Chapter 23 - Donna
The quiet after a battle is never truly quiet, and I can feel it in my bones even as I sit beside Nicholas, having recovered from the horrible, nightmarish fight.
Things can hardly be quiet and calm when magic still hums in the air like a distant echo, fading by the day, but still humming through our mere breaths.
Not when the ground remembers the weight of bodies and the trembling fear that once shook it.
We might be back in Wells, a long way from Montreal, but our minds remember last night as if it were etched into our muscle memory.
And a part of me, some instinct curled deep in my chest, whispers that this is only the beginning.
None of us have had any visions, any clues, that might indicate the dark lord’s next move, but we all know it’s coming. It’s bound to come. He’s always one step ahead, it seems, and we need to be cautious.
Morning light spills across Nicholas’s living room in thin, pale ribbons of blooming gold.
The boys pushed and spread the couches aside to make a makeshift war room again the moment Nicholas and I came back from the clinic.
Maps and notebooks lie scattered between mugs of coffee and half-eaten granola bars on the coffee table, and everyone has seemingly lost their appetites.
Everyone looks exhausted. None of us has slept more than a handful of hours ever since what happened, and we’re already throwing ourselves into more planning, more action.
We’re just huddled in Wells, everyone on high alert, trying to figure out what our next move might be. In some ways, I think the others are just trying to protect me, keeping a watchful eye on me since I was “awakened” last night.
Truthfully, I haven’t used my powers again, too frightened by my abilities.
Nicholas sits beside me, thigh pressed to mine, his hand warm over my knee.
He keeps touching me as if reassuring himself that I’m here, alive, whole.
Or maybe he's grounding himself in my warmth or to remind me that he’s still alive.
I don’t think either of us has fully recovered from that night, from almost losing each other.
And I keep letting his touch ground me in the knowledge that neither of us is going anywhere. His declaration of love from the other day keeping me going, keeping my spirit alive.
Dominic clears his throat, dragging everyone’s attention to him. “Alright. We need to discuss what comes next.”
“What comes next,” Tyler mutters, “is we all collectively agree that the night we lived through was nightmare-level insane and we need a ten-year nap.”
A weak laugh runs through the room, but no one truly smiles. We’re all too cautious to let our guards down in any way.
“There are still three witches out there,” Delilah reminds us, her tone steady but strained as if she’s mentally reliving that vision she had of the four witches who poisoned Gwen. “Morganna was just one of them. One. And the dark lord must be seething and plotting against us by now.”
“He has more reason to come after us for revenge,” Gwen adds, shivering. “We took down one of his soldiers. He won’t let that go.”
A chill creeps down my spine, and I see Tobias’s face for the briefest moment—the flicker of blue in his eyes, the apology, the sacrifice—and I swallow hard.
Sean speaks next, arms crossed as he glances at Emily across the room. “We need allies. Real ones. Not just werewolf packs, but everyone who fought in the last war or has any ties to it.”
Arianna nods. “The Black Moon War changed everything fifty years ago. My grandmother fought in it. So did Delilah’s grandmother, and probably a whole list of witches, but not all of them have links to werewolves. Take Gwen, for instance.”
“Yeah,” Gwen agrees. “I’m not a wolf shifter, but I’m a descendant of the Golden Tree Sisters.”
Delilah shifts her weight on the couch, thoughtful. “The Golden Tree Sisters defeated the dark lord the first time…but he didn’t die. He just went dormant. This war…it’s not new. It’s a continuation.”
That steals the breath from everyone. We’re still at war with the dark lord, and it wasn’t fully won the first time around.
Even Nicholas’s fingers tense around my knee.
My mother, Delphine, steps forward then.
She’d come to Wells this morning, too worried about me to wait for me to visit her.
She’s been quiet since the meeting started, flipping through an old, leather-bound book that she pulled from one of her hidden shelves back in Nightmist. I know, because I remember seeing that book on the shelf, but never thought to open it.
