Chapter 21 #2
“We may not know the manner of her fate, but every witch felt the tremor in the world twenty-five years ago. When a witch falls, we feel the silence they leave behind. Yet this loss was unlike any other. From that moment, our magic began to wither.” She exhaled slowly, as if the memory still pressed on her chest.
“Forgive me, but I must understand—how does this connect to my brother?” Evelyne pressed. “Why have you summoned me here?”
Charise leaned back in her chair. “Because my great-grandmother was there when the twins were banished. She was the most powerful witch of the Hallowell coven at the time and performed the Great Rite along with the other covens. The final safeguard.”
Alaric frowned. “A safeguard against what?”
“Against blood magic.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
Alaric swallowed, shaking his head. “But they were already using dark magic. Isn’t that why they were banished?”
“Yes,” Charise acknowledged. “But there is magic, and then there is blood magic. It is the most powerful and most forbidden of all. Few witches are strong enough to summon it, and even fewer survive its cost. It requires a sacrifice—a great one. And once it is unleashed, it does not stop until it has consumed everything in its path.”
She closed the book before her, turning it so they could see the title stamped across the cracked leather cover. The Concord of Shadows: A Forgotten Rite.
Evelyne’s fingers pressed against her temples as her head began to throb. “And this Rite… It was meant to protect something?”
Charise nodded. “It was a failsafe. If they ever dared to use blood magic, the Rite would awaken a prophecy buried within it. The only prophecy powerful enough to defeat the one who wielded it.”
Vaelora. She was the one who wielded blood magic. Was she the woman in Cillian’s visions?
“Does blood magic allow someone to enter another’s mind?” Evelyne blurted.
Charise’s eyes held hers as she nodded. “It is capable of much more than slipping into the mind. This magic can burrow into the body… even bind itself to the soul.”
The room seemed to close in around Evelyne. “Do you think she’s the one who took my brother—if he suffered this kind of intrusion?”
“I believe she is searching for answers about the prophecy, about what could be her downfall. And I believe the darkness creeping along Velenshire’s borders is her warning. A reminder of what she is capable of if we stand in her way.”
Evelyne began flipping through the book’s pages, searching for the one that had been creased at the top. And then she found it. The Solwyn Tree of Velenshire.
She read the passage aloud, voice barely above a whisper.
“A sacred tree—a vessel of power. Witches gathered beneath its boughs to honor its gifts, believing it protected the southern lands. Seers cast visions in its shade. Rituals were performed beneath its roots. It was the source of balance.” Her eyes snapped to Charise.
“This tree… This is where the Great Rite was performed?”
Charise reached forward, her fingers ghosting over the faded illustration on the page.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Our ancestors needed a source of balance to conduct the spell. They surrendered nearly all their magic to the ritual… and in return, the tree’s life was drained, though not completely.
” She traced the image one last time, then let her hand fall away.
“I wish I’d seen it like this,” she murmured.
“So alive and full of power. It’s hard to imagine the Solwyn Grove once held such magic hidden deep beneath the soil, woven through the roots of Velenshire’s ancient heart. ”
The Solwyn Grove must be where the tree stood—not hidden, but set apart, sacred and removed from the market’s din. Evelyne must have walked past it once, never knowing how near she had come.
She tried to make sense of it all. If Vaelora had turned to blood magic, making herself the most powerful witch ever to exist, and if Cillian had somehow become tangled in her web, he was in grave danger.
And he had been right all along. He wasn’t ill.
His mind had been invaded, tainted by Vaelora’s blood magic.
But to what end? Why seek to control him?
Was it the Solwyn Tree that continued to appear in his visions? And what of the other two symbols: the eyes and the moon? What could they signify? She still had no clear starting point.
Evelyne turned to Charise. “You said a prophecy was awakened when Vaelora turned to blood magic. What does it say? What could possibly have the power to destroy her?”
“We don’t know. Not even our ancestors fully understood it. We have spent generations trying to decipher its meaning, but the Rite itself never explicitly stated what the prophecy would be. Only that it was the key to saving our people.” Charise reached toward the book. “May I?”
Evelyne paused only a moment before handing it over.
Charise flipped through the worn pages with careful hands, stopping at an aged section filled with symbols and descriptions of ancient rituals.
Her eyes traced the inked words before she read aloud: “When the darkest power is unleashed, a force long tied to the roots of this world shall rise—a key forged in shadow and light, bound by fate to break what has been made. Await the moon bathed in crimson, for it shall mark the beginning or the end.” She closed the book.
“This is all that remains of the prophecy.”
Evelyne’s fingers curled into the fabric of her skirts. It wasn’t enough.
Alaric finally spoke. “Why would she be interested in corrupting Cillian’s mind?”
