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‘You should speak carefully,’ Theo says. ‘You’re outnumbered.’

Terrance laughs softly – not fearfully. Amused.

‘Outnumbered?’ He sweeps his gaze across us, like he’s tallying bodies, not people. ‘Do you think numbers matter here? On this ground? In this place?’

His gaze returns to me, and his mouth twitches, like he’s struggling to keep his composure. Cora shifts, revealing how tense she is. Raya’s eyes narrow.

‘We want answers,’ I interject, growing impatient and frustrated. My earlier resentment toward this place rears its ugly head.

Always in the dark. Always the one to be left out of important information.

This ends now. All of it.

The wind shifts. There’s that familiar spark. Magic. We all turn at once. Figures begin to step out from the trees, from the shadows, and the woody area of the house that sits above the underground cells.

There must be fifteen of them. Faces I recognise, and some I don’t. I stiffen, unsure what to do or where to look. It feels so weird being back here, like this, with these people. When Kayleigh emerges, it feels as if my heart stops, even though it no longer beats. My sister. The one I care for the most. Disappointment settles in her eyes as she looks me over, seeing what I’ve become.

‘We’re surrounded,’ Cora mutters, eyes darting around the field, taking everything in. She has a cat-like grace about her, her knuckles bleached white as she grips the blades in her hands.

Hunter moves in close to Raya. Cas has gone completely still, finally looking as if he might be taking this seriously. Old magic presses in around us, making the air feel stale and thick, even though we are outdoors. Unease spreads through me, my stomach twisting uncomfortably.

A woman steps forward, her presence unfolding before her like the wind parting the sea. Velistra. The oldest and most powerful witch I know. The woman I have only met a few times. The one I know to run this place.

Her eyes are misty but simultaneously hawk-like as they fall over the group. Curly hair frames her face. She’s expressionless, giving nothing away. There’s an energy about her that makes me feel queasy.

Kian shifts restlessly, tension rolling off him in waves. Velistra finally stops, just beyond the circle of witches.

‘The time has come, it seems,’ she says. Although she speaks softly, her voice cuts through the air as though amplified by a microphone, making me wince. ‘You stand on cursed ground with blades drawn and fangs bared, as if you understand the weight of what you’re walking into.’ Her eyes land on Theo, then Kian, then finally me. ‘Look at what you’ve become. So quickly you crossed over to the other side. Expected, but disappointing nonetheless.’

My throat tightens and I lift my chin, refusing to let her words get to me.

‘We didn’t come to start a war,’ I say.

Velistra tilts her head. ‘You didn’t. There has been a longstanding war between us and them.’

‘There doesn’t need to be sides. Vampires and witches can coexist.’

Tsking, she shakes her head. ‘No, no, Tara. That’s the price you paid. You don’t just lose your pulse. You lose your place on the right side of the war. You’ve made your choice, there’s no changing things now. This war has been around long before you.’

More witches step forward, lining the path behind her. She takes one step forward, the air around her feels like it bends to her.

‘Tell me,’ she says quietly, her piercing gaze directed at me. ‘Do you understand what you have become?’

‘No,’ I answer, voice steady. ‘But I intend to find out.’

Velistra’s lips curve, but it’s not a smile. It’s something far crueler than a smile. Theo shifts closer, protectively. She notices it. Of course she does.

‘Theo,’ she says, her voice still flat and indifferent. ‘You’ve always been useful, but never essential. Easy to discard too, if need be.’

My heart bleeds for him. Theo says nothing, but I’ve gotten to know him well enough now to know that her words are razor sharp, slicing him open word by word. She’s already turning before he can respond, as though he doesn’t matter enough to linger on.

‘Oh,’ she says, almost sweetly. ‘You.’

Kian doesn’t move. His hands stay at his sides, fingers loose, but I see the way his jaw locks. The stillness in him is lethal, like he’s moments away from unleashing something incredibly dangerous.

‘No one defeats a death curse, but here you stand,’ Velistra says, upper lip curling distastefully.

‘I should’ve killed you when I had the chance,’ Kian says flatly.