A Witch’s Promise

Chapter 15: Gifts

Naomi’s breathing turned uneven as she stepped farther back from the counter. All this time, her mother knew she would be here. Ophelia knew everything would happen exactly as it had. Even when Naomi meticulously planned for New York, she was predestined to be here.

Naomi whispered in anguish, “Is my life even my own?”

“Yes.” Ms. Holloway answered softly.

Naomi barely heard her. She was drowning in her own thoughts. Flatrock, her school, Ms. Holloway, the wards, the attack on campus.

“Everything is too connected to be chance. I didn’t disappear. I ended up exactly where she wanted me to be.”

“No one’s future is 100% certain.” Ms. Holloway stated. “Even for an Ariran, everything comes down to chance. Different choices make the likelihood of other actions higher, but your choices can always change the future.”

“I need air,” Naomi whispered.

She turned and pushed out of the ruined bakery before either of them could stop her. The cool night air slammed into her lungs as she rushed away from the building. Naomi braced both hands against the hood of Sav’s Jeep as panic clawed violently beneath her skin. Her magic buzzed erratically now, static prickling through the surrounding air.

Inside the bakery, one of the flickering lights exploded. Heat stretched from her hands as flames flickered to life. Naomi’s heart hammered violently against her ribcage. “No,” she muttered. “Not here. Please. Not here.”

Everything was unraveling too fast. And somehow, the prospect of danger wasn’t the worst part. The realization that Ophelia had planned Naomi’s entire life from the grave pissed her off beyond belief. Ophelia spent all this time preparing her for something she never fully explained.

Sav exited a second later. She ran toward Naomi at lightening speed before making a complete stop as fear etched on her face. The fire had consumed Naomi. Heat was exploding in all directions as the flames stretched like sunlight. The flames didn’t burn her. But, they burned everything else. A newspaper box exploded and blackened instantly as Naomi screamed in rage and shock.

“Sav!” Naomi cried. “I can’t stop it!”

The fire climbed higher in response to Naomi’s fear. The windows in the bakery shook hard enough to crack. Inside, Ms. Holloway could be seen rushing around the counter slamming counters open and throwing herbs into a mortar.

“Please,” Naomi cried out. “Help me!”

“It’s not the help she needs,” Ms. Holloway called from the doorway as she made her way toward Naomi. “It’s control. She needs to feel in control”.

Ms. Holloway rushed toward Naomi and threw the herbs at her flames. As they touched her body, the fire slowly began to recede.

“Great! Now focus on one thing. Focus on one thing that you can control,” she called.

“I have no control!” Naomi roared. “But you do. You have me,” Thalia called. “I am your wolf. Whether you were a witch or not, I would have always been your wolf. You are a part of me as much as I am part of you. You control when we shift. You control your body. And regardless of what anyone else thinks, you control your life.”

“Naomi closed her eyes and breathed slow breaths as she thought back to the mountains and the shifts. She remembered the moment of pure freedom with Thalia. The flames died down around her as her breathing began to even. After a moment, the flames completely disappeared as if they had never been there in the first place.

“…Okay. I’m okay.”

She opened her eyes to see Ms. Holloway and Sav’s terrified looks.

“You’re scared of me,” Naomi called in shame.

“No. Never.” The two answered almost immediately.

“Nomes, we are scared for you. This is a lot to take in. Anyone in your position would have reacted this way.”

“Heightened emotions drive our powers. Fear, sadness, anger; without control your emotions can drive your magic haywire. Ms. Holloway answered. In my early days, even with my limited powers, I nearly killed the love of my life.”

Calmer now, Naomi whispered, “My mom knew. Even before I had decided. She planned this,” Naomi continued, staring hard at the gravel beneath her sneakers. “She knew I’d run someday. She knew something would come after me. What if this was always going to happen?”

Sav grabbed Naomi’s hand and held it firm.

“Prophecy doesn’t work like railroad tracks,” she said carefully.

