“Some centuries ago, the matriarch of the family—Dubheasa Silversbane—was concerned the oral traditions would be forgotten. She commissioned the greatest calligrapher known at the time to record the prophecy and other knowledge of the craft in a series of scrolls to be passed down from generation to generation through the maternal line.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “The scrolls were lost.”
“Lost, destroyed, no one really knows. Witchcraft historians have found remnants of them—herblore, some spellcraft, details about certain rituals, referencestothe prophecy but nothing of the prophecy itself. Still, echoes of the original visions remained even after Dubheasa’s time, and were once again passed down orally.” Deirdre shook her head, disappointed. “So much of the original meaning has been lost in the translation since then, or embellished, or downplayed. Most consider it no more than a legend now, but there are many who still believe.”
The reverence in her eyes told me that she was one of those believers.
“What does the prophecy say?” I asked.
“Loosely, it states that four sisters will come to power, led by the third in their line—a Shadowborn, third daughter of a third daughter of a third daughter. She will be the strongest Shadowborn witch to live, and through her leadership and the bond of their sisterhood, the four will come to power with the strength to unite the fractured underground covens.”
“Unite them to what end?” I asked, ignoring the goosebumps rising on my skin, the magic pulsing just beneath.
“Those who’ve studied the lore and the history believe that it’s saying the unified covens will rise out of the ashes of oppression, reclaim their power, defeat the enemies who would stand against them, and bring the sisterhood back into the light. Remember, Rayanne, we were revered once. Beholden and respected as the true guardians and stewards of earth’s magic. We kept all things in balance. Somehow, all of that got lost along the way.”
“Thanks to the hunters.” Bile rose in my throat. They’d been hunting us for millennia. Longer than that, even. Longer than they’d even called themselves hunters. And unless this prophecy was true—and the four witches could be found—they’d continue hunting us long after the current generation of witches was dead.
Deirdre stepped aside to let a group of jugglers pass. One of them dropped a tennis ball, and Sunshine bounded after it, but one growl from Sparkle had her running back.
I smiled, wondering if the hounds were sisters.
“Hunters, demons, supernatural factions who don’t believe witches should’ve been entrusted with earth’s magic,” Deirdre continued. “Many have been seeking the witches of prophecy, in hopes of killing them and preventing the rise of power. But the hunters are less discriminating. They’ll kill any witch, prophecy or not. They just want to eradicate us. Somehow, they think wiping us off the map would restore them to their former glory, complete with all the Elemental magic they once had.”
“What about the Fae Council? Are they trying to get in on a piece of this prophecy action, too?” It wouldn’t surprise me. Witches in power—in a big, united group—could really pose a threat to them. They’d be outnumbered for sure, and probably out-magicked.
“Officially, they’ve dismissed it as bunk—a rumor crafted by witches during the European witch trials as a way to legitimize themselves and avoid persecution. But there are many fae who believe magic istheirsole domain, and they don’t feel witches ever should have had access to it.”
A small crowd had gathered on a corner, and we stopped alongside them to watch a group of street performers—a cellist and two guitarists. The blend of their music was as smooth and rich as dark chocolate, lulling us all into a state of peaceful contentment. They played with their eyes closed, their faces simultaneously serious and happy, and I couldn’t help but envy them.
I knew nothing about their lives, their struggles, but in that moment, they were free, carried away by the art of their music, their passion and talents bringing a group of random strangers together on a street corner. For five minutes, all of our problems were suspended. Nothing else existed but the music and the connection, a thread that held us all together in this strange city.
And then the moment passed. They finished their song to a round of applause, and Deirdre slipped a few dollars into an open guitar case at their feet.
“This,” she said, smiling as she watched the musicians pack up their instruments, “is one of the few things I truly love about this city.”
We walked on in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. My head was already spinning, but I sensed there was so much more to this story. So much more we hadn’t even begun to touch on.
“So if I’m a Silversbane,” I finally said, “Sebastian must think I’m connected to this prophecy somehow. That I can find these four witches for him. Right?”
It made sense in my mind. He either thought they’d already died and could somehow be resurrected into new vessels, forced under his control, or he thought they were still alive and could be located with the help of their ancestors.Ourancestors.
Either way, he wanted control of those witches. He wanted the power promised by the prophecy.
“Connectedto it?” Deirdre gripped my arm, stopping me in my tracks and leaning in close. Her blue eyes were fierce, her voice low and serious. “Rayanne. Youarethe witch foretold to unite the covens. The Silversbane heir.”
The Silversbane heir.
The magic inside me roiled at her words, rising to the surface. Blue sparks lit up my hands, and I shoved them into my sweatshirt pockets to hide them.
“That makes no sense, Deirdre. First of all, I’m an only child. And second—”
My words evaporated as the truth marched across her face, plain and obvious and…No.It couldn’t be. It was completely impossible. Absurd.
“You’re wrong,” I insisted, shaking my head vehemently even as I felt the truth of it in my gut. In my bones. In my magic. Everything inside me was buzzing and warm, pieces clicking together in my mind, gaps filling in to form a complete story I hadn’t even known I’d been missing.
As hard as I tried to fight it, I couldn’t ignore the rightness of her confession.
I was the Silversbane heir. That’s why Sebastian had wanted me. Why the guys felt compelled to protect me. Why even Death himself couldn’t predict my future. Why I kept defying expectations and breaking rules and doing things I never should’ve been able to do, even as a powerful Shadowborn.
