CHAPTER SIXTEEN
16
Elara
“Honestly, Mom, I told you already,” I began, a touch exasperated. “Morwenna is the one.” My voice held a note of pleading, hoping to finally crack her stoic facade.
Mom, however, remained as immovable as a mountain carved from granite. “Don’t be starting with your whims, Elara,” she chided, her firm tone leaving no room for argument. Unlike her, seriousness came naturally to me, yet with her, it always felt like pushing a boulder uphill.
“But Mom, I’m being perfectly serious!” I protested, striving for a touch of gravitas. It was a constant battle to be taken seriously in her eyes.
Mom, meanwhile, continued her work, stirring a bubbling cauldron with a long wooden spoon.
Her glance flickered towards me briefly, a flicker of disapproval in its wake. I chose to ignore it, my focus solely on Morwenna.
“I felt a connection, Mom,” I continued, urgency lacing my voice. “An undeniable pull. It has to be Victoria’s soul in there.” Mentioning Victoria was a calculated gamble, hoping to add weight to my argument. Mom, however, wasn’t swayed.
She scoffed, a dry laugh escaping her lips. “Enough with this fantasy, Elara. Leave Victoria out of it. You know perfectly well she’s gone, her essence trapped in that coven.” Her voice held a steely edge, leaving no room for further discussion.
“What if her essence leaks out, Mom? Don’t you see the likeness between Morwenna and Victoria?” I pressed, my voice laced with nervous energy.
“Across dimensions, similarities abound. A resemblance doesn’t equate to Morwenna being Victoria, or vice versa. We’ve discussed this, and I expect it to be the end of it,” Mom declared, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Yes, we had. Being the last daughter of twelve sisters, I’d always felt different.
Twelve of them, the rebels, craved a human life. They traded their immortality for a mortal lifespan through spells and potions, sacrificing their magical heritage.
They saw our lineage, half-witch and half-vampire, as a curse, a barrier to a “normal” life.
Now, gone as mortals, their absence left a permanent ache in my heart, especially my twin.
Unlike them, I embraced both sides. I yearned to learn magic, but Mom refused to teach me.
I turned to the witches’ council and mages, but their lessons were frustratingly basic: levitating objects, vanishing tricks, and the tricky art of wind-walking (feeling the wind’s patterns is key!). Not exactly the exciting, complex stuff I craved. While my quick learning and eagerness impressed, Mom’s influence with the mages likely kept the advanced spells out of reach.
The Brothers of Sin were aware of my training, and the constant belittlement by the mages as a “child” pushed me to explore on my own. Let’s just say, Mom wasn’t thrilled when she discovered my independent studies.
Apparently, practicing without the mages’ guidance could lead to a permanent ban by the Vimics, particularly Aric.
Not an ideal situation, considering my burgeoning interest in the craft.
Not yes, because I want that.
This path. It always leads back here. Mom sees me as a walking disaster, but I’m determined to prove her wrong.
This mission, the one the witches’ council dumped on her, is my chance. Find Victoria’s reincarnation.
It’s a tall order, especially considering my track record.
Years of presenting Mom with bogus reborns probably isn’t doing my case any favors. No wonder she eventually stopped sending me on these dangerous errands. They could get her, me most of all, in deep trouble. Hence the stern decree, echoing loud and clear in my head even now: “Elara. No magic.”
It wasn’t the first, nor the tenth, nor the hundredth time she’d uttered those words. I’d lost count ages ago.
Being the sole remaining child, after the others has met their untimely ends doesn’t exactly make me give up easily.
This time, I wouldn’t.
“Mom,” I pleaded, “I know you’ve heard this before, you’ve warned me countless times. But please, hear me out. I didn’t just see it, I felt it. Victoria’s essence has found a new vessel, and that vessel resides within Draven’s quarters.” I added a touch of formality, “Lord Draven, to be precise.”
“Enough, Elara,” Mom snapped, cutting me off. “I’m weary of your schemes. Don’t meddle in my plans today.”
My heart sank. “So, you don’t believe me?” Disappointment clawed at my throat.
