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Upon hearing someone call for her, Dalia closes the book in her hands and quickly sits on top of it in an attempt to hide the item.

"What are you doing, young lady?" A teasing voice comes from behind her, and soon it's revealed to belong to the same witch from the last part of the dream, but the fact she looks the same age as before, as Dalia seemed to have gotten slightly older, is enough to strike at my curiosity.

"Nothing, just watching the flowers." Dalia brings her knees up and close to her chest, making sure to bring the book underneath her legs further into hiding.

"I see," The woman with a towel in her hand kneels behind Dalia, and with the gentleness and care of a mother, she starts to wipe the dripping water from the soggy hair with an expression on her face of peace. "Today is a lot quieter.

"I'm sorry I wasn't home yesterday; I know you're a little upset about it." The witch adds with a small sigh of tiredness.

Dalia shakes her head and looks back at the witch's face. "I'm not upset; I understand that you have things to do." The words of the teen carry truth, even if her expression makes it clear that she may be, in the end, a little upset.

"You're too good for me." The witch smiles and pet Dalia's wet hair, making droplets of water fall to the teen's face and forcing her to wipe it with her palm. "I promise you, once we get this last bit of money, we can go anywhere you want. Maybe buy a house somewhere, or we could buy a small library. Wasn't you the one who said you wanted more books to read?"

Nodding her head, Dalia looks away from the witch's eyes for a moment at the mention of 'lack of books to read', more clues that the book she's reading was probably not supposed to reach her hands.

"I'll leave you to enjoy the wind some more, dry the rest of your hair, and when you're done, come back inside. I'll make something you like for dinner." With those words, the witch leaves the towel atop Dalia's head and stops for a second to look at the flowers taking over the small field.

"One last thing: page fifty-three if you want to learn another cool trick of mine. There are more flower spells on the last pages too." With a grin, as she watches Dalia's face go pale as she's caught, the witch leaves towards the house.

Losing no time, the teen Dalia gets to her feet and grabs the book, cleaning the few grass blades stuck to the cover and resuming her reading session.

Her curious eyes drift around the page as she mumbles the words she reads to memorize them. This goes on for a while, and then I decide it is time to advance again, so I blink my eyes.

Now, I find myself standing in the middle of a simple living room with plants taking over the walls and blooming, presenting the ambient with a nice floral smell and diverse, colorful colors. On a couch, sitting to my right is a mature woman with a strange black lipstick.

Her eyes are burning violet, and under her lip is her signature mole. I guess it makes sense for Cordelia to be here in Dalia's memories.

"I gave you some years to think about my proposition, and still you provided me with no answer, Lumina."

Cordelia crosses her legs and looks at the witch, Lumina, in front of her as she crosses her arms, clearly annoyed.

"I told you before, I need time."

"That's because you believe in coexisting with normal humans. You and I both know that won't work." Cordelia's words come with a letter from her pocket that she slides across the coffee table.

"What is this?" Lumina asks in between inspecting the letter.

"Another gift of mine to you, just like the witch potion I handed to you that, for what I saw, you used well." With a change of focus from Lumina to the corridor to her left, the gray eyes of Dalia are spotted in the corner, watching the conversation—something Lumina brushes off to focus on the letter. She opens it up in a rush and starts to let her eyes dance between words until their meaning is fully discovered.

"I thought I could get at least one more week here before this."

"It's like I told you, dear, that normal humans are unexpectedly persistent. Now that your presence has been acknowledged, your best option is to come with us." Cordelia rises from the couch and extends her hand to the tired Lumina. "Let us build this future together; the witches need to stay together for us to survive." Dropping her voice, Cordelia's words become softer and almost sound like begging. "I need you by my side; you know that."

Lumina's eyes wander to the watching spectator, Dalia, and a million thoughts seem to go around her head until all she can do is nod. "Fine, if that's the only way, then I accept."

"Great, lucky we took care of this before they arrived."

Outside the window, as the skies darken, torches rise and hundreds of people march towards this simple house, seeking destruction, pain, and death.

Letting go of Corderlia's hand, Lumina walks towards Dalia. "Come on, Dalia." Kneeling in front of the teen, she caresses her cheek gently. "It's time for us to go; pack your things."

Nodding without hesitation, Dalia disappears into the house to grab her stuff as I, having seen all it had to offer, blink my eyes to see the next event.

Around me, a familiar room stands in full view—Dalia's room from the coven. The same plants, books, table, bed—everything in the same place from yesterday when I slept in it—making me go back to the words Cordelia said about keeping everything in place if Dalia so wished to, one day, return.

