Page 2 of Witch's Fate

Without stopping for her cloak, she ran out into the cold Norwegian winter, followed by Kitty. She didn’t even feel the chill as her feet sank into the snow. Normally, she’d be miserable. Her thin Brazilian blood couldn’t take this cold. But now, fear and panic supplanted everything else.

She found him at the frozen waterfall where he practiced his magic. The chill wind whipped his dark hair back from his face as he threw a jet of flame at the ice, melting it.

The sight of him, so tall and handsome, draped in his black cloak, calmed her. Love swelled in her chest. This wasn’t true. He didn’t know about becoming an Oath Breaker. He hadn’t lied to her all this time. He would choose her over magic. Of course he would.

He turned, clearly alerted by her harsh breathing. Concern swept across his beautiful face. The sharp lines, full lips, and golden eyes had become so familiar to her. Beloved.

“Sofia. Are you unwell?” His British accent reminded her of how different he was from her. But that was all right. He would make the same choice she would.

He strode to her and gripped her shoulders in his big hands. He loomed over her, nearly a foot taller than her own five and a half feet.

“I—I heard something terrible.” She sucked in a ragged breath.

He swept his thumb over her cheek and only then did she notice that tears were pouring down her face. She glanced down, trying to get herself together, and caught sight of Kitty, who stared at Malcolm suspiciously. Her squinty eye narrowed even more than usual.

The sight of Kitty’s suspicion sent a streak of fear through her. Kitty normally liked Malcolm. Did her familiar sense the truth? That he’d always known?

“What is it?” His deep voice was rough with concern.

“Oath Breakers.” The words tumbled over her tongue as she looked up to search his face. “Corrier told me we’re supposed to become Oath Breakers to complete the transition to warlock.”

His brow creased, but it was the understanding in his eyes that sent a chill through her. He wasn’t surprised or confused or upset.

“You knew,” she whispered, her voice strangled. “You’ve always known.”

He nodded and her heart felt like it would break her ribs. “You say you love me. Yet you didn’t tell me about this? You’ve continued with the apprenticeship. You know that we can’t become warlocks and stay together, so why continue?” Fear clawed at her, tearing at her heart.

Therewasno reason to continue if he knew what awaited him. If he’d chosen her, he’d have already quit.

“Of course I love you,” he said. The intensity of emotion in his golden gaze calmed her fear a bit.

He did love her. Of course. He’d told her so for the first time in this very place. She wanted to believe it so badly that she clung to his words, though her fear remained.

“But I have to become a warlock,” he said. “You know that.”

She stumbled back, out of his embrace. The cold finally hit her, both inside and out. “You can’t. You know that if you become one, there’s no hope for us.”

As soon as Corrier had told her what she must to do to complete her transition, she’d known she could never become a warlock. She couldn’t give up Malcolm.

“We can make this work.” He reached for her, but she stepped back.

Horrified laughter welled in her breast. “You’re jesting. You know that’s not possible. Corrier told us what happens to Oath Breakers. Love is an oath. Fate will intervene. AndLaira?” Her voice rose in panic. “Corrier just told me how she died. That Oliver turned her over in battle. A mistake. One that fate engineered.”

“He was stupid. Weak. I wouldn’t do that.”

She shook her head frantically. He was so stubborn. “Oliver wasn’t stupid. Don’t you see? You won’t have any control. Or I might be the one to do something that destroys you. We cannot control it. You know how powerful fate is. If you love me, you’ll abandon the apprenticeship with me. You promised we would be together. Right here, at this waterfall. You promised.” Her voice broke. She wanted to grab him, shake him.

“And we will. Become a warlock. We’re smart enough to avoid what fate has planned.”

“Can you hear yourself?Avoid fate?” He was delusional. He wanted the power of a warlock so badly that he thought he could avoid fate? All Mytheans knew that was impossible. Mortals might not understand, but they also didn’t realize that their myths were real. They didn’t know that fate was an infallible power. But Sofia knew.

“You need to become a warlock, Sofia. Your village needs you. With the power of the aether, you can break the curse upon your village. Free yourself from being Protector.”

A rush of desire swept through her at his words. It’s what she’d wanted all along—the reason she’d sought out the apprenticeship. Upon her mother’s death, she was expected to take on the role of Protector of Bruxa’s Eye. She loved her village at the edge of the Amazon River and would dedicate her life to protecting it from the High Witches’ curse.

Unlike most Mytheans, warlocks were made, not born. Most Mytheans took their magical power from the aether,that ephemeral substance connecting earth and their afterworlds. Their immortal souls absorbed the aether power like a sponge and they used it to fuel their magic. But, like a sponge, there was a limited capacity and then a Mythean had to wait to reabsorb more power. But a warlock could open a channel to the aether and fill up on nearly unlimited power.

“But not at this cost,” Sofia said. “I love you, Malcolm. I love my village. Becoming an Oath Breaker would mean leaving you. Maybe even my village, too. I cannot do that. I will not! And if you love me, you will not either. It’s not worth it.”

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