“Help, please!”
Her head falls against the wood door, exhaustion dragging her knocking fist down to her side, and the door opens to Highridge’s High Priestess filling the doorway, dressed in a robe.
The witch nearly falls through the door as the last of her strength officially gives out, aware all will be okay, that her daughter will be safe. She shoves the baby towards the High Priestess before crumpling against the doorframe.
When Carina cries, the High Priestess tucks her close to provide comfort, which brings more tears to the dying witch’s eyes—both in joy and sadness. Sadness she is no longer able to sooth Carina the way she should, but joy someone else will.
With Carina tight to the woman’s chest, the High Priestess drops to her knees beside the dying witch and casts a spell to examine the true extent of her injuries. “What happened?”
The bloodied and broken witch’s waning energy is feeble, but she manages to block the incoming healing spells that will only drag the pain out for longer. “D-don’t. I’m…already dead. Keep her safe. Carina…her name.”
The High Priestess glances from the baby to her mother, her expression panicked and dismayed. “What’s your name? What happened?”
She can’t answer. Time isn’t on her side. Now that Carina is safe, Summerland—the witch’s afterlife in the Otherworld—is calling. She’ll be able to sing and dance in Hecate’s fields and watch Carina grow from the other side.
“Carina. Love her…as your own.Please.Tell her I…”
The witch’s eyes slide shut, and the High Priestess reaches for her arm, a spell lighting up her hand. Panic seeps into her tone, but she also doesn’t want to stress the newborn. “Tell her what? What is your name?”
“Cov…Silver Seas.”
“Coven of the Silver Seas,” the High Priestess fills in, gasping with the realization of how far this witch must have travelled to get here. “That’s where you’re from?”
The witch blinks her response, tightening her eyes for what’ll be the final time.
“Protect her…love her.” Her breath shudders again, her eyes opening for an unexpected final time, only to gaze at her baby daughter. “I…love…”
The witch dies beneath the moonlight, her newborn daughter crying over her deceased body, and the High Priestess stroking her hair as her soul exits this body and moves on.
“Rest now, sister. Your daughter will be cared for. Go forth to Hecate and Blessed Be.”
Me again.
Fuck, that gets me every time.
You might be wondering about the relevance in all that or what led her to being injured and escaping to Banff, but eventually it’ll all make sense.
For now, let’s check in on our upcoming chaos and visit a wolf shifter who’s about to get his ass handed to him by a witch.
Maybe now’s the time to finish their theme song I started a couple days ago.
Carina and the wolf, sitting in a tree…
One
RYDER
“Uh, Ryder?”Xander, my best friend and second-in-command, taps my shoulder to direct my attention towards the edge of camp, just in time for two other pack members to stagger over the invisible boundary line, gasping for help.
I move on instinct, darting to Graham’s side as he stumbles into my arms, one hand painted red from where he grips his opposite, bloody arm. Behind him, Elias falls to his knees, clutching his side as ragged pants fill the area.
Panic surges through me because earlier, three left to complete a perimeter check, and only two have returned. Dadwas with them, finishing what is his final outing before officially retiring.
Elias and Graham’s abrupt arrival draws more people out of their cabins, a hush of anxious conversation rising.
“Keep everyone away,” I mutter to Xander, before looping my arm around Graham’s waist to draw him closer to Elias, to speak with them both and figure out what happened and where my father is.
As Xander prevents anyone from approaching, Conan breaks away too, falling to his knees beside Elias and peeling his handaway from his injured side. We both cringe at the slices across his ribs.
