Chapter 3 Aurora
THREE
AURORA
Aurora Thornfield clenched her fists on her lap in an effort not to scream. She stared down the long table at her mother, who sat silently beside her uncle as he spelled out Aurora’s fate.
“This alliance is vital for the coven, and Arthur Nightingale has been most accommodating. His son will be here in two weeks for a betrothal feast. The wedding—I think the Nightingales will agree—should be held shortly after. At the new moon.”
Aurora pounced on the pause in his monologue. “Wouldn’t binding oaths between leaders be a more secure way to begin an alliance than marriage? Why leave room for—”
“Silence until I’ve finished speaking, child. I didn’t ask for your input.” Stan Thornfield, leader of their coven, glared at her as if she were no more than a nuisance.
Aurora didn’t bother protesting being called a child at age twenty-five. It wasn’t a hill worth dying on. The rest, however… “It’s my life. I get a say in who I marry.”
“Aurora.” Her mother, Virginia Thornfield, was red-faced, her glare even fiercer than Stan’s.
Aurora’s uncle raised his hand. Magic flared, and Aurora’s heart sank. A silencing spell wound around her throat like ice, yet her blood boiled.
Uncle Stan smirked. “It is your duty to support the coven, Aurora. As any lady should. Harper Nightingale will be the kind of husband you need if he’s anything like his father.
The Nightingales are exemplary. Their coven is powerful, and you’re well aware that allying with like-minded worshipers of our Damned Lord is more important now than ever.
Especially with covens from outside our region. ”
Because sane covens didn’t tolerate Satan worshipers like the Thornfields. Not when their bullshit leaked out of their compounds and into the community.
Uncle Stan barreled on. “Since you’ve expressed no interest in dating anyone suitable, not a single man or woman committed to Satan, you’re perfectly placed to make this match. As close to a daughter of my own as I have.”
Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table. The room was full of men—all Stan’s trusted advisors and enforcers. A group of arrogant people who thought they could tell Aurora who to marry, and the thought made her sick.
No, it made her murderous.
Each and every one of these sorry excuses for witches was lucky that the forced blood loyalty running through her veins prevented her from striking against them, or they’d all burn.
Blood loyalty was old, evil magic. Aurora couldn’t attack or cast spells against any member of the Thornfield Coven who outranked her, and of course, they all did.
Obedience had been sewn into her skin. From birth, the magic running through her betrayed her by enforcing a hierarchy controlled by the coven leader.
Everyone at the top was untouchable, and those who weren’t were at their mercy.
That much control would have been bad enough, but her coven had taken blood binding a step further. Preventing vulnerable members from fighting back was all well and good until those people ran away. To close this last remaining door, Stan had bound their bloodline to the very land they lived on.
Aurora was tied to the coven’s compound by her magic, by her very blood and bones, held in place by the dirt beneath her feet, though she wasn’t permanently confined.
Everyone in the coven moved about wider society to some extent, but Stan had the power to recall Aurora to coven land and stop her from leaving.
As long as she was tied to this place, Aurora would never be free. But she’d been working on a way around the binding. Seemed she needed to speed up her escape timeline. Immediately.
Aurora’s mother began talking about the engagement feast, acting as if trading her daughter for access to another coven’s power was some kind of honor. To Virginia, it probably was. She was as bad as Uncle Stan, seeing as she’d happily step on everyone around her to push herself up.
“Once married, the couple will remain here. At least for the immediate future,” Uncle Stan said to his advisors. “The Nightingales have important business in the city, and I’ve offered our help.”
Aurora shuddered to think what business it could be. Not that her uncle would tell her. Would her new brute of a husband keep it from her, too? Probably.
Aurora’s skin crawled, her heart racing as she faced a future under yet another person’s control.
The walls closed in. Aurora had been trapped her whole life, but suddenly, the feeling was unbearable, dark, and consuming.
It strangled her chest until her thoughts scattered, leaving behind an aching hollowness.
She had a way through this. The only way to survive. Urgency to act now, to run from the room, clawed at her insides, but she stayed still as her relatives’ useless words washed over her.
At last, the meeting ended, and Aurora was dismissed. The silencing spell unwound from her throat, and she stormed out of the room.
“Stay close,” Uncle Stan called after her as if it were a request, rather than an order she had no power to disobey. “Your new husband wouldn’t like you out around the city with Satan knows who.”
Aurora’s back stiffened, her footsteps faltering ever so slightly before continuing along the hall. She grabbed her jacket and slid it over her mesh top and bralette combo. She’d been planning to go out anyway, and was surprised her outfit hadn’t garnered a comment or two from her uncle or mother.
They really must have been focused on the marriage arrangement and alliance to pass up the opportunity to criticize her.
Her hands delved into the jacket pockets and found them empty. Patting them frantically, Aurora cursed under her breath.
“Looking for this?” Her mother had followed. She held Aurora’s phone with a smug look on her slender face.
“Why do you have my phone?”
“You heard your uncle. No more gallivanting around. You have more important things to focus on, like the rituals to prepare you for marriage.”
Aurora stared at the woman, her magic sparking uselessly inside her. “I’m not marrying anyone.”
“Suck it up, Aurora. This is part of life. We all have to make sacrifices. The coven is more important than what you want.”
Aurora wanted to scream. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Fine. You can’t go far. Stan won’t allow you off the grounds until this deal is done.” Virginia pointedly slid Aurora’s phone into her pocket. “The moonlight will be good for you. Try to be in a better mood when you return. It’ll make things easier.”
