This is the story of a girl called Astrid, and it starts with a prophecy.
A prophecy of a life that is not hers but one that will be forced upon her nonetheless.But prophecy are always up to those you believed them, and Astrid didn't think further o...
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Kol steps over the threshold of the house and looks over the unconscious Bennett laying at his feet as I go through the books on the shelf in the living room and through any drawers I can find.
"What are you looking for?" Kol asks me as he stands up straight again.
"Qetsiyah and Ayana grimories," I tell him as I continue to search.
"Why?" He asks, curiously but it doesn't stop my searching.
"They are both her ancestors so it would make sense it would be passed on to her. With Qetsiyah's one, I can do what we need to do and with Ayana's.." I stop and look back Kol with a small smile, "with hers, I can find a way to restore your magic."
Kol's eyebrows rise in surprise, and for a brief moment, I see a spark of hope light up his usually stoic eyes. "You think it's possible? To restore my magic?"
"I do. I mean it's the reason you put it in the blade in the first place," I say, turning back to the shelves, pulling books out and setting them aside in a growing pile of not grimoires.
The grimoires weren't just passed down from generation to generation—they were embodiments of the magic and knowledge of all who had held them before, their margins filled with notations and secret incantations that went beyond ordinary witchcraft. The power they contained was immeasurable, and in the wrong hands, they could wreak havoc.
"The blade... yes," Kol murmurs, his gaze drifting off to somewhere far away. I know he's remembering that fateful day when he'd sealed away his magic out of fear of what his parents were plotting.
He swallows hard before lifting his back to me, "Try her bedroom. It's the place she could have it closest to her."
The suggestion didn't surprise me. A grimoire was a witch's most prized possession, it contained secrets that would reveal not only the spells she cast but also about her soul. It was a diary of sorts except instead of recounting mundane events, it held tales of moonlit rituals and chants whispered to the wind.
"Good idea," I murmur, giving him a small reassuring squeeze of his hand.
"I am going to put her into the car before people show up while you search," Kol informs me as he heads towards the door.
I nod and leave Kol in the living room, making my way up the narrow wooden staircase to Bennett's bedroom. It's as tidy as you'd expect – no jewelry or clothes strewn about, no clutter on the dresser. I open drawer after drawer, finding mostly clothes and personal belongings, but no sign of a grimoire.
Frustration starts to bubble up within me as I rummage through every nook and cranny of the room, desperately searching for any clue that could lead me to them.
Just as I'm about to give up hope, my eyes notice something off from the reflection in the mirror.
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