Chapter 6: The Witch's Warning
The tower halls were hushed with early morning quiet when Selene returned, the dew still clinging to her cloak and lashes. She hadn't slept. The glow in her chest refused to settle. Her connection to the dream—the wolf—was growing stronger, and she feared what it meant. The weight of it pressed down on her shoulders like a burden only she could carry.
Inside, she passed novices and elder witches who gave her wary glances. A few murmured as she went by, their eyes flickering to the crescent mark on her forehead, as though it might suddenly burst into flame. It wasn't just fear in their eyes—it was suspicion. They no longer whispered just about her strange magic or her fire that danced too hot; now they whispered about prophecy.
Selene made her way to the scrying chamber, a circular room of mirrors and enchanted glass. High Witch Virella stood waiting beside a basin of water, her hands laced behind her back like the roots of an ancient tree.
"You went to the glade again," Virella said without turning.
"I needed clarity," Selene replied, her voice soft but resolute.
"You seek clarity in places that call to wolves." Virella turned to face her, her robe flowing like dark water. "Your fire stirs the border magic. That is dangerous. Wolves are drawn to power, Selene. Especially the kind you have."
"I can't help the dreams. I can't help the pull. It feels like something bigger than me—like a tide I can't stop."
Virella's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then pray it doesn't destroy you. Or the rest of us."
She motioned to the basin. "Show me what you saw."
Selene leaned forward, focusing on the memory of the wolf—the one with silver eyes. As she whispered the incantation, the water shimmered. The image of Kael formed: tall, fur-cloaked, fierce. And his eyes—those silver moons, burning with silent intensity.
Virella inhaled sharply.
"He's not ordinary," Selene murmured. "He's something else. I've never felt energy like his before. It's… grounding."
"He's an Alpha," Virella whispered. "Kael of the Winterfangs. The pack that razed our coven at Thornehill. He is the reason we lost the South Grove. If he finds you, he will not hesitate."
Selene's heart pounded. "But he didn't attack me in the dream. He watched. He—he felt familiar. Not like an enemy."
"Familiar can still kill you," Virella snapped, then softened. "The Moon Goddess may be playing a dangerous game."
Selene touched her mark. "Then why do I feel like I'm supposed to find him?"
Virella's silence was answer enough. The elder witch turned her back to the basin and paced slowly. "There are legends… forbidden ones. Old prophecies buried by time and fear. Of a witch and wolf, bound by the Moon, whose union would break the cycle of blood."
Selene felt her breath catch. "You believe this is that prophecy?"
"I believe the signs are repeating."
"And that's a bad thing?"
"It is not a safe thing." Virella stopped and looked at her. "The last time the signs appeared, entire clans were lost to war and betrayal. Peace, Selene, is a delicate illusion. One spark, and everything burns."
Selene stepped back, her mind racing. The image of Kael hadn't faded from the water. His presence lingered like a shadow that wanted to be light. Her magic still hummed beneath her skin.
"What would you have me do?" she asked.
"Forget him."
"I can't."
"Then hide it. Bury it so deep no one can use it against you. If the Council suspects…"
"I understand."
Virella finally nodded. "You are powerful, Selene. More than you know. But even the strongest flames can be smothered if they burn too brightly too soon."
Selene turned to leave, but paused at the door. "If destiny placed us on opposite sides… then maybe destiny needs to be challenged."
Virella didn't respond.
Selene walked out into the tower corridor, her thoughts a whirlwind of fire, silver, and prophecy. Her path was no longer her own—it belonged to something larger.
She made her way to the upper balconies, needing air. The sky outside was stained with a pink dawn, the moon still visible, ghostly in the light. Selene stared up at it, her hand brushing the crescent mark on her forehead.
"If you're watching," she whispered to the sky, "then tell me what I'm meant to do."
The wind answered with silence.
But her heart pulsed with resolve.