168

168
That night, as soon as they arrived at Nightshade, Lumina goes to the little boy's room to carry him, handing him to Bianca. They walk to the small house Lumina uses for her potions and magic. Bianca places the piece of cloth in an old cooking pot.

"How sure are you?" Bianca asks, her voice sounding unsure.

"Honestly, I am not, but I feel if this is because she spilled her blood and sacrificed herself, then her blood should be able to erase the curse or at least lock it up for some time," Lumina responds. She plucks out herbs and adds to it, her hand hovering over it as her eyes are shut, her lips trembling with incantations only she understands. Bianca stands there watching her.

Lumina is the white witch, the queen mother, so most things she does will not be understood but Bianca trusts her magic.

After a while, she scoops a bit of it in a small bucket, the smoke from the heat filling the small room. She carries the little boy from Bianca, adding a little cold water to warm the water... Another piece of cloth is placed in the water... She cleans the boy's body, his body jerks, fists clenching hard as little whimpers leave his mouth. But after a while, he calms down.

Sudden frustration swallows Lumina; this is her last straw and it did nothing to change the situation.

She sends out an urgent meeting with the covens.

The low hum of quiet voices fills the dim room as Lumina gathers her coven around a heavy wooden table scarred with years of use and ritual. Candles flicker against the stone walls, their pale light casting long, trembling shadows that sway with every breath of stale air. The scent of burning sage and dried herbs lingers thickly.

Lumina sits at the head of the table, hands folded tightly in her lap. Her gaze doesn’t meet anyone’s but rests somewhere far beyond the flickering candle flames. The weight of the moment presses down on her shoulders like a storm cloud refusing to break. The air is heavy, thick with tension and uncertainty.

Across from her, Bianca’s hands are clenched, knuckles white against the smooth wood. Her eyes search Lumina’s face for answers, for hope — but find only the faintest flicker of doubt.

“We have all seen it,” Lumina finally says, her voice low, steady but burdened. “The curse Melissa placed… It is stronger than any we’ve faced before. I have called on the coven, and we have done every ritual, every prayer, every attempt to unravel it.”

A sharp breath escapes from one of the younger witches. “But nothing worked,” she whispers, voice cracking.

“No,” Lumina answers, voice firm despite the ache inside. “Nothing worked. The curse is sealed. It cannot be broken by conventional means.”

Bianca’s mouth presses into a thin line. “So… what do we do now?”

Lumina looks up, meeting Bianca’s eyes directly. “There are only two possibilities. The spirit that placed the curse must either be appeased, or destroyed.”

A murmur ripples through the coven. A woman beside Bianca leans forward, voice trembling. “Appeased? You mean... we have to find the spirit?”

Lumina nods slowly. “Yes. But the problem is—Melissa is gone. She sacrificed herself to make this curse irreversible. Her spirit is tied to the seal.”

The room falls into silence, the kind that seeps into your bones. Each member of the coven is left wrestling with the weight of that fact. Melissa’s death had sealed the curse tight, and without her spirit, the key to undoing it is lost.

A male among them shifts in the corner, his arms crossed, brow furrowed. “So... if her spirit is the lock, is there no way to talk to her? No way to bargain?”

Lumina’s eyes darken with a storm inside. “I tried. I reached out with every ounce of my power, called for her, begged for any sign. But the connection is blocked—sealed tight by her own will. She made sure of that.”

The candles flicker violently, as if the room itself resists the truth.

“Then what about the spirit who forced her to do this?” Bianca presses. “Melissa must have been pushed to this by someone. Maybe if we find them, we can undo it.”

Lumina’s jaw tightens. “That spirit… the one who manipulated her… is beyond our reach. The power used was ancient. Dark magic that is strangely older than any of us here. It shields itself, blocking any attempt to locate or confront it.”

A shiver runs down Lumina’s spine at the memory of trying to pierce that veil of darkness. It’s like grasping smoke — impossible to hold, impossible to see clearly.

She lets out a slow breath. “We are trapped in a cage made of blood and sorrow. The curse is a chain, locked by a spirit we cannot touch.”

Bianca’s voice softens. “So what then? We watch the boy suffer?”

Lumina’s hands clench into fists. “No. I will not stand by. I will try every forbidden ritual if I must. There are old rites—ancient and dangerous—that might sever this bond. But the risk…”

Her voice trails, heavy with unspoken fear.

“The risk is what?” Bianca asks, eyes wide.

“Those rituals could consume me. My soul, my power, even my life. But if I don’t try, what choice do I have?”

Silence presses in again. The weight of sacrifice settles on the room like a shroud.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoes through the chamber’s heavy wooden door. The sudden sound cuts through the thick air, causing everyone to jump.

The young man moves to open it, revealing a messenger, young, breathless, eyes wide with urgency.

“They’ve found something,” he says quickly, voice low. “A sign… a clue connected to the spirit behind the curse.”

Hope flickers briefly in the room, fragile but alive.

Lumina stands slowly, steadying herself. “Show me,” she commands softly.

As the messenger approaches, she feels the stirring of possibility—yet the ache of the impossible curse remains, a dark shadow looming over her heart.

The room returns to quiet as the messenger unfurls an old, crumpled parchment, revealing faded symbols faintly glowing under the candlelight.

Lumina’s fingers tremble slightly as she leans in, her mind racing through every ancient language, every forgotten ritual she’s ever learned.

"Ah!" Lumina echoes... Her fingers trembling. "She took an oath with a dark magic spirit caster..."

"I thought Latifa was the last one," Bianca recalls.

"Latifa was a descendant of Adiorina, the strongest woman to possess dark magic. Melissa seems to have consulted the sacred spirit of Adiorina," the young messenger explains.

Their eyes widen at the sudden realization.