The Witch’s Secret
852 Words
A cold wind swept through the hidden valley of Elderglen.
The ancient trees stood motionless beneath the crimson moon, their silver leaves glowing with magic older than any kingdom.
At the center of the valley, High Witch Morgana stared at the crystal coffin.
The sleeping woman inside looked no older than twenty.
Yet she had slept for a thousand years.
“Strengthen the seals,” Morgana ordered.
“If anyone reaches this chamber…”
She paused.
“…everything ends.”
The younger witches exchanged uneasy glances.
“Do you believe someone already knows?”
Morgana’s expression darkened.
“I don’t believe.”
“I know.”
Moonridge…
The Alpha Hall had become a war room.
Maps covered every table.
Scouts came and went without rest.
Ronan stood before the council.
“They want us divided.”
One Elder scoffed.
“You’re assuming too much.”
Ronan slammed his fist onto the table.
“I’m stating facts.”
“My mission was betrayed.”
“The Iron Fang Pack attacked our civilians.”
“Vampires were found fighting beside rogue werewolves.”
He looked around the room.
“If we keep believing this is coincidence…”
“We’ve already lost.”
Silence followed.
No one could deny the evidence.
Yet no one understood it.
Gareth stepped forward.
“We captured one survivor.”
Ronan looked up.
“A vampire?”
Gareth nodded.
“He refuses to speak.”
“Take me to him.”
The prison beneath Moonridge was nothing like the vampire fortress.
There were no torture devices.
No silver hooks.
Only thick enchanted bars.
The prisoner sat quietly inside his cell.
His black armor was cracked.
Blood covered one side of his face.
When Ronan entered, the vampire slowly smiled.
“So…”
“The famous Alpha.”
Ronan folded his arms.
“Who sent you?”
Silence.
“Why were vampires fighting beside Iron Fang?”
The prisoner laughed softly.
“You still think this is your war.”
Ronan’s eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
The vampire leaned closer to the bars.
“You’ve been fighting the wrong enemy for a thousand years.”
Before Ronan could ask another question…
The prisoner’s body suddenly convulsed.
Dark veins spread across his neck.
“No…”
The vampire’s eyes filled with terror.
“They found me.”
Blood poured from his mouth.
Within seconds…
He collapsed.
Dead.
Gareth rushed forward.
“What happened?”
Ronan stared at the corpse.
“No poison.”
“No wounds.”
Someone had silenced him.
From miles away.
Using magic.
At the same moment…
Seraphina secretly entered the forbidden wing of the royal archives.
She carried only a lantern.
Dust covered every shelf.
Most books had not been touched for centuries.
She searched until one title caught her eye.
The Blood Moon Pact.
As she reached for it…
Another hand grabbed the book first.
Seraphina gasped.
Standing across from her was a young woman dressed in a dark green cloak.
A witch.
Neither moved.
“You shouldn’t be here,” the witch whispered.
“You are…”
“A friend.”
“I don’t have friends among witches.”
“You might.”
The witch glanced toward the corridor.
“We don’t have much time.”
She handed Seraphina a folded piece of parchment.
“When you finish reading…”
“Burn it.”
Before Seraphina could ask another question…
The witch vanished.
Not ran.
Vanished.
As if she’d never been there.
Hands trembling, Seraphina unfolded the parchment.
Only one sentence was written across it.
Trust no one wearing your family crest.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Footsteps echoed outside the archive.
Her father’s guards.
She hid the note beneath her sleeve just as the doors opened.
Lord Lucien stepped inside.
His crimson eyes settled on her.
“What are you looking for?”
Seraphina forced a calm smile.
“History.”
Lucien studied her for a long moment.
Then he looked toward the empty shelf.
“The Blood Moon Pact.”
His voice became almost unreadable.
“Some histories are buried for a reason.”
Late that night…
Ronan stood alone on the palace balcony.
The moon hung low above Moonridge.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the dead vampire’s final words.
“You’ve been fighting the wrong enemy.”
Behind him, footsteps approached.
Gareth handed him a sealed letter.
“It arrived without a messenger.”
“No scent.”
“No tracks.”
Ronan broke the wax seal.
Inside was a single page.
No signature.
No crest.
Only five words.
Ask the witches about Cassian.
Ronan’s face drained of color.
Cassian Blackthorn.
The prince whose murder had started the war.
Very few people even spoke his name anymore.
Someone wanted Ronan to start asking questions.
Or…
Someone wanted him to walk straight into a trap.
Far away, hidden in darkness, an unseen figure watched both Ronan and Seraphina through a bowl of black water.
A faint smile spread across their face.
“They’ve taken the first step.”
“And soon…”
“They’ll discover exactly what I want them to find.”
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