“How can I believe you,” she sighed, a touch of exasperation creeping into her voice, “If this Morwenna is truly Victoria reborn, why haven’t I felt it? All these years, the coven network has been attuned to her essence, a flicker upon someone’s birth. But nothing. Not a whisper. It makes your claims, however well-meaning, a tad difficult to swallow.”
A frustrated huff escaped me. Mom had a knack for dismissing my most fervent pronouncements with a dismissive wave.
To jog her memory, I offered, “Remember Alina Petrova, Mom? Twenty-six years ago, the one with the child afflicted with heterochromia? You know how vicious the whispers were, especially from the church folks, branding the poor little one a demon’s offspring.” A flicker of recognition crossed Mom’s face, but she quickly tried to wave it away. I wouldn’t let it go. “Did you ever consider the possibility, Mom, that you might have looked into Victoria’s eyes all those years ago?”
Mom pondered for a moment, and for once, I dared to hope that she was beginning to grasp my point.
A flicker of optimism lit up my face, only to be dashed by her next words.
“Yes, I do remember attending to Alina’s daughter’s birth,” Mom said, her voice betraying a hint of weariness. “While the details are a bit hazy, I do recall numerous deliveries. It wasn’t unusual. However, I helped Alina specifically because we were close friends. Her grandmother, bless her soul, was dear to me as well.” Her gaze returned to me, firm yet gentle. “Elara, listen closely. There was nothing out of the ordinary with Alina’s child. Aside from the striking heterochromia, of course and nothing more.”
“But her eyes are purple now,” I interjected, my voice tight.
“And green, if I remember correctly,” Mom countered.
“They’re not longer green anymore, Mom, but purple now.” I said then pressed on, urgency lacing my words. “Alina specifically wished for them to be green, like hers. Don’t you find it odd that they turned purple instead of green? An accident, you might say. Or perhaps the potion itself chose that color. But why, Mom? Why purple?”
Frustration gnawed at me. “I’ve been observing Morwenna her whole life, Mom,” I continued, my voice gaining strength. “And I’m convinced there’s a part of Victoria in her. The coven might have a piece of Victoria’s essence locked away, but the other half… the bigger half resides in Morwenna. You have to believe me.”
Mom’s silence stretched, thick with unspoken disapproval. I knew she was waiting for me to finish my frantic explanation before unleashing her verdict.
“Now Mom, Morwenna needs your help, and the—”
“No, Elara,” Mom interjected curtly, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Enough.”
My jaw clenched. Apparently, my impassioned plea had fallen on deaf ears. “Wh-What?” I stammered, my carefully constructed defense crumbling.
“You heard me,” Mom said, her gaze unwavering. “This ends now. Not only did you defy me by practicing witchcraft in secret, but you also went snooping around after Alina’s daughter.”
A spark of defiance ignited within me. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but Mom held up a hand, silencing my retort. “There will be no interruptions, Elara,” she said sternly. “Spying on a human, especially a non-magical one, is strictly forbidden.”
“Well, hold on a minute,” I countered, a spark of defiance igniting within me. “Don’t act like you and your coven haven’t peeked in on Victoria’s past lives.”
Mom’s lips thinned. “That was sanctioned by the Council,” she countered. “Your little escapade, however, was entirely unauthorized. You broke a fundamental law, Elara, and only sheer luck kept it from becoming a major transgression.”
Regret gnawed at me. If I hadn’t confided in Mom, none of this would’ve blown up. Now, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.
My voice laced with defiance, I scoffed, “Honestly, Mom, you make it sound like I’m on the verge of disaster.”
“Disaster might be putting it mildly, Elara,” she countered, her voice laced with concern. “Expulsion is a possibility, even banishment.”
I cut her off with a dismissive wave. “Newsflash: they never truly accepted me anyway. If exile’s their answer, so be it.”
“But what about your magic?” My mother pressed, her eyes widening. “They could revoke your ability to practice altogether!”
That hit a nerve. Giving up magic? Unthinkable. But the witches’ council held all the power. My only hope might lie with the Vimic brothers. After all, their father had been a wizard too, granting them a seat on the council.
