Chapter 7- Destiny intervenes

We slowly made our way to our spot in the woods again. This time, our feelings were out in the open. It would make it easier to practice my magic.

“Stand like you did before,” Marlow instructed. “I’ll try not to breathe in your neck this time. I can't guarantee anything.” He smiled playfully.

“I’d appreciate that,” I said with a smirk. “But where we are in our relationship, it won’t bother me as much as it did before.” The moment I said it, I realized what I had implied.

“Relationship?” He stared at me with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “What do you mean by ‘our relationship’?”

“I mean…” I trailed off, suddenly flustered. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.” He grinned, but I could tell he knew exactly what I meant. He just wanted to hear me say it.

“Fine. I thought we were a couple now. You can’t just kiss someone the way you kissed me and move on as ‘just friends.’” I stood my ground, locking eyes with him, determined not to let him toy with my heart.

A slow smile spread across his face. “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one thinking that.” He walked toward me, his eyes never leaving mine. He cupped my face gently and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. A warmth spread through me—a different kind of feeling, one that felt a lot like love.

I smiled up at him, placing my hand over his. “We should practice.”

Marlow chuckled. “Alright. When you stand still and take in everything around you—the wind, the smells, the sounds—try to focus on one thing and imagine it vibrating, faster and faster, until it ignites.”

He moved behind me, his hands lightly resting at my sides. I focused on a twig dancing in the breeze, imagining it vibrating and then catching fire.

Suddenly, Marlow squeezed my hands. “What’s wrong?” I asked, startled.

“Don’t get distracted. Not by anything. Not even if you hear me calling for help. Losing focus could end badly.” His voice was stern.

I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. “My aunt mentioned I should calm my mind and focus.” I rubbed my temples, frustrated.

“It’s okay,” Marlow reassured me.

“I pride myself on perfection, and this was far from it.”

“You’ll get there. Just don’t be too hard on yourself.”

We practiced late into the night, and I quickly realized that self-criticism was my biggest obstacle. Eventually, I decided to stay for dinner. Marlow’s dad, David, ordered pizza, admitting he wasn’t in the mood to cook.

Marlow disappeared for a moment, and when the doorbell rang, David took the pizzas. Suddenly, Marlow reappeared, grabbed a box, and disappeared upstairs.

“Don’t worry,” David said with a knowing smile. “He’s up to something. He’ll be back.”

I smiled politely, and moments later, Marlow returned, grabbing my hand. “I have a surprise for you.” His expression held a mix of pride and excitement.

When we entered his room, I was awestruck. Two candles flickered at the window, casting a soft glow over a checkered blanket with the pizza box in the centre. The lights were off, making the setting feel intimate and perfect.

“This is beautiful,” I whispered, frozen in place.

Marlow grinned and scooped me up effortlessly, carrying me to the window. Before he put me down, I cupped his face and kissed him, savouring the moment. He responded eagerly, pulling me closer.

As we ate, we talked for hours, getting to know each other better. I learned how different we were—me loving modern conveniences, while he preferred traditional ways.

At some point, I found myself lying on his chest, his hands tracing soft patterns on my arm. He played with my hair, his breath warm against my neck. A shiver ran down my spine.

Then, his lips touched my neck.

His hands wandered to my waist, and he gently laid me down on the blanket. His body hovered over mine, his eyes searching for permission. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. My fingers explored his toned torso, tracing every curve and ridge.

The moment heated up, our touches growing bolder, our breaths mingling. I felt the fabric of his shirt under my fingers and lifted it off him, revealing his sculpted chest. He reached for my shirt, pulling it over my head to reveal the tank top beneath.

“I wear a lot of layers,” I teased with a nervous laugh.

Marlow chuckled but his eyes remained serious. He moved to take my tank top off, but something in me recoiled. My heart pounded in my chest, but not from desire—something felt off.

Panic flooded me as my vision blurred and a new image flashed before my eyes. I saw Marlow and me, walking hand in hand in a park, laughing. A voice echoed: “This is what must come to pass. This will be her future.”

I gasped, snapping back to reality.

“I have to go,” I whispered hurriedly, pulling away and reaching for my clothes.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” Marlow asked, clearly worried.

“I… I just need to think.” I couldn’t explain what I saw. “Please give me some space.”

