5. Chapter 5

5

Chapter 5

Rowan

T he dress laid out on my bed feels like a shroud, its deep midnight blue fabric shimmering faintly in the dim light of my bedroom. Mia's favorite color. The thought makes my chest tighten.

"It's beautiful. Perfect." Poppy is on the nightstand. She hasn't fully forgiven me for the tail incident, but thankfully, tonight, she's going easy on me.

"Yes. It is." My hands shake as I reach for the dress. The silk whispers against my skin as I slip it on, cool and smooth. For a moment, I close my eyes, remembering how Mia used to twirl in her own midnight blue dress when we were kids, laughing as the skirt billowed around her legs. The memory is so vivid I can almost hear her voice.

I bite my lip hard, tasting copper.

No. I won't cry. Not now.

The zipper catches halfway up my back.

"Slow down. Let me help." Poppy hops up onto my shoulder, but I brush her away.

"Leave it, Poppy!" I don't know why I'm so annoyed but right now, everything is upsetting me. I struggle with the zipper, frustration building until I want to scream. With a vicious yank, I hear the delicate fabric tear.

Damn it. Damn it all to hell!

"Now you've done it," Poppy grumbles. "You should've let me help."

I slump onto the edge of my bed, the torn dress hanging off my shoulder. A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. Of course I'd mess this up, too. Just like every spell, every potion, every attempt at being a proper witch. Now I can't even dress myself without screwing it up.

The laughter turns to a choked sob.

Mia. Oh God.

I shake as I fight back the sobs. A little chittering sound draws my attention back to Poppy, who's hopped onto my dressing table.

"You need to do this, Rowan. It's the next step," she says, her eyes bright as they lock on me.

But I'm not ready for the next step.

"It's not fair. It's not fucking fair, Poppy." My voice comes out choked.

She was the good one, the talented one, the one who actually deserved her magic. And now she's gone, leaving me behind – useless, powerless me.

A knock at the door to my cottage jolts me back to reality. I hastily wipe my face. "Just a minute!" My voice cracks.

"Rowan? Do you need any help, dear?" Gran's gentle voice filters through the wood.

I swallow hard, trying to steady myself. "I'm fine, Gran. I'll be over in a bit."

There's a pause, and I can almost feel her concern radiating through the door. But she doesn't push. "Alright, love. Just call if you need me."

Her footsteps fade away up the path that leads to my parents' gracious home, and I'm left alone again. I force myself to stand, meeting my own red-rimmed eyes in the mirror. Pathetic. What would Mia say if she could see me now?

"Get it together, Ro!" That's what she'd say.

With trembling fingers, I straighten the torn fabric of the dress. A spark of determination flares in my chest. No. I won't let this beat me. Not tonight. Tonight is for Mia, and I'll be damned if I let my own incompetence ruin it.

I rummage through my dresser, searching for the emergency sewing kit Mom insisted I keep. It takes three tries before I manage to thread the needle, my hands shaking so badly I nearly stab myself. But slowly, painstakingly, I begin to mend the tear.

My clumsy fingers struggle with the delicate work, but I keep going. I may not be able to cast spells worth a damn, but I can do this. I have to do this.

Finally, the last stitch is in place. It's not perfect – the line of stitches is uneven and obvious – but it'll hold. I turn back to the mirror. My hair is a tousled mess, my face blotchy and tear-stained. With mechanical movements, I begin to brush out the knots, wincing as the bristles catch on stubborn tangles.

I can't tame the wild mass, so I just scoop my bangs away from my face, securing the curls with the silver hairpin Mia gave me for my twenty-fifth birthday. It's hard to believe that was a little over a year ago. If I'd known how little time we had left, maybe I'd have—

Stop it, Rowan.

I focus on the hairpin. It's beautiful. The delicate charm dangling from it – a tiny star – catches the light, and for a moment, I'm transported back to that day. Mia's excited grin as she presented the gift, her warm hug as she whispered, "To remind you that you shine brighter than you know, little sister."

My throat tightens, and I have to take several deep breaths before I can continue.

"Make-up," says Poppy. "Trust me, you need it."

"Gee, thanks," I mutter, snatching the bag away from her before she can get her little paws in it. "I think I can take it from here." She may be my familiar, but some days, I think familiarity breeds contempt. I'm not in the mood for it right now. "Why don't you run along and do whatever it is that squirrels do when they're not tormenting witches." I wave a hand. "You can't come with us, anyway."

