The Third Sibling
1428 Words
Claire Stevens hadn’t been awake long before she was dragged away from her coven, the world around her unfamiliar, strange, and off-kilter. The power of light, which had once burned so brightly, now seemed to be decaying—rotting away, allowing darkness to finally gain the upper hand. The first face she saw when her eyes finally fluttered open was Seven’s. His smile was bright and wide, but it didn’t sit right with her. No one should look that pleased to awaken the dead.
Claire had been dead for centuries—a deliberate and calculated decision by her coven to preserve her for the war that was to come, the Great War. The battle between darkness and light was drawing near, and many lives would be lost. But Claire wasn’t fully prepared for the world she was waking up to.
“Your Highness, welcome to the twentieth century,” Seven greeted her.
“How long have I been gone?” Claire asked, still disoriented from the sudden shift.
“Almost two thousand years. Do you remember why they put you in the ground?”
Claire paused, trying to reach for the memories that felt just out of her grasp. “Not yet,” she murmured.
Seven extended his hand, pulling her from the dusty coffin. Her body was stiff, like a piece of forgotten history. They had laid her to rest in the family crypt, the most convincing option they had for such a high-profile burial.
“Why am I here?” Claire asked, her voice rough from disuse.
“Our dark queen is back,” Seven answered cryptically.
“Ah, I see. It’s that time again. Has the coven started the preparations?”
“Of course,” Seven replied.
“Where is she now?”
“On her way to Australia.”
“Why?” Claire scrunched her nose at the mention of Australia, a place Isa hadn’t been to before. A time that wasn’t on the timeline.
“We play a game,” Seven said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“This isn’t part of the timeline,” Claire remarked, already sensing that things were more complicated than they seemed.
“When you’re asleep, princess, the rules don’t apply. In the spirit realm, we make our own rules.”
Claire watched as Seven chuckled to himself before disappearing from the room, leaving her to process what she had just learned. The game was starting. But what did that mean for her? For Isa?
Sighing, Claire called for a chambermaid and was bathed and dressed. Her magic was still weak from her long slumber, and she needed time to regain her strength. Once everything was sorted within the coven, Claire made her way to Australia to watch Isa and Seven play their little game. Seven would run near Isa, and she would always miss him by a hair. It was almost tragic, how close they were, but never close enough.
But as Claire observed Isa, something else caught her attention—a pair of eyes watching her sister. Her heart sank as she recognized the familiar face. She didn’t notice Seven had sat down beside her, ordering another round of coffee.
“What are you still doing here? You know she’s here, right?” Claire asked, her voice tight with worry.
“Of course, I know,” Seven replied, his tone casual. “But it’s been years now. Don’t you think she would have talked to me by now?”
“She’s dangerous, Seven. You need to be more careful.”
“She’s your sister, Claire. Why don’t you talk to her?”
“It’s not her time. No one is ready for her return. Please, be careful. We can’t lose you before the war even starts.”
Claire placed a soft, gentle hand on Seven’s cheek, her eyes briefly scanning Isa’s slouched figure before she stormed off. She rounded the corner and nearly collided with a familiar face—Charles.
Charles didn’t quite know how to react at first. But then, as fathers often do, he held out his arms, and Claire staggered into them. She breathed in deeply, trying to hold herself together, to keep the tears from spilling.
“How is this possible?” Charles asked, his voice thick with disbelief. “You’re mortal. There’s no way you should have survived this long—especially not after the accident.”
“I suppose we should talk then. Come with me.”
“What about your sister?”
“Don’t worry. She has others watching her. No villages will be massacred today. Come, we don’t have much time.”
Claire took her father’s hand and dragged him into a nearby alleyway. There were patrols in every country, and she couldn’t afford to have anyone know she was awake.
“I know you have a lot of questions, but we don’t have much time. So, I’ll give you three questions to ask. Choose wisely.”
“How are you still alive?” Charles demanded, his voice urgent.
Claire shook her head. “No, that’s a very long story. If you want the full version, you’ll need to ask Zuki about it.”
“Zuki?” Charles echoed, clearly thrown off.
“Come on, Father. You want to waste your second question on that? I thought you were more efficient than that.”
Charles scowled. “Nevermind. I’ll worry about that snake later. But your aura? It’s still pure, right?”
“Still pure,” Claire confirmed, her voice calm. “As far as we know, Dion had Uncle Set’s aura. It doesn’t come in order, but that’s a story for another time.”
Charles’ eyes narrowed. “Okay, last question.”
“What about your sister?”
Claire’s face softened as she glanced back at the spot where Isa had been just moments ago. “She will complete the prophecy, and there’s nothing you can do to stop her.”
Claire checked her watch and sighed. Time was running out.
“Come on, Dad. By now, Ava will be lying in her own blood, laughing at the poor boy,” she said, a dark smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“How do you know so much?”
“You asked your three questions, Father,” she replied with a knowing look. “Until our next visit.”
Charles nodded, his expression conflicted and uneasy, before he watched Claire disappear into the shadows. Even though none of this made sense, he trusted her instincts. He followed the faint scent of her blood, and true to her words, found Isa lying in a pool of her own blood, passed out on the floor. The look on her face told him all he needed to know: she had passed out laughing at Seven.
Seven, standing in the doorway, greeted him with a wry grin. “Your Highness, I wasn’t aware you’d be making an appearance. If I’d known, I would’ve put on better clothes or cleaned her up a bit.”
“What happened?” Charles asked, his voice full of concern.
“I shoved a wooden sword into her stomach,” Seven replied with a shrug. “She doesn’t recover as easily as she used to.”
“She doesn’t drink as well anymore, so I suppose that doesn’t surprise me,” Charles mused, his gaze shifting back to Isa.
“How did you know she was here?”
“Did you honestly think I’d let her follow a boy all over the globe without someone keeping an eye on her?” Seven raised an eyebrow. “Usually my assistant handles that job, but last time someone followed her, she killed them on the spot. I’m honestly surprised she didn’t do the same to you.”
Seven chuckled under his breath, though there was an edge to it. He had grown used to being underestimated, especially by those who didn’t fully understand the power of the spirit elders. He had risen to his position young, and it kept everyone on their toes.
“How much blood has she lost?” Charles asked, his concern returning.
“She’ll need a transfusion soon,” Seven said, kneeling beside Isa. “But I’ve healed her enough for you to take her home.”
“Excellent,” Charles said, relief washing over him. He turned to leave, but not before casting one last look at Isa. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the game was just beginning, and the stakes were much higher than anyone realized.
- Writer
