Page 66 of Wedded Witch
And if Morfran is stirring… we’re going to need every bit of strength we have to stop him.
SWYN
Back at the motel,the tension between us lingers like a thick cloud. The drive wasn’t exactly comfortable, and I can tell the guys are still on edge, especially Kel.
As soon as we pull into the lot, I feel an overwhelming need for space. Space to think, to breathe, and to figure out what the hell is happening.
“I need some time to myself,” I say, getting out of the truck. I try to keep my voice steady, but all of their eyes are on me, scrutinising every word, every move.
Ri steps out of the driver’s seat, his expression tight.
“Swyn, you should stay with us. It’s safer.”
“I know,” I sigh, forcing a smile. “But I just need some time to process everything. Please, I’ll stay in my room, lock the door, and won’t open it for anyone, but you three. I promise.”
Sol leans against the truck, arms crossed, watching me closely.
“We can’t protect you if you’re not with us.”
“I’ll be fine,” I insist, though I’m not even sure I believe that. “I just need space. You understand that, right?”
Kel runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he huffs out a breath. “We’ll have dinner at ours. You’ll come over later?”
I nod, grateful that they’re not pushing too hard. “Yeah, I’ll come by later. Promise.”
Ri gives me one last lingering look before finally nodding.
“Alright. But don’t do anything reckless.”
“Never,” I say with a weak grin, though I know full well that recklessness seems to follow me around.
With that, we part ways, and I head back to my room. As soon as I shut the door behind me, I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on my shoulders.
The shadows in the room seem a little darker, and the quiet a little too still. But it’s a welcome stillness, a reprieve from all the chaos swirling around me.
I place the Book of Shadows on the small desk in the corner of the room. Its weight feels heavier now, more ominous, as though it’s holding secrets I’m not yet ready to uncover.
I stare at the leather-bound cover, the old, intricate designs embossed on its surface, wondering just how much of my family’s story is written within these pages.
Remembering my promise to the guys, I rush back to the door and lock it, adding the safety chain for good measure. And then, for some reason, I move to the window and close the curtains.
The room is thrown into darkness, so I turn on the bedside lamp.
Sitting down at the desk, I carefully flip the book open, the pages crackling with age. The writing is old, but not unreadable. It starts with entries from my ancestors—spells, rituals, and warnings about the power of the bloodline.
Some of it feels familiar, like a distant memory buried deep inside me. Others are strange and unsettling, like I’m intruding on something sacred.
As I read deeper, strange things start to happen. At first, it’s subtle. A page flickers on its own, as though caught in an invisible breeze.
I ignore it, chalking it up to nerves. But then, the symbols etched into the parchment begin to shimmer, glowing faintly in the dim light of the room.
My heart skips a beat.
“What the hell…?” I whisper, leaning closer.
The symbols pulse with an eerie light, and suddenly, it feels like the room around me shifts. My vision blurs, and I’m pulled into something—somewhere—else.
A vivid vision grips me, dragging me into the past. I’m no longer sitting in the motel room. I’m standing in a dark, ancient chamber. The air smells of burnt herbs and candle wax.