Talking about her, I see Dalia sitting on a wooden chair with her elbows pressed against the sturdy wooden table as a cup of tea steams, impregnating the air with its interesting fragrance. Now she looks the same as the one I know: her focused eyes as she separates herself from the world, the hair carefully tucked behind her ear to not have it fall to her face and muddle her reading, the way she moves her hand to grab her tea just to miss the spot, and, for a second, getting back to the present to see the cup inches from her eager fingers.

My body and mind work on opposite ends, one telling me that even if I wanted to interact with her, it would not happen; she wouldn't be able to see me anyway as she didn't see me at the barn. And the other tells me to try, just for the sake of my curiosity, for the lingering, absent feel of her smooth skin against mine, to hear her words of affirmation as she tells me not to fear anything, that she will be by my side, promises not to leave, promises of once again a kiss that is neither given nor taken, but shared.

In the perfect, and yet worst, timing possible, when my hands stand mere centimeters from Dalia's shoulder, the sound of a door opening makes me jump back instinctively and hold my wrist, focusing my defensive eyes on the smiling, gentle figure of Lumina.

"Lia, I know you wish to read for eternity, but it's time we go meet the council."

Closing her book, Dalia places it methodically on her shelf in a well-practiced move and turns her eyes to the witch. "I know that; I'm just... nervous, that's all."

"Lia..." Finally fully entering the room, Lumina approaches the anxious-looking girl and pets her shoulder in affirmation, shooting up the same smile from before. "It will be fine; I taught you all I know, and you read more than I could have ever dreamed of in all of my lifetime.

"Theory alone will only take you so far; it's time you show them why I chose you to be my pupil, and you'll do great; I know that."

For a moment, the anxious witch's apprentice's eyes wander around the room, settling on her wall of flowers. With the rise of her finger, I can all but be mesmerized by the small, white rose that takes the last space in a row of well-selected varieties of flora.

"I don't know if I'm ready, but it's like you always say: 'It's not about knowing, it's about feeling.'"

"Atta girl," In a quick movement, Lumina hugs Dalia, passing on her action a feeling of ultimate love. "I'm so proud of you." The same action is soon revealed to be an ultimatum as she drags Dalia outside with her, both of them laughing even if, at first, a grunt was the response coming from Dalia.

I move forward, following them right behind on the same hall I walked today, going through the same immense library, and in the end, stopping at the path leading to the Colosseum, the same one I wished to not have to see so soon again. In the path, like a ghost stands a second version of Dalia, but much more beaten up and roughed up. Tiredness is visible on her face as she appears sick, with pale skin resembling the snow, weak hands trembling with just the weight of existing, a weak shade of gray in her eyes, and a body caressed by pain unjustly.

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Her eyes fall on me, and instead of seeing through me, I watch as a spark of recognition down on those irises. "Olivia?"

Seeing her lose her footing while trying to step closer to me desolately, I jump forward and catch her in my arms, embracing the fragile Dalia in my arms. "Yes, it's me. You're okay now; you'll be okay."

Gripping my body as close as she can, her nails dig small holes in my back in search of more contact, forcing me to let out a sharp breath as I endure it for her sake.

"I know what I need to do, but I don't think I'll be able to deal with things." She mumbles quietly as she desperately gasps for air, almost hyperventilating.

"What are you talking about, Lia? What do you need to do?"

She locks her gaze on mine, searching for reassurance, comfort, or anything else she can brace herself on while I focus on holding her.

"I don't remember why, but I know that if I enter the Colosseum, I'll remember something I shouldn't. I'm so afraid, and I don't even know why. My body is screaming for me to stay away, and I don't know what to do. What if I-"

Watching her speech go crazy fast—the way she looks away from me but never dares to look at the path ahead—I know what I have to do. That's why, before she can continue to talk, I gently hold her chin and bring her face closer to mine, resting my forehead against hers and doing my best to make her calm down.

"Lia, I know you're scared right now, but if you don't do anything, you won't wake up." I try to appeal to her rational side.

"But I don't know if I can do it." She shakes her head and hides her face from me, looking down.

I kneel down, and we both slowly sit on the floor. I keep her close and rest my hand on her waist. "You can; you absolutely can."

"How can you be so certain of that?" Dalia asks, hugging herself insecurely.

"Because the woman I fell in love with is strong, capable, and so much more than I can ever describe in words, and that woman is you, Dalia." I place my hand on her shoulder and smile at her, bringing her gaze once again to my face. Slowly, I stand up, leaving her sitting on the ground, and so I offer her my hand. "Let me help you; we can deal with this together."

With a trembling hand, Dalia reaches for mine slowly, uncertainly, but when she finally firmly grabs it, I pull her up and help her keep on her feet.

"I won't leave you; you can count on that."

The fragile woman nods her head, and so, with her laying her weight on me as I help her take one step at a time, we reach the Colosseum.

