Chapter 3 | Choices

THE FOREST GROUND was cold underneath Davinia's bare feet, and she blessed the morning sun for the little warmth it gave. It was early, but she liked it that way. Most were asleep, eating breakfast, or busy with their first chores. And so was she. With Dalia, Mira—two Neophyte witches Davinia was supposed to teach—Gillian, and another lycanthrope in their wolf form.

Gillian's black fur shimmered in the sun, and she tried her best not to steal glances. No one could know about them...if there was even a them.

Davinia knelt by an old Yew tree. Her eyes darted around. Dalia and Mira walked further down the forest. Gillian glanced at her but leapt next to the other wolf guarding them.

This wasn't part of her task, and every day, she had to consider herself fortunate that other witches didn't mingle in her chores. Of course, she had protected it and made excuses ready if needed, but it would only get her so far.

She was lucky Gillian cared enough for her. Perhaps too much if he was willing to risk his own life, and she had told him so. However, when her stomach gnarled at her in the night's darkness, he was the one bringing her food despite her punishment. This morning, he was ready to do the same, but she was fine eating some berries from the forest until she had permission to eat at lunchtime. It wasn't worth the risk.

Her fingers dug out the three vials buried between the roots. Two of them joined the other vials for the coven—one with crystals and one with water—and the third vial she hid under her dress, strapped against her leg. Two new vials took their place. She didn't even need to say her protection spell out loud anymore, for her blood knew the magic by heart.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in the cool air, basking in a moment of nature's peace. The magic of the buried vials tingled on her skin. They were charged with earth's magic, growing for different purposes, and perfect for enhancing magic.

"Sister Superior," Dalia called, and Davinia straightened her back. "Is this the right colour?"

Davinia walked over to Dalia, who held up a dark green vial. Both Dalia and Mira were uninitiated, and Davinia liked to keep it that way. Luckily, Davinia still had a few years to work on her plan before the Neophyte witches were of age. She tried to keep them away from her heart. Emphasises on tried. Dalia would come to Davinia in the middle of the night when she was scared, and Mira probably didn't even remember her parents being only four when the reaping happened.

"What do you think?" Davinia rested her hand on the young witch's shoulder. Doubt crossed Dalia's face, afraid to say the wrong thing. Dalia was eager to learn, but mostly out of fear of being deposed by the Atropa high priestesses. "You're a talented witch. Trust your instincts."

"It should stay a little longer."

"Good choice," Davinia said, and Dalia grinned, her eyes sparkling with pride.

For a fleeting moment, Davinia didn't feel like she lived in the darkness of the Atropa prison with the wicked priestesses. But she knew better. The presence of the dark magic always pressed against her and clung to her skin—sometimes, it called out to her in temptation.

A single runaway breeze whispered to her in a warning. On instinct, she checked in on Gillian and the other witches. Gillian stood frozen in his place, his body tense. Someone communicated with him through his wolf-bond—telesthesia. A link created between lycanthropes to communicate with each other without speaking out loud—and whatever was said, it wasn't good news.

Davinia swore under her breath. If she could listen in...but only the shapeshifters were blessed—or cursed—with this power. She could send telepathic witches notes, but it doesn't compare to the wolf-bond's telesthesia. Gillian once explained it wasn't like literally someone speaking in your mind, but more a sense of what the other wanted to communicate. Still, she was jealous.

Davinia inched closer as if suddenly she could hear it too. His eyes focused again, losing the glazed-over look. His snoot brushed softly against her leg, and she knew something must be up. He'd never touch her in public. The Atropa witches would punish them both if they found out.

She tried to control her rapid heartbeat and cursed that she couldn't even talk to him now. "My room," she hissed to him. "Whenever you have time."

Gillian nodded, growled something at the other wolves, and left the witches alone in the forest. Mira and Dalia looked up.

"Where are they going?" A hint of fear echoed in Mira's voice.

"It's fine, little witch. They've been called away."

"But they're supposed to protect us." Mira's eyes darted around the forest.

Protect them from what? The nefarious people in the world lived amongst them as part of their coven.

"We still have Davi...Sister Superior," Dalia said.

