Page 19 of Calling Quarters

“You're going to have to open the realm to us,” Lux explained calmly.

I knew this was coming. It was the only solution we'd been able to devise that didn't involve anyone else helping. The problem was, the spirit realm was next to impossible to master.

The Wildes were the only Quarter family with access to the underworld and were notoriously bad at keeping records, so there wasn't much information regarding how to go about it. My own father had given up on the task years ago, and he was more desperate for the extra boost in power than anyone.

For some reason, gaining access to the underworld hadn't ever been difficult for me. I often visited while on my post, using the energies from our ancestors to make up for any areas the others may have been lacking in—a problem that came up more often lately. It was the only reason we hadn't already lost our roles to our fathers.

But opening the realm to the other Quarters wasn't going to be easy. I didn't have the training or abilities to keep them safe while they drew power from their ancestors yet, and allowing them in without proper protection could result in one of them getting stuck between worlds or dying.

“We know what we're signing up for, Wildes. Just get us in,” Rhyse muttered quietly. I looked to Enzo and Lux for confirmation and they each nodded once.

“Fine.”

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The clock struck six and the four of us settled into our individual altars—a designated spot built into our homes that kept us safe from interruptions and threats—as the coven began the ritual spell. I took our sacred family knife that was said to have been carved out by Hecate herself and passed down through Quarter families for generations to draw blood and offer it to the gods in exchange for their protection and guidance, then fell into a deep meditative state. The coven called onto the four quarters, and we opened ourselves up to them.

The tourists usually didn't realize the ritual was happening. Too distracted with the sounds of the carnival and festivities, they never noticed the quiet spellcasting that came from members of Watchtower. Their excited presence also brought an additional buffer energy to the ceremony.

Once I was sure it was safe, I opened the underworld to the others to draw the connection with our elder spirits and use them as a power source. When the shield was lifted into place, we allowed ourselves to reenter the physical realm with our minds still halfway connected to spirit. This was always an easier task for me. I tried to keep my nerves about them entering the spirit realm at bay. I didn't want the negative vibrations to affect them, though it was difficult to ignore the risks when I could feel the stronger energy buzzing off them now, even from miles away.

The night started off smoother than usual, and each minute that passed without issue allowed me to relax a little more. I could hear the sounds of the Mabon festival through the window, though they were muffled by the ocean's soft chorus beside me.

It wasn't until after about three hours, just before the sun set around nine o'clock, that I felt the shift. The waters below darkened, morphing from their usual aqua hue to completely black. I could hear distant chanting coming from the town's center, but the sounds of the waves were fighting it. The energy within the spirit realm frenzied and I could feel the others panic as they sensed the shift, too.

Our shield was falling away with each passing second and our energy was depleting. Whatever magic they were practicing at the festival felt as if it was targeted at syphoning every ounce of power from us.

Weakening us.

Somehow, I'd gathered enough strength within me to shove the others out of the underworld and close off the opening before anyone got hurt.

When I was sure everyone else was safe, I focused on the energies surrounding me, stopping when I recognized the presence of black magic. It was almost a tangible, living thing—impossible to ignore. Everyone in Watchtower knew better than to practice anything dark, especially when our shield was lifted and we were vulnerable. It was the coven’s most rigid and indisputable law.

Yet, someone had clearly disrespected the bylaws to put us into harm's way.

With our connection broken, I could no longer feel the magic coming from the other Quarters. It was just me, the raging ocean, and whatever magic that was set on draining me.

I wanted to give up. My body felt as if someone had slashed it open and sucked all the blood out. Whatever this was, it was clearly stronger than anything I could handle.

Just as my eyes began to close, I felt someone's presence beside me. I could no longer see the waters thrashing their anger against the rocks below, or the white candle that once flickered before me, fighting to stay upright against the wind that now whipped across my face. The stone floors beneath me felt cold and dry, though I was positive they were covered in blood.

But the entity—whatever it was—stayed still by my side as the scene unfolded. I felt it shift, and then I became lighter. My energy was being restored and my powers were slowly being regifted to me.

It was a few moments before I could open my eyes again, but I knew the storm was ending. Instead of succumbing, I would be able to fight the darkness that had tried taking me down. When I felt strong enough to sit up, I glanced to my right to see who had saved me but found the spot to be empty.

I was alone.

Chapter 12

Remy

Beacon Grove was a disaster. Festival debris circled around us in a painful reminder of how the evening unfolded. The elements had raged down here just as harshly as they had for us in our towers.

Once we were sure the four of us were okay, our fathers summoned us to the town's community center to discuss the night's events. Only members of Watchtower were present, though it was the largest turnout I'd seen since our Quarter initiation ceremony.

I have no idea where they corralled the tourists and carnival workers. The town looked completely abandoned, so I'm sure it was far enough out of ear shot for us to hold our meeting.

We were sat down into folding metal chairs on the small auditorium stage beside Mayor Douglas and our High Priest, Silas Forbes. When we tried to decline, we were told it couldn't wait.

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