Page 272 of Midnights
The sky darkens instantly, and a distant rumble rolls through the air. The wind stirs around us, rustling the leaves on the branches like a warning I don't want to hear.
My eyes fly open, and I see the clouds gather with the promise of rain. My heart pounds, caught between exhilaration and fear.
“Good.” Cam's voice cuts through the rising storm. “Keep going.”
I try to hold onto it and stay in control, but I hear a faint whisper. Then, all the sudden, it’s louder, like someone's standing right behind me.
“Raven!”
A violent gust tears through the clearing and I hear it again. My pulse spikes and my body tenses. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
I swallow hard, feeling the static thick in the air. My fingers are shaking as power rattles under my skin. “Nothing.”
I feel a brush against my ear as the voice curls through the storm like a thread pulled loose from the fabric of the world.
Then I hear a slow chuckle. Panic seizes me, and I rip myself free from the connection. The wind dies instantly, the sky clears, and my chest heaves as the power drains from me so fast I feel hollow.
“Why?” I turn on Cam and the words come out before I can stop them. “Why are you training me? Why not a witch?”
A muscle in his jaw ticks, but I don't miss the shift in his posture, the way his shoulders tighten.
“That’s complicated. I told you, they went into hiding.”
I lick my lips, forcing my voice to stay even. “Why, though? I’m sick of the half answers. Just tell me.”
Then, he sighs, looking around before running a hand down his face. “Because they had to.”
That's still not a real answer.
“Had to? Or were forced to?”
His golden eyes darken, and I can feel the weight of something unsaid pressing between us. His next words come out slow like he's making sure he doesn't say the wrong thing.
“The witches weren’t meant to survive, Raven.”
A cold, creeping dread curls around my ribs, tightening with each passing second as the words sink like lead in my stomach. “What exactly does that mean?”
I watch him clench his jaw like he doesn’t want to say anything, but he keeps going. “They were hunted. It wasn’t just about stopping the witches, it was about making sure no one ever found… her.”
A chill races down my spine and I shake my head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Cam exhales. “They started killing anyone who might fit the description of the prophesied witch. Any bloodline tied to old magic, and any coven that might've harbored or protected her… They were marked for death.” His voice is grim, and his eyes are darker than I've ever seen them.
“Are you saying they slaughtered every witch they could find thatmaybefit a description, just to make sure they weren’t a woman whomightexist?”
He nods once. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
A sick feeling coils in my stomach, sinking through my veins like ice. “So where are the ones who survived?”
He hesitates. “Scattered. Most are still in hiding. Some found protection in other realms.” His voice drops lower. “But most didn’t make it.”
The weight of his words hit me, stealing the breath from my lungs. My nails dig into my palms, and my chest tightens with something too big to name.
For weeks, I’ve been toying with the idea that Imightbe something more. That my magic, my past, my everything, is tangled in a history I never knew existed. But this? This is different. What ifthisis part of my history? Am I going to be hunted too?
The thought makes me nauseous, especially when I think about the old woman telling me I’ve been marked.