Davinia worked her lips between her teeth. "Let's get the last vials and return to the village."

The witches made their way to the main house. The powerful scent of herbs greeted them as Heda looked up. She'd never appeared friendly, but today, Heda's face was darker than normal.

Dalia, Mira, and Davinia laid out all the vials on the table and washed the dirt off their hands.

"Great, this must be enough," Heda said, glancing at Davinia, which sent an icy shiver down her spine.

Enough for what, though?

Her mouth ran dry. Something was up, and she didn't like being out of the loop; not being able to plan for whatever was to come. She hadn't had a lot of control in her life, but she desperately grasped at it whenever she could.

Davinia bowed her head, ushering the other girls outside. "Go help in the kitchen garden."

She quickened her steps, walking the path into the dorm. Once in her room, she slid down the door to the cold wooden floor. Her trembling fingers found her hair.

Deep breaths, Davinia. Emotions didn't help. Figure out the facts and act accordingly.

The vials!

She took the vials, but one in particular caught her eye. A root grew through the cork and around the outside of the vial. Her fingers tingled at the touch of the magic. When she let go, the magic seemed to disappear until she picked it up again. When she buried it in the ground a few days ago, she asked for guidance.

A loud knock broke her out of her trance. She had no idea how long she sat there. Quickly, Davinia hid the vials.

"Sister Davinia." Mira's soft voice came through the door. "Mother Elder has called for a gathering."

Davinia opened the door, and she was greeted by the wan smile on Mira's face. She had the most beautiful, perfect black coil curls, and her big brown eyes made her look younger than the twelve-year-old she was.

"Don't be scared. You have the blood of some of the most powerful witches." Davinia took Mira's hand and gave it a soft squeeze as reassurance. "Let's go to the great hall."

Before anyone saw them, Davinia let go of Mira's hand. The coven's witches, young and old, filled the great hall. The high priestesses stood next to Azura on the small raised dais. Behind them, a few of the elders. She watched the faces of the high priestesses—Agatha, Heda, Reanna, and Tora were all on her revenge list.

Davinia pushed Mira to the other Neophyte witches, who weren't initiated yet, as she took her place at the Superior ranks closer to the dais. Her eyes scanned the room, but no one of the male witches attended the meeting, which wasn't the first time. The females solely ran the Atropa coven. The werewolves were absent, too, except for two guards at the door. She met Gillian's gaze, but he stood stoic, looking forward. The hairs on the nape of her neck rose as a feeling of alertness crept up her spine.

Azura raised her hands, and the room quieted immediately. "Dear Sisters, welcome. Praise our ancestors and their queen, Agatha." Everyone bowed their heads and said praise. "Today, we have extraordinary news. We've decided to initiate our newest batch of young students into our beloved coven."

Davinia's brows knitted together, and she wasn't the only one who looked confused. She must have heard it wrong. No one was the right age to be initiated. The reaping had thinned the bloodlines.

"Calm down, my witches. I understand the confusion, but we're having an earlier trial to strengthen the power of our coven."

Strengthen the coven. Davinia understood the meaning behind the words. There was something they needed power for.

"If you hear your name, please stand before us so our coven can see you." An ominous darkness lingered in Azura's eyes as she spoke. There was more to this. There had to be. Davinia felt Heda's haughty stare burn into her as an icy shiver ran along her spine. "Dalia Tennyson—"

Her stomach twisted as she kept her gaze on Azura and almost forgot to blink. Dalia was only fifteen; not of age to be fully initiated. The next names didn't even reach her until one caught her off guard.

"Mira Greenfield will be our last one. May their magic bring prosperity to our coven."

It took all of her willpower not to let the emotions overflow her. Mira was way too young. How could they put her through initiation and bind her to the ancestors? Not in the same manner as the Mos Maiorum, but still. Out of comfort, Davinia said the protection spell in her mind. Something pricked against her brain, but she ignored it as panic tried to wash over her in a consuming wave.

Did she cause this? She poked around the ancestors, and Agatha saw someone there. She probably couldn't make out Davinia, but Agatha sensed her and must have alerted her descendant Azura.

Mira and Dalia would be forever bound to this coven of tarnished witches, and it was all her fault.

