Survival does.
Ysolde turns her gaze on me, cold and unforgiving. “This is on you, Zara. You started this.”
“And I’ll end it,” I snap, my voice as sharp as her glare. “But I’m not running from them. I won’t grovel at the warlocks or beg for forgiveness. I’d rather die on my feet than spend the rest of my life under their boots.”
The night hums with an unnatural stillness, pressing against my chest and stealing the air from my lungs. Magic thrums beneath the surface, a wild, untamed thing that writhes like a serpent in the dark, and the shadows stretch and twist, warping into shapes that shouldn’t exist, their edges sharp with the promise of danger. The moon drops from her peak, its silver light fractured as if the sky is cracking under the weight of what’s coming.
I draw a deep breath as I glare at my coven, tasting the metallic air that’s charged with a power too potent to contain. Each breath feels like drawing in smoke before a fire consumes everything and the hardness of our gazes only makes the tension fiercer, as the coven waits on edge. It’s not silence that fills the night—it’s the quiet before something terrible arrives, the universe holding its breath as the unseen inches closer.
“Defiance won’t save you,” Ysolde says, her tone bitter and hollow. “The warlocks will tear you apart and they won’t stop with you. They’ll make an example of all of us—of every witch in this coven.”
“Enough,” the High Mother commands, her voice cutting through the tension like a whip. “We don’t have time for this.” She exhales sharply, her expression grim. “We need a scapegoat,” she says finally, her tone as cold as Ysolde’s gaze, “if we are to survive this.”
The words hit like a slap across my face, and I step back.I thought betrayal would feel like a knife—sharp, sudden, cutting me down in one clean strike. But this is something far worse, a slow, suffocating weight pressing on my chest until I have to fight for breath. The High Mother, the woman who raised me as if I were her own, whose approval I used to crave like air, has turned her back on me. She didn’t even hesitate. Her voice, the same voice that once soothed my fears and promised me I belonged, now casts me out as if I’m nothing. As if I never mattered.
“You’re throwing me to the wolves?”
My eyes find Aleris, and her silence is the loudest blow of all. The dark witch taught me everything I know. She shaped me, molded me, told me I was powerful, that I could change the world. And now, when I’ve done exactly that, she stands there with her arms crossed, her eyes full of judgment. I search her face for some glimmer of understanding, some shred of the warmth I once trusted, but all I see is disappointment. A rejection so complete it feels like the ground is crumbling beneath my feet.
These women are my family. My world. And they’ve abandoned me when I needed them most. The pain isn’t just in my chest—it’s in my very magic, like a wound festering beneath the surface. I can’t tell if rage or heartbreak burns hotter inside me, but I know I’ll never forget this. The High Mother’s betrayal, Aleris’s silence—they’ve carved themselves into me, and I’ll carry the scars forever.
“No,” the High Mother says, though her voice holds no comfort and my heart feels no relief. “We will give you a chance, child. You’ll leave, and you won’t come back. You wanted to be free, and now you are.”
My pulse pounds in my ears. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s the only way,” another sister says, her voice heavy with regret. “If they find you here, they’ll destroy us all. But if you’re gone, we stand a chance.”
“That won’t work,” Ysolde says, her voice as sharp as a scalpel. “Zara’s right. They won’t believe us. They never do.” She turns to face me and her silver irises flash with anger. “We’ll say we tried to stop you, that you fled before we could bring you to justice. If we’re lucky, they’ll see us as victims, not accomplices.”
My heart feels like it’s splitting in two. “And if not?”
“Do not ask questions you already know the answer to.” The High Mother steps closer, her voice softening but her expression unyielding. “This is your only chance. You’re powerful, more powerful than any of us. If you stay, they’ll break you. But if you run, you might survive. You might find a way to fight back.”
I stare at her, searching for something—some glimmer of the woman who raised me, who held me when I was young and lost, who whispered that I was meant for more. But the High Mother’s face is stone, her words laced with a brittle kind of love that feels more like resignation. My chest tightens, and I can barely choke out the words.
“You’re sending me to die.”
Her gaze flickers, just for a moment, and I catch it—the guilt she tries to bury beneath her calm, measured tone.
“No,” she says firmly. “I’m giving you a chance. Us too, Zara. A chance none of us has if you stay.”
“I don’t stand a chance on my own.” I laugh bitterly, the sound scraping against the rising lump in my throat. “They’ll hunt me down and make an example of me. You know that.”
“And they’ll leave us alive,” Ysolde interjects, her voice icy. “They’ll leave the coven standing, so long as they believe we acted against you. It’s survival, Zara. For all of us. For you too, if you can make good choices. And learn what it means to bear the consequences of your actions.”
Her words slam into me like a blow, and for a moment, Ican’t speak. I glance at the others—Aleris, standing in the back, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. I can’t bear to look too long, afraid I’ll see what I already know: she won’t fight for me either. One by one, my sisters avoid my gaze, their silence deafening. The ties that once bound us together feel like chains now, breaking under the weight of their choice.
I step back, my legs trembling, and force a smile that feels more like a snarl.
“Fine. Blame me. Tell them I’m the villain, the rogue witch who betrayed you all. Do whatever it takes to save yourselves. But don’t you dare pretend this is mercy.”
The High Mother steps forward, the air around her shifting as her power unfurls like a storm rolling in. It’s subtle at first, a whisper of energy that brushes against my skin, but it builds, crackling and sparking in the space between us. Her presence commands the clearing, the weight of centuries-old magic bearing down on everyone. Even Ysolde flinches, her cold veneer cracking under the pressure. Aleris too, her darkness bowing to our coven leader.
“We’re out of time, Zara,” the High Mother says, her voice steady and layered with authority. Her eyes, ageless and piercing, lock onto mine. “This isn’t about mercy or forgiveness. It’s about survival. If you stay, you’ll doom us all. Some battles can’t be won in the open, they have to be won in silence. You have to live to fight in the shadows, to wield your strength when the moment is right.”
Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, but I can’t shake the bitterness rising in my throat. My mouth is dry and I try to force my words out, to ask about the coven and what will happen if I leave. The High Mother’s eyes turn a shade of dark the color of Hell itself and she shakes her head, stopping me as she draws herself up, her power shimmering in the dim light.
“We will endure. We always do. Our bonds are strong enough to withstand even this. But you’re more than thismoment, Zara. You’ve always been more. You need to survive to see it.”
Behind her, the coven moves, gathering in a tight circle, their expressions grim and determined. The first notes of a warding spell hum in the air, low and resonant, as their preparations begin in earnest. The wind carries the faint vibration of the approaching warlocks, the sharp edges of their magic slicing through the night.
The High Mother’s gaze softens, just for a heartbeat, and she reaches out, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Go now. Trust yourself, even if you can’t trust us. One day, you’ll understand why we made this choice. Speak not of tomorrow, for it may never come.”
The tremors in the earth are growing stronger, the storm clawing closer with every breath. Her hand lingers on my shoulder, heavy with power, and in this moment, I realize this isn’t just abandonment—it’s a sacrifice. She’s choosing the coven over me, choosing survival over family. The betrayal burns, searing through me like fire, but beneath it is something colder, sharper. Her belief. Not in the coven. In me.
Without another word, I turn and run, the weight of our choices pressing down on me—their fear, their judgment, her impossible faith. The shadows of the forest swallow me whole, the night alive with the crackling fury of magic and the distant drumbeat of the warlocks’ march. And as the clearing fades behind me, I don’t know whether I’ll ever forgive them—or myself—for what comes next.