"Suit yourself." She huffs and gives a little squirrel shrug before hopping onto the window ledge. She pauses. "Take care, Ro. I'm thinking of you." It's the closest to sympathy I'll probably get from her, so I take it, watching as she disappears out the window before turning my attention back to my make-up.

I do my best to cover the evidence of my breakdown. Foundation to hide the blotchiness, concealer for the dark circles under my eyes. A touch of mascara, a hint of blush. Nothing too elaborate – this isn't a celebration, after all. Besides, my glasses will hide most of it.

As I apply a final swipe of lip gloss, I catch sight of the crystal necklace laid out on my dresser. We'll all wear one tonight: me, Mom, Kara, Gran. Dad will have a pendant on a leather thong around his neck. The focal point of the Starlight Vigil. My stomach clenches at the sight of it, knowing what it represents.

With shaking hands, I fasten it around my neck. The crystal rests cold and heavy against my skin, a constant reminder of why we're gathered tonight. To say goodbye. To let Mia go.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I lift my chin. I just have to get through this night, and then we can all move on.

With one final glance in the mirror, I turn toward the bedroom door, steeling myself.

"The fucker is up to something."

The voice slices through my mind like a razor blade, causing me to stumble back. It's the same one I've been hearing for days now, a deep baritone that sends an involuntary shiver down my spine. But this time, it's clearer than ever before.

"What the hell?" I mutter, pressing my palms against my temples. The stress must finally be getting to me. I'm hearing things, going crazy on top of everything else.

"Who said that?" It's the voice again, sounding confused and slightly alarmed.

Frustration bubbles up inside me, hot and fierce. I've had enough of this. Of everything. "Who are you?" I say out loud, my voice trembling with anger. "What do you want from me?"

There's a moment of stunned silence, and then: "Who are you?" The voice sounds genuinely shocked.

"I asked you first."

"This is fucking unbelievable." There's an exasperated breath. "I'm losing my mind."

"Oh, you think you're losing your mind? You're wreaking havoc over here!" This voice is the reason I turned Mrs. Henderson blue, dammit.

"Wreaking havoc? Wait a bit. Are you real, or am I going insane?"

I let out a harsh laugh. "Oh, that's rich. You're in my head, and you're asking if I'm real?" I spin around, half-expecting to see someone standing behind me. But there's nothing near me. "Show yourself!"

"I can't exactly do that," the voice replies, a hint of dry amusement coloring his tone. "Considering I have no idea where you are or how this is happening."

My heart pounds in my chest. This can't be real. It has to be some kind of magical anomaly, a backfired spell, something. "Get out of my head," I growl, clenching my fists.

"Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to get you out of mine as well," he retorts.

"I'm not in your head; you're in mine!" I snap, then immediately feel ridiculous for arguing with a disembodied voice. I take a deep breath, trying to think rationally. "Are you…are you a wizard?"

A low chuckle reverberates through my mind, rich and warm. Despite my anger, I feel a flutter in my stomach at the sound. "A wizard. Oh, you have no fucking idea."

"Then what are you?" I demand, pacing back and forth in front of my door. "How are you doing this?"

"I could ask you the same question," he replies. "I've been hearing your voice for days now, snippets of thoughts and emotions. I thought I was going crazy."

I freeze mid-step. "Days? You've been eavesdropping on my thoughts for days?" Horror and indignation war within me. "That's…that's a massive invasion of privacy!"

"It's not like I had a choice in the matter," he says, sounding equally frustrated. "Do you think I enjoy having a stranger's voice in my head?"

I sag a little, my mind reeling. "This can't be happening," I mutter. "Not tonight. Not on top of everything else."

"On top of everything else?"

"Quiet! I wasn't talking to you!" Shit. Can he hear everything I'm thinking? "Get! Out! Of. My Head!" I half yell.

"With pleasure!"

And just like that, I feel his presence fade from my mind. The sudden silence is almost deafening.

I sway there for a moment, trying to process what just happened. Part of me wants to believe it was all in my mind, a stress-induced hallucination. But I can still hear the echo of his voice.

