Bella's P.O.V.
The moment Aunt Claire received the call from her witches confirming Veronica had left the cabin, the energy in the war room shifted. It was no longer just a place of strategy—it became a sanctum.
In the center, the moonstone bowl cradled the relic, nestled amid crushed lavender, rose petals, sage, and obsidian. Eight white candles and eight black ones flickered around it, dancing in harmony. The air was thick with anticipation and tension.
Aunt Claire walked toward the relic, her eyes darkening with focus. As she whispered a prayer in an ancient tongue, her hand hovered over the moonstone. The moment her palm made contact, the relic inside shimmered—and then vanished.
Gasps echoed in the room.
“It’s in position now,” Aunt Claire said calmly. “We’ve channeled it through
