Warrior (Book Three of The Silver Society)

Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Cierra Denton had never been overly prone to nightmares, but ever since her biological father had abducted her and briefly turned her evil, that was no longer the case. Most of them took the form of flashbacks as her mind tried to comprehend the horrific things she'd done during that time.

The circle was cast. Henry Williams stood beside his daughter smiling. Cierra was holding a ritual knife. The corpse in the center of the circle stared at them both blankly, his eyes accusing. Cierra's past self had felt nothing except power in that moment, but as she flashed back, Cierra's heart broke.

I killed him, she thought. I killed him with my father like it was some wholesome daddy-daughter bonding experience.

"You have done well, Cierra," Henry said. "I am so proud of you. I think you're ready to learn the truth about a coming threat."

"Tell me," Past Cierra replied eagerly.

"There is a reason that the warlocks are so determined to murder Bethany Ashford. She poses a tremendous threat to us. She is something different, Cierra, and she'll destroy us if we don't stop her. You have to help us eliminate the threat," Henry said. "That girl, above all others, must die if we hope to survive."

"But she's my friend," Past Cierra protested softly, a slight bit of her humanity resurfacing as she thought of Beth.

"When Bethany turns fifteen, she won't be anyone's friend. We have to destroy her, Cierra. She is a threat to all that we are."

"But why is she a threat?" Cierra asked in confusion. "I mean, Beth is the sweetest person I know. I can't imagine her ever hurting anyone, let alone me."

"Sit with me, Cierra," Henry said as he closed the circle. He moved to the living room. Cierra followed behind him, leaving her sacrifice behind.

They sat on the couch. Cierra snuggled into Henry's arms like a little girl awaiting a bedtime story. He began to speak, but Cierra couldn't hear his words beyond "There is a prophecy..."

Cierra awoke with a start. She took a moment to shake off the flashes of the man she'd murdered and tried to focus.

"He told me the reason," she said aloud. "Why can't I remember?" Every time she tried, she failed to recall their conversation. Her subconscious held the information, but stubbornly refused to give it up.

"There is a prophecy," Cierra repeated aloud. She decided the only way to find the information she was seeking was to head to the Unit and start searching through the warlock prophecies.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection and sighed. The bags under her eyes had bags of their own. She'd lost weight. She wasn't eating as much as she should be. She felt too nauseous to eat after everything she'd done. Awake, she couldn't remember half of it, but more of the details came back each night as she slept.

"It's time to stop feeling sorry for yourself," she told her reflection. "Get your act together, Cierra. You can't change the past, but it wasn't your fault. You would never harm innocent people. He was your father. You share his blood, but that doesn't mean that you're evil. So, go shower. Get dressed. Put a smile on your face. Eat some breakfast... And go live."

She had to give herself these pep talks daily now. They helped her fake it well enough, but she wasn't really alright. Jade had told her it would take some time for Cierra to trust herself again, but it was taking longer than Cierra was comfortable with.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a real thing, Cierra, she reminded herself. Be patient with yourself... Talk to someone. The Unit has therapists who would understand.