The eldest, Lord Draven, possessed exceptional magical talent, surpassing even my mother despite years of training. It was a mystery who honed his skills so well.
His brothers varied; Viktor held some talent though not on par with Draven. Xul wasn’t bad either, but the rest? Meh. Aric, for instance, relied heavily on Mom for any spellcasting.
Sometimes I ponder who Lord Draven’s mentor might be. Perhaps it’s his father. Silly me, I quite forgot – it was his father, the powerful wizard. Apparently, the man began Draven’s training the moment the boy could crawl. But where was he now? Late, that’s for certain. His father married a powerful vampire, though I don’t know much about her because my mom isn’t the best storyteller.
What I do recall is that she was killed by her jealous brothers who sought her throne, and her husband eradicated her entire lineage, including those who conspired against her. But that’s a tale for another time.
Draven’s expertise is undeniable, and he might be the one to sway the witches’ council in my favor if I face banishment.
His brothers could potentially offer assistance as well, though I’ve managed to cultivate quite the enmity with the rest of Vimic’s brood.
Ugh, wouldn’t call them “enemies” exactly. More like formidable roadblocks.
Aric, for instance, is practically glued to Mom’s side these days. Can’t help but worry the Prince of Lust might be eyeing her again. A flicker of his old flame wouldn’t be helpful, especially if it meant keeping me under his watchful eye.
Viktor, while magically adept compared to his siblings, harbors a grudge that stretches back years. (Long story short, let’s just say tattling on a prince doesn’t win you brownie points.)
Then there’s Xul, the Prince of Wrath and my, ahem, ex. Sixty years ago, to be precise. He proposed the whole “forever fiancée” business, but marriage wasn’t exactly on my agenda back then. (Nor was Xul, for that matter.) Powerful mage, sure, but out of the question on the help front.
As for his brothers, Cassian, Vorax, Malek, and Rafael – they’re a tight-knit bunch, fiercely loyal to Xul and Viktor. Betrayal wouldn’t be on their menu.
Leaves me with Draven. Now there’s a long shot. Cold, ruthless, and about as sociable as a viper. Not exactly brimming with helpful vibes. And the witches’ council? Forget it. Mom practically has them wrapped around her little finger.
Mother, of course, is absolutely useless.
Therefore, technically speaking, I’m out of options. Hope’s a bit thin on the ground.
Mom, bless her meddling heart, might as well be the root of all my troubles.
And right now, Mother is at the top of my “most hated” list.
Now it seems like I’m truly on my own then. Maybe I should’ve been nicer to Mom. Hindsight, they say, is a wonderful thing.
(Deep sigh) (mutters under breath) Mom.
“Let them do whatever they want. I don’t know why I even told you this in the first place,” I muttered, the frustration clinging to me like a cobweb.
“Elara, darling, I’m not trying to be a tattletale,” she began, her voice laced with concern. “It’s just that what you’re doing…”
“Don’t lecture me on right and wrong,” I interrupted sharply. “Weren’t you and the coven nearly responsible for taking an innocent life, mistaking it for Victoria’s soul? Pot, kettle, black, wouldn’t you say?”
The revelation left Mom speechless, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. Honestly, the ways I unearth secrets are numerous. Curiosity has always been my vice, and coupled with a healthy dose of eavesdropping and a thirst for spells, it’s no surprise I stumbled upon mom’s coven’s little...misunderstanding. But that wasn’t the point right now. “So, please, spare the lecture.”
The council of elders (witches) holds the highest authority within the covens, allowing them to act with impunity, unlike me, still a novice.
My mother swallowed hard. “Elara,” she rasped, “I see you’ve been monitoring my movements. Clever girl. But let me make one thing perfectly clear: this is the last time I’ll tolerate your interference.”
She still refused to believe me, and I couldn’t bring myself to make any promises.
Mom might not realize it, but years ago, a vision seared into my mind, a prophecy of a coming mission. Back then, I dismissed it as a dream, but it returned persistently. Then, the day Morwenna was born, the visions stopped. It became clear. Protecting Morwenna was my purpose.
Telling Mom was out of the question. Mothers have a way of clinging to their daughters, and I knew she wouldn’t understand. Intervention would only complicate matters. So what would be the point?
