Chapter 40 Avilyna
Avilyna
TELL ME EVERYTHING
I can’t believe Vanessa is actually here. The candlelight flickers weakly, but the usual foreboding the wax and wick bring is amiss. A small aftertaste that no longer presses down on my chest, cutting my airways like it used to do. As if, deep down, I know it’s not the real reason why I lost them.
The light barely cuts through the dark; the silence is suffocating as I sit down next to her.
My heart is hammering in my chest. I thought my old life was gone for good, but right now it all crashes back down, shattering the illusions I’ve held of two separate realities.
I didn’t realize how lonely I’d become, and refused to acknowledge it.
And the brutal truth slices through me; I’m truly alone here.
But now, with Van, part of this crazy new reality I’m trying to survive, it feels manageable.
A tiny spark of hope, of trust in something bigger, flickers in my chest. Hours have passed since the attack.
Her breathing is shallow, uneven. Vanessa’s body is bruised.
Her silver hair stained pink at her right temple, proof of the blow she took.
What the hell was she doing out there alone in the forest?
“Come on, Van,” I whisper, voice tight with worry. “Wake up.”
Sakura told me again and again that her vitals are stable, that witches don’t heal like other creatures of Elgar. They’re still human; superpowered, but human all the same.
And every second without any sign of life feels like forever. Then, finally, a slight twitch in Van’s fingers catches my eye. Relief crashes over me as her eyelids slowly flutter open.
“Lyna?” Her voice is hoarse, breaking the heavy silence.
“Thank Kvirr!” I practically smother her in a tight hug, but the reality of her condition snaps back to the front of my mind. My hand reaches for a glass, filling it with cold water. Vanessa’s piercing gaze tracks the movement before she flicks a quick look around.
“I thought you were dead,” Van whispers, voice cracked, before gulping down the water.
“I’m so sorry.” Before I can say more, she throws a punch to my shoulder.“Ouch! What the hell was that for?” I rub my arm, startled.
She’s slim, yeah, but ballet dancers? They’re tougher than they look.
Van stopped playing the perfect little girl a long time ago.
Once she realized her parents didn’t really care about her.
As long as she stayed invisible, she had peace, most days.
But ballet was different; it was the one thing she truly loved in that fragile, porcelain life.
That’s why classical music speaks to her soul.
Secrets like those are what set friends apart from soulmates. When you share those shattered, hidden pieces of yourself, hoping they’ll be held safely, you forge a bond deeper than the ocean.
“That’s for leaving me without any explanation!
” she shouts. “I thought we were best friends.” It’s the first real sign of vulnerability I’ve ever seen from Vanessa.
Even when she told me something upsetting, she was always so nonchalant about it, as if it were trivial, not worth her time.
But now, her eyes don’t have that usual intimidating edge; they are brimming with tears.
And that pulls something out of me, too.
“Of course we are!”
“Then why didn’t you give me any sign of life for almost four months?” It’s only been three months and eighteen days, but it feels like a lifetime since we skipped class or went to the bookstore together.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have reached out earlier. I should have tried harder, but things got out of hand...”
Her cold hand presses against my arm, stopping me mid-sentence and Van’s features soften.“I suppose I should apologize too. I could have been more honest. I doubt it would’ve made much difference. But maybe if I had been, this... Could’ve been avoided.”
“Did Vanessa Hawthorne just apologize and give a hug on the same day?”
“Oh, shut up!”
We share a brief, shaky laugh, but it dies almost instantly; the weight of everything crashes back.
“I was terrified,” Vanessa admits, her voice low and ragged.
“When I didn’t hear from you after that night…
Your house was torn apart. But when I went back, it was as if nothing had ever happened.
And with that text you sent, your dad’s reputation…
Well, the cops didn’t take me seriously.
Then, a week later, they found Victor’s body at the bottom of a ravine.
I thought… I thought I’d lost you, too.”
Victor is dead.
He was alive when he left my house. He was an asshole, sure. Did he deserve to die? Meh, maybe not, but what really worries me is how he died, because what if it was a demon that got to him?
“Was his body like the others on the news?” I ask, voice barely steady.
“No,” Vanessa’s tone drops, heavy with something I can’t quite name. “That’s the weird part, his head was severed from his body.” We lock eyes.
What or who did this? But more importantly, why?
“I never meant to scare you,” I say quietly. “I was drowning, Van… and I didn’t know how to reach you.” The silence that follows is thick with everything left unsaid. Regret, and that fragile thread of faith still stretched between us, somehow refusing to snap.
“So… You’re a witch?” I ask softly. Her eyes widen, just for a second, before lowering, shadowed with guilt.
“Back then, I didn’t know for sure,” she says. “But I had my suspicions. I could always tell when it was going to rain, or when a meteor was about to streak the sky.”
