Page 1 of Omission

A HUNDRED YEARS AGO…

“Please don’t do this. There has to be another way.” My words are low, a whisper drowned out by the sound of our enemies battering the manor’s front door. It’s loud and haunting. The endless pounding of a large object reverberates as it slams against the wooden structure—vibrates through every object within these walls—and yet, I know they heard every word.

It’s there in the trembling of my father’s hand on my right shoulder and the harsh bob of his throat. In the tightness around his eyes as the king of all Wiccans fights back his emotions. How our mother cries; each tear follows the track left behind by the previous drops while her entire body shakes.

Both are in pain but refuse to fight.

Both listen to our pleas and arguments, yet nothing has changed.

Instead, they try and pretend everything will be okay—that we’ll survive this—but the truth can’t be hidden behind forced smiles when so much pain permeates through our bond. When I can see just how much this is destroying them. Hurts more than the betrayal from those they once considered family.

Minutes are all we have left now. Seconds. And each tick of the clock is a stark reminder of everything we’ll lose once those fighting to enter our home do so.

Because they will. A fate foretold can never be changed, and while the path traveled might deviate in certain situations, the destination is always the same. Each cause has an effect. For every action, there’s an equal consequence you can’t outrun for long:

The blood of many witches will bathe these grounds tonight. And if they are my kin, I’ll one day kill those responsible in their honor.

“Leo, everything will be as it should. Trust in yourself and—”

“Why are you just giving up? You can stop this.” My tone is harsh and bitter as my chest races while sharp, emotional lashes strike my body. And yet, I pay it no mind as my eyes ping from my family to the door protecting this room and then back again. There isn’t a second to spare in convincing them—to try and make our parents understand—when only a few walls are separating the enemy from us, and they’ll be inside soon enough. “Maybe there’s something we missed or overlooked? We need more time to figure this out.”

“No.”

“Father, why can’t we use a portal to Uncle Roberto’s house?” Although he tries to hide it, I still catch the slight tensing of his jaw at my words. How a low growl slips at his brother's name. “We need to buy ourselves time.”

“Stop this. We won’t.”

“What do you mean? Why aren’t you—”

“Calm yourself, young king.” It’s a stern reproach, his voice leaving no room for argument and I nod while biting back my anger. Instead, I take a moment to refocus my attention—to get control over my limbs that never cease their trembling as I fight against every emotion threatening to consume me.

Two of their children are drowning in this purgatory while the third one sleeps, oblivious and hidden within a false sense of safety, and he knows this. Moreover, I’m full of ire. So much disappointment.

At them, for leaving us behind when my father—the most powerful Wiccan among us—can end this before it even begins. At myself, as the future king and being unable to save them. Magic vibrates beneath my skin, tugging at my essence, but it doesn’t show itself yet. Because at only thirteen summers, I’ve yet to start my training. Would’ve begun after the next solstice, but that’s unimportant now.

“You will go with Isa and Gabby, Leo. They will protect and guide you.”

“It should be you.” The words are harsh, bathed in my hurt, and I wish I could take them back immediately. Not because they’re not true, but because this can’t be the last words I say to him.

Gods, don’t abandon us. Aid us.

“I know.” Remorse. So much anguish in those two simple words as his eyes glisten, and yet the tears don’t fall. Instead, the metaphysical flow of his power wraps around me in a warm embrace, and the sorrow-filled whimper that comes from Isabella tells me he’s reached out to her, too. It’s something he’s done for as long as I can remember, a way to calm and soothe his children when faced with the unknown: a spell or unfamiliar terrain—the news that soon, we’ll never see each other again in this realm. “And I’m so sorry, son. I wish there was another way, but I’ll always forfeit my life so that you three thrive. It’s my honor as your father to do so.”

Another loud bang rings throughout, and a thunderous crack follows. It pulls a frightened noise from my sister and mother, both hugging now while the latter gives her daughter the comfort she needs, but then Isa pulls away and wipes at her face harshly. There’s a set determination in her expression that mixes with a feeling of helplessness that mimics my own.

She extends a shaking hand toward our king. “Father, please. It’s not too late.”

“You can’t outrun fate, Isabella. You both know this.” And we do, but that doesn’t make this any easier. If anything, I feel as though a noose is tightening around my neck—my chest aches—but I maintain enough composure to not lash out. It’s the only thing I have control over; a lesson given to all royal children from birth. “Daughter, you’ve seen what I’ve seen and the end for those involved. Never falter, sweet child. You three are our future, and many will depend on you.”

“But we need you.”

How are we supposed to just accept this?

“My babies, please go.” Mom looks at me and then Isabella while the sounds coming from our front door grow louder. Each strike is harder than the last, and the walls shake—it feels as though the very ground we stand upon already mourns its leaders. Then, there’s the clash of fighting and the screams of those caught between them and us. Our loyal guards refuse to back down. Our blood soaking the ground is what these traitors want. “Get Leo out of here. You three are our future, Isa. Save our people.”

“Gabriella should be here.” At my muttered words, Dad grips my shoulders and turns me to fully face him. He bends low enough that he’s able to lay his forehead over mine, and for a minute neither of us speaks while I give in to the mental block he’s now providing. Father mouths the word silentium and all noise around us becomes a low thrum in the background. All movement freezes, and my breathing becomes easier.

“Better?”

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