“From the moment they could wield magic, the sisters were stronger than any witch before them. Admired, but feared. And power—true, unrestrained power—is dangerous. They reveled in it.”
She glanced at Evelyne, weighing how much she wished to hear. “Vaelora, eldest by mere minutes, was the ambitious one. She unearthed a forbidden tome of dark magic and convinced Kaya to join her. Together, they grew stronger than the covens—stronger than any force Velenshire had ever known.”
Evelyne’s fists curled in her lap. “What happened?”
Charise’s expression darkened. “The covens united and banished them. But exile was not the end. They fled north to Nerathar, a landuntouched by southern law. There, they conquered—and likely still dwell.”
Silence settled over the room like a weighted shroud.
Alaric leaned forward. “You’re saying they stilllive?”
Charise’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Vaelora is alive, yes.”
Alaric tensed. “How? The book states it was over a century ago.”
“Because of their magic,” Charise explained. “By draining the life and power of others, they made themselves nearly immortal. Their bodies do not wither with age as ours do. At least, that is what the whispers claim. Few venture into Nerathar and return to tell the tale.”
Alaric’s voice tightened with urgency. “Why exile the witches after working so hard to conceal Velenshire’s power? Didn’t your ancestors fear they might reveal it to others out of spite? If the secret ever slipped, Velenshire wouldn’t remain just another settlement—it would turn into a battleground, a prize for the taking. So why risk it?”
Charise folded her hands in her lap before speaking. “You’re right—they could have exposed us all. Had Vaelora or Kaya revealed Velenshire’s secret, everything would have been lost. But the covens knew the twins would never permit other wielders to uncover the truth of our land, nor allow outsiders to bind themselves to our balance of power. So they chose patience instead, trusting secrecy to keep us safe. Since the banishment, we’ve remained hidden. We’ve done nothing to defy Vaelora or provoke her hand.” Charise shrugged slightly. “Perhaps that is why she has not yet claimed Velenshire… or perhaps her designs lie elsewhere. I cannot say. But I can’t shake the feeling that she is watching us.”
“And Kaya?” Evelyne asked. “You said Vaelora still lives… What happened to her sister?”
“We may not know the manner of her fate, but every witch felt the tremor in the world twenty-five years ago. When a witch falls, we feel the silence they leave behind. Yet this loss was unlike any other. From that moment, our magic began to wither.” She exhaled slowly, as if the memory still pressed on her chest.
“Forgive me, but I must understand—how does this connect to my brother?” Evelyne pressed. “Why have you summonedmehere?”
Charise leaned back in her chair. “Because my great-grandmother was there when the twins were banished. She was the most powerful witch of the Hallowell coven at the time and performed the Great Rite along with the other covens. The final safeguard.”
Alaric frowned. “A safeguard against what?”
“Against blood magic.”
The words hung heavy in the air.
Alaric swallowed, shaking his head. “But they were already using dark magic. Isn’t that why they were banished?”
“Yes,” Charise acknowledged. “But there is magic, and then there is blood magic. It is the most powerful and most forbidden of all. Few witches are strong enough to summon it, and even fewer survive its cost. It requires a sacrifice—a great one. And once it is unleashed, it does not stop until it has consumed everything in its path.”
She closed the book before her, turning it so they could see the title stamped across the cracked leather cover.The Concord of Shadows: A Forgotten Rite.
Evelyne’s fingers pressed against her temples as her head began to throb. “And this Rite… It was meant to protect something?”
Charise nodded. “It was a failsafe. If they ever dared to use blood magic, the Rite would awaken a prophecy buried within it. The only prophecy powerful enough to defeat the one who wielded it.”
Vaelora.She was the one who wielded blood magic. Was she the woman in Cillian’s visions?
“Does blood magic allow someone to enter another’s mind?” Evelyne blurted.
Charise’s eyes held hers as she nodded. “It is capable of much more than slipping into the mind. This magic can burrow into the body… even bind itself to the soul.”
The room seemed to close in around Evelyne. “Do you think she’s the one who took my brother—if he suffered this kind of intrusion?”
“I believe she is searching for answers about the prophecy, about what could be her downfall. And I believe the darkness creeping along Velenshire’s borders is her warning. A reminder of what she is capable of if we stand in her way.”
Evelyne began flipping through the book’s pages, searching for the one that had been creased at the top. And then she found it. The Solwyn Tree of Velenshire.
She read the passage aloud, voice barely above a whisper. “A sacred tree—a vessel of power. Witches gathered beneath its boughs to honor its gifts, believing it protected the southern lands. Seers cast visions in its shade. Rituals were performed beneath its roots. It was the source of balance.” Her eyes snapped to Charise. “This tree… This is where the Great Rite was performed?”
