The bracelets encircling Hatti's wrists rattle, their ancient metal links whispering secrets. She lays her weathered bag upon the rough-hewn table, its contents hidden from prying eyes. Her gaze, fierce and unyielding, meet mine, and I feel the weight of her sorcerous intent. The heavy oak door, worn by centuries of use, groaned as it sealed shut, its iron bolt sliding into place.
Yet, despite the hardness etched into her eyes, her voice flows forth like honey, a gentle lullaby in the midst of a tempest. "Have we met before?" Her words hang in the air, laden with memory, as she appraises me from head to toe. Suspicion and curiosity dance in her gaze, a tangled web of emotions.
"I don't think we have," I reply, my steps measured as I cross the room toward her.
She gestures for me to sit, her movements graceful and deliberate. The rustling of her robes is a soft counterpoint to the tension that hung in the air.
"How long will you keep it hidden?" Her question is a whispered incantation, and she produces a glass vial from her bag. The liquid within shimmers like stardust, its secrets waiting to be revealed.
"Keep what hidden?" My heart quickens. Could she see through my guise, discern the truth of my origins? The whispers of the court had spoken of her uncanny insight, her ability to unravel secrets woven into the very fabric of existence.
"Don't play the fool," she chides, her fingers tracing an invisible sigil in the air. "Why did your coven cast you out?"
"Coven?" The word hangs between us, a veil of mystery. I watch as she scatters ashes in a perfect circle around me, the fine powder settling on the stone floor. Perhaps she would laugh, dismiss it all as a joke spun by Himley or Aldaire—the court jesters who revel in mischief.
But her gaze holds no mirth. Instead, she steps back, her eyes piercing. "I have no time for games. Are you an assassin, sent to breach the castle walls and spill noble blood? Let me remind you that our duty is to uphold the ancient laws, to safeguard the realm. Or perhaps you are a heretic, branded by the Leisar—a fate that would surprise no one."
Confusion swirls within me, a tempest of uncertainty. I remain silent, my tongue bound by the threads of fate.
And then she does the unthinkable. With a swift motion my sleeve splits, revealing skin as pale as moonlight. I gasp, my eyes fixed on the crimson rivulets that traced a path from my arm to the floor.
Her gaze doesn't waver. "Watch," she commands.
The blood pools, forming intricate patterns—a tattoo of destiny etched in scarlet. A line intersects two circles, a bridge between worlds. The room seems to shift, its walls whispering forgotten truths.
"What is this?" I whisper, my voice lost in the echoes of magic.
Her eyes bore into mine. "The mark of the exiled, the path beyond the veil. You are no ordinary wanderer. Your fate is entwined with ours, and the ancient prophecies speak your name."
And so, in that dim chamber, I become more than an outsider. I become a weaver of destinies, a pawn in a game played across centuries. The blood had spoken, and the world held its breath.
For the line that crosses the circles was not just ink and skin—it is the threshold of eternity.
"You could have asked more courteously," I retort, my voice echoing off the stone walls of the dim chamber. The air itself seems to hold its breath, as if awaiting her next move.
"Two immortal hearts chained to one...with a beginning and an end," she intones, her eyes like forged steel. The words hang in the air, heavy with portent.
If she speaks of me, there is no way. "This is wrong," I argue, my pulse racing. The crimson rivulets on the floor seem to pulse in time with my heartbeat.
"But it's your destiny," she insists, her fingers tracing the invisible threads that bind us. Her touch sends a shiver down my spine.
"I believe destiny can be changed," I retort, my resolve unwavering. The room seems to close in, its walls whispering forgotten truths.
"Novice, right?" Her gaze pierces me. "How long have you been away from your coven?"
"I don't have one because I am not one," I confess, my secrets laid bare. The ancient sigils etched into the floor seem to writhe beneath my feet.
She hums, her breath a whispered spell. "Hold this." She blows into her hand, and a black stone materializes. I catch it, its surface cool against my skin. Miraculously, my bleeding stops, but fear still grips me—I dare not move, lest the wound reopen and I bleed out.
