Chapter 22

THE WITCH'S PACT

As the sun climbed higher, Amara and Lysander stood in the smoldering remains of the village, Selene's lifeless body lying between them. The grief was palpable, a weight neither of them could bear to voice.

While Lysander buried himself in clearing debris to help the surviving villagers, Amara carefully searched Selene's belongings for anything meaningful. Among her charred satchel, she found a small leather-bound journal, its pages untouched by the fire.

On the first page, Selene's familiar handwriting greeted her:

"If you're reading this, it means my time has come. I have only one request: don't let my sacrifice be in vain."

Amara clutched the book to her chest, her heart aching. She skimmed the pages, finding notes about spells, ancient rituals, and… Lysander.

One passage stopped her cold:

"I've known for years that my life force is tied to his survival. I made the pact willingly, binding my power to him to keep him from succumbing to the darkness. But the price has always been steep—my love for him has never been enough to make him stay."

Amara's breath caught. Selene's love for Lysander wasn't just selfless—it was all-encompassing.

Later that evening, Amara confronted Lysander.

"I found this," she said, holding out the journal.

Lysander took it, his eyes scanning the pages. His expression darkened as he reached the section about the pact.

"She… she bound herself to me?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Amara nodded, her throat tight. "She did it to protect you. She gave everything she had to keep you alive, Lysander."

He slammed the book shut, his jaw clenched. "I never asked for this. I never wanted her to sacrifice herself for me."

"But she did," Amara said softly. "Because she loved you. And because she believed in you."

Lysander's shoulders sagged, the weight of Selene's love and sacrifice pressing down on him. "I didn't deserve her devotion. I don't deserve yours."

Amara stepped closer, her hand resting on his arm. "You don't get to decide that. She made her choice, just like I'm making mine. We're in this together, Lysander—whether you think you're worthy or not."

As night fell, Amara sat by the fire, flipping through Selene's journal. One page in particular caught her eye—a ritual described as The Pact of Eternity.

It was written in Selene's handwriting, accompanied by a note:

"This ritual will anchor the Catalyst's power to the mortal plane, ensuring it does not consume her. But it requires the sacrifice of someone who loves her unconditionally."

Amara's chest tightened. Selene had planned everything, knowing she might not survive. She had intended to anchor Amara's power with her own life force, preventing the curse from consuming her.

Lysander joined her by the fire, his face unreadable. "What did you find?"

Amara hesitated, then handed him the journal. "It's a ritual she was preparing. She meant to do it for me, to keep my powers stable."

He read in silence, his jaw tightening as he processed the implications. "She was willing to die for you, too," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Amara nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "She believed in us. In this fight."

Lysander closed the journal and looked at her, his expression resolute. "Then we finish what she started. We honor her sacrifice."

The ritual site was a small clearing surrounded by ancient, gnarled trees. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, illuminating the sigils and markings Selene had inscribed in the ground long ago.

Amara stood in the center of the circle, the locket around her neck glowing faintly. Lysander stood at the edge, his chains coiled loosely around his arms.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"I'm sure," he replied. "If this is what it takes to protect you, I'll do it."

The ritual began as Amara recited the incantation from Selene's journal. The air around them grew heavy, charged with energy. The sigils on the ground lit up, casting an eerie glow over the clearing.

As the final words left Amara's lips, the locket flared to life, its light enveloping her. She cried out as a surge of power coursed through her, threatening to overwhelm her.

Lysander stepped into the circle, his chains latching onto her wrists to steady her. "Focus on me, Amara," he said, his voice steady despite the chaos. "I'm here."

Their eyes locked, and a connection sparked between them, stronger than anything they'd felt before. The power flowing through Amara stabilized, the overwhelming heat giving way to a soothing warmth.

When the ritual ended, the clearing fell silent. The sigils faded, and the locket around Amara's neck pulsed faintly, its glow steady.

"It worked," she whispered, looking at Lysander with awe. "I can feel it—it's balanced now."

He nodded, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Selene gave us this chance. We can't waste it."

As they left the clearing, Amara paused, looking back at the ritual site.

"We'll finish this," she murmured. "For her."

Lysander stepped beside her, his hand finding hers. "For her," he agreed.

The night was still, but the weight of Selene's sacrifice lingered, a reminder of what they were fighting for.