Chapter 18 The Council Arrives

A chilling breeze swept through the Harrington estate, carrying with it an unnatural stillness. The night air grew heavy, thick with power, and the very walls of the mansion seemed to hum with unseen energy.

Elira felt them before she saw them.

The Council was here.

Damien stood beside her, his gun loaded, his stance firm—but he was fighting a war he couldn't see.

She turned to him, her pulse racing. "You need to trust me."

He held her gaze, his expression unreadable. "I don't even know who you are."

The words cut—not because they weren't true, but because they were. She had spent years hiding her magic, building a life with him on a foundation of secrecy. And now, everything was crumbling.

She exhaled sharply, gripping his wrist. "Then let me show you."

Before he could respond, she closed her eyes and let her power flow.

The world around them shifted.

In a heartbeat, Damien was no longer standing in their bedroom but in a space between realms—a place of memory and magic.

A Glimpse into the Past

They stood in a desolate village, surrounded by ruins of what once was. The scent of burning wood and despair lingered in the air.

Damien turned, confusion flickering in his blue eyes. "Where are we?"

Elira swallowed hard. "This… was my home."

A child's scream echoed through the empty streets, and Damien turned sharply.

There, in the distance, a young girl ran through the wreckage—Elira, no more than seven years old. Her dark hair was tangled, her face smeared with soot. Behind her, a mob of villagers chased her with torches, their voices filled with hate.

"Witch! Monster! Curse!"

Damien stiffened beside her. "They were hunting you."

Elira nodded, her throat tightening. "I was born with this power, Damien. In my village, that meant I was cursed."

The vision shifted, and suddenly they were inside a small, candlelit room. A frail woman—Elira's mother—held the young girl close, tears streaking down her face.

A man—her father—stood in the corner, fists clenched, his face torn between fear and shame.

"She will bring ruin to us all," he whispered.

Elira's mother begged. "Please, she's just a child."

But her father's fear was stronger than love.

The vision faded, pulling them back into the present.

Damien stood there, silent. Processing.

Finally, he spoke. "They would have killed you."

She nodded. "They tried."

Damien turned to her fully now, his gaze intense. "And your family?"

She hesitated. "They left me behind."

His jaw clenched.

She took a breath. "That's why I hid who I was, Damien. I never wanted you to look at me the way they did."

His expression softened, the betrayal in his eyes fading—but not gone.

"Elira…" His voice was quieter now. "I don't care what you are. I care that you lied."

A sharp knock shattered the moment.

They were out of time.

The Council's Judgment

Damien and Elira stepped into the grand foyer, where the guards stood frozen. The massive doors creaked open on their own, revealing three figures in dark robes standing at the threshold.

They carried no weapons, no visible signs of threat—but the power radiating from them was suffocating.

The lead figure, an older man with piercing silver eyes, stepped forward. His voice was deep, measured. "Elira Harrington."

Elira lifted her chin. "Councilor."

"You have broken our most sacred law." His gaze flickered to Damien. "You have wed a human. Bore him children. Built a life in defiance of the balance we uphold."

Damien stepped in front of her, his body shielding hers. "You don't get to take her."

The Councilor's lips curled into something resembling amusement. "And what do you intend to do, mortal?"

Damien raised his gun. "Try me."

The room darkened.

A force unlike anything Damien had felt before pressed against his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. The gun was wrenched from his grip, flying across the room.

Elira reacted instantly, her power flaring to counter the attack. The pressure around Damien vanished, and the Councilor's smirk disappeared.

"So, you will fight?" he mused. "Even now, when you know how this ends?"

Elira clenched her fists. "You're not taking my family from me."

The Councilor sighed, as if disappointed. "It was never a question of if, dear girl. It is a question of how much pain you wish to endure before you surrender."

Behind him, the other two figures raised their hands.

The air cracked—an invisible force striking out toward Elira.

She caught it midair, her body glowing with raw magic as she absorbed the attack. The energy crackled around her, and she threw it back, sending a shockwave through the mansion.

The guards were blown off their feet. The chandeliers swayed dangerously.

Damien's heart pounded. She wasn't holding back anymore.

The Councilor tilted his head, studying her. Then, he smiled. "So, it's true."

Elira froze. "What?"

The Councilor stepped closer, his silver eyes gleaming. "You are more than just a witch."

A cold chill ran down Elira's spine.

Damien's gaze flickered between them. "What the hell does that mean?"

The Councilor's smirk widened. "You don't know, do you? About what you really are?"

Elira's blood ran cold. What was he talking about?

The Councilor leaned in. "You are not just magic-born, Elira. You are blood-bound. A power that has not been seen in centuries."

She took a step back. "That's not possible."

The Councilor's eyes darkened. "Oh, my dear… It is. And that is why you are so dangerous."

Damien gritted his teeth. "I don't care what she is. She's my wife."

The Councilor exhaled. "So be it."

With a flick of his wrist, the room exploded with magic.

Elira threw up a shield, grabbing Damien and pulling him behind her. The fight had begun.

And this time… it wasn't just about survival.

It was about who she really was.