Eclipsed Souls

The Witches’ Counsel

The mist-wrapped mountains loomed over them, the jagged peaks rising like dark sentinels against the overcast sky. The air was thick and damp, clinging to their skin as Elara and Darius ventured deeper into the heart of the mountains. Each step seemed to bring them further away from the world they had known, into a place where time itself was distorted, and reality felt like a delicate thread poised to unravel at any moment.

Elara had heard stories of the witches of the hidden coven since she was a child—whispers of their power, their eerie beauty, their ancient knowledge. But even the most vivid of those stories paled in comparison to the reality before her. The mountain range seemed to defy nature itself, with mist swirling unnaturally around the trees, creeping into their lungs with every breath.

They had arrived at the entrance to the coven’s lair. It wasn’t a structure she could have imagined, not even in the wildest of dreams. It was a doorway that existed within the very fabric of the mountain, a gaping void in the rock where the mist swirled thickest. The stones around it seemed alive, writhing with the pulse of ancient magic, and the sound of faint whispers seemed to float through the air, beckoning them forward.

Darius’s hand rested lightly on Elara’s shoulder, grounding her as the uncertainty and awe began to stir within her. He was her protector, though she didn’t feel she needed protection in this moment. Her heart was steady—nervous, but steady—as she stood before the entrance to the unknown. She had come this far, and there was no turning back now. The witches would either give her the answers she sought or confirm the darkest of her fears.

The air shimmered around them, and a figure materialized from the mist. Lady Selene.

Elara’s breath caught in her throat as the witch’s form took shape. The woman was unlike anything Elara had ever seen—tall, regal, with flowing silver hair that seemed to move with a life of its own. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her eyes—oh, her eyes—glowed with a soft, ethereal light that seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages within them. There was no mistaking it: this was a being who had seen centuries pass and still stood unwavering, a living monument to the power of magic.

“Elara Nightbourne,” Lady Selene’s voice rang out, both soft and powerful, reverberating through the mist like a song sung in an ancient tongue. Her gaze settled on Elara, and there was an almost knowing glint in her eyes. “You have come for answers.”

Elara nodded, her voice trembling as she stepped forward. “Yes. I need to know who I am. What I’m meant to do.”

Lady Selene’s lips curled into a knowing smile, though her expression was not unkind. She studied Elara for a long moment, her gaze searching, as though she could see straight through to the very depths of Elara’s soul. “Ah,” she said softly, her voice holding a weight that made the very air around them feel heavy. “You are not the first to seek answers in these mountains. Many have come before you, but not all have left with what they desired.”

Elara swallowed, her heart thudding in her chest. “I don’t want to leave without answers,” she said, her voice steadier now, but still tinged with uncertainty.

Lady Selene’s eyes softened, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of something—sympathy, perhaps?—beneath the ancient, knowing gaze. “Very well,” she said, “but you must prove yourself worthy of the knowledge you seek. The trials will test you, Elara Nightbourne. They will test everything you think you know about yourself. Your magic. Your strength. Your heart. Only then will you be ready to face the destiny that has been waiting for you.”

Elara’s pulse quickened, the weight of those words settling into her bones. She had no idea what the trials would entail—what her destiny truly was—but she knew one thing for certain: she had to face them. She had to know the truth.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” she said, her voice stronger now, the resolve that had been growing within her flaring into something more solid, more certain.

Lady Selene nodded, her expression unreadable. With a wave of her hand, the air around them seemed to thicken, and the shadows at her feet stirred as though they had a life of their own. A ring of light surrounded Elara, pulsing with an energy she couldn’t quite comprehend. It was as though the very earth beneath her was shifting, reshaping, preparing for something that only the witches could see.

“Then prove yourself, child,” Lady Selene intoned, her voice carrying the weight of centuries of wisdom. “Prove that you are worthy of the power you seek. Prove that you can embrace the truth of who you are.”

The ground beneath Elara’s feet shifted, and suddenly, she was no longer standing in the mist-covered mountain pass. She was somewhere else—somewhere different, yet familiar. A barren landscape stretched out before her, blackened earth cracked open in jagged lines, as though some terrible force had torn the world asunder. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds, tinged with violet and red, casting an eerie glow over everything below.

Elara’s breath caught in her throat. What was this place? It felt like a dream—or perhaps a nightmare.

“You are here,” Lady Selene’s voice echoed in her mind, as though the witch was speaking directly to her consciousness. “This is the first trial. You must confront what lies within you—the darkness you have hidden from yourself, the fears you have buried deep within your soul.”

Elara looked around, her heart pounding. The ground beneath her trembled, and a figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, imposing figure, their face obscured by a hood. It wasn’t just the figure that unsettled her, but the overwhelming sense of dread that emanated from it.

“Face your fear, Elara,” Lady Selene’s voice commanded, this time clearer, sharper. “What do you fear the most?”

Elara’s heart raced. This was it. The trial had begun. She had to face whatever this figure represented. But as it stepped closer, something within her stirred—a deep, primal fear that she couldn’t shake.

The figure raised its hood, and Elara gasped.

It was her.

Or rather, it looked like her—her face, her eyes, her features—but twisted, distorted, as if her reflection had been warped by something dark, something malignant. The version of herself standing before her was cold, calculating, devoid of warmth or compassion.

The figure’s eyes glowed with a cruel, malevolent light, and it spoke in a voice that was both her own and yet not.

“Do you think you are worthy of your heritage?” the twisted reflection mocked. “Do you think you can control the power that flows through your veins?”

Elara staggered backward, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The fear was consuming her now, wrapping around her heart like a vice. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t know... I don’t know if I can.”

The figure stepped closer, its dark presence suffocating. “Then you will fail,” it hissed. “You are nothing more than a child pretending to be a queen.”

“No,” Elara said, more firmly this time. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Her reflection laughed, a hollow sound that echoed through the barren landscape. “You should be. You are nothing without your past, Elara Nightbourne. Without the kingdom you’ve lost. Without the family that betrayed you.”

Elara’s knees trembled, but she forced herself to stand tall. The reflection was right, in a way. She had no memory of her past. Her family was lost to her. Aetheris was nothing but a forgotten dream. But there was something else inside her—something that had been growing ever since she had met Darius, ever since she had begun to understand the power that flowed within her veins.

“I am more than my past,” she said, her voice gaining strength with each word. “I am Elara Nightbourne. And I will reclaim my kingdom.”

The figure recoiled, its twisted form flickering like a flame about to be extinguished. Elara’s heart raced, but she stood her ground, the fire inside her burning brighter than ever.

The figure dissolved into shadows, and the barren landscape began to shift. The mist returned, swirling around her feet, and she found herself back in the clearing, where Lady Selene stood, watching her with an unreadable expression.

“You have passed the first trial,” the witch said, her voice a mix of approval and challenge. “But this is only the beginning, Elara Nightbourne. The trials will grow more difficult. And you must not forget what you have learned here.”

Elara’s chest heaved as she caught her breath, the weight of the trial still pressing heavily on her. But something had shifted within her. The darkness had been confronted, and though it still lingered, she knew now that she had the strength to face it.

The witch smiled, her ancient eyes gleaming. “The path ahead is fraught with danger, Elara. But you are ready—for the trials, for your destiny.”

Elara’s heart stirred with a sense of purpose she had never known before. The trials had only just begun, but for the first time, she felt certain of one thing: she would face whatever came next—not just for herself, but for the kingdom she was destined to reclaim.