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Anticipation prickled Evelyn’s fingers the closer they neared, the muttering becoming clearer to Evelyn. The shrill voice belonged to the White Lady, and so far, Aster seemed to be right.
They had no vegetation, no rock to hide their approach. Evelyn stretched out her magic to muffle their steps.
But Kade laid a hand on her arm and whispered, “Save your energy and magic for the fight. There’s a chance she assumes we’re already coming. The effort would be a waste.”
His eyes roamed over her face, and Evelyn nodded in agreement. She turned away, but Kade held her firm. He said nothing of what was to come, what lay inside the tomb, or whatever they faced.
He kissed her.
With passion, eagerness, rightness, and adoration. Feverish and sweet, his lips moved with hers, in a defining tandem, a physical declaration that he was with her. Through it all.
They pulled apart, taking one last glance at each other, and then Evelyn continued to lead them on. At the cusp of the entrance, the White Lady’s mutterings echoed. Chants of Olde Witch, of words Evelyn didn’t recognize, anger and hatred laced within each one.
Evelyn faced Kade. His nostrils flared, his jaw ticked. She could tell—maybe it was even their bond—that he didn’t want to leave her side, but they had a plan.
He nodded, and Evelyn faced forward.
She tiptoed down the corridor leading to the fire, sliding against the walls. Swirls and circles carved the stone, and Evelyn’s fingers grazed the grooves as she continued inward. At the end of the path, she stopped.
At the tomb’s center, a fire burned but no one stood manning it. Across the way, a single swirl had been carved into the stone. The rest of the walls were smooth, untouched. The falling sun’s glow reached across the tomb’s floor, casting a sliver of orange light onto the wall as well. A hair stood between the light and the carved swirl. Minutes before the tomb reached its full potential.
“Daughter of the Goddess,” the White Lady’s voice sounded through the tomb, except this time, the White Lady was here. Her voice was close, and it sent shivers over Evelyn’s skin. Despite the grating evil in the White Lady’s words, Evelyn stood tall, proud, believing in what she came here to do.
A flash of darkness fizzled in the space, and the White Lady appeared. This time, she possessed a body. Dressed in a long white cloth draped around her like a cloak, her bony frame jutted in places, her frail arms stretching outward as if welcoming Evelyn to the tomb.
That was when Evelyn noticed the vacant space behind the White Lady, stone pushed away to reveal a hole large enough for a body. There was nothing in the ancient tomb that she could sense—no magic, energy, or life. The White Lady had been surviving off it, lying dormant like a beast slumbering during winter. She’d been buying her time, waiting to awaken.
The White Lady snapped her fingers, and the flame in the center of the tomb flared to black fire. Gray and onyx danced.
“I sense that you’re alone. Did the werewolf finally see you for who you are? A coward. A runaway,” the White Lady said.
Evelyn stayed silent. She had no time for doubt. She had no time for the intrusive thoughts that would keep her from her task.
“It appears your friend’s death did the trick. You and I aren’t so different. Both seeking vengeance.”
“Do not speak of her,” Evelyn said. Calm. Collected. Determined.
“Aster Arkwood?” the White Lady sneered. “An earthly witch, the very kind who turned their back on their sisters as they were burned at the stake. You stooped low to be her friend.”
Evelyn snapped her fingers, extinguishing the black fire between them with her power. She took a step farther into the tomb, meeting the White Lady’s beady red eyes.
“She was full of love, light, and life,” Evelyn said. “Things you know nothing of.” She withdrew her staff from her hair. The dragon bone’s power vibrated through her hands, and she lit it aflame, then slammed it to the stone ground.
The White Lady took a step back as the flames danced her way.
The light beamed across her gaunt cheekbones and sickly white skin. Sneering, the White Lady hissed and bared her razor teeth. She used her shawl to hide from the light, and even if the White Lady hadn’t pretended to be a vampyr, Evelyn couldn’t help but notice the similarities. She supposed dark magic affected everything in the same way.
The White Lady thrust her gnarled hand out over the tomb’s stone floor. Evelyn sent her fire, hitting the wall of darkness the White Lady had manifested. Gold and black collided with one another.
“You’re weak!” the White Lady yelled. “You failed your friend, and I took her hands! You are nothing but a façade of strength and power.”
Evelyn shut out the memory of Aster’s dead, mutilated body and held her ground, believing she could. Their powers collided, and the White Lady pushed her farther over the center of the stone.
Aster’s words rallied Evelyn. Your magic would be nothing without you.
Evelyn felt those words and put all her hope and belief in them. Her friend may have been gone, but her memory would never fade. Evelyn would never forget what Aster had taught her, reminiscent of her father’s last words.
Believe, Evelyn.
