Aurora’s P.O.V
I narrowed my eyes, my fingers curling into fists as I looked him dead in the eyes. "Stop talking in riddles! What do you mean by that? What the hell are you planning to do to us?" My voice was steady, but inside, I could feel the storm brewing. The room felt heavier, like the air had been sucked out, leaving only a thick, suffocating silence.
He exhaled slowly, like he had been waiting for this moment, as if he had rehearsed every word he was about to say. "Since we’re already here, Aurora," he said, his voice eerily calm, "it’s time I tell you the truth. The real reason why all of this is happening." His dark eyes flickered with something ancient, something unnatural, and for the first time, I realized there was something about him—something that had always felt... off.
I swallowed hard, my breath hitching as he continued. "I might not look like it, but Harmona and I… we’ve been alive since the Witch Trials of the 1700s." He let the words sink in, watching for my reaction, but I could only stare. My pulse roared in my ears. I felt my lips part, but no words came out. "That’s right," he went on, his voice taking on a slow, deliberate edge. "We are over three hundred years old, Aurora. We have survived centuries. Watched empires fall and rise. We have lived longer than anyone should ever have the right to."
I took a shaky step back, my mind racing. "That's impossible," I whispered, shaking my head, but the conviction in his gaze made my stomach twist.
"Oh, but it is possible. And do you know how we’ve done it?" He tilted his head, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "By transferring our souls into different bodies. Every few decades, we find someone suitable, and we take over. A new face, a new identity. It has kept us alive... powerful."
My heart pounded so hard it hurt. The symbol! The symbol on my father’s chest, the symbol that Harmon herself had told us belonged during the Witch Trials, but we hadn’t realized that she had been keeping so much of the truth from us.
"You—you take people's bodies?" My voice wavered. "Like parasites?"
He chuckled, amused by my disgust. "I suppose you could call it that. But it was necessary. For centuries, it worked. We were untouchable. We lived as kings, queens, scholars, scientists—whoever we wanted to be. But there was one problem." His voice dropped, and a shadow passed over his face. "Each transfer took something from us. A small piece, at first, but over time, we noticed... our power was fading. With every new body, we became weaker. We could feel it slipping away, and soon, it became clear. If we kept going like this, there would be nothing left of us."
A shiver ran down my spine. "So what did you do?"
His smile turned razor-sharp. "We found a new process. Something much more… efficient. Something that didn’t just keep us alive but restored us." He stepped forward, his presence suffocating. "Blood sacrifices."
I felt the breath leave my lungs, my body turning cold. "No," I whispered.
"Yes," he murmured. "The blood of the living. The stronger the soul, the more power we retain. The more powerful the vessel, the less we lose. It was a revelation." His eyes gleamed with something sickening, something ravenous. "And after centuries of perfecting the ritual, we no longer have to take bodies randomly. Now, we choose. We prepare. And once the ritual is complete, we don’t just take over… we consume. Their essence, their life force, their magic. All of it becomes ours."
I shook my head, my chest tightening as nausea clawed its way up my throat. "You're monsters," I choked out. "You're nothing but monsters."
He didn't deny it. Instead, he watched me, as if waiting for me to understand, to accept the horror of what he had just revealed. And in that moment, I realized something—something that made my blood run even colder.
I was here for a reason.
And I had a sinking feeling I wasn’t meant to leave. None of us were.
Harmona came into the room then, dressed in similar robes as Lucas. “Today is indeed a special occasion. It’s a total solar eclipse, the only time when a dark witch’s powers are at its peak.” She looks at the women by the wall, a smirk on her face as she continues. “The alignment of the sun and moon creates an imbalance in magic, an opening, a weakness. That’s when we strike. Entire covens, wiped out in a single night, their power stripped from their very souls, absorbed into our very bones. It gives us not only the power to stay alive longer, but also eternal youth.”
My breath hitches as their words unraveled before me like a twisted prophecy written in blood. They spoke of it so casually, as if they weren’t describing the systematic slaughter of entire covens, the brutal harvesting of magic from the dying screams of innocent witches. I could feel the bile rise in my throat, my fingers curling into fists on the stone, but I forced myself to listen. Because I had to know. I had to understand exactly what kind of monsters I was dealing with.