It looked too old, too private, like a diary that held secrets that should never be opened.
It’s an ancient journal with a frayed cover, cracked spine, and edges browned with age.
“This,” she says softly, setting it down in the center of the room, “belonged to my mother. She was a Golden Tree Sister.”
I gasp at the confirmation that my witch abilities are no coincidence, but rather, a gift passed down through my heritage.
Nicholas tilts his head, glancing at me first before studying the book on the table. “Your mother was alive during Azura’s time?”
My mother nods. “She was pregnant when she survived the war. Her messages were cryptic in there, and I always thought it was the ramblings of an old lady, until Donna was revealed as a witch, and I read deeper into her diary.”
I blink at the book, my chest tightening as I reach out toward the old leather. That war is almost mythic, stories whispered more than taught. But touching something that belonged to someone who lived through it feels like reaching through time and touching destiny.
“There’s something written here,” my mother continues, sitting beside me and flipping to a page covered in symbols and hand-drawn diagrams. “It’s a clue she left behind. A name.”
“A name?” Gwen asks, leaning in.
“Yes.” Delphine points to a faded line of ink. “The dark lord wasn’t always what he is now. He was once a wizard. A powerful one. And this”—she taps the page—“is his original name.”
“Merlin Grimes…” I whisper, and an eerie silence falls heavy over us. Names hold power. Names can unravel spells, undo curses, and expose weaknesses.
This name brings with it a sense of darkness and gloom. Death. Deceit. Horror.
“Does the book say where he originated? Or anything about how to defeat him?” Dominic asks.
“Not directly,” our mother admits. “Azura Badillo—”
“My grandmother,” Arianna whispers, and Mama nods gently.
“Yes, your grandmother. It appears she made a brave sacrifice of herself to stop the dark lord.”
“No one is sacrificing themselves,” Nicholas cuts in, his fingers tightening on my knee protectively. He glances at me, then at the book, before he lifts it out of my hands.
“We have to come up with another plan. Even though Azura sacrificed herself, it wasn’t enough to stop the dark lord for good. We’ll have to do things differently this time.”
“I agree,” Arianna chimes in. “We’re not losing anyone.”
“We won’t,” Delilah confirms with a firm nod as she stands up and walks over to us.
She takes the journal from Nicholas, then reads the name inside, under her breath.
“We might only have a name, but it’s more than we’ve had in months.
It gives us enough to start tracing his lineage.
His disciples. His rise. His downfall. Everything. ”
Sean whistles low. “So, we dig into his past.”
“We find anyone who fought back then,” Hunter adds with a nod. “Anyone alive who might know more.”
“And,” Arianna says, glancing at me, “we protect Donna. The dark lord made it very clear he wants her.”
I try not to flinch at that, but Nicholas feels it anyway. His hand slides into mine, fingers threading with a gentleness I feel I don’t deserve, because it’s like I’m endangering everyone else just by existing. They don’t need to say it, but I know what everyone is thinking.
The powers I used last night were very much like what Azura was capable of in her day. The same powers that cast the dark lord out for five decades, and that’s probably why I’m a singular target. He wants to stop me before I do what Azura did to him.
But when Nicholas squeezes my hand once, with tender reassurance, glancing at me with an equally assuring smile, I no longer feel like the group’s burden.
They’re my friends, and they’ll look for a different way to defeat the dark lord without me having to sacrifice myself. Still, it feels like a weight on them.
My brother looks around the room. “We move carefully. We don’t trust anyone outside this circle. Not even allies unless they’re vetted.”
Everyone agrees.
Everyone except me. I mean, I do, but I’m just quiet about it, having fallen silent beside Nicholas.
Because while they’re talking, all I can see is the golden light exploding, swallowing everything, and nearly taking me with it. I can still feel the burn of it behind my ribs, the echo of power I didn’t fully understand.
