“El!” she cries, and their bodies collide in an embrace.
The women stay like that for a long time. Elyssara buries her face in the tangle of honey-blond curls. “You came,” she murmurs.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t sooner,” Seren replies, voice cracked and broken with emotion.
Recognition flares through Elyssara’s chest, and she pulls back, eyes scanning the other women. They watch in silence. No judgment. Only Marin’s hand hovering over the blade sheathed beneath the thigh-high split in her dress.
“It’s okay,” Elyssara says, one arm still looped around Seren’s shoulder.
The women exchange glances—eyeing each other, assessing, calculating. Wariness thick in every gaze. Each one of them hardened and distrusting from life in the Known Realms.
“It’s okay,” Elyssara says again, firmer this time, more commanding.
“This is Seren Calvatere. Full-blooded witch, tasked with finding and allying the witches with Dravara. With removing the spell on the Melders.”
Seren’s shoulders pull back, chin lifting just slightly at the introduction. “And who are you?” she snaps pointedly in Marin’s direction.
Her voice sounds harsher. More jaded. Or perhaps, more certain of who she is.
Marin’s eyes widen at the introduction of a witch.
“Princess Marin of Caeloria,” she says, steel in her tone.
Seren’s eyes narrow.
“Queen, actually. After I kill my mother and return Caeloria to the people,” Marin corrects.
Understanding flares in Seren’s eyes. Understanding that an alliance is forming here. She nods, though her eyes remain wary. But Elyssara knows Seren needs the truth. The real truth.
So she spins on Seren.
Swallows thickly.
And lets out a long exhale.
“It’s Ilyra, Seren. She’s using Teddy to train an army that will turn on him. On us. On Dravara. She’s buying weapons. Poisoning our people with threvenar and a Caelorian resin. Holding the Orbs that contain Dravara’s memories. It’s her. It’s been her this whole time,” Elyssara explains, voice thick with barely leashed emotion.
Seren doesn’t react. Doesn’t move. But tears rim her eyes nonetheless.
She shakes her head, shoving down whatever emotion wants to spill from her. Her face hardens, eyes darting like she’s sifting through memories, moments, archives.
Her gaze turns wistful. “Lara said something…” she trails off.
Elyssara exchanges a glance with Marin and Saana. Marin shakes her head.
She doesn’t know, either.
“She said it was Nymerian coin that currently fills her coffers,” Seren whispers to no one in particular.
Marin steps forward, hands leaning on the table. “Care to share who Lara is, witch?”
Seren reacts.
Instantly.
Her gaze flicks to Marin. “She’s the High Witch of The Dreaded witch coven,” she snaps, but she’s not done. She pauses for a moment, and adds, “And she’s taking Nymerian coin.”
Dread pools low in Elyssara’s gut.
