𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄 was
once the love of Edward Cullen's life.
The two were practically engaged to
be married but things changed the day
Isabella Swan entered their lives.
It was like he completely oblivious
about Gabriella because of B...
𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 dimly lit, stone-walled tomb adorned with flickering candles, Davina stands at the center, wearing an elegant formal black dress that clings to her slender frame. Several witches, dressed in dark robes with hints of silver embroidery, bustle around her like a flurry of shadowy moths. One witch delicately twists Davina's brown hair into a sophisticated up-do, securing it with onyx pins, while another smooths down the fabric of her gown, ensuring every seam and fold is flawless. A third witch hovers nearby, whispering incantations as she swirls a small silver ball of incense, letting the aromatic smoke coil softly around Davina, filling the chamber with a heady, mystical scent.
Gabriella and Nathan, standing just inside the entrance, shift uncomfortably amidst this ritualistic scene. Their contrasting attire—Gabriella in a casual leather jacket and jeans, Nathan in a simple black t-shirt and boots—makes them look oddly out of place in the ceremonial atmosphere. They exchange a bewildered glance as if still trying to grasp why they've been summoned here.
Davina, momentarily distracted from the witches' ministrations, turns toward the couple, holding up two thick ribbons in her hands: one a deep, rich purple, the other a vibrant blood-orange. She tilts her head thoughtfully, scrutinizing them.
"I have to pick one—orange or purple?" she asks, her tone laced with a hint of exasperation.
Nathan's eyes narrow, his expression incredulous as he crosses his arms over his chest. "Did you seriously call us here to play Fashion Police?"
Before Davina can respond, the incense-bearing witch swoops closer, wafting more of the sacred smoke toward her. Davina's patience finally frays as she waves the witch off, coughing slightly.
"Okay, I know this is sacred oil, but can we please not do that right now?" she pleads, irritation flashing across her face.
The witches exchange glances but step back, bowing slightly before gliding out of the tomb, leaving Davina alone with Gabriella and Nathan. As the last of them exits, Davina calls out, a touch of guilt softening her voice. "Thank you."
With a sigh, she turns back to the couple, choosing the orange ribbon and beginning to tie it around her throat with quick, nervous fingers. "Sorry. Thank you for coming."
Nathan's scowl deepens, his brown eyes darkening as he meets her gaze. "Like we had a choice, Davina," he mutters. "Either we do your bidding, or you blow out that candle of yours, and we turn back into wolves. So, we're pretty much your slaves."
