𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 | 𝟏𝟖+

xlv. lunam revifeo.

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‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐇𝐈𝐌, 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐘𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅, barging past her and pouncing onto the mother witch to rip her throat out. The other witches all cower back and stop their chanting, startled by Ronyn's violent interruption. A fraction of her wants him to succeed, but there must be a reason the witches are tampering with Morrow's corpse, even if his soul has been extinguished.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sybil flicks her wrist while muttering an incantation, freezing Ronyn before he can make a strike. "That's not how you should greet your guests," she exclaims, her hollow eyes alight underneath her veil. "Any commoner should know it takes a lot to get me away from my haven. My presence should be welcomed, shouldn't it be?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen runs to Ronyn's side, scratching behind his wolfish ears to calm him down. The growls erupting from him are just as murderous as they are thunderous, demanding that the scum inhabiting Morrow's bedroom needs to be removed. "Then maybe you should return there where you belong."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"Oh, what a greeting," she mutters. "I'm only fulfilling my end of the bargain, and then the alpha is yours."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The magic beneath Elowen's skin fumes, aching to expel so she can rid Tabrien of the witches' filth. Sybil is not welcome, and never will be, but it's clear she and her witches hold the power to summon themselves to Morrow's side.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"What bargain?" she retorts. "You refused to give Morrow an extra slate of lives. He's dead."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"I didn't refuse. He just didn't agree to my demands," Sybil tilts her head, studying the woman before her. "You must be his mate, the reason he wouldn't be granted an extra life."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Guilt sinks into her heart for just a moment, but isn't that Sybil's whole ploy? She'll guilt her, shame her, then propose a request that could cure all that ache. It's a simple formula for her trickery, and Elowen won't let herself become imprisoned to it.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Her white wings bristle in frustration, and it takes every fibre in her to tame her raging inner creature. "Why did you come here?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The mother witch releases a sharp sigh, her hollow gaze travelling from the were-wyng in bed to the crescent moon waning through the glass windows. "Like I said, I had to fulfill my end of a request made long ago. You may not view me with the highest regards, but I am a woman of my word."

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Elowen's brows furrow into a frown as she grips into Ronyn's fur. The beta remains one sentence away from attempting another attack, but she hasn't gathered all her answers yet. When she's done, Ronyn's wolf can harbour its revenge.

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"And what's that? To bury him in Scaerus? To use his corpse as a puppet?"

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎"The way you speak of me is vile," she scoffs. "I'm not interested in his corpse. It's useless to me. Since you're his mate, I'd like to think I'm doing you a favour by granting him another life."