I wondered if she noticed the spirits she summoned during the ritual drifting towards us, especially Morwenna’s, sensing an intruder, a different spirit—possibly Victoria’s. Or maybe it’s something else entirely.
Spirits were far keener than humans in such matters.
I pondered if Lord Draven also perceived it.
Understanding Mom was a constant struggle. As long as the spirits remained benign, she’d likely blame any unforeseen consequences on me. It was an ingrained pattern.
The Brotherhood of Sins wouldn’t take kindly to this interruption. The ritual was meant to appease the spirits, especially their revered ancestors. Without Xul by my side, I doubted I’d find an advocate within their ranks.
“Elara!” Mom’s voice cut through my reverie, shattering the fragile peace I’d built in the fortress of my mind.
“Hmm?” I murmured, avoiding her gaze as she approached.
She reached for my downcast hands, which hung at my sides.
“I need you to promise me something, Elara,” she said, her grip tight. I stole a glance at our intertwined hands, then finally met her serious, emotional eyes. This could probably be another one of her dramatic displays? Mom could throw a tantrum like no other. Promises, on the other hand, were a different story. They were shackles I knew I could never wear.
“Stop this foolishness, Elara,” she continued, her grip tightening. “Leave these investigations to the witches. They’re equipped to handle them.”
A scoff escaped my lips. Equipped? Hardly.
Mom needed an answer now.
Ever since Victoria’s tragic demise, the near soul-shifting incident (Mom claims an intervention stopped it at the very last moment), and the subsequent unraveling of her life, a thick shield of distrust had encased her. Though Draven spared her life, she was never the same.
Despite being offered the prestigious position as head of the Council of Elders, she turned it down, fearing the danger.
Mom never wanted me involved in magic, just like her other eleven children who opted for mortal lives to avoid the burden of magic’s longevity. Mom clung to her powers, yet refused to wield them fully. Rest in peace to them. And now, she wanted me to make a promise, one I knew I could never keep.
I met Mom’s gaze. My reflection in her eyes mirrored the truth – the years were etching lines on Mom’s face. The telltale crinkle by her eyes confirmed she wasn’t indulging in the longevity potions. “Mom,” I began, my voice tight, “I can’t make those promises.”
Breaking free of her grip, the words tumbled out. “I can’t promise I won’t leave. I can’t promise I’ll stop learning, even if it drives you mad. I can’t promise to stop striving, or to ever give up.”
Mom’s shoulders slumped as she forced a smile. “I figured this might happen,” she admitted. “That’s why I asked Prince Aric to tighten security. We can’t have you wandering off again.”
The audacity!
Will she trap me like a child? Six hundred years stretched behind me, a lifetime spanning generations if measured in human terms. (though, of course, I wasn’t human.) “Do you think increased guards will deter me, Mom?” I scoffed. “You vastly underestimate my resolve.”
A sly smile played on my lips. With my powers, I could literally vanish at will. Thank heavens Aric was oblivious, and Mom, despite her fa?ade of fragility, was no match for me. True, she possessed hidden strength, but that was a thought for another time.
“Don’t you forget,” Mom said, her voice laced with amusement, “you’re still Prince Aric’s servant. And leaving these grounds is a breach of contract. Perhaps he should start assigning you more duties. You do seem to have an abundance of free time for...unannounced disappearances.”
Okay, so I do work for Prince Aric, and yeah, I get special treatment because, well, my mom is a powerful witch, and she held a certain sway over him. But whatever, even if Mom tells Aric to pile on the tasks, I still have my powers.
Just when I was thinking that, Mom, like she could read my mind, decides to speak up.
“And Elara, don’t even think about using your powers to weasel out of this. As punishment,” she stressed, “I’m limiting your magic use from now on.”
My jaw clenched. “Punishment?” I sputtered.
“Indeed. I promised Prince Cassian and Lord Draven you’d face consequences for disrupting the ritual. My word is my bond.”
Her voice brooked no argument. With a flourish, she muttered an incantation so fast I couldn’t catch the words. A shimmering bangle materialized on her wrist. Oh no, not this.