“We would wait for a solar eclipse,” Harmona continued, her voice eerily calm, as if she was reciting a bedtime story rather than recounting centuries of horror. “But the eclipses are extremely rare.”
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Solar eclipses were rare, spaced too far apart to be a reliable means of sustaining their unnatural existence. But that wasn’t the worst part. That wasn’t what made my skin crawl and my stomach twist in knots.
“We realized the power of a single coven wasn’t enough,” she went on, her eyes dark with something I couldn’t name—was it regret? Fear? Or was it simply acceptance of the horrors that had already been done? “We needed more. That’s when we turned to the dark arts, searching for a way to break free from the cycle of temporary youth, of stolen years that always ran out. And we finally found it. A way to achieve true immortality.”
My heart pounded in my chest as she spoke the words I already knew were coming. “Five hybrids. Five beings of mixed blood, each one a combination of different supernatural races, each one carrying a unique kind of power. They need to be sacrificed together, along with an entire coven’s magic, to complete the ritual. That will be enough. That will finally grant us what we want—the ability to live forever, never aging, never dying, never needing to kill again.”
My stomach clenched at the twisted irony of it all. They had spent centuries killing to extend their lives, only to reach a point where they could end the cycle with one final act of mass slaughter. And the worst part? They weren’t just seeking immortality. They wanted power. Unmatched, absolute power. If they succeeded, they wouldn’t just be eternal—they would be unstoppable.
I exhaled shakily, my nails digging into my palms. The weight of their words settled over me like a suffocating fog. Five hybrids. A full coven. An entire generation of magic, wiped from existence, just so they could reign as the most powerful witches the world had ever seen.
I knew then, with chilling certainty, that I couldn’t let it happen. Even if it meant putting myself in their crosshairs. Even if it meant running, hiding, fighting against forces far beyond my own strength. Because if they succeeded, if they got what they wanted—there would be no one left to stop them.
“And you see, hybrids are incredibly rare too,” Lucas continued, his smile turning sinister. “So I made my own. The perfect hybrids, and better yet, with my own blood running through your veins. The perfect sacrifices.”
I stared at them, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from my chest. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in. Lucas and Harmona stood before me, their expressions eerily serene despite the madness that swirled in their eyes. I finally understood—these two weren’t just cruel, they weren’t just monsters. They were maniacs. They had lost their minds, and soon, we were all going to lose our lives to them.
My throat was dry, but I forced the words out, each syllable dripping with a mixture of anger and desperation. “If you already had Harmona, then why did you create so many other offspring?” My voice trembled, but I refused to back down. “Why did you claim to love my mother?”
Lucas chuckled, a deep, mocking sound that sent a chill down my spine. His eyes glowed with amusement, as if I were nothing more than a foolish child asking pointless questions. “Love?” he echoed, tilting his head slightly.
“Oh, Aurora… You were all so naïve.” He stepped closer, his presence suffocating, his smirk widening. “Did you really think I ever loved your mother? That any of you mean something to me?”
My breath hitched. I felt the weight of his words settle deep in my chest, crushing what little hope I had left.
Lucas turned his gaze to Harmona, his expression shifting into something almost reverent. “My real love,” he murmured, reaching out to touch her cheek with an almost sickening tenderness.
“Has always been Harmona. My wife.”
Harmona smiled at him, her lips curling in satisfaction, her dark eyes flickering with something ancient and powerful. My stomach twisted.
Then, as if the universe itself responded to the darkness in the room, the skies outside darkened. Thick, rolling clouds swallowed the light, plunging everything into an unnatural gloom. A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows, the air growing colder, heavier. My skin prickled with unease.
Lucas turned to Harmona, his voice calm but filled with purpose. “It’s time,” he said, his fingers tightening around hers. “Let’s start the ritual.”
My pulse spiked, my body tensing. I wanted to run, to scream, to fight—but the look in their eyes told me it was already too late.