Lily
The ravine grew still, as though even the wind held its breath. I knelt on the cold earth while Ita, Imo, and Eva stood around me, their shadows long and heavy against the stone walls.
Eva's voice rang first, soft but resonant, "We gather today, under moon and bone, under blood and fire, to restore the throne of the Grand Witch."
Imo lifted her skeletal staff, its tip glowing with pale flame. "For too long this seat has waited, empty since Miriam crossed the veil. Tonight, the bloodline returns."
My chest tightened. Miriam's name was a crown in itself, heavy with memory and awe.
Then Ita bent low and pressed a cold finger against my brow. "Daughter of blood, you have endured trial and fire. You stand where no fear remains. Do you, Lily, accept the mantle of Grand Witch, knowing it binds you to lead, to guard, to bleed when your sisters call?"
My throat trembled, but I forced the words past it. "I accept. With all that I am, I accept."
The three witches raised their hands together, chanting in a tongue older than stone. Symbols flared above me; circles of fire, bone, and silver. The air burned against my skin, wrapping me in light until I could hardly breathe.
Then came their voices as one: "Rise, Lily. Rise, Grand Witch of the Circle reborn."
A surge of power tore through me, lifting me to my feet. The earth beneath us shuddered violently, splitting in hairline cracks. The wind shrieked through the ravine, carrying the voices of wolves howling from distant woods. Lightning forked across the sky, followed by a sudden downpour of silver rain that drenched me in seconds. Birds burst from the trees in a frantic storm of wings, and for a moment it felt as if the entire world was crying out my name.
Then, just as swiftly, silence returned. The storm ceased. The cracks in the ground sealed. Only the glowing mark of a crescent moon burned faintly on my palm, proof of what I had become.
Before I could steady myself, Eva clapped her hands with a grin. A long wooden table shimmered into being, laden with platters of roasted pheasant, honeyed bread, spiced wine, and fruits that glittered like gemstones. The scents wrapped around me, rich and intoxicating.
"Feasts are better conjured than cooked," Eva winked, sliding into a seat. "We shall celebrate this auspicious day."
"True," Imo chuckled, already tearing into a loaf of steaming bread. "But the girl looks half-starved. Let her eat before she collapses from all that power burning in her veins."
I laughed breathlessly, still trying to absorb what had just happened. "Half-starved? More like fully."
Ita poured me a cup of golden wine, her sharp eyes twinkling. "Drink, Grand Witch. You'll need strength for the days ahead… and perhaps courage for the boy who follows you with his eyes."
Heat flooded my cheeks. "Nakoa?"
Eva snorted into her goblet. "Who else? The way he watches you, child, we'd be fools not to notice. Grand Witch or not, beauty has its power."
"Beauty and trouble," Imo added slyly. "Tell us, Lily, do you mean to break his heart, or bind it?"
Their laughter rang across the ravine, wild and wicked as teenagers, and I found myself laughing too, cheeks burning, heart too full for words.
Flames hovered in midair like patient fireflies, casting a warm glow on silver goblets that brimmed without end. We ate and drank—not idly, but with the kind of hunger that came after a battle of spirit.
Yet the laughter was not allowed to run wild for long. Ita's voice cut through the warmth of the meal, steady and commanding.
"We must not wait for Zal to knock on our doors. He has already stretched his shadow too far. We strike first."
Imo nodded, her tone iron-cold. "And we strike wisely. The sign will guide us: a dawn that comes without a cockcrow. That will be the day his doom begins."
Eva leaned toward me, her eyes glinting like embers. "Lily, you are the key. When the silence of that dawn falls, we move together. Until then, guard your strength."
I swallowed hard, the weight of their words pressing down heavier than any crown. I nodded, though my heart fluttered like a trapped bird.
The coven began to disperse soon after, each witch fading into the night one after the other, their cloaks dissolving into mist. I stepped out last, the night air cool on my skin. That was when it struck me—sharp, blinding, unstoppable.
The vision seized me like lightning. My knees buckled, and in a blink I was not in the forest anymore. Elis lay before me; pale and motionless, tubes snaking around him like cold serpents. His chest rose and fell faintly, as though life itself was uncertain if it should remain. His face… oh, his face. Even in stillness, it carried the ache of longing, of battles I could not yet name.
"No…" the whisper tore out of me, raw and shaking. My hands reached toward the vision, desperate, useless. "Elis!"
When the haze cleared, I was sprawled on the damp earth, gasping like I'd been ripped from drowning. Nakoa was already there, steadying me with strong arms, his face shadowed with concern. He didn't ask questions, I forbade him to as my follower but his eyes burned with the question.
"Elis…" My voice broke. The image seared my skull; his pale body, tethered to nothing, lost in darkness. Not dead. Worse. Trapped. A coma that felt like chains. Each second, his breath thinning, slipping.
My pulse roared in my ears. "He's fading."
Nakoa's jaw clenched, silent, but the weight of his grip told me he understood.
I staggered to my feet, the night still spinning, but I couldn't stay down. I had no time to explain, no time for fear. If Elis was slipping away, then so was our chance.
Without another word, I shoved past the trees, skirts whipping at my legs, my magic sparking wild in the air. I had to reach him—before the vision became true.