A gentle knock on my cottage door startles me out of my thoughts. "Rowan?" It's my mother's voice, tight with worry. "Is everything alright, darling?"

"Um…yes…yes, Mom."

"We're ready to start. Are you coming up to the house?"

Reality crashes back in, and I remember why I'm dressed up, why my family is gathered. The crystal necklace feels heavier than ever against my skin.

"I'll be right there," I call back, my voice steadier than I feel. Heading out of my bedroom, I head to the front door and open it. Mom is standing on the threshold. My door is never locked, but she never comes in without checking first. My parents are determined to give me my space. Unlike the asshole who's set up camp in my brain.

My mother smiles as she sees me. "You look beautiful, darling."

I smile back wanly, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. "Thanks." I don't really believe her. Kara and Mia were always the beautiful ones, inheriting Mom's classic features and Dad's startling green eyes. I guess that's one thing we share – although mine are usually hidden by a pair of glasses that I wouldn't need if I could use magic to repair my vision like any other self-respecting witch.

"Come along." Mom tugs my hand through the crook of her elbow and leads me up the path to the house.

I follow Mom obediently, trying to push the bizarre mental intrusion out of my mind. Now isn't the time for…whatever that was. Tonight is about Mia.

The family gathers silently in the living room. Dad's eyes are red-rimmed, and Kara looks like she hasn't slept in days. Even Gran seems older somehow, the weight of loss evident in the slump of her shoulders. We don't speak as we file out to the car.

The drive to the sacred grove is tense and quiet. I stare out the window, watching the familiar scenery blur by. When we can't drive any further, we continue on foot, following the winding path deep into the forest. The sound of our footsteps on the fallen leaves seems unnaturally loud in the stillness.

As we emerge into the clearing, my breath catches.

It's lovely.

Kara and Mom have outdone themselves. The grove is transformed, bathed in soft, shimmering light. Delicate lanterns float among the trees, and a circle of luminous stones marks the ritual space. It's hauntingly beautiful.

Other witches are already gathering, their faces solemn yet kind. The air thrums with suppressed magic and shared grief. I'm surprised by how many have come to honor Mia. But then, why wouldn't they? She was everything a witch should be.

"Rowan?" A gentle hand touches my arm. It's Marina Tidecaller, a coven leader and an elder in the Coven Conclave. Her eyes are misty as she pulls me into a hug. "Oh, sweetheart. Mia was such a bright light. We'll all miss her terribly."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As Marina moves on to console my parents, others approach. They speak of Mia's kindness, her skill with spells, the way she could make flowers bloom with just a smile. Each remembrance is a bittersweet reminder of everything Mia was – everything I'm not.

The High Priestess – Seraphina Moonshadow – steps into the center of our circle, pale robes almost glowing. Having her here is a reminder of how important my sister was to our community.

Her presence commands a hush over the gathered witches. I feel a lump forming in my throat as I take my place in the circle between Mom and Kara, our hands linked.

Seraphina's voice rises, clear and strong in the night air. "We gather here, under the watchful eyes of the stars, to honor our beloved Mia Blackwood."

A collective shiver runs through the circle. I squeeze Mom's hand tighter, feeling her tremble beside me.

"As we begin this Starlight Vigil," Seraphina continues, "let us remember Mia's light, her laughter, her love. May our memories of her shine as brightly as the stars above."

We all raise our crystals together, the facets catching the moonlight. The air grows thick with magic, a gentle hum that vibrates through my bones. For once, even I can feel it clearly.

I can feel the stars!

"Ancient powers, hear us. Wrap Mia in stardust and moonbeams till we meet again in the shadow of the stars." Seraphina begins to chant in the ancient language of our ancestors, her words weaving a spell of remembrance and release. The crystals start to glow faintly, pulsing in time with her words. Tears blur my vision as I think of Mia, trying to focus on happy memories rather than the ache of her absence.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierces the night. My head snaps up, heart pounding.

What the — ?

Dark figures burst from the trees, moving with inhuman speed.

"Vampires!" someone shouts. And then, everything goes crazy. The circle shatters as witches scatter, magic crackling in the air. I stumble backward, nearly falling as something whooshes past me.

A vampire, teeth bared in a feral grin, lunges for Gran.

"No!" I cry out, reaching for her. But I'm too slow, too weak, too useless.