Chapter 19 The Witch’s Awakening

The mansion trembled under the force of clashing magic. A golden glow radiated from Elira as she braced herself against the Council's attack, the sheer force of their power pressing against her like an invisible storm.

Damien stood behind her, his jaw clenched, helpless against an enemy he couldn't fight with bullets or fists.

But Elira?

She was done running.

The Councilor took a slow step forward, his silver eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "You feel it now, don't you?" His voice was calm, too calm for someone facing off against a raging witch. "The power buried deep inside you. The truth you have spent your whole life denying."

Elira's hands trembled, her veins glowing with a strange, unfamiliar light.

This wasn't like before.

This wasn't just her magic—it was something more.

"What did you mean?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "Blood-bound? What are you saying?"

The Councilor chuckled, as if this were all a game. "You think you are just a witch, Elira?" He tilted his head. "You are so much more. That is why your power defies our laws. Why you survived when others perished. You are something that should not exist."

Elira's breath hitched.

The air shifted—and suddenly, a memory she had never seen before rushed through her mind.

A Memory Long Forgotten

A woman—her mother—stood in a dimly lit room, her hands pressed against Elira's forehead. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered an incantation, her voice shaking.

"Forgive me, my child," she whispered. "I have hidden this from you for as long as I could."

Pain seared through little Elira's body, and she screamed. Magic wrapped around her like chains, locking something deep inside her.

"You must never remember," her mother sobbed. "They will come for you if you do."

And then—darkness.

The Seal Breaks

Elira gasped, staggering back into Damien's arms.

Her mother had sealed something inside her. Something powerful. Something dangerous.

The realization made her heart pound.

The Councilor watched her, amused. "Do you see it now? You were never meant to live an ordinary life, Elira. You are a descendant of something far greater than mere witches."

Elira's fingers curled into fists.

"Then what am I?" she demanded.

The Councilor's smile was slow, knowing. "You, my dear, are of the First Bloodline."

Damien frowned. "The hell does that mean?"

The air around them grew heavy, almost suffocating. The other Council members stood still, their eyes locked on Elira, waiting.

The Councilor's voice was almost reverent. "It means she is one of the Originals."

The room fell silent.

Damien's breath caught. "Originals?"

Elira's heart slammed against her ribs. "That's impossible. The First Bloodline was wiped out centuries ago."

The Councilor smirked. "So we thought."

A chill ran down her spine.

The Original Witches—the ones who had first harnessed magic, who had created the foundations of power that the world still ran on—were extinct. Their bloodline had been purged from existence because they were too powerful, too dangerous.

But if what the Councilor said was true…

She wasn't just a witch.

She was a living relic of magic itself.

Damien's grip on her tightened. "What does this mean for her?"

The Councilor's gaze darkened. "It means she cannot be allowed to live."

Magic erupted from the Councilors in an instant.

Elira barely had time to react before the first blast struck her barrier, sending shockwaves rippling through the mansion. Glass shattered, walls cracked, and the very ground beneath them quaked.

Damien grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. "We need to get out of here."

Elira's pulse thundered.

No.

She was done running.

She had spent her whole life hiding, pretending to be less than she was, afraid of her own power.

But now?

They wanted to erase her from existence?

She'd burn the whole damn world before she let that happen.

With a deep breath, Elira let go.

Her power exploded outward, sending the Councilors flying. Golden energy crackled around her, the very air bending to her will.

The Councilor's smirk was gone. For the first time, his silver eyes flickered with something else.

Fear.

"Elira," Damien whispered. His eyes were wide, his grip on her arm loose. "What are you doing?"

She met his gaze. "Ending this."

The air around her shifted, the remnants of her mother's old spell breaking apart.

For the first time in her life, she wasn't fighting against herself.

She was embracing what she was.

The golden glow around her intensified, and the Councilors took a step back.

"Elira," the Councilor hissed, his composure cracking. "Do not—"

She raised her hand—and the world exploded into light.

The Aftermath

When the dust settled, the Councilors were gone.

The mansion was barely standing, its walls charred from the raw energy Elira had unleashed.

Damien stared at her, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths. His suit was torn, his hands bruised, but he was alive.

"Elira," he murmured.

She turned to face him, her eyes still glowing with golden energy.

"Tell me the truth," he said, his voice raw. "Are you still my wife?"

Her heart twisted.

She wanted to say yes.

But the woman Damien had married—the woman who had hidden her powers, who had tried to live a normal life—was gone.

She was something else now.

And the Council?

They weren't finished.

She stepped toward him, her hands shaking. "Damien, I love you."

His gaze searched hers, waiting.

"But if I stay… they'll never stop coming."

Silence.

Then—

"I'm not letting you leave."

She inhaled sharply.

"You don't have a choice."

Then, before he could stop her, she disappeared into the night