Chapter 86 Dark Magic Witch
Vanessa
Elda’s chamber smells like herbs and smoke like it always has.
Bundles of dried plants hang from the ceiling, swaying slightly even though there’s no wind. Glass jars line every surface, each filled with powders, liquids, or things I don’t try too hard to identify.
Looks like she's added more things since the last time I was here.
Elda sits at her wooden table, exactly where she always does, as though she’s been carved into the space itself. Her spine is slightly bent with age, but there’s nothing weak about her presence.
I step forward and place the cloth in front of her. The moment it touches the table, the air shifts. Elda doesn’t touch it immediately, instead, she adjusts her position first, slow and deliberate, as if preparing herself for something she already suspects.Then her eyes land on the symbol.
“Where did you get this?” Her voice is calm. Too calm for my liking. It's the kind of calm that hides sharp edges underneath.
My fingers curl slightly at my sides. “I...found it,” I say, keeping my tone just as careful.
Her gaze flicks up to mine briefly, searching for traces of something, then she looks back down..And this time… she really looks at it.
Silence stretches, and long enough for my pulse to start creeping upward and for the crackle of the fire to sound louder than it should.
Elda studies the sigil like it’s something alive. Her eyes trace every line, every curve, every deliberate mark etched into the cloth, before her expression changes.
The faint lines around her mouth deepen and her shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly.
“This... shouldn't be here.” The word drops into the room like a stone into dark water, my stomach following it straight down.
“You recognize it?”
“Oh yes.”
There’s no hesitation, no doubt. And somehow, that makes it worse.
She leans back slightly in her chair, exhaling through her nose as if the mere act of seeing it has tired her. “This is an old symbol.”
I let out a quiet breath. “How old?”
“Older than the Council itself.”
For a second, I think I misheard her, before the weight of it settles.
Older… than the Council? Damn, that’s not just old, that’s ancient.
“That definitely isn’t good,” I mutter under my breath.
Elda taps the cloth gently with one finger, right at the center of the sigil. “The hawk symbol once belonged to a coven long believed destroyed.”
“A coven?” I repeat.
She nods once. “But it wasn't a normal one.”
There's something in her tone that makes my pulse pick up. It's not fear, exactly, but it's close enough to taste.
I fold my hands instinctively across my chest. “What kind of coven are we talking about?”
Elda doesn’t answer immediately, instead, she reaches for a small jar beside her, uncorks it, and lets the scent drift into the air. Something bitter. Ground root, maybe.
She inhales once before speaking. “They practiced original dark magic.” The phrase lands colder than I expect.
“Original?” I ask, my voice quieter now.
“The earliest forms,” she explains, her tone dropping with it. “Before structure. Before oversight. Before magic was… civilized.”
Civilized?
“Before modern covens created restrictions,” she continues. “And before magic was regulated.”
So that equalled: no rules, no consequences, and no boundaries.
My jaw tightens.
“They believed power should never be restrained,” Elda says, her fingers now resting lightly on the table.
“They saw limitation as weakness and control as oppression.”
“They experimented with dangerous forces.The kind that don’t belong to this world.”
That doesn’t help matters at all.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “What then happened to them? Why did they disappear?”
“They were hunted.”
I frown at that. "By who?” I ask.
Her face remains passive. “Everyone.”
That lands harder than anything else she’s said.
Wolves, witches and probably even the early Council– enemies working together for one purpose.
Which means whatever those witches were doing, it wasn’t just dangerous, it was unacceptable to every side.
I glance down at the cloth again. At the clean, deliberate lines of the hawk and the way the wings stretch outward like something ready to strike.
“The hawk was their symbol?” I ask.
“Yes.”
Elda traces one of the wings lightly with her finger. “It represented predatory magic.”
A humorless breath escapes me. “Great,” I murmur. “Just great.”
My mind flashes briefly to Lyra. To the way those green eyes never quite reveal what she’s thinking.
“So Lyra works for them?” I ask.
Because that would make sense. Wouldn’t it?
Elda shakes her head slowly. “Impossible.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Because the last of that coven died nearly two hundred years ago.”
Silence settles over the room again and it's heavier this time.
I stare at the cloth. At the symbol. At the idea that something wiped out two centuries ago is somehow sitting right in front of me like it never left.
That doesn’t just happen. Things like that don’t just return.
Unless...
I gasp as the thought hits me before I can stop it. “What if one didn’t die?”
Elda’s eyes lift slowly to mine, and for the first time since I walked in, I see something akin to fear flicker in her eyes.
“That…” she says carefully, “would be the worst thing that could happen.”
I let out a slow breath. "It's just a speculation for now. We're not actually sure," I try to lighten the tension that has suddenly thickened, but I still can't stop thinking about it.
Elda leans forward slightly, her hands folding together on the table. “If even one of them survived,” she says, “it means the knowledge survived.”
My stomach rolls with discomfort.
“The rituals, the methods, the things they were trying to access.”
Her voice drops lower. “And it also means they’ve had two hundred years to evolve without interference.”
That’s a nightmare I'm sure no one wants to be a part of.
My mind races.
Lyra.
The sigil.
The timing.
The attacks.
I doubt any of this is random.
“They wouldn’t stay hidden forever,” I say slowly.
“No,” Elda agrees. “They would wait for the perfect opportunity.”
A power shift.
A new Alpha King equals chaos in the supernatural balance. My heart thunders in my chest. “Xander," I whisper. Are they going to use my mate as bait for their evil plans?
If someone wanted to destabilize things, if someone wanted power, targeting the Alpha King wouldn’t just be strategic, it would be perfect.
Elda studies me for a long moment.“You need to decide something quickly.”
I look up. “What?”
“Are you going to keep digging?” There’s weight behind the question. Because we both know what digging means – more answers, more danger, and less control.
My lips press together. Various images flashing through my mind.
The kidnapping, the magic and the way it clung to my skin like something alive.
Then Xander. His voice, his restraint, and the way he said he wouldn’t force me into anything.
A firm resolve settles in my chest.
“I don’t stop halfway,” I say.
Elda exhales softly, like she expected that answer but hoped for something else.
“Then be careful what you uncover, child. There'll be a lot of danger on the way but I trust in your abilities.”
Tears spring to my eyes at the approval and I want to run up to hug her but I restrain myself. Elda wouldn't appreciate that.
“That symbol didn’t end up with you by accident.”
"I know that now," I say quietly, looking at it one more time before folding the cloth carefully, slower this time, because now it doesn’t feel like evidence. It feels like a message.
“I guess that means they already know I’m looking,” I say.
Elda doesn’t deny it.
I straighten, tucking the cloth away.
The hunt has changed.
This isn’t just about surviving anymore. This is about understanding what’s coming before it hits, and stopping it.
Or at least trying to.
As I turn toward the door, Elda’s voice stops me.
“Vanessa.”
I glance back.
“If you feel that bond pulling stronger,” she says quietly, “don’t ignore it.”
My chest tightens slightly. “I wasn’t planning to. Ever.”
Her gaze lingers for a moment longer. Then she nods.
I step out, the cool air hitting my face like a reset, but it doesn’t clear anything.
If anything, everything feels sharper, and more alive.
I take a slow breath, then start moving.
Because if there’s one thing I know for certain, whatever I just uncovered? It’s already in motion.
And somewhere out there, something ancient is waking up.
And it knows exactly where to find me.
But not if I find it first...and end it once and for all.