"What's..." Something surges through my body. Part of me panics, while another revels in the power that coils within. I glimpse my reflection in the tarnished mirror—a visage transformed. My eyes, once ordinary, now burn with amethyst fire, and beneath them, the phases of the moon dance in an eternal cycle. I toss the object back to her; she catches it gracefully.
"I've heard of the purple coven before, though I've never witnessed one," she muses, her eyes alight with curiosity.
"What did you do to me?" I'm afraid to look in the mirror, fearing a nightmare reflected back at me.
"You didn't know you were one? Poor thing." For the first time, I see her smile—a wry twist of fate. "You've suppressed your true self for so long that it's driving you mad. My advice: don't hide it, but beware the path you tread. Marrying a vampire would cost you your powers."
"I'm going mad? How?" Did Stefani tamper with my memories, making me believe I was an outsider?
"Wait," she says, her voice shifting to a foreign tongue. The ancient runes on the floor vanish, as if erased by unseen hands. She steps away, her eyes mirroring my disquiet.
And so, in this shadowed chamber, I stand at the crossroads of fate. The crimson tattoo on my arm throbs, and the world holds its breath. Destiny, it seems, has woven me into its tapestry, and the threads pull taut. The disquieted reflection of her eyes matched mine.
"Verily," she speaks in hushed tones, her eyes twin daggers of frost, "we labored for months in readiness for Aldaire's departure." The chamber's stone walls seemed to lean in, as if eavesdropping on our clandestine conversation. "Each soul within these walls possesses a measure of ethernano—the very essence that fuels our portals. Yet you, Leizabeth, defy the bounds of mortal magic."
My brow furrows. "I don't understand. Is there something wrong with me?"
"Should word of this reach the ears of rogues or seekers of forbidden knowledge," she warns, "they would covet you. Your ethernano surpasses not one, but many portals combined. How is this possible?"
The gravity of her words settle upon me. To step beyond these walls would be to carry the weight of countless journeys.
"Am I then an outsider?" I whisper, my heart a tempest.
"No," she counters, her gaze unyielding. "At least not an outsider of this place because here is your home. How did you end up there? Does Aldaire know this?"
My mind races. My true lineage remained veiled, a tapestry of half-truths. Melissa, my confidante, had woven her own secrets into my soul. What sin had I committed to deserve this enigma? To remain here is to forsake my past; to return, to deny my very essence.
"I cannot return?" The words hang like a sword over my head.
"Many would follow you through the portal," she confesses. "We cannot permit such recklessness."
Dizziness sweeps over me, and I sank into a chair. What am I going to do? "Swear silence," I pleaded.
"Yet my duty to the council—" she begins.
"Then I shall wield my blade," I utter, regret tainting the air. "Forgive my rashness. Nothing makes sense now."
Then who is my biological family? I press my eyes closed, hoping that this is all a dream. The mirror of my soul reflects chaos. This is the answer I've been waiting for since the moment I found out I was adopted.
"I cannot remain," I declare, my resolve crystallizing. "I must go."
Her words cut through the air like a dagger's edge, each syllable etching itself into my soul. "I've never encountered a fate so tragic, nor heard a symphony so discordant. In this world, all is thorn and bramble. Hope not for a merry ending, for it is a rare bloom that graces our path. And you, Leizabeth, are now entwined in our tapestry."
"Bullshit!" My voice echoes off the stone walls, and the stained glass windows tremble, their fragile beauty shattering like a thousand diamonds upon the floor. "You weave lies to ensnare me. All of you seek to cast me as the villain, but I shall not dance to your tune."
Her hand moves, and the shards of glass obey her command, rising from the ground to reassemble themselves. I watch, spellbound, as the window regains its form.
"You shall not breathe a word of this," I warn, my resolve unyielding.
"It is my duty to the council," she counters.
"Then know this: I would wield my blade to protect my secret," I declare, regret tainting the air. "Nothing makes sense anymore." The mirror reflects chaos, my eyes searching for answers that elude me.
"I am impressed by your courage. I do believe it is something you should do at your own timing. But remember, if you don't, I will. Don't make anything stupid or I could ruin you in a minute."
"And I can kill you," I whisper, my heart torn between worlds.