I remember it started that last week of July.
“Why are we doing this again?” Van huffs from behind me. Her steps are steady, even though she’s been complaining about the hike for the last fifteen minutes.
“Because it’s good for us, and you’ve been nagging me to do more outdoor activities.
Well, this is an outdoor activity,” I declare, reaching the top of the mountain at last. The view is breathtaking.
Rolling green hills stretch out below us.
In the distance, we can make out the port, and even our go-to coffee shop.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a picnic… At the cemetery,” Vanessa mutters, leaning on her knees as she catches her breath. A few silver strands escape her ponytail, clinging to her flushed cheeks.
I roll my eyes.
Stretching my arms overhead, I let out a triumphant yell.
“You’re insane,” Van laughs, then joins in, her voice echoing over the hills. I shout again, and soon we’re both giggling uncontrollably, while the peaceful breeze kisses our damp skin. Then Vanessa walks toward the edge, arms outstretched.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh… Just wait.”
The clouds above churn slowly, dancing, unsure of their goal yet. And then, a bolt of lightning splits the sky, followed by a low rumbling thunder. The air thickens, heavy and electric.
“Told you it would rain,” Vanessa says, tilting her head back as the first drops fall. The sky darkens into a bruised purple. The wind picks up, first a whisper, then a sharp gust that tugs at our clothes and hair.
I should’ve known.
The signs were there, all around me, but I didn’t understand them at the time. Vanessa Hawthorne awakened that day.
“I always thought your tattoos were just… abstract art,” I say softly.
“But it’s lightning, isn’t it? They appeared after the storm?
” Now, I remember that moment so clearly, Van tilting her head back, letting the storm wash over her as if it was an extension of her.
The sky, a deep lilac, was alive with flashes of raw power.
A peaceful smile played on her lips. And for a second, she almost glowed.
I told myself it was the lightning reflecting off her skin, but now I know better.
That was her magic waking up. Her true self, rising to the surface.
“Yes,” Vanessa says, voice quiet. “I don’t know exactly what they are, but I figured they had something to do with… my sudden control over the weather.”
“They’re awakening marks. They represent your power, you’re a lightning witch.”
If I remember right, they’re rare, very rare. I glance down at her forearms, and now that I’m really looking, I see the pattern. Currents of energy etched into her skin. Lines twist and bend as lightning frozen mid-strike, as if it's still buzzing with power, waiting to be released.
All witches, male or female, have elemental abilities tied to a specific affinity. That one field where their magic feels like an extension of themselves. Most witches these days are tied to the classic elements: earth, air, fire, and water.
Vanessa turns to me, her voice full of quiet curiosity. “What about you? What’s your power?”
“I… haven’t awakened yet,” I admit, trying and failing not to let the longing seep into my voice. It’s hard to hide. That transformation is supposed to clarify who you are, anchor you, and fix what’s broken.
“So… tell me everything.” Van leans in, a reassuring hand on my arm. I let out a slow breath, the weight of it all pressing hard against my chest.
“Where do I even begin?”
“I still can’t believe Aunt Ruby is a centaur,” Van says once I finish unloading the mess that is my life. “She’s so cool.”
I left out the prophecy, not because I don’t trust her, but because I’m trying not to put anyone who doesn’t have to be at risk in danger.
But whatever I do, there are consequences, whether I’m ready for them or not.
Vanessa is as new to this world as I was, and I am not about to overwhelm her more than she needs to be.
“That’s what stood out to you?” I ask, deadpan.
“That,” she says dryly, “and your embarrassingly obvious lust for Jax, the emotionally stunted lycan.”
“I am not—”
“You absolutely are.”
I groan and roll my eyes, but the tension finally breaks, and we both start laughing. Hers is a low, almost amused sound, mine louder, spilling over into tears I didn’t expect.
“I missed you,” I whisper.
Van blinks, unbothered. Emotions aren’t her thing, but she doesn’t need to say it. I see it in the way her shoulders relax, rare.
“And yet… You lived. Shocking,” she adds blankly.
I snort. “Touching, really.”
Leaning back, arms crossed. “Also, stop calling him that. He doesn’t deserve the comparison.”
“To whom?”
“Sons of Anarchy. Jax Teller had actual depth.”
Van raises an eyebrow. “Right. That guy you’re so not into.”
“I’m not.”
“Mmm, very convincing,” Van says, unimpressed. I roll my eyes, but she doesn’t miss a beat. “So, do we hate him or not?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I reply, annoyed.
She shrugs, casual as ever. “Fine, but just know, if he so much as breathes wrong, I’ll set him on fire and still show up to class as if nothing happened.”
I glance at her, voice softening, “I really missed you.”
Van’s expression flickers, almost a full smile, but her voice stays neutral, “I know.”