The Reluctant Witch of Willow Creek: The Shadow Legacy (Book 3)

Chapter 30: The Forgotten Daughter

A shiver ran down Luna's spine, not entirely from the chill emanating from the cavern's depths. The young woman's words, "Don't you recognize me, sister?", echoed with a chilling familiarity. It tugged at something buried deep within Luna, a memory hazy and unsettling, like a half-remembered dream.

"Who are you?" Luna asked, her voice echoing slightly in the cavern's stillness.  The willow seed felt cold against her chest, its usual warmth strangely absent.  A wave of dizziness passed through her, and for a moment, the cavern walls seemed to pulse with the same sickly green light emanating from the brazier.

The young woman smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips that did not reach her unsettlingly cold eyes.  "Have you forgotten so quickly?" she asked, her voice like silk over steel.  "We share more than just the magic of the Heartwood, Luna. We share blood.  Or did the willow grove omit that part of our family history?"

Luna's mind reeled.  Blood?  This creature of shadows and corrupted magic, who held a blighted sapling as if it were a prized possession, was claiming to be her... what? Sister? Cousin? The very idea seemed impossible, a cruel joke.  Hadn't the willow spirits told her everything about her lineage, about the guardians who came before her?

As if sensing her disbelief, the young woman chuckled, a low, melodic sound that grated on Luna's nerves.  "Oh, it's true," she said, her gaze piercing.  "Though our paths diverged long ago, the blood of the Heartwood's first guardian flows in both our veins. You, the heir apparent, bathed in light and life. And I," she gestured to the blighted sapling, "the forgotten daughter, drawn to the embrace of shadow and decay.  They conveniently forgot to mention me, didn't they?"

Liam, sensing the escalating tension, stepped forward, his hand never straying far from his hunting knife.  "What have you done to the land?" he demanded, his voice rough with barely suppressed anger.  "What are these blighted trees, and what do you want with Luna?"

The young woman's gaze shifted to Liam, her eyes narrowing slightly.  "You are but a flickering candle in this ancient darkness, mortal," she said, her voice laced with disdain.  "This conversation concerns those who wield the true power of the Heartwood, a power you can't even begin to comprehend.  Run along now, little moth, before you get burned."

She turned her attention back to Luna, her expression softening slightly, though the coldness in her eyes remained.  "Our connection runs deeper than you know, sister," she said, her voice softer now, almost pleading.  "Join me. Embrace the balance. Help me return this world to its natural state, where life and death dance in perfect harmony, where the old ways can be restored.  The ways they tried to erase from our very blood."

Luna felt a flicker of sympathy for the young woman, a pang of understanding for the darkness that seemed to cling to her.  But the corrupted sapling in her hand, the blighted landscape that stretched beyond the cavern, served as a chilling reminder of the cost of the "balance" this woman sought.  And something in her words, the mention of the "old ways," set off alarm bells in Luna's mind.  This felt eerily similar to the whispers of the Shadow Lord, the entity she thought she'd vanquished for good.

"The willow grove teaches that life finds a way, even in the face of death," Luna said, her voice firm with conviction.  "But your magic... it consumes, it corrupts.  It leaves only emptiness in its wake.  And these 'old ways' you speak of, they sound suspiciously like the whispers of the Shadow Lord himself."

She met the young woman's gaze, her own filled with a newfound resolve.  "I will not let you destroy this land," she said, her voice ringing with the strength of generations of Heartwood guardians.  "I will stop you, even if it means facing you, even if it means facing my own blood."

A sudden wave of nausea washed over Luna, the willow seed burning cold against her skin.  Images flashed through her mind, fragmented and disturbing: a ritualistic circle of ancient oaks, a shadowed figure cloaked in darkness, and a chilling whisper echoing through the trees – *the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb*.

COMING SOON!
The Reluctant Witch of Willow Creek: The Heartwood's Blood