THE WITCH'S REBIRTH
Chapter 8
That night, Una dreamed again.
But this one felt different from the others. Everything around her was bright, almost too bright. The air shimmered with a soft golden glow, and strange, beautiful flowers, glowing faintly in the light, moved like they were breathing. The place was beautiful, and quiet.
And then she saw him.
He was standing a little way off, half in the shadow of a tree that glittered like silver. He was tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms, a body that looked carved, not built. His hair was dark, almost black, and fell carelessly over his forehead. Even from a distance, she could see the outline of his sharp and powerful jawline and the way he stood, calm but somehow... commanding.
Her heart gave a strange, powerful pull.
When he turned, the air seemed to shift.
She caught a glimpse of his face, or part of it. Because there was something covering it, like a faint shadow or mark, blurring his features. She could see his mouth, his strong nose, the curve of his cheekbone, but not his eyes. The one thing she wanted most to see was hidden from her.
Still, she felt them. Even without seeing them, she could feel the weight of his gaze, the heat of it on her skin, like fire and ice both at once.
"Who are you?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer. He just looked at her, and his voice was deep, low, almost like thunder rumbling far away.
"I am the one who completes you," he said.
Una's brows furrowed in confusion. "What does that mean?" she asked.
He smiled a little. It was faint, but it made her stomach twist.
"I've been waiting," he said. "And soon, you won't need to ask."
She took another step toward him. The closer she got, the stronger the pull became, like something invisible was tying her to him.
But then, as she reached out a hand, something inside her screamed to stop. It wasn't fear, not exactly. It was more like her body knew a terrible truth her mind refused to accept.
She was almost close enough to reach him when the mark on his face shifted like smoke twisting in the light and for a split second, she saw his eyes.
They were piercing; a deep storm-grey, flecked with silver. Wild. Beautiful. Sad. It was the most intense, overwhelming feeling she had ever known, and yet, deep beneath the pull, a chilling, primal terror whispered the same warning as the blood-filled dreams.
Then his hand reached out. His fingers brushed hers lightly at first, teasing, and she gasped. It was like the air itself had weight, holding them together. She wanted to fall into him, but the whisper in her mind, the voice of her ancestor said no. This was wrong. This wasn't real. Yet every fiber of her body screamed yes.
The world around them shattered into fragments of gold and white. Wind rushed through her hair.
The ground vanished beneath her feet.
He shouted something, but it was lost in the noise.
Then Una woke up, gasping, clutching her chest.
Her heart felt like it was still caught in that dream, still trying to reach for him.
She sat there for a long time, staring into the dark, trying to make sense of it.
She didn't know his name, or why it felt so real.
But deep inside her, she could still feel the echo of his voice, low, rough, and warm against her skin.
"I've been waiting..."
The two weeks passed in a blur of nervous tension and quiet activity. Lana, a whirlwind of efficiency, had used every contact and every scrap of information she found online to expedite Una's application to Ardenvale's Mythology department. Getting transcripts transferred mid-semester was a logistical nightmare, but Lana somehow managed it. The final acceptance email arrived on a Tuesday, and Una felt less relief than a stark, cold certainty. She had a map now; all that was left was the journey.
Una hadn't mentioned the acceptance to Aunt Reina. The air in the house had been eerily calm since the night of the siren song. Reina was quiet, almost too gentle, constantly offering Una her special herb tea. The silence felt less like peace and more like a carefully maintained prison.
One Thursday afternoon, with Reina working a double shift at the hospital, Una finally gave into the deep, gnawing suspicion. She waited until the front door clicked shut and then walked straight to her aunt's room.
The room smelled of dry herbs and something sweet, like old incense. It was simple, dominated by a large wooden chest at the foot of the bed and a cluttered desk. Una didn't know what she was looking for, a photo, a letter, anything, until her gaze fell on a worn leather journal tucked beneath a pile of hospital paperwork.
Her hands trembled as she opened it. It wasn't a diary of daily events; it was a journal of observations, written in Reina's careful, looping script. Una flipped through pages detailing plant names and brewing times until one entry, dated ten years prior, stopped her heart.
"October 10th. The spark is growing stronger. She asked about the flickering streetlights again. I doubled the dosage of Valerian root and Willow, but it won't be enough for long. She is almost twelve-the age the others began to show. I must find a way to bind the core, or the Legacy will tear through the constraints. Forgive me, Nevera. I cannot let her walk that path. It is for her protection. I pray that they never find her."
Una's breath hitched. Legacy. Nevera. They? Who were they?
She slammed the book shut, the faint leather scent mixing with the sudden rush of cold panic. Reina wasn't just worried; she was actively using herbs to suppress something powerful in Una, something tied to a long-ago murder and a clan Una had never heard of. Her whole life had been a lie, a chemical cage.
She ran back to her room, throwing the rest of her clothes into a duffel bag alongside the journal and the cryptic dark green book. She scribbled a note onto a torn piece of notebook paper.
"Aunt Reina,
I'm leaving. Don't try to find me or stop me. I know you think you are protecting me, but keeping the truth is slowly killing me. I am going to find the answers you tried to hide. I deserve to know what a Legacy is, and who Nevera was.
I hope someday you can forgive me.
- Una"
She placed the note on her bed, beside the journal so Aunt Reina would know she read every page, zipped her bags, and slipped out the back window.
Lana was waiting in her beat-up car, parked two streets away. As Una slid into the passenger seat, Lana didn't ask any questions. She just looked at Una's trembling hands and the fierce, determined terror in her eyes.
"Ardenvale is alot of miles away," Lana said, her voice steady. "You ready?"
Una looked at the small house disappearing behind the shadows of the trees. The house where she had been loved, and where she had been utterly betrayed.
Una nodded, clutching her backpack and the two books inside. "Drive," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "And don't stop until we get there."
The car pulled away, leaving Salem and its secrets behind. Una was finally on the road to her destiny.
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