30. Evelyn
30
Evelyn
T he air felt cold and tasted metallic as I hugged my bruised and battered body on the thin cot, trying to keep myself from freezing.
I could hear people walking toward me, their voices filled with excitement about the upcoming autumnal equinox ritual that night.
That meant it was my eighteenth birthday.
The cell door creaked open, and they jerked me to my feet, causing me to stumble and fall. They cursed, one of them commenting on how bad I smelled, not wanting to get my filth on her. Another roughly removed my torn and dirty clothes.
If it was indeed the autumnal equinox, it meant I had been in this cell for over three months.
Three months without a shower.
The cold stone floor bit into my bare feet as they dragged me through the dark corridors, naked. My limbs felt heavy, weakened from months of confinement and malnutrition.
The excited chatter of the witches escorting me echoed off the walls, their voices a chaotic blend of anticipation and cruel glee.
“Can’t believe it’s finally happening,” one witch said, her grip tightening on my arm. “We’ve been waiting for this moment for years.”
“Shame we had to keep her alive this long,” another replied with a sneer.
I wanted to scream, to fight back, but my body refused to cooperate.
Months of torture and starvation had taken their toll, leaving me a shell of my former self. They pushed me up the stairs, and I fell to my knees, blood oozing from fresh cuts as they laughed.
Once outside, the cool air was a welcome contrast to the stench of sweat, urine, and blood that had surrounded me for so long. The breeze felt almost cleansing, a brief respite from the hell I had endured.
“Let’s drag her through the rose bushes,” one said happily.
The other snickered, and I was shoved into the thorny plants. The thorns scraped my skin, embedding themselves everywhere.
“Come on, we don’t have all night,” she said, jerking on my chain and making me walk through rapidly, crying out in pain.
As I approached the sacred grounds, something hit me, then another, and another.
I hissed in pain as stones pelted my body.
Another one hit me right between my eyes, and I couldn’t help but cry out.
My coven.
My family.
They were stoning me.
The clearing was illuminated by torchlight, casting eerie shadows across the faces of the gathered members. In the center stood a large wooden stake, surrounded by bundles of kindling.
My stomach churned as the realization of what was about to happen sank in.
Morgana stood before the stake, her silver hair gleaming in the firelight. Her eyes, cold and devoid of mercy, locked onto mine as I was brought before her, and then she looked to the crowd.
“On this, the night of the autumnal equinox, we gather to bring forth a new era,” she proclaimed.
The crowd murmured in agreement, their faces a mix of anticipation and righteous anger.
“Evelyn Everhart. For too long, your family has hoarded power that has plagued my lineage,” Morgana continued. “Tonight, I reclaim what is mine and share it willingly with my coven.”
I tried to speak, to defend myself, but my parched throat produced only a weak croak.
Morgana’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Bind her to the stake,” she commanded.
Rough hands grabbed me, forcing me against the wooden post. Coarse rope bit into my wrists and ankles as they secured me in place. The kindling at my feet rustled ominously in the night breeze.
Morgana approached with a dagger gleaming in her hand. “With your sacrifice, Evelyn Everhart, we will unlock a power unlike any other.”
The blade bit into my palm, drawing a thin line of blood. Morgana began to chant, her words echoing across the clearing as she used my blood to draw symbols on the ground around the stake.
“By the power of the equinox, by the blood of the innocent, we call upon the ancient magics,” she intoned. “Release unto us that which has been forsaken. Grant us the power that is rightfully ours!”
The air crackled with energy, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I could feel my magic stirring within me, responding to Morgana’s black magic call.
But I resisted.
They would not have my magic willingly.
Instead of flowing outward, it coiled tighter, retreating deeper into my core.
Frustration flashed across Morgana’s face.
“Resist all you want, child,” she hissed. “Your defiance only prolongs your suffering.”
She turned to address the crowd once more. “Brothers and sisters, lend me your strength! Together, we will break the bonds that hold back our true potential!”
The coven members began to chant in unison, their voices rising in a haunting melody. I felt their magic pressing against me, tearing me open. The pain was excruciating, but I held on to what was mine.
