The word echoed through me like a bell. Someone who knew my mistakes and forgave me. Someone who knew my power and wasn’t afraid of it. Wasn’t afraid of me.
Tears burned behind my eyes, and I struggled to hold myself together. I would not fall apart.
Not here.
Not now.
Not in front of men who were still deciding whether I was worth protecting or just another liability.
I glanced around the cavern, blinking hard. Chester and Caterpillar were watching us. Chester’s grin had softened at the edges, something almost tender in those luminous eyes. Caterpillar exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his ancient gaze steady on mine. Not judging. Just... waiting.
Like they already knew what my answer would be. Like they were ready to welcome me home.
Home.
The word caught in my throat.
The witches at the Moon Coven had tattoos of the crescent moon inked on their wrists. A mark of sisterhood. Of belonging. But I didn’t have one. You had to be fully accepted into the coven—voted in by the others. And I never had enough votes. Never enough trust. Never enough anything.
I’d watched other witches get their marks. Girls who’d arrived years after me, who didn’t have half my power, who hadn’t spent their whole lives trying to prove themselves worthy. They’d stood in the circle and received the moon on their skin while I watched from the doorway.
Always the doorway. Never inside.
Even being a Ravencrest hadn’t made a difference. If anything, it made them trust me less. Like my bloodline was a threat instead of a gift.
And now here I was—being offered by a golden demon what my own kind had denied me my entire life.
I cleared my throat. “What would my name be?”
I was waiting for something about mistakes like Unpredictable. Inconsistent. Disaster.
Darius grinned. “Fate. Because you didn’t stop time to run,” he said quietly. “You stopped it because I was dying.”
Heat flooded my chest—not embarrassment, something deeper. Something dangerously close to hope. Something impossible. No one had ever looked at my chaos and seen purpose in it.
I glanced at the others, trying to steady myself. Their names described who they were. Grump described his mannerisms. Doc his ability to heal. Hatter, his madness.
But it wasn’t madness to me.
My lips turned up into a smile I couldn't stop.
“Then you'll become one of us?" Darius asked. The question came out softer than I expected—like it mattered to him. Really mattered. I nodded slowly.
He tilted his head. “Good. Fetch my hat, please.”
Blood drained from my face. I thought of the pain I’d endured last time, how the hat ripped open my brain, forcing the truth out of me. I eyed the hat that was near his bunk. “Your hat?”
His hand found my knee and stayed there. “The hat does more than come up with the truth.” He held my gaze. “It’s the one that puts the tattoo on us.”
My hope died. I'd finally been chosen, and now I was about to ruin it. “Darius, I don’t know if I can go through that again.” I braced myself for his expression to close off, for the acceptance to be yanked away like everything else.
He lifted my chin, his fingers gentle. No judgment on his face. No impatience. Just certainty. “I promise the hat won’t hurt you this time. I control it. Trust me.”
That was such an easy thing to say. He could be lying to me. But what if he wasn’t? Then I’d be throwing away the first time someone wanted me to be a part of something.
I swallowed hard. The hat sat near Darius, just out of his reach. He couldn't get it himself. Not with those wounds.
So it had to be me.
