Lily
The spellbook burned hot against my palms as I walked deeper into the ravine. The air was different here; thick and humming, as though every stone and twisted root remembered something ancient. My heart thudded hard, but the spellbook quivered faintly, as if alive, and then bled light across its pages.
The ink formed a symbol I hadn't seen before; two crescent moons locking horns over a single drop of blood. My breath hitched.
"This is it," I whispered. "The seal of Miriam." The ground trembled. The ravine walls seemed to sigh.
Then I heard footsteps. Not the hollow shuffle of a spirit or the padded silence of a beast, but of a pure human, steady and deliberate. I froze, clutching the book tight. Out of the shadows came a young man, perhaps no older than twenty. He wasn't cloaked in power like witches or wolves. He looked… ordinary. His tunic was plain, his hair untamed, but his eyes were sharp and unyielding, fixed on me as though he had known me his entire life.
"I've been waiting for you," he said.
My fingers tingled. I almost called fire to my hand. "Waiting for me? Who are you?"
He bowed, not mockingly, but as one sworn. "My name is Nakoa. My gods showed me your face. They said a daughter of shadow and flame would come to this place, carrying a book no human has ever seen. They told me I was to serve her."
My skin prickled. "You're a diviner."
He nodded once. "A servant of the gods. I read their omens, their whispers. And I know what you seek lies beyond that wall." He gestured at the jagged stones sealed by roots and time. "The Coven of Miriam."
I tightened my grip on the spellbook. "You're wrong. I work alone. I don't need a servant."
He smiled faintly, as though he'd heard that argument long before it left my lips. "Fate doesn't care what you need. I was destined to walk this path with you. And you…" his eyes flicked to the blood-moon symbol glowing faintly on the book's thick cover, "...you can't embark on what waits without a witness of flesh. Without me."
I swallowed hard, hating that he might be right. The book had shown me countless secrets, but this time it pulsed like a heart, as though urging me to trust him.
"Why should I trust you?" I whispered.
"Because the gods are rarely merciful when you defy them," he said simply. "And because whether you want it or not, Lily… I am yours."
The way he spoke my name…so certain, so absolute…made my stomach flip. I didn't tell him how much I hated hearing destiny speak through someone else's lips.
Still, when the book flared again, casting the same crescent-blood symbol onto the sealed stone doors ahead, I realized I had no choice. I accepted Nakoa as my guide but not without rules.
"No questions," I warned. "No speaking unless I ask. And no interference."
He gave no argument, only bowed his head in quiet assent.
He moved ahead, silent as shadow, leading me through the tangled woods until the coven revealed itself, hidden beneath curtains of ivy and cruel, thorn-woven vines that pulsed faintly, almost alive. My fingers itched to burn them away with magic, but before I could summon a word, Nakoa drew a small knife from his pocket.
Steel flashed. His hands were swift, deliberate. Vines fell in curling heaps at his feet, cut with such precision it was as though he'd done this a thousand times before.
When the entrance finally stood bare, my breath caught. The doorway loomed before us, sealed tight by a door with no handle, no keyhole, no seam to pry.
I knew what it wanted.
I pulled the pin from my hair, its sharp point biting into my palm. Blood welled quickly, warm and bright. I pressed it against the ancient wood. The surface shivered beneath my hand, recognizing me, welcoming me and then the door split open on its own, groaning like a beast roused from sleep.
But before I could step through, Nakoa raised a hand. His eyes flicked toward me, sharp and commanding, though he spoke no word. I waited as he slipped inside first, clearing the way of weeds, stones, and long-dead debris that had gathered like cobwebs over the years.
When he finally nodded, I crossed the threshold. The air was colder, thick with the musk of dust and forgotten time. The moment I stepped fully inside, the spellbook tore itself from my grip, soaring upward as if yanked by invisible hands. It slammed into place upon a high altar carved into the stone wall.
The instant it settled, light exploded. Golden fire rippled across the chamber, tracing ancient sigils that had slept in silence, and for the first time in years, the coven breathed again.
I walked slowly around the coven, each step echoing against the stone floor, deliberate as a heartbeat. My gaze swept over the etched symbols spiraling across the walls, sigils carved deep, humming with a power I could feel beneath my skin. Nakoa lingered at the entrance, silent, giving me the space to claim what was mine. He knew, as I did, that the spellbook had carried me as far as it could. Its fire had burned its knowledge into me, and now it had returned to its resting place. The rest was up to me.
And I knew exactly what to do.
The walls bore three partitions, each sealed with a door of smooth stone, without handle or hinge, as ancient as the cavern itself. Upon them, names blazed faintly in silver light, as though written by the moon's own hand: ITA. IMO. EVA.
"Interesting," I murmured, tracing the air before the names, already sensing the weight of their presence pressing through the walls.
At the heart of the coven lay a circle of stone inlaid with the crescent sigil of the moon. Power thrummed from it, soft and inexorable, drawing me in. I stepped upon it, the air thickening around me, and raised my voice in chant.
When the final word left my lips, I lifted my head and commanded: "ITA! IMO! EVA! Arise and convene! Harken to the call of your leader. The time is now!"
For a breath, silence reigned. Then the first door groaned open, shadows spilling forth, and a young woman stepped through. She bowed deeply, her eyes luminous, her lips curling in reverence.
"Ita answers your call."
The second door followed, and then the third, each revealing a figure as radiant as the first; girls with unlined faces, hair like rivers of night, beauty so bright it made me falter. They came to me smiling, laughing like old friends reunited, their voices weaving around me in warmth as they named themselves, welcoming me as if I had always been theirs.
But I could not keep the question locked behind my teeth. "Why?" I whispered, searching their faces. "Why do you all look so young, so flawless?"
Their laughter rose again, this time like the chiming of bells, soft and eerie. Ita leaned closer, her eyes flashing like silver fire.
"Because we choose it, child," she said. "The flesh bends to the will of magic. But do not be deceived by these faces."
Imo's smile sharpened, and she added with a voice that seemed older than the stones around us, "We are as ancient as the roots of your grandmother's bones, or even older."
Eva's gaze lingered on me, her beauty faltering for only a heartbeat as a shadow crossed her features. "We have worn decades as easily as veils. And now, Lily, you must learn to do the same."
Their laughter fell into silence, and the coven seemed to lean closer, waiting.