“Elara,” she said, extending her hand with the bangle dangling, “your wrist.”
I instinctively crossed my arms. I knew all too well the consequences of those magic-dampening bangles. Any attempt to cast a spell would result in a painful jolt – the ancient texts were clear on that. The very thought of being powerless sent shivers down my spine.
“No,” I muttered defiantly. Running was futile; Mom could catch a fly in a hurricane.
“Stubbornness won’t help, Elara,” Mom sighed. “I’ll have to resort to other measures.”
The threat hung heavy in the air. I knew “other measures” wouldn’t be pleasant. It probably meant losing access to my powers for days, maybe even weeks. Crap.
With a flick of her wrist, Mom sent the bangles floating towards me. They settled on my wrists with a cold metallic click, locking themselves into place.
Oh, fuck.
“There,” Mom whispered, her tone final. “No powers, no escape. And no escape means obedience.”
I let out a defeated sigh, my eyes landing on the ominous green glow emanating from the bangles on my wrist. It had pulsed with vibrant emerald light before, but now it throbbed a menacing crimson, a stark reminder of my vulnerability.
Only powerful witches who’d mastered the Third or Fourth Stage could remove these shackles. I hadn’t even tackled the first, let alone the third. The thought of them coming loose on their own was laughable.
Yet, the Vimic brothers – those with the finesse to handle magic, unlike the brute force tactics of someone like Aric – possessed that ability. And those brothers were Draven, Viktor, and Xul.
Draven? No chance. Viktor? Equally unlikely. That left Xul. But that meant striking a bargain, a prospect that sent chills down my spine. Dealing with Xul was a gamble, and his wrath was something I desperately wanted to avoid. Well, it seemed my options were dwindling.
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, I surrendered. “How long am I stuck with these?” I asked Mom, my voice tinged with desperation.
Mom’s eyes widened as she examined the bangles. “Goodness, child, they’re supposed to be on your right wrist.” A flick of her hand, imbued with magic, bypassed physical contact and shifted the bangles to their intended position. “There, that’s much better!” she declared.
Under my breath, I muttered, “Not exactly better, Mom.” The red glow had intensified, deepening from a bloody hue to a darker shade of crimson.
Mom brushed off my question. “With your powers restricted,” she said, her voice firm, “there’ll be no leaving this place.”
Desperation clawed at my throat. “So, does that mean it never comes off, Mom?” The question tumbled out, laced with a tremor I couldn’t quite control.
“Only when you learn your lesson, Elara,” she replied, a glint of steel in her eyes, “and I truly hope you do.”
“You know that’s not possible,” I whispered, but the word hung heavy in the air, easily snatched by her keen ears.
“And that’s precisely why the bangles remain,” she stated, her voice leaving no room for argument. “Until I see obedience, until I see you’ve learned, then, and only then, will I reverse the spell.”
Mom wasn’t budging, and neither was I. She wanted me to abandon my investigation for Victoria’s reincarnation, to relinquish magic altogether. Disobeying was practically second nature to me, especially when faced with her veiled emotional manipulation tactics. Thank goodness she didn’t resort to the “woe-is-me, last-daughter-left” routine this time. The monotony of it all was enough to drive anyone mad.
But now, I was trapped. Stuck with a capital ‘S’. It couldn’t end like this. I had made a promise to Morwenna, and breaking a promise was simply not an option. I had to help her, even if it meant...
The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.
‘I can’t believe I’m even considering this,’ I muttered to myself, ‘but seeking Xul’s help is the only way.’
Consequences be damned, I have a promise to keep. Just as important, Mom can’t find out. Even if she does, manipulating Xul won’t be a walk in the park. He’s as formidable as they come – the Prince of Wrath himself. Yet, facing the wrath of the Prince of Wrath… well, additional punishments were a distinct possibility. Here’s for that wishful thinking.
A defeated sigh escaped my lips. Powerless. Stuck. Just plain Elara Vance, stripped of magic and facing an uncertain future. The weight of it all threatened to crush me, but a flicker of defiance sparked within.
I wouldn’t give up. Not yet.