For her, maybe, but Aurora wasn’t playing along. Her mother and Uncle Stan would have to invoke all the power of the blood binding to get her anywhere near this scummy Nightingale witch.
Aurora slammed the front door on her way out and stalked into the woods.
As she passed the main altar, she pocketed four candles.
There was no time to search for a safer spell.
She’d never walk into that house again. Never be a servant to a man who came from a coven like hers.
Someone as entitled and cruel as her uncle.
She wouldn’t. No matter what it took.
Aurora went as deep into the woods as she could without leaving Thornfield land. The binding tugged on her skin, itching like a rash and reminding her she wasn’t allowed to leave.
Not all covens were like this. Aurora had friends in the city who belonged to a coven that valued respect, autonomy, common decency, and had no use for amassing power.
Virginia might have prevented her from sending an SOS by taking her phone, but it wasn’t the end of the world. Her friends couldn’t help with the first part of her plan anyway.
Being an hour outside Shearwater Landing wasn’t the insurmountable issue.
It wasn’t as if Aurora could simply call for a ride and be free.
She had to break the blood binding. Once she accomplished that, she’d walk out of the woods, through the suburbs, and into the city, no matter how long it took.
She’d quite literally walk over hot coals or to the ends of the Earth if she had to.
She could do anything once she was free.
Aurora set the candles in the dirt, marking north, south, east, and west. With a flick of her wrist, the wicks ignited.
A spell like this was impossible to practice. There were no trial runs, but any hesitation weighing Aurora down had fled.
It was time to put her theory to the test.
Aurora shrugged off her jacket and lay at the center of the candles, the traitorous earth cool through her clothes even on a warm summer night. She dug her fingernails into the topsoil and ran her plan through one last time.
To break the ties binding her, Aurora needed to separate herself from everything holding her back. Her essence—her soul, her most essential self—couldn’t be constrained in its purest form. That was a fact.
Along with the gift of magic, witches had an understanding of the universe that humans simply didn’t.
The Human Realm wasn’t the sole plane of existence.
Witches had been created by Lucifer, a fallen Eternal being who had fled the afterlife to live on Earth.
The history of the Devil, demons, and witches revealed that, after death, all mortal souls entered one afterlife or another.
Humans reincarnated and thus went to the Eternal Realm, and witches went to the Realm of the Damned.
In the end, they all became souls, and nothing on Earth could influence or contain such a pure form of existence.
Aurora had researched the magic of soul theory extensively. She wasn’t the first witch to experiment with life, mortality, and what lay beyond. Based on the work of those who came before her, she’d constructed a spell to free herself. Her work was solid, the magic grounded in undisputed facts.
But it was risky.
Her friends in the Lockwood Coven had begged her to find another way.
They promised to break her free themselves.
But they couldn’t. It wasn’t that easy, even if Aurora hadn’t run out of time to stage a rescue.
The Thornfields weren’t weak, and the Lockwoods weren’t powermongers or fighters.
It was part of what made them good. All Aurora needed from the Lockwoods was a safe place to land once she saved herself.
Her theory was airtight, she reminded herself one last time, pretending her heart wasn’t pounding and her dirt-covered palms weren’t sweating. Her soul existed regardless of her mortal vessel. When she died, she’d pass on to the same afterlife all witches were destined to.
But dying wasn’t what Aurora wanted, even knowing death wasn’t the end. She couldn’t go on like this, but life was precious. Her years on Earth couldn’t all be spent in a cage. She had to escape. She would. Then everything would be better. The potential for change meant there was always hope.
She could do this.
Aurora would free herself by leaving her body. Freeing her soul of all earthly ties. But she couldn’t die, or she’d leave this realm never to return. She had to fake it. Hover in between. Separate her soul from her flesh while she still lived, leaving her body suspended in life.
Then, once she broke free from her mortal chains, she could reenter her body and be free. Her magic—rooted in her soul—would be her own.
Yes, magic ran through the blood in her veins, but it went where her soul went.
A dead witch held no power, their blood no different than a human’s once life fled, and while Aurora wasn’t dying, the fact remained: magic followed the soul.
So, Aurora would separate her magic and her blood, break her power free, and then return to an unbound body.
She dug her fingers deeper into the dirt. Her heart beat rapidly, her head light and vision blurring, but she wouldn’t let nerves sway her. This will work. It was worth it. She wasn’t afraid to face death and cheat it.
Aurora cleared her aching throat, ignored her wet, stinging eyes, and recited the spell she’d so carefully constructed.
Her magic sparked, and tingles shot through her body as if the very blood in her veins was vibrating. She gripped the earth, forcing her eyes to remain open as she continued the spell. The candle flames flared. Heat rose, and sweat gathered at her brow.
Aurora’s words didn’t falter, and as the last syllable passed her lips, something deep within her jolted, pain radiating from her chest. She gasped a rattling breath and lurched forward, head spinning, her vision darkening until she saw nothing but black.
Her vision cleared in an instant. She was floating, looking down at herself, blonde hair splayed out in the dirt, eyes closed, chest unmoving. But her cheeks remained rosy with life.
She’d done it!
Elation filled Aurora, fizzing like a thousand tiny bubbles.
Abruptly, the candles around her body snuffed out, and something tugged at the back of her brain. No, not her brain, her consciousness? Before Aurora could react, the force swept her soul away.
Leaving her body behind.