Ironically, I didn't see this betrayal coming. The great and powerful Arabelle Sutton, brought to her knees by the women truly pulling the strings.
All that talk of sisterhood, strength, and blood bonds shattered the moment I heard that door open. Only two people could have crossed that threshold. The faceless hunters haunting my dreams for weeks turned out to be so familiar, that I could have painted the constellations of their freckles from memory.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. If I survive this, I swear to Lilith, I'll return to Spellmore and burn them at the stake.
