Page 28 of Bloodween

“It has not failed. Don’t say it again,” Master Vale said, calmly. “Her eyes remain pale. The confirmation hasn’t come yet.”

“You and I both know it shouldn’t take this long. It has never taken longer than six. We are at eleven—nearly double.”

Eleven hours? Six would’ve been pushing it. Most confirmations happened within four.

“I know how to tell time, sister. I am aware it’s taking longer than normal. Nothing about this has been normal, but I will not claim something that has not been confirmed. As long as her eyes remain as they are, we do what is necessary to keep her alive. Do you understand?”

Eira sucked her teeth. “What I understand is it should’ve been my daughter. Had you just⁠—”

That does not matter!” Master Vale’s voice cracked through the room causing the young witch assistants to jump. Her tone always had a way of silencing thunder.

I tensed without meaning to. Well, maybe I meant to, because Eira mentioned her witch of a daughter—Elyessa. She’d always been better than me in her eyes. And the truth: she probably was. But I was smarter, more calculated, and that’s how I got selected for this year’s Bloodween.

Ely rested on her mother and aunt’s power, thinking it was enough.

Fortunately for me, Master Vale didn’t share that sentiment.

If I could’ve laughed at the irony, I would’ve. But I didn’t have the air—not when my magic was flaring out of me, fast, wrong, too much.

A candle popped. Glass cracked. Hands moved.

“Bind her again,” someone yelled, and the pressure came back.

So did the sleep.

October 31st, 8:42 p.m. — Thirteen Hours Post-Ritual

My teeth knocked together hard enough to hurt.

But everything hurt.

The restraints still pressed into my wrists. I couldn’t tell if it was from them or from the magic inside me that refused to die quietly.

I was exhausted.

Furious.

And underneath it all, terrified.

Eira’s words flooded back into me: “She’s doing that on her own.”

Was I? Was I letting myself die? Had I given up?

With the amount of time that had passed—thirteen hours now—it was starting to feel like it.

And I hated that for me, because I wasn’t that girl.

I didn’t let things happen to me. Not if I planned to prove I wasn’t the less-than Crimson Witch many of them had written me off to be.

I was strong enough for this. I wasn’t a failure—I was a fighter.

The heat pulsed again, sharp under my ribs as if my magic agreed. I didn’t know what that feed had done to the vampire in me, but I knew it was fighting—and I needed to as well.

No more waiting.

I forced a breath past the weight in my chest, and my eyes landed on Varek.

If the blood was still moving in me, if he hadn’t turned human yet, then it wasn’t over.