Blessed is the blood that brings the world down
For thousands of years, witches and mages and scholars alike have analyzed that prophecy. The dark fae and demons co-opted it for their own nefarious purposes, twisting it and reshaping it until it suited them—until they truly believed they could bring about their own glorious reign of terror.
But the prophecy was never about them. It was neverforthem.
I’mthe fucking Moon Blessed.
AndIdecide what that means.
“You will pay for your treachery!” Verrick booms.
I offer him a cruel, cutting smile. Maybe it’s a smile I inherited from him. Maybe it was my mother’s, buried in darkness beneath all the good she tried to bring to this world. All the light.
But one cannot exist without the other.
I close my eyes, and the woman from my vision appears—the woman from the Judgment card.
We’re back inside her cauldron, flames licking up around the edges, but they don’t burn us.
“Your task is upon you now,” she says, and I nod, thinking again of Laney’s words.
Your task, Westlyn, is to decide what kind of witch you want to be… the truly powerful, divine witch of your heart and soul….
The woman smiles. I smile back.
I know who she is now.
She’s my mother, a woman who loved fiercely, stolen too soon.
She’s all the Cerridwen witches who came before her.
She’s Tatiana and Laney and Fleur, the witches who’ve become my sisters.
She’s me, just like I told Draegan the morning after the storm. The divine witch of my heart and soul.
I’m a Daughter of Cerridwen. But I’m also a Daughter of Wintermoon. Of darkness. I could no more choose between the two than I could choose just one of my gargoyles to love.
“Are you ready to ascend?” the woman asks now, reaching out for my wounded hand.
I take hers without hesitation, my blood warming at the press of her palm. “I am.”
She smiles once more, then vanishes, leaving me back in the town square.
I’m standing behind the ruined guillotine, Verrick seething before me.
He lunges for the crown, but I easily dodge his grasp.
He won’t touch me now.
He willneverfucking touch me again.
“Blessed is the babe who inherits the crown,” I growl, my voice the voice of all witches. Of all women who’ve ever felt powerless. “Blessed is the blood that brings the world down!”
I slam my bloody palm to Verrick’s chest.
There’s a wild burst of violet and silver magic, and he staggers backward, falling to the ground.
All around us, my legions fill the realm, a living, breathing darkness that consumes all the light. Shadow and flame dance before my eyes, and I stretch my arms out, calling them to me, welcoming them.
