Page 67 of Rejected Alpha Mate

Arianna nods. “The Black Moon War changed everything fifty years ago. My grandmother fought in it. So did Delilah’s grandmother, and probably a whole list of witches, but not all of them have links to werewolves. Take Gwen, for instance.”

“Yeah,” Gwen agrees. “I’m not a wolf shifter, but I’m a descendant of the Golden Tree Sisters.”

Delilah shifts her weight on the couch, thoughtful. “The Golden Tree Sisters defeated the dark lord the first time…but he didn’t die. He just went dormant. This war…it’s not new. It’s a continuation.”

That steals the breath from everyone. We’re still at war with the dark lord, and it wasn’t fully won the first time around.

Even Nicholas’s fingers tense around my knee.

My mother, Delphine, steps forward then. She’d come to Wells this morning, too worried about me to wait for me to visit her. She’s been quiet since the meeting started, flipping through an old, leather-bound book that she pulled from one of her hidden shelves back in Nightmist. I know, because I remember seeing that book on the shelf, but never thought to open it. It looked too old, too private, like a diary that held secrets that should never be opened. It’s an ancient journal with a frayed cover, cracked spine, and edges browned with age.

“This,” she says softly, setting it down in the center of the room, “belonged to my mother. She was a Golden Tree Sister.”

I gasp at the confirmation that my witch abilities are no coincidence, but rather, a gift passed down through my heritage.

Nicholas tilts his head, glancing at me first before studying the book on the table. “Your mother was alive during Azura’s time?”

My mother nods. “She was pregnant when she survived the war. Her messages were cryptic in there, and I always thought it was the ramblings of an old lady, until Donna was revealed as a witch, and I read deeper into her diary.”

I blink at the book, my chest tightening as I reach out toward the old leather. That war is almost mythic, stories whispered more than taught. But touching something that belonged to someone who lived through it feels like reaching through time and touching destiny.

“There’s something written here,” my mother continues, sitting beside me and flipping to a page covered in symbols and hand-drawn diagrams. “It’s a clue she left behind. A name.”

“A name?” Gwen asks, leaning in.

“Yes.” Delphine points to a faded line of ink. “The dark lord wasn’t always what he is now. He was once a wizard. A powerful one. And this”—she taps the page—“is his original name.”

“Merlin Grimes…” I whisper, and an eerie silence falls heavy over us. Names hold power. Names can unravel spells, undo curses, and expose weaknesses.

This name brings with it a sense of darkness and gloom. Death. Deceit. Horror.

“Does the book say where he originated? Or anything about how to defeat him?” Dominic asks.

“Not directly,” our mother admits. “Azura Badillo—”

“My grandmother,” Arianna whispers, and Mama nods gently.

“Yes, your grandmother. It appears she made a brave sacrifice of herself to stop the dark lord.”

“No one is sacrificing themselves,” Nicholas cuts in, his fingers tightening on my knee protectively. He glances at me, then at the book, before he lifts it out of my hands.

“We have to come up with another plan. Even though Azura sacrificed herself, it wasn’t enough to stop the dark lord for good. We’ll have to do things differently this time.”

“I agree,” Arianna chimes in. “We’re not losing anyone.”

“We won’t,” Delilah confirms with a firm nod as she stands up and walks over to us. She takes the journal from Nicholas, then reads the name inside, under her breath. “We might only have a name, but it’s more than we’ve had in months. It gives us enough to start tracing his lineage. His disciples. His rise. His downfall. Everything.”

Sean whistles low. “So, we dig into his past.”

“We find anyone who fought back then,” Hunter adds with a nod. “Anyone alive who might know more.”

“And,” Arianna says, glancing at me, “we protect Donna. The dark lord made it very clear he wants her.”

I try not to flinch at that, but Nicholas feels it anyway. His hand slides into mine, fingers threading with a gentleness I feel I don’t deserve, because it’s like I’m endangering everyone else just by existing. They don’t need to say it, but I know what everyone is thinking.

The powers I used last night were very much like what Azura was capable of in her day. The same powers that cast the dark lord out for five decades, and that’s probably why I’m a singular target. He wants to stop me before I do what Azura did to him.

But when Nicholas squeezes my hand once, with tender reassurance, glancing at me with an equally assuring smile, I no longer feel like the group’s burden.