Naomi looked over sharply. “You don’t even know what an Ariran is.”

“No,” Sav admitted easily. “But I know fear when I hear it.”

Naomi looked away again immediately.

Ms. Holloway had walked back inside the bakery and was speaking quietly on the phone.

“What do you think was in that container she threw at me?” Naomi asked with curiosity.

“Who knows. But whatever if was, you need a whole damn bag of it," Sav teased as she nudged Naomi into the jeep.

Naomi let out a weak breath through her nose that almost sounded like a laugh.

Then, Sav’s demeanor shifted.

Subtle.

But immediately.

“What?” Naomi asked.

Sav lifted her head slightly toward the tree line bordering the road.

The darkness beyond the streetlights looked thicker suddenly.

Listening.

“We need to move,” Sav said quietly.

Naomi’s pulse spiked instantly. “Why?”

“I smell wolves.”

Naomi felt Thalia stir immediately beneath her skin.

“Okay,” she said, the decision settling into place. “New plan.”

Naomi crossed her arms tightly around herself. “I’m really not loving how often there are ‘new plans’ tonight.”

Sav ignored that.

“You need answers,” she said. “And if your mother really was Ariran, then there are people who’ll know what that means.”

Naomi frowned. “You know witches?”

Sav snorted softly. “Know? No.”

A pause.

“Know of? Unfortunately.”

That did not sound reassuring.

“There’s someone in Pisgah,” Sav continued. “She’s an old witch who lives off grid. Honestly, most people avoid her.”

“Why?”

Sav looked genuinely thoughtful. “Honestly? Vibe, and maybe curses.”

Naomi rubbed exhausted hands over her face. “Sav, I don’t think I can handle cryptic forest witches tonight.”

“You absolutely cannot,” Sav agreed. “But you also can’t stay here.”

That part, Naomi knew was true. The bakery behind them had stopped feeling safe the second the wards failed. Maybe it had never truly been safe at all.

Sav’s voice softened slightly.

“You don’t have to decide everything tonight,” she said. “Just the next place to sleep.”

Naomi swallowed hard. The simplicity of that somehow helped more than reassurance would have. Just survive tonight. Tomorrow could ruin itself later.

Behind them, the bakery door creaked open again. I’ve called the police and reported a break-in. They should be here any minute. You all better hustle.”

Ms. Holloway stood there pale and exhausted. At that moment, the significance of tonight began to dawn on her. The amount of energy and effort this old woman had put into keeping her alive could never be repaid.

“Ms. Holloway,” Naomi called, her voice breaking.

“Oh Dear. Stop it now,” Ms. Holloway reprimanded. “None of this is your fault. Here, take this.” She quickly shoved a small wooden box into Naomi’s hand. The box itself appeared old and ancient. Magic thrummed off it in small waves.

“What’s in it?” Naomi asked.

“Some of the herbs from earlier. Lemon Balm, Valerian root, Mugwort, Yarrow, and Sage. They help calm the spirit and bring focus to new witches.”

Ms. Holloway looked directly at Naomi.

“And something else.” Ms. Halloway slowly opened the box. “Ophelia made me promise to give this to you when my wards ultimately fell.”

Naomi’s stomach dropped. Inside the box next to a small brown bag was a knife that looked older than memory itself. Its blade was long and narrow, forced from dark silver metal that caught the light strangely, as though moonlight lived beneath the surface instead of reflected from it. Ancient runes curled along the flat blade in faded gold etching, worn smooth in places by centuries of careful hands. The edge shimmered impossibly sharp. The hilt of the blade was wrapped in worn brown leather. At its base sat a polished emerald that glowed faintly in the dark.

“Ophelia left this for me?”

Ms. Holloway nodded once.

“She said, You’d know when it was time.”

Sav stepped closer slowly, eyes fixed on the box now too.

“Okay,” she whistled, then looked toward the dark mountains beyond town. “We are officially way past my pay grade.”