Chapter 20 #2
He nods. Elias, Bram, and Marius, along with a few others. They’ll keep their distance unless we need them.
Of course, Cade doesn’t trust the sorceress. Not that I can blame him for being cautious.
Liz slows as we reach the edge of the agreed meeting point—a stretch of land mostly bare except for scattered brush and a few stubborn trees clinging to the edges of a shallow ravine.
“This is far enough,” Cade says, already jumping out.
I follow, Archie lifting his head just enough to grumble before resettling.
Iris climbs down with far less grace than she had getting in, smoothing her dress like she didn’t just nearly trip over nothing.
“She’ll be here any second,” she says, entirely too confident for my liking.
And just like that…the air shifts before I see her.
It’s subtle at first—a ripple that doesn’t belong to wind or movement—but it brushes across my skin like magic, waking up, ancient and aware.
Then a woman appears before us.
No dramatic entrance. No flash of light. One moment, the space near the ravine is empty, and the next, a sorceress stands there as if she’s always belonged to that exact spot.
Talira.
Considering Iris said this woman knew Malrik when he was young, I expected someone more…
wrinkled. Instead, she looks untouched by time.
Not young in an innocent way, but preserved by magic.
Her dark hair falls in loose waves down her back, threaded with strands of silver that feel intentional rather than earned.
Her eyes are sharp and knowing, a deep, unnatural shade of blue that seems to shift depending on how the light hits them.
Her clothing is simple but deliberate—layers of fabric that move like water when she steps forward, every inch of her controlled.
Power hums around her.
Not loud like mine.
Not aggressive like Cade’s.
But deep and possibly ageless.
I’m suddenly grateful Cade thought to have backup.
“Well,” she says, her voice smooth as glass and just as dangerous, her gaze landing first on Iris. “You look exactly as irritating as I remember.”
Iris grins like she’s just been complimented. “And you look like you’ve been haunting forests and drinking from the fountain of youth. Nice to see you too.”
Talira’s attention shifts to me then.
The weight of it is immediate, pressing in without touching, like she’s reading something written beneath my skin—every secret, every fracture, every piece of power I don’t fully understand yet.
“So,” she murmurs. “You’re the one we should have waited for all those centuries ago.”
Cade steps closer to my side, subtle but deliberate. “You said you knew Malrik,” he cuts in, voice firm. “Start talking.”
Her gaze flicks to him, unimpressed but not dismissive. “Straight to the point. I like that.”
But when she looks back at me, it’s clear who this conversation is really for.
“When I first met Malrik, he was young and nothing like he is now,” she begins, her tone shifting into something quieter.
“We believed he had potential. Extraordinary potential. When we learned he was Ashmark, we invested everything into him. Every resource. Every advantage. We were certain he would become exactly what we needed.”
A chill works its way up my spine.
“Only,” she continues, “he disappointed us at every turn.”
“Who is us?” I ask, not liking that she isn’t just part of his past, but might be the reason he twisted into something monstrous.
She pauses, weighing the answer. “No one you need to concern yourself with. Most are dead. The rest learned their lesson in what happens when you try to control magic that was never yours to shape.”
Cade’s voice echoes through my mind. I don’t like this.
Let’s just hear her out.
“As I was saying,” Talira continues, unbothered, “Malrik wasn’t the hybrid from the prophecy. Not truly. No matter how much he wanted to be. No matter how much we tried to force him into that role.”
Her gaze sharpens slightly.
“And by the time we realized that… Some of us had already gone too far.”
My stomach tightens.
“He was given everything—from power to wealth and knowledge—but none of it mattered to him the way Andra did.”
That name lands differently.
“He fell in love with her,” she says, and this time, there’s no mistaking the thread of regret in her voice. “Exactly as we intended. She was meant to anchor him, to control him, and when he failed to become what we wanted…” Her expression hardens. “We took her away.”
Liz lets out a low, furious sound. “You used him.”
“Yes,” Talira says simply. “We did.”
“Why?” Liz snaps.
“Because we could.”
The honesty of it is almost worse than the act itself.
“What happened next?” Cade demands, keeping close to me, his presence steady and grounding even as everything else shifts.
I don’t wait for the witch to answer. “He broke.”
“No,” she corrects again, sharper this time. “He was already shattered by then. We hollowed him out and left him with nothing.” Her voice lowers, losing some of its edge. “No family. No allies. No purpose. No place in the world. And most importantly, no Andra.”
Silence stretches, heavy and unforgiving.
“We thought he’d fade,” she continues. “Disappear and become nothing more than a failed experiment we could forget.” Her eyes lock onto mine. “We were wrong.”
“Then he got his revenge,” I say, already hating the weight of what I know is coming.
Talira nods. “We might have broken him in every way possible, but Malrik wasn’t destroyed.
He had nothing left to lose, which empowered him.
He spent years becoming a weapon we underestimated.
One by one, he took out the worst of my coven, leaving the rest of us to tell of his conquests.
Only we never did. We kept quiet. Worse, Andra had been killed by the coven we sent her to, but we didn’t know that at the time.
When Malrik went quiet, we believed he’d finally chosen solitude over destruction. ”
“Instead, he evolved,” Cade points out with a growl.
“Yes, and now he’s back with a vengeance because the rightful Ashmark has been born.” Her bright gaze locks on me. “You.”
“What do you think he wants with her?” Liz asks, though her voice has lost some of its bite.
I expected Cade to speak the question first, but he’s rigid next to me.
Talira doesn’t hesitate. “To prove a point.”
The words feel heavier than they should.
“One the entire supernatural world will see,” she continues. “Not whispers. Not rumors. Something undeniable.”
I inhale slowly. “He helped build me up just so he could destroy me.”
The realization lands fully as I say it. I know Mom and Iris had thought similar thoughts before, but piecing it together with this information… There’s no pretending otherwise now.
She nods once. “I suspect so. You are everything he was supposed to be at a young age. Everything he failed to become when it was demanded of him. And now, he intends to use you to rewrite the narrative he’s carried for centuries.”
Her next words hit harder.
“He won’t stop until he’s won. No matter what it costs him.”
Silence falls again, thick and suffocating.
“And I don’t for one second believe that he’ll merely kill you,” she adds.
I already knew that.
But hearing it spoken out loud still feels like something sharp dragging across my ribs.
“If he’s a tenth of the mess we gave up on, and I do believe he is, he’ll need you to fail,” she says with little emotion or even regret.
“Publicly and completely. He wants the world to watch you fall so he can prove that he was never the mistake. That they were wrong for doubting him, for not giving him enough time.”
They were? Doesn’t she mean herself? She should, but I don’t point that out. We have enough problems on our hands. I don’t need to start another war of semantics.
“He’s building something,” Liz says, her voice quieter than usual. “Isn’t he?”
Talira nods once. “He’s already started. And if he’s anything like I remember, he won’t come for you the way you expect. He’s playing a high-stakes game and already taking pieces off the board. People who matter. People who will force your hand.”
Cade goes rigid beside me.
“He’s creating an audience,” I say slowly, the scene clicking into place. “He wants a stage.”
“And you,” Talira replies pointedly, “are the main event.”
The wind picks up around us, tugging at my clothes, lifting my hair like even the world is reacting to the truth of her words.
I should feel fear.
I should feel the weight of what’s coming pressing down hard enough to crush me.
Instead, something steadier settles in.
Because now I understand.
If Malrik wants a show, then I’ll give him one.
But I’ll be the one who decides how it ends.