Chapter 14: The Ariran Line
1036 Words
Sav stood very still in the doorway. Her head was slightly tilted, and her eyes narrowed as she inhaled slowly. Naom, despite Sav’s ‘warning, followed her into the building with careful, cautious steps as she side stepped piles of broken glass.
“I asked you to stay in the car.” Sav muttered.
Naomi didn’t answer. Her attention was already locked on the wreckage. Tables were strewn around the dining area in a precise half-moon shape as if blocking someone or something in. Beneath the flour dusting the floor, faint carvings were visible in the wood.
Naomi crouched slightly, heart tightening. “What are those?”
Sav stepped closer, then frowned.
“Wards.”
Naomi looked up sharply. “Wards?”
Sav didn’t answer immediately. Her expression had shifted. She was less playful and more alert in a way Naomi hadn’t seen before.
“These markings are not bear-made.” Sav said quietly. “This is witch work.”
Naomi’s stomach dropped. At that moment, Ms. Holloway groaned faintly from behind the counter. Naomi tried to rush over immediately. The older woman was pale, leaning heavily against the cabinets, one arm wrapped in a blood-stained towel. Despite her obvious pain, she still carried a silent strength about her.
“Don’t…” Ms. Holloway exhaled shakily, “…don’t step on the salt line.”
Naomi froze mid-step. Sav glanced down in confusion. Beneath their feet, a faint circle of salt and crushed herbs ringed the counter space Ms. Holloway was sitting in—partially broken, but still active in places.
Sav’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got protection wards in your bakery.”
Ms. Holloway gave a weak, almost tired laugh. “Had.”
Naomi swallowed. “Mrs. Holloway… what is this?”
The woman looked at Naomi for a long moment. Then, her expression lifted as she blew out a heavy breath.
“You were supposed to be safe here,” she said quietly.
Naomi went still. “What?”
Ms. Holloway’s gaze flicked toward the broken doorway, then back.
She spoke in a sad, almost defeated tone. “I didn’t think they’d find you this fast.”
Sav straightened slightly. “Who is ‘they’?”
Ms. Holloway hesitated.
Then, carefully:
“The Rogues. Or whoever sent them. Of that, I am still unsure.”
Naomi’s breath caught as the magnitude of Ms. Holloway’s statement hit her. She continued, voice strained but steadier now.
“And witches don’t usually advertise themselves,” she added, glancing at Sav. “But I am one. Barely.”
Ms. Holloway lifted her free hand slightly. As she flicked her wrist, something in the air responded. A low residual hum of magic could be felt moving within the walls and pulsing between them.
“My grandmother was a witch,” Ms. Holloway continued. “I inherited scraps. Enough for wards. Charms. Nothing strong.”
Naomi felt her pulse spike.
“This apartment,” she whispered, suddenly remembering the place she had been given for below market rate. What Naomi had originally believed to have been inexplicable kindness now seemed to be more. She spoke in shock, “You… you gave it to me.”
Ms. Holloway nodded once.
“Ophelia told me to.”
Sav blinked. “Ophelia? Who the hell’s Ophelia?”
Naomi’s chest tightened. “My mother.”
Sav stilled. Completely in shock. Ms. Holloway nodded again, slower this time.
“Twenty years ago,” she said. “Before you were born.”
Naomi felt like the room had tilted slightly.
“That’s impossible,” she whispered.
Ms. Holloway’s eyes softened with something like regret.
“She saved me from a hunter,” she said. “I was younger then. I didn’t even know what I was yet.”
Sav’s brow furrowed. “Hunter as in…”
“Human,” Ms. Holloway confirmed. “Or something wearing human skin. I don’t know anymore.”
She exhaled carefully.
“And in return, Ophelia asked for a favor.”
Naomi shook her head slightly. “She couldn’t have known I would—”
“She did,” Ms. Holloway interrupted gently.
“She told me, one day a wandering girl named Naomi would come to me. And when she did, I was to give her shelter. No questions. No conditions.”
Naomi’s throat tightened.
Sav glanced at her briefly, then back at Ms. Holloway. “And the apartment?”
“Below market rate,” Ms. Holloway said faintly. “So she could stay long enough to be safe. Long enough to breathe.”
Naomi felt something cold settle into her chest.
“But…” she whispered, struggling, “How is it possible? She wasn’t even….” Naomi stopped mid-sentence unable to continue.
Ms. Holloway finished it softly for her. “Pregnant yet.”
Sav looked between them now, realization slowly forming.
“So, you’re saying her mother arranged protection for her years before she even existed. Years before meeting her mate.”
Ms. Holloway answered, “Ophelia was Ariran.”
Sav frowned slightly. “Ariran?”
Ms. Halloway didn’t answer immediately. Her hands curled at her sides. As a young witch she had learned about these types of witches. What limited information she had seen later confirmed it.
“An Aririan is an old term. They are incredibly rare and old. It is said they originate from the first line of witches. They have the gift of prophecy.”
Naomi stared at the old woman in disbelief as she continued. “There’s more. She said the world would come for you eventually.”
Naomi stepped back as her fear spiked.
Ms. Holloway winced, gripping her injured arm tighter.
“They breached the wards tonight,” she said. “They were looking for you.”
Naomi’s stomach dropped.
Sav’s voice turned sharp. “Did they say anything?”
Ms. Holloway hesitated. Then nodded faintly.
“They said…” she swallowed, “…they finally found the Ariran line.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. “That changes things.”
Naomi looked at her. “What does that mean?”
Sav met her eyes.
“It means,” she said carefully, “We need to leave. And you need a coven.”
- Writer