Charise shook her head. “I can’t say for certain. Perhaps he uncovered something, or perhaps she sensed a vulnerability in him. Someone she could manipulate to do her searching for her.”
Evelyne’s head snapped toward her. “My brother is not weak.”
“I meant no offense,” Charise said gently.
“But something was different about him when he visited Velenshire. I sensed it immediately. Like a strong energy surrounded him, but was hidden beneath the surface. I couldn’t quite place it, but it made me…
curious.” She paused briefly. “Later, I learned he had visited the library and spoken with my mother. But more importantly, he found a book that called to him. This book”—she pointed—“about the Forgotten Rite. Combined with the whispers of darkness spreading across the land, that suddenly made sense.”
Her expression darkened.
“The magical shift felt across the world nearly twenty-five years ago… That was Vaelora. That was the moment she tapped into blood magic. And now, she must have discovered that the covens performed a ritual capable of limiting her power.”
“And your mother—does she possess magic?” Evelyne asked.
“She does,” Charise replied, “though it’s not as strong as it once was.
These days, her duty lies with the library.
” She folded her hands neatly in her lap.
“When the Rite was performed, it weakened the covens. And after Vaelora turned to blood magic, all of our power began to dim. The Hallowell coven has long served as the guardians of Velenshire’s great library, preserving what remains of our knowledge.
One day, when my mother passes, I will take her place.
” She glanced around the small shop, where relics and artifacts hummed softly with residual power.
“Until then, I will practice small spells and stay here, in this shop.”
“So we go north to Nerathar?” Alaric interrupted.
“I believe that’s where Cillian may be. But understand this… Vaelora is too powerful. You won’t simply retrieve him and walk away. She will see through any deception before you even step on her land.”
Evelyne pushed back her chair and stood. “I don’t care. I will find my brother and bring him home.”
Charise’s expression tightened. “Miss, I strongly urge you to stay. To learn more about Vaelora and the prophecy. You may stand a chance if we can uncover what it truly means.”
Evelyne lifted her bag, securing the strap over her shoulder. “I cannot waste another moment.” She dipped her head respectfully. “Thank you for your kindness, but I must leave. Now.”
Alaric rose beside her, nodding in gratitude. “I’m going with her. Thank you for your help.”
Just as he turned to leave, Charise caught his wrist, her grip firm, her voice a whisper only he could hear. Whatever she said, his face blanched for the briefest moment. Then, without a word, he followed Evelyne out of the shop and back into the market.
Evelyne strode briskly toward her carriage. She needed to get inside, to breathe, to think. The books tucked away in her luggage held more answers, and she intended to find them.
Footsteps quickened behind her. “Where are you going, Evelyne?” Alaric’s voice chased after her as he caught up to her side.
“What do you mean? I’m going to my carriage. I told you—I’m leaving to find Cillian.”
“Yes, I understand that. But what about me?”
She froze mid-step. “What about you?” Her words came sharp.
“Did you not hear Charise? We need to do this together.”
Evelyne whipped around to face him. “I heard perfectly well. And I’m choosing not to bring you along.”
Alaric’s hand closed lightly around her wrist, just enough to stop her from storming off. She jerked back, but his grip held firm. “You are not doing this alone, Evelyne. You have no idea what’s waiting for you out there. You don’t know the land or the people. You wouldn’t last a day alone.”
“I don’t care.” Her jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
Alaric arched a brow. “I mean no offense, but are you at all versed in cartography?”
The insult hit its mark, and for a brief, burning second, she wanted to slap him. “I’ll figure it out, Alaric,” she hissed. “Now leave me be.”
His refusal was instant. “No. You need me, and I need you. And those books in your bag? They hold answers, answers I need just as much as you do. You don’t have the luxury of pride right now, Evelyne. You’re not going without me.” He stepped closer. “Now get your things. You’re riding with me.”
Evelyne let out a frustrated breath, her fingers curling into fists before she yanked her wrist free. “Fine.” She hesitated, her mind warring with itself, before she turned back toward her carriage.
“I’ll help you,” Alaric replied, though she didn’t acknowledge him.
Instead, she pushed forward, determined to ignore his presence at her side.
Even as she hated every second of this, she knew he was right.
Their arranged marriage was a far less pressing concern than what they were about to face, but still, this was not the partnership she wanted.
At the carriage, she lifted her chin and forced herself to speak. “Finnegan, you may return home. I’ll be riding with Mr. Stonebridge for the rest of the evening. Please inform my father that I’ll be assisting him for the next few days and intend to… make amends with my betrothed.”
The word sat like poison on her tongue, and she fought not to wince as she said it. Finnegan merely nodded and passed her luggage to Alaric, who took it without a word.
Evelyne inhaled deeply, willing herself to keep her temper in check. Like it or not, this was happening.