Page 19 of A Tale of Treachery

Her eyes glistened, and for a moment, she softened and reached for my hand, but thought better of it and drew back, as if realizing how dangerous that hand was.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. It just took over.”

“What are you hiding, Dahlia? Magic doesn’t simply act on its own. It acts off the feelings and emotions of its provider. You wanted to stop her from speaking. You have something to hide. Whether intentional or not, you’re guilty of this. The coven will be out for your blood.” Her gaze shifted toward Glendora, whose eyes were slowly hazing over, her breathing growing shallower with each passing moment. Eulalia shuddered. “Whatare you?”

“I can’t tell you,” I whispered. “There are things that nobody can know about me…not even you.”

Her stare hardened. “Do I even know you? Was everything a lie? What have I ever done to make you think that I can’t be trusted?”

I trusted Eulalia, but a part of me was terrified. How would she feel if she knew that I was half shade? Once a secret was out, it didn’t stay secret for long.

I couldn’t take that chance.

I angled my face toward the broken seer sprawled across the floor of the tent, gasping her last breaths.

“You need to go, Lali. The soldiers will be here any moment, and you must focus on your coven’s safety. We can talk about this later. I-I’ll tell you anything you want to know within reason, but your safety should be the priority right now.”

Eulalia kept quiet, and an unsettling silence stretched between us. When she finally turned to exit the tent, I offered her one last apology: “I’m so sorry. I never wanted it to be like this.”

Her responding look was answer enough. After that, I knew where I stood and what would come next.

I would be an enemy to the Gallows Coven, and nobody was to blame except myself.

My determination quickly replaced the deep remorse and sorrow as I moved to the witch hovering at death’s door. “I need to know,” I murmured, my voice shaking as I eased closer. The damage she’d sustained was unspeakable, but I forced myself to look at what I’d done. “Were you talking about Malachi?”

“I’ve said all that needed to be said,” she replied.

My hand gripped hers as she rattled her last breath. I’d hated the woman, but she didn’t deserve this. My shoulders sank. I was like him now, something I’d sworn never to become. My magic, a dark thing tethered to my soul, was bound and determined to make me a villain. It was a part of who I was born to be.

When the chaotic sounds of witches packing died down, I exited the tent in a daze.

The campsite was a ghost town, everyone gone, items too large to carry left in disarray. The tents were still up, making it clear that whoever lived here had left quickly.

If Aiden’s crew saw any sort of evidence that the witches once lived here, they would never stop. They would search the ends of the earth for the Gallows Coven, and I couldn’t have that.

I reached deep into the well of my magic and grabbed hold of the golden spark once more. It felt disgusting and slimy, but I needed it to do what it did best. Destroy.

I twisted my hands until they were facing upward, calling magic to my palms, begging it to help me cleanse the area of evidence.

It answered in a wild, unhinged blaze of glory.

And it terrified me, overtaking my hands, arms, and chest with liquid fire. The force of it licked along my skin with painful bites of heat that normally wouldn’t harm me. But it was angry and wanted to make me suffer for burying it away for so long.

I threw the fire toward the seer’s tent, where it quickly demolished the structure, burning it to ashes, and then directed it toward the rest of the encampment. The canvas of the witches’ homes caught fire, flames encompassing the surrounding area and spreading to the trees.

The golden fire raged, burning everything in its path, rejoicing at being set free once again. But it went too far and burned too much, the flames threatening to destroy the forest in its entirety.

It needed to be contained.

I tried to call it back, but it didn’t want to be caged. So I pleaded and begged, spoke to it, asking it to return to me, but it didn’t and wouldn’t listen.

I knew what I had to do. I had to make a promise.

“All right. Fine. Your way,” I said, extending my final offer.

A promise to never lock it away again. An oath to let it out whenever it needed to be free.

With that, the fire disbanded, the magic settling down to a slow trickle that climbed back into my chest, nestling into a small kernel that felt hot to the touch.

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