46. Western Dark-blood Coven

"Oh, Athena! You've lost your way again?" the older woman asked warmly as Farrah threw her arms around her.

"Yes, Grandma, I lost my way again," Farrah admitted sheepishly.

Cara, still lying on the ground, blinked in confusion. "Wait a minute. Is she really your grandmother? And why is she calling you Athena?" She scrambled to her feet, brushing dirt off her clothes.

Farrah turned to Cara, smiling. "Yes, she is my grandmother."

The older woman nodded, her gaze sharp but kind. "Indeed, I am her grandmother, Fairy. You may call me Celine, and you must be Cara." She took a step closer, her movements deliberate and unthreatening.

Still rattled by the ambush, Cara instinctively raised her hands, adopting a defensive stance. Her eyes narrowed. "Stay back."

Celine stopped, raising her hands slightly in a gesture of peace. "I'm truly sorry for the unpleasant welcome you received from these overly impulsive children. It's my fault. I knew you and my Athena were coming, but I didn't know when, and I failed to inform them."

Cara's suspicion didn't waver. "Are you saying Farrah didn't tell you we were coming today?"

"No," Celine said, her tone laced with quiet frustration. "She couldn't even if she wanted to. Her father, my son, made sure to sever all contact between me and his life—and, unfortunately, that included my Athena."

Cara narrowed her eyes, delving into Celine's mind to verify her claims. She found nothing but honesty. Celine truly had known they were coming, but she hadn't been informed of the timing.

Cara exhaled slowly, lowering her guard slightly. "Fine, but what's the deal with this sacrifice nonsense? Are you really planning to kill humans to appease spirits?"

Celine's expression darkened, disappointment flashing in her eyes. She turned sharply toward Marco, who was still writhing on the ground. "I told you all to drop that ridiculous human sacrifice obsession! We don't need to stoop to such barbarity to be stronger than the light-blood witches!"

Marco groaned but managed to grumble, "We'll never know until we try it."

"You stubborn fool!" Celine snapped. "Do you want to commit murder and bring the authorities down on this coven? You'd risk everything for this madness?"

Marco muttered something under his breath but didn't argue further.

Celine's gaze shifted to the spellcasting witch, who was clutching her side in pain. "And you, Maya. You should know better. You don't have to follow every reckless idea your foolish brother conjures up."

[It's clear Celine is in charge here.]

'It does seem that way, but she feels more like a mother trying to rein in unruly kids,' Cara thought, relaxing further.

Turning back to Cara, Celine softened her tone. "Once again, I apologize for the appalling reception you and my Athena have endured. Allow me to welcome you properly. You're standing within the territory of the Western dark-blood coven. I am the Witch Supreme. Please, follow me."

Cara hesitated, her back still aching from the fall. Celine seemed to notice.

"First," Celine said gently, "let me heal you."

Cara's initial instinct was to refuse, but the throbbing pain in her back convinced her otherwise. She gave a brief nod, and Celine stepped closer, placing her hands lightly on Cara's face and back. A soft, white glow emanated from her palms, and within moments, the bruises on Cara's face vanished, and the pain in her back melted away.

Cara flexed her shoulders, astonished. "Thanks… I guess."

Celine smiled and motioned for her to follow. "Now, let's go."

Farrah and Celine led the way down a narrow, overgrown path. Cara recognized the area—they had passed it earlier. As they walked, Celine suddenly paused and turned to a young woman standing among the bushes.

"Lena," Celine commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "Go and heal those fools. Tell them to prepare for the punishment they've earned."

Lena nodded quickly and darted toward Marco and the others, leaving Cara to follow the Witch Supreme deeper into the woods.

—--

—---

They walked for about three minutes before arriving at a large bungalow, its walls and roof adorned with lush, thriving greenery. Vines twisted and curled, almost as if they had a life of their own. The house exuded an air of mystery, blending into the nature around it.

Celine opened the door and stepped inside, gesturing for Farrah and Cara to follow her. "Come in and make yourselves comfortable," she said. They entered and sat down on a well-worn brown sofa that seemed as old as the house itself.

After a moment, Celine offered them water. Farrah accepted graciously, but Cara declined, shaking her head politely. "No, thank you. I'm fine," she said.

Celine settled into a chair opposite them, her gaze fixed on her granddaughter. "So, Athena, tell me—what brought you here today?"

Cara glanced at Celine, noting the knowing glint in her eyes. It was clear she already had an inkling of why Farrah had come.

Farrah sighed, the exasperation evident in her voice. "Grandma, I've told you a thousand times to stop calling me Athena. My name is Farrah."

Celine didn't waver. "Your parents can call you whatever they like, but I will call you by the name the spirits have chosen for you. You are Athena, and you will always be Athena, at least as long as I am alive." She leaned forward slightly, her voice softening. "But that is beside the point. Why are you here? Say it—I want to hear you admit it."

Farrah hesitated before finally confessing. "Grandma, some strange things have been happening lately... and I'm the one causing them."

Celine smiled knowingly, as if this was exactly what she had expected to hear. "Have you caused an explosion at that diner where you work?"

"Not yet," Cara interjected, her tone dry. "But she came very close to it three days ago."

Farrah nodded, her cheeks flushing. "If Cara hadn't been there, I probably would have."

Celine chuckled softly, though her expression remained serious. "Your powers are starting to emerge. That's what's happening. It will keep happening until you perform your maturity ritual. Without it, you won't be able to control your abilities—or use them when you need to."

Farrah shook her head vehemently. "But, Grandma, I don't *want* to control it. I don't want it at all."

Cara observed the slight shift in Celine's expression. She didn't need to read her mind to sense the sadness and disappointment that washed over her.

"It seems your father has done a fine job of making you hate who you are and who you were born to be," Celine said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "But let me make one thing clear—you have two choices. Either you complete the maturity rituals and learn to control your powers, or you spend the rest of your life unleashing explosions and hurricane-force winds whenever your emotions get the better of you."

Cara, curious despite herself, asked, "What exactly are these maturity rituals? And what do they involve?"

Celine turned her sharp gaze toward Cara, as if deciding how much to reveal. "The maturity rituals are sacred ceremonies performed by dark-blood witches when their powers first begin to manifest. They are designed to permanently connect the witch to the spirits—the ultimate source of their power. But as for what they involve…" She paused, her expression darkening. "That is the more complicated part."

"Why?" Farrah asked, leaning forward. "What's so complicated about it?"

Celine's face grew grimmer, the weight of her next words heavy in the room. "Because we will need to involve your father."