Chapter 35
Morgan
When I was a child, I remember visiting Foxglove Manor in the summers.
This was when my parents were still alive and before it mattered that I was an omega.
There was one day where I sat out on a picnic blanket, surrounded by wildflowers, reading a book in my mother’s lap.
I’d been so happy then. It was easy to be happy when everything in the world was bright.
But then there was the shadow.
I remember the way my mother’s arms tightened around me. The way my father’s voice pitched from the door as he marched outside, his growl scattering birds from the trees.
Whenever this memory comes up, I always remember Maeve as the shadow.
But she wasn’t the shadow at all.
Darkness rips into my mind and I feel like tumbling into a pile of photos. All these memories from growing up that have been missing two pieces.
The Shadow Seer.
And my magic.
My veins burn as he drags me out of the cage and down the tunnel.
I kick and scream and fight, but it’s no use.
The darkness has me, and it’s strong enough to keep me from escaping.
My vision blurs as I look to my left and right, realizing just how many more omegas are here.
Their faces are full of fear, the stench of terror brighter than a bonfire.
They’re so scared of him.
And so scared for me.
He drags me past all of their cages, and as we get closer to a larger gaping cavern, I see the creatures that have been in the forest. They're faceless and made of shadows, even though they have a form. They have bodies.
“That's what they become,” he says. “When I'm done with them. It didn’t have to be this way, you know. But Maeve got in the way. If she hadn’t locked away your magic, I believe we could have done something wonderful for this world. Instead, she kept you from me. My grandchild. Another Seer just like me.”
Terror streaks through me as his words settle in.
All of these shadow creatures were omegas.
What did he do to them? What is he going to do to me?
And what the fuck does he mean, a Seer like him?
I hit the ground hard with a heavy thump and roll onto my back, breathing hard. Without a doubt, we’re somewhere in the mountains, but . . .
The ceiling of the cave is not made of rock.
Water shimmers above like a pane of glass. I can see the moon glowing at the center and suck in a breath.
We’re under the lake.
In all the years I lived in Hex Ridge, no one ever mentioned a cavern beneath the lake. A thin film of magic glistens, keeping the water from crashing down on us. The circle of water above is really just a snippet, given how large the lake is. A window to the sky.
I force myself to sit up even though I’m so incredibly exhausted. I just want to sleep. To rest. I’ve been through enough, but I have to keep going.
Survive. You have to survive.
I glare at the man in front of me. He stands in the center of the cave, tendrils of darkness slithering around us as he meets my gaze.
I know his name, I realize. I know who he is, although I don’t understand why I don’t remember him. “You’re Gideon,” I whisper.
The book on Shadow Seers belonged to him.
He nods. “I am.”
Some pieces start to fall into place, but others don’t. Why wouldn’t Maeve have ever spoken to me about him? How long has he been taking omegas and why hasn’t anyone acted against him? Was Maeve trying to protect me?
It has to be really fucking bad if she tried to do a good thing for once.
“I don’t remember you,” I say. “I don’t remember anything about you. I lived in Hex Ridge for years, and you were never mentioned.”
“I helped raise you,” he says, his voice straining.
There’s an edge to his tone, a temper. The darkness surrounding him becomes more vivid, like blood spreading into water.
He watches me like a shark. “But when Maeve found out I was trying to make you a stronger witch, she left me. Rejected me. They all rejected me. My own daughter. Her mate. You were born like me, and they refused to let me turn your power into something extraordinary. For the last twenty years, you’ve been tricked.
Your magic has been locked up and Maeve and your mother erased all traces of me. Or tried to.”
“So you killed my parents,” I whisper.
His expression tightened. “They shouldn’t have gotten in the way. They tried to stop me, and because of that, so many innocents were dragged to their deaths. Three wolf packs. Countless daimons. And they’re all to be blamed, not me.”
Sylvan. I suck in a breath, blinking back tears. This is the monster who ruined both of our lives. His life. Mine.
“Why the wolf packs?” I whisper.
“Their bloodline traced back to the werewolf who helped close the Hex. They were going to use their power to stop me. Your mother never should have asked for their help.” He chuckled. “But she didn’t plan very well, did she?”
Sylvan and I—our fates were intertwined long ago. Even if we didn’t know each other, the same evil destroyed our futures. I wish I would have known him. I wish we had each other then.
“What about Verena?” I ask weakly. “Is she really . . . is she really evil?”
“Verena works for me. I have people like her everywhere, Morgan. Soon you will too. You’ll learn that’s what other people are to us—pawns.
They’re weak. Their strength is no match for our magic.
And they’ll worship you, child. So many witches, wolves, and daimons want this to happen.
We can conquer the power beyond the Hex.
It’s time we change our world for the better. ”
“I don’t think opening the Hex again is going to do that.”
“It will. The power there, it just needs to be tamed. Used. Your ancestor never should have sealed it. Your mother should have known this, but she chose Maeve over me.”
I don’t have enough water in my body to cry anymore. I push through the sadness, focusing on him, keeping him talking. Maybe I can find a way out of here. Maybe I can find a way back to Sylvan. “So you murdered your own daughter for power. And your fated mate too, it sounds like.”
He flinches, his face collapsing into wisps of darkness. “It didn’t have to be this way. She should have helped me. They all should have helped me. They were my family.”
“They didn’t owe you compliance just because they were your family,” I say. “Look at what you’re doing. The omegas in the caves are suffering. What are you doing with their magic? Strengthening your own to open the Hex again and kill everyone?”