They weren’t just going to kill me—they were going to drain every last drop of magic from my body first.
“Please,” I managed to croak out. “Don’t do this.”
As the first flames licked at my feet, I closed my eyes. The acrid smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils, mingling with the smoke that choked my lungs. The heat seared my skin, each lick of flame a fresh agony that sent waves of nausea through my body.
I could hear my own screams mingling with the chants of the coven, creating a hellish symphony.
As the flames climbed higher, a part of me wished for death, for an end to this torment. But another part buried deep beneath the pain and fear burned with a different fire, one of rage and determination.
They would not break me.
They would not win.
Then darkness claimed me, swallowing me whole into its silent embrace. It was almost euphoric after the pain I had endured. I floated peacefully in the void until I heard a voice.
* * *
I jolted with a strangled gasp as someone hugged me, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. Sweat plastered my hair to my forehead, and the phantom scent of smoke and burning flesh still lingered in my nostrils.
“Little witch, I’m so sorry,” Chad’s concerned voice cut through the fog of my memory.
I blinked, trying to orient myself.
Right. I am in Alister’s strategy room, surrounded by my guys.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as the memories faded. The room was silent. I looked up to see horror and fury warring on their faces. Chad’s arms tightened around me protectively, while Alister’s eyes blazed with a promise of vengeance. Even Ryker looked shaken.
“I…I’m okay,” I managed to say, my voice weak. “Just…give me a minute.”
I clenched my fists, feeling the power thrumming beneath my skin. No longer was I that broken, helpless girl tied to a stake.
Chad’s arms tightened around me. “You don’t have to be okay, little witch. That was…intense.”
I nodded, grateful for his warmth.
Rafe showed up at my side, his warm hand on my back. “Here, drink this,” he said, pressing a glass of water into my hands.
I took a grateful sip, the cool liquid helping to ground me in the present. As my racing heart slowed down, I looked around at the concerned faces.
Alister’s eyes glowed with fury, his monster barely contained. Ryker was pacing, his nostrils flaring with sparks of flames. Lucien’s hands were clenched into fists as he seemed to try to control his anger. Chad was still hugging me, his scent a warm reminder that I was safe.
Lucien stepped forward, his face a mask of controlled fury. “Evelyn, I’m sorry for pushing you to relive that. But what you’ve shared…it explains a lot.”
“How so?” I asked, looking up at him.
He ran a hand through his hair, pacing as he spoke. “Morgana claimed she was reclaiming power that belonged to her lineage. There’s a chance she might be full of shit and it might be some made-up story to get her hands on your power. It might also imply there’s a connection between your family and hers that we weren’t aware of.”
Alister nodded, his eyes blazing. “There’s more to this than simple power-hungry ambition.”
I frowned, trying to piece it all together. “But why would my parents never mention this? And why would Morgana wait until I was eighteen to try and take my magic?”
Rafe spoke up, his voice soft. “Perhaps there was a magical binding in place, one that could only be broken on your eighteenth birthday.”
“Or maybe,” Ryker added, speaking for the first time, “they needed your magic to be fully matured before they could harvest it.”
The thought made me shudder, and Chad’s arms tightened around me once more.
“Whatever the reason,” Alister said, his voice hard, “Morgana’s cruelty and ambition has no limits. What else is she willing to do if she’s willing to sacrifice her coven members for power?”
I nodded and looked at Alister. “You said I was in the car when my parents died? Why would she want us all dead if she could harvest our magic?”
“I believe that her goals might have changed when you survived. She might have found out how to harvest your powers. Your parents were gone and there would be no one else who could protect you from her ambition,” Alister suggested.
Lucien added, “Regardless, we need to find out more about this connection between your families. And we need to stop her before she can hurt anyone else.”
I nodded. “Agreed.”
“I’ll start digging into the coven’s historical records,” Alister said. “There might be something there that can shed light on this supposed lineage connection.”
Reliving that memory reminded me of how broken I’d been.
Morgana may have won in that timeline, but she had no idea what was coming for her in this one.
I was no longer alone and helpless.