HER MUSCLES HURT, and the past few days had drained Davinia, but there was no time for extra sleep. The late sun greeted her through the broken window. Sadly, the village didn't magically turn back the way it was in her memories. At least the Atropa witches hadn't come yet. She inhaled a long breath, not letting herself think about the fate that befell Hugo.

Maybe if she finally won, her nightmares would stop.

The floor of the old store was cold to the touch, and she appreciated having Gillian to keep her warm. She had tucked her blanket around Dalia, who came to her in the middle of the night, scared. Just like Dalia used to do before Atropa forced her to show no fear. Cuts coloured red on Dalia's tinted skin, and a few bruises shone blue. Davinia never meant for anyone to get hurt.

Careful not to wake the others, Davinia sat up, and Gillian's arm slid from her waist. His eyes flashed yellow as he jerked up, alert.

"They're not here," Davinia whispered.

"Then why are you awake?" he groaned, and she gestured for him to be quiet, glancing over at Dalia.

"Preparations." The Atropa reign had to end here, and she wasn't leaving anything up to chance. Out of her bag, she grabbed one of the notebooks, scribbling down next to the pentagram and sigils.

Gillian watched over her shoulder. His brows furrowed together. "What are you planning?"

"I can't tell you, remember?" She closed the notebook. "Just because you're away from them doesn't mean the curse is gone." And she hadn't learned enough about it to understand the extent of the curse.

Hurt crossed his eyes. "Free us then."

"It's not that simple." She didn't even know the words used in the spell.

"You did it for yourself."

"Yes, after years of collecting information." She tried to hide the annoyance in her voice. It wasn't Gillian's fault. He wanted to be free, the same way she wished to be. She was annoyed because she didn't know how to break it, and it would help them so much. They could stay and fight instead of hiding in the shadows, watching helplessly.

From the corner of her eye, she checked to see if Dalia was still asleep. Davinia quickly pecked his lips.

"You don't have to hide what we have anymore," he said.

What they had? She wasn't even sure what it was they had. There was no room—and she was still scared—but she did her best to ignore the comment. "I'll search heaven and earth to break the curse. But we have to wait until after the fight."

He nodded, his face returning to the same indifference he showed at the Atropa village, and it made her heart ache. "I'll get you breakfast. It's the least I can do," Gillian said as he rose to his feet.

"It will be okay. I got this." She had to believe. As she inhaled a few long breaths, the village's magic tingled on her skin. This had to be enough power. "Maybe you should take the Neophytes with you and the wolves." They didn't have sufficient training to help her and weren't initiated to come to full power.

Before Gillian had a chance to answer, Davinia jumped up. She chose not to sit around waiting for his nos and objections.

"No, you can't do that." Gillian and Davinia spun to the voice. "You can't fight them." Dalia sat up, leaning on one arm behind her.

Davinia sighed. She didn't know how to phrase it any kinder. "They killed my mum, your parents—Atropa is the true wicked evil on earth—look at the village."

"Yes, they're evil and too strong." Tears ran down Dalia's face. "What will happen if you die?"

Davinia blinked at her, stunned, her mouth hanging open. She didn't expect Dalia to be this concerned.

"Davinia won't die," Gillian said, stepping forward. "And I'll keep you safe with the other wolves."

Dalia shook her head as she stamped her feet. "No! That's not true. You can't keep us safe. If Davinia dies, the high priestess will take us back, continue the harvest, and they'll kill you and your friends." Dalia pointed at him. "And your father can't even save you because of the curse. None of the wolves can. Davinia is the only one free."

"Dalia—" Davinia said.

"Don't Dalia me. You left us."

"She came back," Gillian reminded her.

"Yes, and we didn't know what was happening or what to do. And there was this weird magic." Dalia's fist trembled at her side. "Why can't we run?"

"I don't want to run." Davinia crossed her arms, the not fully healed wounds stinging. If Dalia wants honesty, she got it. "I want them to die because as long as Atropa breathes, none of us are safe." A low growl rumbled in Gillian's chest. Something she had never heard him do freely. Davinia cupped Dalia's face in her hands. "They'll never stop hunting us down."

"What about the other witches still in the village? What about Salena?" Dalia said.

Davinia dropped her hands from Dalia's face as she pursed her lips. Salena wasn't the only one left in Atropa's grasp, and she would lie if they hadn't crossed her mind. There were children in the village, the male witches, semi-innocent witches, humans...

"If I can beat Atropa, they'll be free too." Unless they chose Atropa's side. Even if Salena refused a title, Davinia didn't know how connected she was to the new coven.

God and goddesses, don't let Salena turn against her.

"I want to help," Dalia said firmly through her tears.

"I know the feeling." Gillian crossed his arms.

A breath pushed past Davinia's lips, and she stepped backwards. They'd only get in the way. She'd tap into more power than during the harvest, and she was uncertain what happened there except that she lost control, Greta died, and Mira got hurt. People shouldn't get harmed anymore. She didn't allow it. It needed to stop—Atropa needed to be stopped.

"You can draw more runes to strengthen me, but when the Atropa witches come, I need you both to get out of the way so I can do this." She turned away but stopped at the door opening, which didn't even have a door anymore. "Actually, you could try to find some belongings of the people who lived here and lay them by the pentagram."

The wind was chilly, and an ominous notion hung in the air. Davinia inspected the lines of the pentagram and sigils. Her skin tingled, and she sensed the magic radiating off the symbols. This had to work.

She stood in the middle of the pentagram like she did in the cave. While she closed her eyes, she focused on her feet touching the ground, the way the wind brushed against her skin, how the air filled her lungs, and the forest's scent tickling her nose. With every breath, the magic surrounding her became more and more present.