What was she going to do?

It was like her mind numbed everything down until she was back in her room. The breath she held in too long forced itself past her lips. Her hands trembled as she drew protective runes with comforting sigils in the air around her. She slid to the ground in her cocoon of safety—letting it comfort her.

Did she even need to help them? She had a plan but didn't have time to look for alternatives. Nor had she figured out where to draw enough power from to burn down the Atropa coven. She'd require an alternative energy source after she was cut off from the ancestors.

Her mum was from the very same bloodline. The same ancestors. They destroyed everything Davinia had of her mum except her ancestral bond. The ritual to break free from the Atropa coven shattered that very bond.

She had expected the ritual to hurt, but in a physical way. Not an emotional pain. Crap, she hadn't even prepared enough. Deep and steady breaths left her lips.

So, she was not going to help Dalia and Mira and kept the plan as it was.

A tear escaped her, streaming hotly down her cold skin. But it was her fault...

Curses rolled off her lips. She had to leave, though. Atropa knew! The way Heda looked at her...there was no way they didn't realise it was her.

The door swung open, and Davinia jumped to her feet. Fire crackled around her fingers, ready to defend herself, but the flames died down as she met Gillian's warm brown eyes. She tried to pull her face together, but the cracks in her mask had done too much damage. Another tear rolled down her face, and Gillian had never looked so shocked.

No weakness, she always told herself. Never. And crying was a weakness the Atropa witches would beat out of you.

"There's no way." Her breath came out rapidly, one after the other. Gillian tried to hold and comfort her, but she pulled away. "There's no way Azura isn't on to me."

"She isn't—" He took a step towards her.

"She knows!" Davinia grabbed his arms. "Azura found me in the shrine. The Atropa queen isn't stupid. They know it was me." The words stumbled out of her, and her trembling hands covered her mouth.

Gillian cupped her face in his hand. "Azura is not suspecting you," enunciated.

"You don't know—"

"I do, and if you listen for a second, I'll tell you my father heard Heda and Azura fight."

Gillian brushed her tears away with his thumb, the touch lingering on her skin, as she blinked at him with wide eyes.

"Azura sees you as her daughter. Her love makes her blind. Heda suspects you might not be as loyal, but Azura doesn't want to hear it," Gillian said.

Davinia's brain tried to process his words, but the panic kept gnarling in the back of her mind.

"They were watching your reaction. I think the fact that you're still breathing proves you gave the right one."

"They can't be that stupid." Don't underestimate your enemy, was what her mum always told her. To think Heda, the one who enjoyed torture and poison, wouldn't act on her suspicion was idiotic.

"They aren't. So there will be room searches. Heda demanded it...well, she demanded you to be tortured."

Her stomach clenched together, but before she could panic, Gillian shook her lightly. "I know you have something planned. It's time, Davinia. You need to save yourself."

Davinia jerked her head from left to right. "It's too soon. I'm not ready."

"You don't have a choice."

She pushed against his broad chest, and he let her. "That's easy for you to say. You don't understand the cost and—"

Gillian's eyes widened, and he slapped his hand before her mouth. "You can't tell me, Davinia—the curse."

She pulled his hands away. She was aware of the curse. The one that bound the wolves' loyalty to the pack. If she told Gillian about her plan, which harmed the Atropa witches, he had to stop her. If he stayed—sometimes pretended—to be oblivious, he was safe. Curses weren't always specific, and loopholes made them often a pain in the ass.

Her fingers raked through her hair as she inhaled a deep breath. "No." There's no way she could pull her great escape off this soon.

She took control of her trembling hands, giving room for Gillian's dread to break through on his face. "Davinia...We—Dalia, Mira...the wolves—we need your help. They're calling the initiation the harvest."

"They won't sacrifice the wolves." Yes, Atropa didn't like them, but they gave the coven power they needed.

Gillian's face fell, and her heart plummeted.

"They won't sacrifice the wolves," she repeated almost inaudibly.

"It's a harvest, Davinia, and we can't go anywhere."

✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩

The Atropa high priestesses are ready to make some sacrifices in the name of the greater good.

Will Davinia be able to stop the harvest, or should she get as far away as possible?


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