EMERGENCY
1225 Words
Four Years later
Auroras pov
I watched as Colt fell back, his body hitting the damp soil with a dull thud. The air around us rippled faintly, the soft tingle from my fingers dissipating as my aura lessened, fading like dew under the morning sun.
My magic had gotten so strong and wild over the past few years I'd stayed here; witches gossiped about me in hushed tones, speaking of the lost and found daughter of Ragnar, who, suspiciously, had mastered the act of conjuring in less than a year.
A few of them I could tell envied me while others, accused me of wielding black magic.
A banned form of witchcraft.
Among all their raves and accusations, only I knew the real reason behind my quick manipulation of power.
As a hybrid, it was inevitable that I'd possess a greater level of aura as compared to an ordinary witch.
My father and I were the only ones aware of this secret and over time, the barrier he'd placed to keep my werewolf abilities from surfacing was wearing off.
Some nights, I felt it, a soft hum of something darker and stronger, crawling beneath my skin, the wolf spirit straining against the barrier, clawing to escape.
During those times, my breath grew shallow, almost animalistic, it took everything in me to stay composed, by great luck I was still able to keep it under control to remain hidden.
I watched as Colt groaned, pushing himself up from the ground where I'd sent him flying moments ago, a defeated smile against his lips as he approached. His tousled brown hair was dusted with soil, roughed up in funny straws.
A chuckle threatened to slip past my lips
"C'mon, Ror...you gonna have to go easy on me these days ...."
He joked, dusting himself off, he brushed off his sleeves with exaggerated drama.
I tilted my head, smirking.
“Ready for another round?”
His eyes widened a little, playful disbelief flickering across his expression.
“Another round? You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“If you do die,” I teased, crossing my arms,
“It’d be a good chance for me to practice the spirit spells""
The spirit spells were one of the high-ranked spells not yet taught to us due to it's high level of complexity.
It allowed a witch to communicate with the spirit of a dead one but because of how demanding and complex the spell was to perform, we had not been taught it yet. Too many dangers and risks revolved around it.
He let out a strangled laugh shaking his head with a grin
“If you ever use that on me, Ror, I’m haunting you till you lose that smug smile.”
“I’d like to see you try.” I challenged
"You're impossible"
He walked ahead, and because his legs were longer, I had to jog to keep up. The cool evening air smelled faintly of wet leaves and dust after rain, somewhere in the distance, the faint bells of the dining hall echoed, a reminder that supper was ready.
Still trying to catch up, I nearly slammed into him when he reached back abruptly and caught my hand, pulling me beside him. His touch was warm, grounding, and comforting.
We walked together through the narrow paths leading toward the main hall. Fireflies drifted lazily between the flowers and shrubs. The sound of our boots crunching over fallen leaves filled the quiet space between us.
The Griffith Coven always felt alive, filled with laughter, chatter, and warmth. Despite its strict rules and endless lessons, it had become my home. People here lived like family, sharing homes, food, and even secrets, though some, like mine, were never spoken aloud.
As we stepped into the dining hall, a wave of chatter and the aroma of roasted herbs and meat washed over me. The place was already full, witches gathered along a long oak table, their voices rising and falling as they talked.
We hadn’t taken more than five steps inside when I felt the weight of a stare, following my instincts, my eyes landed on someone who appeared to have already been glaring my way
Chasity Roy
She was seated three seats away, her eyes sharp enough to cut through steel. The glare she gave me could have set fire to a lake.
After so long, I would think she'd have let go of her grudge but it appeared I was wrong, and honestly, I wouldn't blame her, after all,
Colt had once used her feelings for him to get close to me, his idea, not mine. Then afterward dumped her when it stopped serving his plan.
Now, she looked ready to burn us both alive.
She rose abruptly, tray clattering as she grabbed it. Walking out of the hall
"Chassy wait!" Colt called after her, guilt lacing his tone.
She ignored him, moving faster but he blocked her path.
“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry for you to..."
He didn’t finish when she sharply cast a root spell on him
Basically, something that felt like being slightly electrocuted for a second.
"You and....." she looked at me
"...your girlfriend stay the f..k away from me"
She spat, eyes flashing with hate my way before storming out of the hall.
I sighed, then walked over to Colt who appeared to still feel the slight fading sting from the spell she'd cast on him
"Does it still hurt"" I asked softly and as if to seize the opportunity, he nodded, pouting slightly with the intention of getting me to pamper him but instead, I arched a brow, biting back a smile
"If I were her, I'd have done worse"
I said and could see the already baffled expression that painted his face.
His jaw dropped. “You’re taking her side now?”
“Just saying,” I said, laughing as I walked away. He trailed after me, muttering under his breath like a scolded child.
We reached an empty spot at the far end of the table. The meals were already laid out, steaming hot bowls of broth, freshly baked bread, roasted lamb, and glazed vegetables that filled the air with warm, buttery spice.
I loved this about the coven, the way food brought everyone together, like a family I never had back then.
As I took a bite, I couldn’t help but think how different this life was. No fear of being sold off, or married off, here, I was someone.
As always, I was still in the process of teasing Colt when a sudden sound inside the hall alerted everyone, it was one of the coven warriors. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his expression was stern, strict and as usual indifferent, his presence alone quieted the room.
His eyes scanned the crowd, his gaze moved around for some time, for a second, he looked restless, until they settled on me, then he began to approach, his boots echoing against the stone floor.
“Colt,...” he called once he stood before us, his tone clipped and low,
“Ragnar wants you in his private study. It’s an emergency.”
Emergency?
I barely got the thought around my head when Colt got up, I followed suit and we headed to my father's study.
- Writer
