this, she could've had help?" He gestured at the graves. "Or whatever she was summoning could be a witch or something related?"
Hazel frowned, her silver hair catching the dim sunlight as she knelt beside one of the sigils. "It feels… cold. But I can sense anger… and restraint. She's holding something back."
"Or preparing something," Hades muttered, his hand brushing lightly over Hazel's as he passed by to examine another grave. His touch was subtle, almost hesitant, but Hazel felt the warmth seeping through, grounding her. He didn't need to speak — his presence said more than words could.
A long silence fell over them as they examined the graves, broken only by the occasional murmur from Alyssa. "This magic… it's protective and yet… corrupting at the same time. It's weaving life and death together, but in a way that should not exist. Whoever did this is… powerful."
Hazel looked up at her companions, a wave of determination swelling inside her. "We have to stop it," she said quietly. "Whatever she's planning, we have to stop her."
Hades' gaze softened as he looked at her, the dark intensity in his eyes flickering with something almost tender. "We will," he said quietly. "Together."
As the day wore on, the investigation proved more frustrating than fruitful. Despite the sigils and the traces of ancient magic, the main source of the storm remained elusive. The traces felt… hollow, like a ghost trail designed to mislead anyone who tried to follow it. Every clue led to another dead end, every sigil a puzzle that refused to be solved.
The sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the ruined graveyard. Hazel found herself sitting on a cold stone bench, exhaustion weighing on her. Hades, ever watchful, settled beside her. She didn't move away, allowing the warmth of his presence to seep into her, steadying her after the day's tense efforts.
He brushed a loose strand of silver hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. "You don't have to stay strong all the time," he murmured, his voice soft, almost reverent.
Hazel's lips curved in a sleepy smile. "Then who will if not me?" she murmured back, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned into him.
Hades laughed softly, a low, almost purring sound, and murmured, "My Queen."
And for a long moment, there was no need for words. No strategies, no looming threats, no sigils or storms — only the quiet rhythm of hearts beating in tandem, silent love flowing between them, as if the world itself had paused to allow this fragile peace.
He held her close, careful not to smother or overwhelm, just enough to let her feel safe. Hazel's breathing slowed, her face softening in sleep, her hand brushing against his. He let his thumb trace the delicate line of her jaw, memorizing the warmth, the scent, the softness — everything he could cling to before the storm of their world swept them away again.
Even as the shadows lengthened and the Rune Coven held its secrets tight, the two of them sat together, a brief island of calm in a sea of uncertainty. Outside, the wind whispered through the ruined trees, carrying with it faint echoes of the storm's devastation — yet inside, there was only this moment, a fragile, wordless love that neither death nor destruction could touch.