We walk between lots of witches, spectators of a show meant only for those of this community. By taking their seats, the sunlight entering from the opening at the top turns like a clock, allowing the moon to take its place in a short period, which is impossible to happen naturally.

On the center of the Colosseum grounds stands Cordelia, with a box placed on a table beside her. As soon as I help Dalia sit down on an empty spot, I take my rest beside her and keep my hand on hers that feels cold and worn out.

Walking shyly with her head down, the other Dalia enters the center stage, triggering mumblings from the alarmed spectators who are silenced by Cordelia's cough.

"Tonight we extend our hands to one of our new sisters, and as per usual, the young witch is required to show us her potential. For our guest in the second row, I wish this scene to be to your taste.

"Now, without further ado, let's give our blessings to Dalia, the pupil of the greatest herbologist from the first era and mother of the beauteous flower spells, Lumina Grayheart."

The weight of those words is not met as I expected. Looking around, the silence is deafening. On my side, a witch snorts and taps the shoulder of the person beside her. "Greatest my ass, I remember that when the first purge happened, she ran away to save herself."

Dalia's reaction to these words catches my attention as I see her clutching her fists, making her veins pulse against the palm of my hand, but only for a second, as the meeting of my gaze with someone else makes me shiver. From the second row, a man sits alone, something I hadn't noticed before, so he is the guest.

His eyes linger on mine, forcing me to look behind me to make sure I'm not crazy, and once my gaze goes back to him, the man is descending to the center of the Colosseum.

As I get to my feet instinctively, Dalia holds my hand to grab my attention. "What is it?"

"We need to go down."

"Why? Did you see something?"

"Someone was looking at me."

It takes half a second for my words to be fully grasped by her, but once they are, she gets to her feet. She grabs my hand and nods her head, giving me the signal for us to start our descent.

On stage, the other Dalia performs her magic, creating strangely familiar vines that grow upwards, reaching for the moonlight like a lost traveler in search of a map, like a desperate man in the desert looking for water.

Decorating the vines, flowers I saw before blooming without a care, Pandora's eyes. But why here?

By the time we reach the center stage, gunshots start to echo around the Colosseum like fireworks in a festival, not regarding my eardrums. The same man from before gets a gun out of his pocket and attempts to shoot Cordelia, only for her to be lifted up by a giant blue flower that swallows her down its stem and transports her somewhere else. From the petals, like a phoenix, rises Lumina.

The man, with a dead expression, turns his gun towards the witch and lets go of three shots, to which Lumina bends the flower and slides down in a rush to grab her pupil and get out of there, dodging them. But, as Lumina's eyes meet Dalia's, a blade crosses by behind the young witch's arm and hits dead center the desperate witch's chest.

A woman from Dalia's shadow impales Lumina, headbutting Dalia to the ground. With an almost inhuman force, the woman whose face is revealed to me forces her blade to the side, and soon, Lumina's insides splatter to the floor, just like that, as if she were just an obstacle to be quickly taken down, not even giving her time to react or have a last word with her pupil.

Blonde, scary, and with a face full of hate, the woman looks exactly like the girl from the hotel incident, but older and clearly pregnant.

"Do you think some excitement for the baby is a good thing? Robert thinks it will affect her."

The man ignores the pregnant woman and walks past her body, revealing from his pocket a syringe. "Stay still; you're about to experience fear as you never before did."

There's not even a chance for her to react as the man quickly, and without a care, injects her neck with the mysterious liquid, making her go limp on the floor, forced to look at her master's dead face.

"So, we came here just for her?"

"The child matters not to me; her magic is what does." With a change of gaze, he focuses his eyes on the extending vine and gestures for the woman something, which makes her sigh and grab a box from her backpack and throw it to him.

In a practiced move, he shoves the box inside the vine. In a matter of seconds, the vine twists and breaks part of the ceiling, hitting the sitting rows and coming to a stop as the place where the box was put shines.

"In some years, this will come in handy."

"This is all for that experiment of yours, Boss?"

Without answering, the man walks away, leaving one last look at my face for good measure as he disappears into one of the Colosseum's passages.

My thoughts of following are soon discarded as I hear Dalia kneel down, her face not so pale anymore, and she looks more alive than before. From her eyes, a stream of waterfalls, gently coming to rest on her master's face.

"Dalia..." I close my mouth before speaking more than I should, choosing instead to kneel beside her and keep close, allowing her to let it all out.

As she cries, she decides to bury her face in my chest, tightly clasping my clothes. From the vine, what was the box before blooms into one small sprout that looks a lot like a child. Connecting the dots, things still do not make much sense but enough to get me tired already. I shake my head and feel myself getting dizzy. Soon enough, my world starts turning black again.

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