Page 67 of Wedded Witch
A woman—no, a witch in long flowing purple robes—stands before me. Her hair is long, fiery, and wild, her blue eyes glowing with power. I know her instantly: Melisande Nightshade, the high priestess.
She chants something in a language I don’t recognise, but it resonates deep in my bones.
Behind her stands a man cloaked in shadow—Morfran. I know it instinctively. His dark eyes are cold, filled with rage and jealousy. He lifts his hand, dark magic swirling around him like a storm.
The room crackles with energy, and then?—
I’m yanked back to the present with a gasp, my heart pounding in my chest. The Book of Shadows is still open before me, its pages calm now, but I feel different. Changed.
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the lingering terror from the vision. “Get a grip, Swyn,” I mutter, but my hands are trembling.
I push the Book away, trying to breathe through the panic, but the room feels too small, too confining. The air is thick with something ancient, something watching.
I stand up, pacing to the window, trying to clear my head, but the memory of Morfran’s eyes lingers.
As if on cue, a gust of wind sweeps through the room, even though the window is shut. The pages of the Book flip wildly again, and I hear faint whispers—so quiet I can’t make out the words, but they sound like warnings. Or threats.
I grab the edge of the desk, trying to steady myself. “This is just the curse. It’s just the curse,” I whisper, as though saying it out loud will make it easier to believe.
The whispers grow louder, swirling around me like a storm. I clench my eyes shut, gripping the table tighter, feeling the weight of magic pressing down on me.
Suddenly, there’s a loud knock at the door, and I jump, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest.
“Swyn, it’s Ri. You okay in there?”
I take a shaky breath, pushing the Book closed. “Yeah,” I call back, though my voice sounds far from convincing. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
As the voices in the room fade, I realise just how deeply entangled I am in this curse, this magic, and this battle with Morfran.
And the worst part? I don’t know if I’ll survive it.
Ri walksme back to their flat, his hand resting lightly on my lower back. There's a comfort in his touch, like a steady presence I’ve started to rely on more than I care to admit.
After everything that’s happened today, a part of me feels like I need to get away, to be alone, but the truth is, I don’t want to be.
The warmth from the flat hits me as soon as Ri opens the door, the smell of something mouth-wateringly delicious greets me, reminding me just how long it’s been since I last ate.
Kel is at the stove, his back turned, but I can hear him humming something light and carefree, completely in his element. His casual ease makes him feel like sunshine in human form—always warm and inviting.
When he turns around, his face lights up with a wide grin.
“Perfect timing. Just finishing up.”
I can’t help but smile back. Kel has that effect on people; he makes you feel like you belong, even when you’re the outsider.
“Smells amazing,” I say, trying to keep my tone neutral, but it’s hard when I’m so surrounded. All three of them have been nothing but good to me, protective in ways I didn’t know I needed.
And yet, there’s this undercurrent. Something between us that’s only growing stronger with each moment.
Ri leans against the doorframe, watching me with those intense, stormy eyes. His energy is different—restless, like a caged animal always ready to pounce.
There’s a rawness to him that draws me in, even when I try to resist it. His lips twitch into a half-smirk as he catches me looking.
“Hope you’re hungry. Kel’s been in here cooking up a storm.”
The heat rises in my cheeks and quickly look away, busying myself with slipping off my jacket. Ri makes me nervous, but not in the way that sets off alarms.
It’s more like he pushes at something inside me, challenges it.