Something burned inside her chest—not painful, something...familiar—something fierce. "I pray..." Davinia almost said her mum, but she wasn't there anymore. And she didn't know how to connect to her father's side. "Please, Goddess of the Earth and Goddess of the Moon, I've not always been your most devoted child, but I feel you. I believe, and I need your help to save your children and defeat the Atropa witches who seek out dark magic and enslave others."

Davinia grabbed the coal from her bag and drew sigils on her arms. The old words rose from the depths of her soul and fluttered out of her, powerful and melodic. The magic seemed to dance together, drifting on the wind, floating in the air, and breathing with the nature surrounding her. But there was something else lingering in the buildings and echoing through the streets.

She held the dagger, but before she cut into her skin, Gillian's fingers wrapped around her wrist. "Don't," he told her.

"It will make the magic stronger."

"So use mine. I'll heal quicker."

Davinia shook her head. Worrying her lip between her teeth, she stared at the things Gillian collected for her: some coins, a necklace with the moon, and a shiny white stone that used to lie on the shrine for the Goddess of the Moon. But what caught her eyes was the wooden wolf toys, reminding her of the werewolf blood spilt in these streets. Was the child to whom these toys belonged still alive?

"Okay," Davinia said, and he let go of her wrists.

From his pocket, he took a cloth wrapped around something. "First, eat." He held up some fruit.

She rolled her eyes, but he shut her up with one glance. As she ate the fruit, he dripped drops of blood into the mortar. His wound began to heal before he was done. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"There are some herbs and flowers left. Could you mix it with the blood? Especially the dandelions." She smiled at Gillian as he knelt and did what she asked. "If you weren't a lycanthrope, you would be an excellent witch."

He smirked and winked at her. "Can I be your apprentice?"

A pinkish blush spread along her cheeks. "Gillian." She knelt next to him and rested her hand on his arm. "You'll leave without me, right? If anything goes wrong."

"Nope." He focused on the mortar.

She pressed her lips together in a thin line. "Gillian—"

"No. You either win, or I'll take you out of the fight."

"They won't stop—"

"Davinia." He met her gaze. "You will come out alive. I don't care how, but you will." A dedication flared in his eyes as the fire of revenge burned in her soul, and she realised there was nothing in her power to stop him. He crashed his lips against hers, sealing the promise he made.

Davinia broke away, her cheeks burning. After some rapid blinking, she concentrated on her tasks once more.

Her finger scooped through the mortar, and she drew her symbols again. The sigils she collected over the years. Her skin tingled. The pentagram on her lower arm almost seemed to glow as hot as embers. Words came to her, and she spoke them in whispers. The ground shuddered, and the trees—even the buildings—appeared to tremble. The massacred village was ready for her.

"Davinia." Gillian glanced at one of her marks, worried. "Don't," he hissed as he took her wrist.

"What—"

"I'm not an idiot. Dandelions, those marks..."

"It's not dark magic," she promised him.

"It's not clean either. You shouldn't mess with the other side."

"Trust me." Her eyes begged him—she needed him to trust her.

Grimacing slightly, he released her wrist. "You come out alive and whole," he said demandingly—or even ordered her so—and this time, she kissed him in a promise.

"Ahem." They broke apart and spun around to face Mira and Dalia, both with their hands full of trinkets. "That's forbidden," Mira stated as she dropped the stuff.

"Only by Atropa laws, and they're not in control anymore." A genuine grin crossed Gillian's face. One she loved to see.

Mira took the words in as Dalia spread the villager's abandoned trinkets around the pentagram. "What does this all mean?" Mira gestured to the symbols.

"Power," Davinia answered, taking the last bit of Gillian's mix and drawing the final piece on her skin.

"For us?" Mira said, and Dalia turned to them.

"No, just for me. You won't be here."

Mira crossed her arms, opening her mouth, but a howl interrupted her. Gillian jumped up, watching the one main road out of the village. Another howl followed. Davinia leapt to her feet, too, as she cast out her senses. She felt the buildings, the stones, bushes, flowers, the Neophyte and some lycanthropes; the animals that hid within the village, followed by the trees and forest's residents, but she couldn't reach far enough to sense the Atropa witches.

"They're coming," Gillian said.

An icy shiver ran down Davinia's spine. This was it. Dalia clasped Davinia's arm. "After you've won, can we never fight again?" Dalia looked up at her, no doubt in her eyes that Davinia would win. "I don't like it."

Davinia's heart skipped a beat. "You need to go now, little witch—all of you." All three stared at her with determination in their eyes. Davinia clenched her jaw. They won't leave her, and there was nothing she could do about it. "Fine, hide down the street in the old bakery. Throw up your protections and send strength to me."

Gillian smiled victoriously as the Neophyte witches ran opposite where the witches came from and into the broken building. A wolf followed behind them.

She seized Gillian's arm before he changed into his wolf. "Pray to your Goddess," she said.

Gillian nodded, his thumb stroking her cheek.

Please, gods and goddesses, keep them alive.

He stepped away from her. His body shook, and his back arched. The sound of his bones breaking vibrated deep into her heart. His skin hid behind a layer of black fur, and before Davinia stood his huge wolf.

Please keep him alive.

His head brushed against her hand. The light touch left a warm mark on her skin. She fought back the fear that tried to claw its way out of her. His hind paws pushed off the ground, and he joined the others.

She didn't let herself be scared. Not now.

They deserve to live and be free from Atropa.

✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩

ATROPA IS COMING! Are you ready? Let's hope Davinia is.