Maya’s voice sliced through the tense air like a blade, catching Eliane off guard. “Because he’s dead.”
Eliane blinked, taken aback. “How did you—?”
“My parents may disagree on everything under the sun, but they both believe that the only reason any of us are still alive is because Austen isn’t,” Maya replied, her voice tight with a mix of fear and certainty. “Someone reversed the curse onto him.”
A flash of memory seared through Eliane’s mind—Austen’s death, the darkness of the moment she and Casandra had shared. She shivered, hugging herself tighter as if trying to hold herself together. “He was trying to kill other witches. He had to be stopped.”
Maya nodded, though her expression remained conflicted. “I’ve heard about his plan—the James Coven—but it’s hard to reconcile the man I met with the one who was willing to kill millions of innocent people... no matter the reason.”
Silence hung between them, thick and heavy. Eliane’s gaze wandered around the sterile, fluorescent-lit room, trying to escape the weight of the conversation. Finally, she broke the quiet. “Does your Coven know?”
Maya’s answer was unexpected. “I’m not part of a Coven.”
Eliane’s eyes widened in shock. Every word Maya spoke seemed to pull the rug out from under her understanding of the girl standing before her. “There is a Coven here, and I’m supposed to be a part of it from my mother’s side, but... I’ve decided that Coven life isn’t for me.” Maya shrugged, a small, defiant gesture. “Angelo and I left. We’ve been doing fine on our own.”
Eliane couldn’t help the surge of envy that twisted in her gut. “Your boyfriend left for you?”
Maya snorted, a quick, sharp sound that dismissed the idea. “Angelo’s not my boyfriend. I’m not even sure what he is to me, but ‘boyfriend’ definitely isn’t it.”
Eliane’s curiosity piqued, momentarily pushing aside her own troubles. “Why did you decide not to bind with the Coven?”
Maya sighed, rubbing her hands together as if trying to warm them. “For one, there’s the lack of solo magic—”
“That wouldn’t affect you,” Eliane interrupted, her tone insistent. “Casandra—our other sister—she was bound to our Coven but still used solo magic because she wasn’t relying on traditional Coven power. She used dark magic.”
Maya’s brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as if trying to piece together a puzzle. “Casandra... I think I’ve dreamt about a Casandra.”
Eliane nodded, her voice softening. “She dreamt about you too.”
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Maya looked up at Eliane, the question in her eyes clear. “Where is she now?”
“Tybee Harbor—with the rest of my old Coven.” Eliane’s voice wavered, her mind filling with memories both nostalgic and horrific. Tybee Harbor, once a sanctuary, now felt like a place drenched in blood and shadow. “I... I left.”
Maya seemed to sense that this wasn’t the time to press for more details. Instead, she offered a tentative olive branch. “Look, it’s going to be a while before the doctors tell us anything. I’m honestly surprised they haven’t moved him to the hospital in Metropolis yet. How about we grab something to eat? There’s a little café nearby that serves a decent breakfast. We can talk, and afterward, we’ll come back and see if there’s any news.”
Eliane knew she should stay by Grant’s side, that she should be ready to fight for him with everything she had. But the prospect of leaving, even just for a moment, felt like a lifeline—a chance to breathe. She gave Maya a small, grateful smile. “Thank you.”
Maya returned the smile, a little warmer this time, and began leading the way out.
-----
Sam sat across from his mother at the kitchen table, the room thick with an awkward silence that felt almost suffocating. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d actually talked—really talked. But now that they were finally sitting down together, the conversation was more strained than he’d anticipated.
“Can’t you just, I don’t know, stop?” His mother’s voice broke the silence, and Sam had to bite back a sharp retort.
He stared at her, trying to keep his expression neutral, but inside, frustration bubbled dangerously close to the surface. Was she seriously this clueless? But he bit his tongue. This was the first time she’d actually made an effort to understand him since discovering what he was. He wasn’t about to ruin it.
Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, forcing himself to respond calmly. “Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to stop?”
“But why?” she asked, her confusion genuine. “It’s... it’s abnormal. Aren’t you worried that people will find out and make fun of you?”
Sam couldn’t help the small, bitter laugh that escaped him. “People were already making fun of me before. I didn’t care then, and I wouldn’t care now.” He glanced down at his nails, painted a glossy black, a small act of rebellion that had become a habit. “My powers awakening is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I wouldn’t stop using them for anything.”
His mother’s eyes softened, but her mouth twisted as she struggled to find the right words. “I still can’t believe your father never thought it important to let me know he was a... a warlock.”
“Witch, Mom,” Sam corrected gently. “Warlock is what they call someone who’s been banished from the magical community. It’s an insult.”
“Oh.” She looked down, her lips pressing into a thin line before speaking again. “But I thought witches were only women.”
“It’s a common misconception,” Sam said, shaking his head slightly. “The word ‘witches’ is like the word ‘people’—it can mean any gender.”
His mother blinked, clearly still wrapping her head around all of this. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. My son, Samorius the Teenaged Witch.”
Sam couldn’t help but smirk. “You let Dad name me Samorius. What did you expect?” To lighten the mood, he wiggled his nose playfully.
Surprisingly, her lips twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a smile. “You’re too cheeky for your own good, young man.”
For the first time in what felt like ages, Sam gave her a genuine smile. “Just one of the many things I apparently inherited from Dad.”
His mother sighed, shaking her head with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “Next time I visit your dad’s grave, he’s going to get an earful from me.”
Sam chuckled, a warmth settling in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time. “He probably deserves it.”
The tension in the room eased, just a little, as they shared a rare moment of connection.