Page 75 of Witch's Fate

“I wondered when I saw you here last. In fact, I wondered when you were an apprentice. I wasn’t surprised when she opted out.” His gaze searched Malcolm’s. “In fact, I was a bit surprised when you decided to break your vow to Sofia to become a warlock. But then, there’s your family.”

Darkness settled over Malcolm at the mention of his family. He hadn’t seen them in centuries, not since he’d really understood the pain of losing Sofia. After that, it’d been easyto separate himself from them. But not before. Not when it would have made a difference.

“I made a mistake,” Malcolm said. “A terrible one. Now I need out. No longer a warlock, no longer an Oath Breaker.”

Corrier’s face fell. At the sight, a cold sweat broke out on Malcolm’s skin.

“A warlock’s magic always comes at a price. It’s a power that is not inherent like that of a witch or a sorcerer. It’s greater, but at greater cost. As you know, the strongest spells take something from the warlock. Becoming a warlock took sacrifice and abandoning the path would also require sacrifice. But there’s only one way out.” Corrier’s voice was grave. “The greatest sacrifice.”

Death.

“Death,” Corrier said.

It was a blow to hear, nearly sucking the wind from him.

“But not just any death. A death in sacrifice. Else you’ll be a warlock and an Oath Breaker in the afterlife as well.”

Malcolm just stopped himself from crushing the crystal. “Then there’s no way I can be with her?”

“No. Not short of death, and then, only if she goes to the same afterworld as you. Her beliefs would have to match yours. You knew this when you signed up, yet you did it anyway.”

Malcolm dragged a hand down his face.

This was real. And there was no escape.

“Don’t try to be with her,” Corrier said. His tone was sharp, as if Malcolm were still his pupil. “It will end badly. You remember what happened to Laira. And to those who came before her.”

Malcolm’s jaw clenched.

“And Sofia is in danger now, is she not? Her village under a curse by the High Witches?”

Malcolm nodded. “They’ll attack in three days.”

Corrier gripped his arm hard, fingers digging in. “You must not fall in love with her. Make no commitments. She’s already in danger. Fate will take this opportunity to tear you apart. Our world is dangerous. There are many opportunities for a cursed union such as yours to fail, but this is just asking for it.”

A cursed union.

Sofia sat on the plush red couch in Aurora’s flat, Kitty at her side. Malcolm had gone to do some kind of errand and she’d been too distracted to ask. He hadn’t seemed like he wanted to share. As soon as he’d left, she’d felt the tattoo connection between them break. She’d grown used to it and really only felt it when he arrived in her vicinity or left, but it was still odd.

She bounced her knee as she waited for responses to their requests for help. Most were made by phone, though in some cases, allies needed to be tracked down via aetherwalking. They already had Esha and Warren’s promises of help, now she awaited assistance from Aurora’s other colleagues.

Gods, how she prayed that the council members were having luck convincing their factions. There were so many Weres, vamps, and fae in the world, but they weren’t all a united front. They couldn’t count on the entirety of the Were or fae population to come to their aid, but those Mytheanswho lived in her village often had friends and family in other places who would step in to save those they loved.

And fates, it was so necessary now. Every Mythean in her village had a target painted on her head. A target drawn by her own ancestor. Her ownblood.

It made rage sizzle in her chest, fighting the despair that tried to drag her under. It would not win. They had a lot on their side.

Aleia was in Aurora’s bedroom, sitting on the floor and using her seer’s vision to try to get a glimpse of the battle to come. Though she wasn’t all-seeing, her visions were the most reliable of any seer’s. Though it was almost impossible to circumvent fate, Sofia believed in being prepared.

A moment later, Aurora appeared in the living room, three people at her side.

“Found them!” she said. “Loki and Sylvi were in Mnemosynia. Vivienne had to take me to get them.”

“Mnemo-what?” Sofia asked.

“Mnemosynia,” said the tall, dark haired man with a wicked smile. “A place of memory on the abandoned afterworld of Moloch. It’s for lost souls waiting to be reincarnated. I’m Logan. Though everyone insists on calling me by my better-known name.”

He stepped forward and extended his hand. She shook it.

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