Episode 8 – Thea’s Gambit
862 Words
The flickering firelight cast sharp shadows along the walls of Thea’s sanctum, painting her face in wicked relief. She stood alone before a circle of blood-soaked runes, her black cloak swirling as if alive.
“The child has awakened,” she murmured. Her voice echoed across the chamber like a storm held tightly in a bottle. “But he is still mortal. Still vulnerable.”
A whisper of wings announced the arrival of one of her spies a raven with eyes that glowed silver.
“He has been moved to the Alpha’s hidden estate,” the bird croaked.
“Of course he has,” Thea smirked. “Malcolm was always predictable strong, loyal, but limited in scope. He sees only what is in front of him.”
She stepped forward, tracing the air with a finger. A shimmering image appeared Malcolm and Mara, together. The child cradled in Mara’s arms, smiling with innocent power.
Thea’s smile faded.
“That power should have been mine.”
Flashback – Years Ago
Before she was the Dark Witch of the Blackridge Forest, Thea Mark had been a commander in the Royal Army just like Katrina Roberts was now. She had stood beside Malcolm, fought beside him. Loved him from afar.
She had waited for fate to bond them.
And then Mara’s father appeared.
The true mate.
The betrayal still burned.
The bond had not chosen Thea. It had chosen another. Someone meeker. Gentler. Someone... unworthy.
So Thea made a vow under blood moonlight: *If I cannot have love, I will have power. If I cannot be chosen, I will make myself feared.
She sought the forbidden covens. She spilled innocent blood. She merged her wolf with a shadow spirit, never fully shifter again, nor fully witch.
She became something else.
Present – The First Move
Thea opened a coffin shaped box on the altar. Inside lay a small, white object no larger than a child’s tooth.
“Wyrmbone,” she whispered. “Rare. Ancient. Deadly.”
She embedded the bone with a single drop of her blood. It sizzled, turned black, and pulsed once.
Then she lifted her eyes toward a pool of water.
“Katrina Roberts,” she said softly.
The water shimmered and the face of the general appeared.
Strong. Commanding. Loyal.
But weak in one place.
Her heart.
“She still loves him,” Thea whispered. “And jealousy... is a knife that turns both ways.”
Katrina’s Quarters
Katrina stood in her private quarters, staring at the pendant Malcolm had given her when they were children. A meaningless token now. Or so she told herself.
But when she closed her eyes, she could still feel the weight of him beside her. Not as a king. As a boy. As a friend. As someone who might have been hers... if fate had chosen differently.
If Mara Evans hadn’t appeared.
She felt the familiar twinge of bitterness. Of regret. She had buried those feelings under loyalty. Under steel.
But something tonight stirred them back to life.
A knock came at the door. She opened it to find a raven perched on the rail. It stared at her with unnatural intelligence. Around its neck, a black velvet pouch.
Katrina took it, frowning.
Inside something sharp.
She pulled out a sliver of wyrmbone. No note. No signature.
But in her mind, a voice echoed.
“If fate denies you what you deserve… take it.”
She dropped the shard, heart racing.
And yet... she didn’t destroy it.
Thea’s Sanctum – Watching It All
Thea sat back, eyes glowing. “She won’t betray him yet. But the seed is planted.”
Behind her, the shadows shifted and a figure stepped out. Hooded. Silent.
“You called, Mother Thea?”
Thea turned slowly. “Yes. I have a task. One of our oldest spells. A binding. Not of blood. But of memory.”
The figure stiffened. “You would alter their minds?”
Thea smiled. “Just one. Just enough. I want to see how strong the bond is… when trust begins to unravel.”
She handed over a scroll sealed with obsidian wax.
“Take this to the Alpha’s estate. Find the child. Mark him.”
“But there are guards”
Thea’s voice sharpened. “I didn’t ask for obstacles. I asked for results.”
The figure bowed and vanished into shadow.
The Estate, Midnight
Mara awoke with a start. The baby stirred beside her, eyes wide and glowing faintly again.
Something was wrong.
She slipped out of bed and padded toward the nursery window. A breeze unnatural and ice cold pushed it open.
On the windowsill... a sliver of bone.
Exactly like the one Katrina had received.
Suddenly, her son wailed louder than ever before.
Malcolm burst in, already half-shifted, eyes wild.
“What is it?”
Mara held up the bone, trembling. “Someone was here.”
Malcolm took it, growled low, then froze.
His hand blackening where he touched it.
A curse. A tracker. A binding mark.
Mara grabbed her son. “They found us.”
Malcolm turned to her, his voice a snarl.
“Then we make our stand now.”
- Writer
