A girl who was stolen from her family when she was little found herself face-to-face with the supernatural world when her foster brother is forced into his wolf form.
"𝗔𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘁?"
...
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"It always seems impossible until it's done" - nelson mandela
"YOU THREE GOOD?" HOPE ASKED HER niece and nephews.
"We're good," Andrea said, a ball of ice forming in her hand.
Hope shifted once more and ran at the witches with a shifted Landon and Jed right behind. The witches began throwing spells, wisps of magic flying from their fingers.
The three tore as many witches as they could apart.
Griffin used his bo staff, looking like an expert for someone who had never used one before, and kept the witches from getting too close to his siblings.
Andrea used the wind and the rain to her advantage, turning the rain into sharp ice shards and impaling some of the witches or making the wind throw one of the witches into the air only for them to die as soon as they hit the ground.
Nikolaus used the Earth and fire spells. He'd make the ground open up and swallow a couple of witches that were giving Landon an aneurysm and lit the others on fire-- not even the rain could put them out in time.
The witches fought hard but they were no match for some of the most powerful beings on the planet. The attackers were growing tired while the defendants were just getting started.
Finally, the six got rid of them all. They had called reinforcements and another twenty had shown up before that but they were no match.
Hope, Jed, and Landon turned back, covered in blood.
"They'll come back," Andrea told them. "They always do. They won't stop until they are all dead or we are."
"Then we make sure they are all dead," Hope smirked, scooping her up and spinning her around. The girl giggled a bit, holding onto her aunt. Hope set her down and ruffled Nikolaus's hair.
A loud howl ripples through the air. It isn't as loud as Katelyn's but it's there. They all look towards the source, finding themselves looking at a group of wolves, a Heretic, and Vera.
Hope knows exactly who they are.
They're the rest of the pack.
.
.
.
.
Katelyn finished off another round of witches, her sword coated with blood that ran down the blade towards her hand as the rain continues to pour.
She looks down at her most recent wound, seeing her stomach healing fairly quickly.
A branch snaps and she spins around, the tip of her sword pressed lightly into the intruder's neck.