What am I becoming?
Am I supposed to sacrifice myself the way Azura did? I can’t….
My mother notices the tension in my shoulders. She always does, and that’s why she places a hand on my shoulder.
When the others finally begin to disperse—Sean and Tyler heading toward the guest rooms, Delilah hugging Gwen as they whisper about what comes next—my mother steps closer and gently touches my cheek. I turn only to suggest that Nicholas join the others, and that I’ll meet up with him later.
“You did well,” she whispers when Nicholas has left, slipping onto the couch beside me.
Cecelia appears where Nicholas was seated, her eyes warm, soft, full of the same motherly worry I see on Delphine’s face. “You scared us,” she scolds with a frown that doesn’t reach her troubled eyes. “But you did what needed to be done.”
“I’m fine,” I lie with a shaky smile.
They both see through the lie, but neither of them pushes. Instead, Mama kisses my forehead, and Cecelia lifts my hand to kiss my knuckles.
A secret hangs on the tip of my tongue, but when I look into their eyes, pained, troubled, hoping that there can be another way except the path that leads to my demise, I decide not to speak it. I can’t burden them that much. They’re already burdened enough.
All of them are.
The house feels too big after everyone leaves—Dominic, Cecelia, Darius, and my mother, the last to leave Wells.
The house is too silent, and that’s when I realize that even Nicholas is gone.
Without panicking, I step into the kitchen and stop short.
Nicholas is standing at the counter, a glass in his hand. He stares into it like it holds the answers to the universe. The bottle of whiskey stands open beside him.
He hears me before he turns.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
“Hey,” I reply softly.
“I needed a drink.” He lifts the bottle an inch and chuckles lightly. “Want one?”
I shake my head. “No. I…I’m okay.”
He huffs a small, knowing laugh and sets the glass aside without drinking it. He looks up and slowly makes his way toward me, inching forward with one brow arching. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Something sharp twists in my chest, but when Nicholas’s hand finds mine on the counter, a wave of relief washes over me, and I’m not as tense anymore.
He leans his elbows on the counter, watching me with that quiet intensity he’s never been able to hide. “You know you can tell me.”
“I know,” I answer with a sigh. “I don’t know if I’m okay, to be honest. But I think I will be.”
He nods, lifting my hand to his lips and lightly planting a kiss on my knuckles. “You will be, Donna,” he reassures me with a soft smile. “I promise.”
The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. It’s…grounding. Warm. Like we’re both taking a breath after holding it for too long. He doesn’t stop gazing deeply into my eyes, the warm, forest-green orbs reminding me of his words this morning.
His declaration of love.
I haven’t been able to tell him how I feel, only because I haven’t found the courage when I’m hiding something else from him. I need it to be perfect.
“I want to take you somewhere,” he says softly, and my heart stops.
It’s like he’s answering my needs with his offer. “Where?”
He shakes his head. “I’m not telling. Not yet. It’s a surprise.”
My brows lift. “A surprise?”
“Yeah.” His lips curve into a soft and private smile. “Just you and me. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere…safe.”
“Safe…” I echo, my heart warming.
“Yes…” he says, stepping closer, his voice dropping into something deeper. “I want one night with you where we don’t talk about war. Or magic. Or death. Just us.”
Just us.
That makes my heart flutter.
I swallow, my voice small as my lips curve into a wary half-smile. “Okay.”
His shoulders drop in relief, eyes softening in a way that steals the rest of the air from my lungs. “Good,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning. Pack your bathing suit.”
“My bathing suit, huh?” I smirk. “So it’s somewhere we can swim?”
Nicholas’s grin turns mischievous and unbearably endearing. “Nice try, sweetheart, but I’m not ruining the surprise.”
I roll my eyes, but the warmth blooming in my chest is undeniable. For the first time since the battle, I feel the tiniest flicker of hope.
And it feels like it’s all because of him, and I don’t mind that.