Marlow looked heartbroken but nodded. “Let me take you home.”

“No. I need to walk.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I left his house and walked through the empty streets. How could I have been so blind? Were my feelings even real, or were they just destiny forcing me into something beyond my control?

By the time I reached home, I was sobbing. I called Jane, needing her comfort more than ever.

She arrived as fast as she could, and the moment I opened the door, I collapsed into her arms. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

I cried for what felt like hours, holding on to my best friend as I tried to make sense of everything. My life had taken a turn I never expected, and for the first time, I felt truly lost.

________________________________________

Year 1204, The Sacred Hollow, Hidden Realm of Elarion

The air was thick with the scent of burning sage and damp earth, the flickering torchlight casting elongated shadows across the towering stone pillars encircling the sacred chamber. Twelve figures, cloaked in robes woven from moonlight silk and stitched with intricate silver runes, stood in a perfect circle, their expressions solemn as they gazed into the crystalline basin at the centre. The water within rippled, illuminated by an ethereal glow that pulsed in tandem with the rhythmic chants that echoed through the cavernous space.

The Fated Witches—keepers of the ancient prophecies and guardians of balance—had come together for the first time in a century. Their presence alone was a harbinger of dark times ahead.

A frail but commanding voice broke the stillness. "The time we have feared is upon us," spoke Elder Isolde, the eldest among them, her silver eyes shimmering with an otherworldly wisdom. "The war of the covens, the battle that shall decide the fate of all magic—has begun its slow descent upon our world."

Murmurs of unease rippled through the circle, but no one dared to interrupt her.

"The heir of light and the harbinger of darkness have both been born," Isolde continued, gesturing toward the basin where two figures began to take shape in the rippling waters. "A girl of power yet untamed... and a brother lost to the shadows."

The figures within the water danced, shifting into shapes of swirling light and dark mist, locked in an eternal struggle.

Elder Varian, his voice like gravel, stepped forward. "It has been foretold that the Shadow Heir will stop at nothing to claim dominion over all magic. He seeks to take what is not his—what belongs to the rightful successor."

A younger witch, her emerald eyes wide with fear, spoke next. "But... the girl knows nothing of our world yet. How can she fight him? How can she stand against such darkness?"

Isolde’s gaze softened, though the weight of centuries of knowledge sat heavily in her expression. "She is not alone. Destiny weaves its web carefully. Guardians have been placed in her path, and trials will forge her into the leader she must become."

Elder Myra, draped in robes of deep midnight blue, peered into the basin with furrowed brows. "I fear the Harbinger has already begun his descent into the world of mortals. He gathers followers. Corrupt warlocks, rogue witches, and dark creatures long thought extinct. They rally in the north, amassing their strength. If the child does not awaken soon, our covens will fall, and magic as we know it will be enslaved under his rule."

A tense silence fell over the council as Elder Varian stepped forward again, his hands gripping the edges of the basin. "We must intervene. We cannot allow the prophecy to come to pass without doing everything within our power."

"No," Isolde interrupted firmly, raising her hand. "Interference will only hasten fate’s cruel hand. We must trust the path laid before her. However..." She paused, as if weighing her words carefully, "we may guide her from afar. We must ensure she finds the key to her awakening before it is too late."

A hushed whisper spread among the council. The key. The ancient relic of their coven, hidden away for generations, its location known only to the Elders. A tool of great power, but one that came with an equal price.

Elder Myra spoke again, her voice trembling with urgency. "And what if she fails? What if the Shadow Heir takes her magic for his own and twists the balance in his favour?"

Isolde closed her eyes for a brief moment, the weight of their fears pressing down on her like an iron chain. "Then all hope shall be lost, and the darkness shall reign eternal."

The words hung heavy in the air, sealing their fate as guardians of destiny.

A final voice, younger and filled with uncertainty, spoke from the far end of the circle. "And if she succeeds?"

A rare smile flickered across Isolde's face. "Then magic shall find its true purpose once more, and the age of shadows shall come to an end."

As the council disbanded, their robes trailing behind them like whispers of forgotten legends, the torches dimmed, and the glowing water within the basin stilled.

In the mortal realm, far away from the echoes of their prophecy, Nadia's journey was only just beginning.