“We can open the Hex and put an end to this misery.”
“What misery?” I growl. “The misery you’re creating?”
“The heats. The ruts. Alphas, betas, omegas. Our world didn’t used to be like this, Morgan. We can open the Hex again with our magic. Light and dark. We can change the world for the better—”
“Nothing about this is better!” I shout. I throw my hand out, pointing at one of the creatures watching us. “Look at what you’ve done to them. You’ve changed them into something unrecognizable. Something horrid. They’re husks of the souls they used to be.”
“They wanted to give their magic,” he scoffs. “It’s for the greater good. Omegas hold the power, and that power can open it all.”
He’s lost his mind. I sit back with a dry laugh and look down at my hands.
I’m caked in blood and dirt. I’ve been in this cavern for weeks, and the only reason I’m not completely out of my mind is because Cassandra helped me.
I can’t feel Sylvan right now. I can’t call out to him, aside from the couple glimpses into our bond.
Goddess, I miss his scent. I miss him so much, there’s a cavernous ache streaming inside me, begging for him.
For his whiskey and cinnamon scent. For this grumpy flirting and soft kisses and fur in the corners of our home.
I’m weak. I’m so incredibly weak. The constant pain has leached all my strength away, but not my will. Never my will.
He can kill me.
But I will be damned if I help him open the Hex.
“I won’t help you,” I whisper.
“You don’t really have a choice.”
He steps toward me and I move back, scrambling to my feet. My muscles scream at me to give up, but I can’t. I won’t.
“The spell Maeve and your mother used on you fades with time,” he says as he stalks after me. “It should have been gone by now, but I think it’s all in your head. This self-doubt. This lie that you have no power.”
“I don’t have power,” I growl, but it doesn’t feel very true anymore.
In fact, it feels like a lie.
I do have power. Right there, simmering under the surface.
There’s a tightness in my chest, and for the last few months, I've been under the impression that that tightness was from my bond with Sylvan.
But as Gideon nears closer, I know the truth.
It's like a string is wrapped tight around a little ball of light, warm and fluttering, strangling it.
If I cut that string, everything will release.
“Not only are you my granddaughter,” he says. “But you are a Foxglove witch. You would never have been born without power, Morgan. If anything, you were born with too much. They feared you, just like they feared me because we are one and the same.”
“We are nothing alike,” I snarl. “We will never be anything alike.”
“They wanted to turn you in, you know,” he says.
“Just like the history books call for. Those born with signs of being a Seer are to be turned over to the Council. That’s the world you’re fighting for, Morgan.
They would have killed you had I not stopped your own parents from obeying such a horrible law. ”
He smiles, and then that smile fades into a whirlpool of shadows. His body becomes something monstrous, something that moves like the wind.
“You are alive because of me.” His voice is a raspy whisper now, layered with the voices of others. “I tried for years to get you to use your magic correctly. Tested you so many times. Locked you away and kept you from speaking and pushed you to the point of breaking.”
It was him. I scream as a wave of pain hits me again.
“Your grandmother tried to stop it. How unfortunate her spell on your memories backfired so terribly. In erasing me from your thoughts, she became the nightmare.”
Fresh pain rips me open, but this time I push back.
My body is shattering. Every single bone is a porcelain dish in a room of elephants. I’m falling and breaking, but between those pieces, there’s light.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he laughs. “Feel the power, Morgan. Lean into it. Your strength.”
Bile rises in my throat as my skin buzzes with the pressure. I’ve felt this sort of burning before, and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to hold this magic.
My heart beats faster and faster.
I’m going to die. I’m so certain I’m going to die. But I can’t die. I have an entire life I want to live ahead of me. I have Sylvan. I have my fucking inheritance waiting for me so I can finally buy the perfect house and I can finally, finally get the life I deserve after the hell it’s been.
He can’t take that away from me. No one can. I’ve already lost too much. I’m not going to lose anymore.
Gideon raises his hand and the darkness comes barreling toward me like a wave. Its power is so devastating, and I hate knowing that it could do good things if he wasn’t corrupt.
I’ve never been a good witch. I’ve always told myself that. Magic has never come easy to me. It’s always been strangely absent, save for the small moments.
But in those small moments, there’s power.
There’s power in kindness. There’s power in a good cup of coffee and a warm blanket and the small moments. There’s resistance in happiness. That’s where my magic has been for so long, hiding in the sunshine.
For all the years of telling myself I’m a bad witch, I know that’s not the truth anymore.
The string snaps right as the darkness descends. The air is singed with a burning scent, and goosebumps race across my skin as I reach for the warmth in my chest.
A surge of power bursts from me, and I push and push until the light emanating from me is blinding. It’s so bright and I feel it drawing everything from the well inside me, pushing back against the shadows.
Gideon’s yell echoes around me, but I don’t let go.
I’m too angry. Have I had this magic the entire time? This elemental explosion of strength and light and warmth itching my palms as it pours forth, as if I’m made of the sun. This is what they were scared of?
This is what he thinks I’ll use to help him hurt people?
The light reflects off the lake above us like a prism, filling the room with a thousand sun rays. Gideon screams as I force him to the ground.
The fluttering in my chest grows stronger.
His scent. Whiskey and cinnamon rushes toward me, wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
Morgan. Morgan, I’m here. I’m coming.
Sylvan.
I smile, tears blurring my vision.
My mate has found me.