The Witches of Marble Falls

Epilogue

The Day of Kittie Wakefield's Funeral

Dearest Agatha,

I didn't want to leave you alone. I didn't want to leave the children. But I need you to know that I did this because I had to, not because I wanted to. There was nothing you could do for me, not once Emilia was corrupted. She would have been unable to perform the ritual, and Daphne and Hayden are much too young to task with that sort of magic. No one in the coven would have been able to perform it either. There was no chance in getting those lost shards of my soul back, and I knew that you would never let it go. You are not the best at letting go, dear sister.

It was my time, and I have always known that I would die first. I knew my fate when Eleanora died, I knew it when Harvey was pulled from the lake. I knew it from a young age, Agatha. I have always known what would happen. I never told you because I didn't want you to try to stop it. You can't stop these things, you cannot stop what is happening now. The wheels have been in motion for longer than I was able to find record of.

There is something you should know, something I was able to find out while in my comatose state. This is not the first time this has happened. This is not the first time death and darkness has come into our family and corrupted one of us. Harvey was not the first, and Emilia will not likely be the last, unless she is truly the one that is described in the stories.

There is so much for Valerie to learn now, and she must learn it on her own. It will give her strength, not having Emilia—she needs to be able to handle her own magic without the Animus. She needs to be able to call upon the energies, to sense them, and to manipulate them on her own. Only then, when she has mastered a solitary practice, can she hope to even attempt to save her sister.

I will not promise that there is happiness and peace at the end of all this. I cannot, with good conscious, tell you that everyone will live, that love and light will reign. The darkness that follows our family, that feeds off of our magic, is strong and has never been defeated before.

Help Valerie, sister. Keep Alaric around, if not for the children then for your own sanity. Don't think I never noticed how you two were. I'm sorry if I ever got in the way of your heart, Agatha. I hope that you can now follow it wherever it leads you.

I love you, and I love the children. Give them a kiss for me, each night, and read to them—even though I know you hate reading aloud. Do it, for me.

I'll be waiting for you, sister. I won't move on to the next life without you by my side. I love you, Agatha. I will always be with you.

—Kittie

Valerie

Valerie removed the book from the shelf and sat at the dining room table, a cup of tea in front of her. She opened the cover and noted the title, but skipped over the front matter of the work.

The History of the Wakefield Witches

or The Witches of Marble Falls

The Wakefields are an old family, their roots reaching farther back than the records of the first settlers in America. One constant occurrence in their lineage is the appearance of twins—a second constant is the presence of special abilities. These two occurrences do seem to be linked, as no single birth has ever shown a prevalence for odd behaviour or abilities.

In all of the records detailing personal accounts with the Wakefields, each ends on the same note: chaos, destruction, and death. Where the Wakefields are, darkness follows. It has never been confirmed that this is due to their use of ancient magic or perhaps a different reason, but one thing is certain—the Wakefields are not a family to trifle with.

There have been accounts describing a strange woman who does not seem to be a part of the family but is commonly seen with at least one member per generation. She does not age, nor does her overall appearance or dress change.

She has been named The Daeva—a demoness of sorts, a creature not of this world nor any other that has been confirmed to exist, in one way or another. In my research, I have found that she goes by numerous names from different cultures, and is likely older than recorded history.

Perhaps there is more to the history of the Wakefields use of magic than we have ever assumed. Perhaps there is a pact between the family and this creature. What we do know is that where the Wakefields are, chaos and darkness follow.

Valerie closed the book and took in a deep breath. Was this the reason that Emilia had not come home? Had she been corrupted by this creature, this Daeva? Valerie finished her tea and replaced the book on the shelf. She tried to put the thoughts out of her head, but even though she was able to shove them aside, she was unable to stop thinking about the information for long.

'Valerie, are you ready?' Alaric's voice called from the front hall. Was she? How could she be ready to attend yet another funeral, so soon after her parents had passed?

'Yes, I'm coming.' She responded, straightening her dress and checking herself in the mirror that hung just outside the kitchen. She followed Alaric and her younger brother and sister to the car where Agatha waited. Her eyes were red from crying, and though she tried to smile at Valerie, she couldn't hide the pain on her face.

'Spirit, let this be the last funeral for many years. I don't believe our family can handle any more death.' Valerie whispered as she slid into the vehicle. Silence filled the vehicle as Agatha pulled away from the house. Daphne and Hayden still didn't comprehend the death of their aunt, and though they had explained numerous times that she had passed, that they were going to bury her in the cemetery, the children refused to acknowledge it. They believed that she had just gone on a vacation, and that she would return any day to make them biscuits and tea and play dolls and cars.

Valerie wept for her sister and brother, for their innocence, because she knew that when it finally sunk in that Kittie wasn't going to return with gifts and stories, they would be devastated. But, with what she had learned from the book, she knew that this was the lot her family had drawn. She would, however, find a way to finish it, to cut this Daeva off from her family, to remove her. If it would get her sister back, she would do anything—even if it meant going to Hell itself to petition for her return.

Emilia

She stood behind the group that had gathered around the grave site. It seemed that the whole town had come together for her aunt's funeral—it was both comforting and irritating that so many people mourned her death. Emilia adjusted her black sun-hat to cover her face and made sure that her sunglasses were straight.

'Are you not going to speak with your sister, at least?' A voice asked from behind her. Daeva, the black haired woman that had taken her in, stood a few feet behind Emilia. She was dressed in the same sheer material as the first night they had met, her hair wild with leaves and twigs, her skin stained with dirt.

'There isn't any point in speaking with them at all. I made my choice, and I must live with the consequences.' She responded, crossing her arms over her chest. 'I have come to peace with it, Daeva. I have come to peace with my purpose.'

'You are the first to come to me, without coaxing. Even with the recent tragedy, where most people would have gone home and spent time with their families, you chose to follow me. You are the one, Emilia. The one I have been waiting for since your family first found me.' Daeva had said such things to her since their first meeting, but it made no sense to Emilia. She figured that the woman would explain herself, sooner or later.

Though there was still a desire for brightness and happiness and peace in her soul, she knew where her place was, she knew her purpose, and she embraced its darkness and chaotic nature with open arms. After-all, you can't run from yourself forever.