Chapter 3 — Chapter 3

Seraphine

*Seraphine*

I step into the grand chamber of the Conclave, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird in my chest. The cavernous room, with its vaulted ceilings and ancient stone walls, seems to press in around me, the air heavy with unspoken judgment. A central altar, engraved with runes that glow faintly in the dim light, anchors the space, a silent reminder of our sacred oaths. We seldom meet here, always preferring the open embrace of nature. The High Priestess’s choice of this place carries an ominous weight, as if the very stones anticipate calamity.

Witches from every coven crowd the chamber, their hushed whispers weaving a web of tension that prickles my skin. Gran’s hand at the small of my back steadies me as we weave toward our seats, her touch a quiet anchor amidst the fleeting, worried glances of Vera, Dad’s clenched jaw, and Mom’s trembling hands tightening around Dad’s arm. Though we stand united, a wall of scrutinizing eyes isolates me.

Sage and lavender blend with the earthy musk of old books and wax, the familiar scents clashing with the somber mood. Ornate tapestries line the walls, their vibrant threads depicting our history—a brutal battle against vampires stands out, the crimson streaks a stark warning amid today’s unrest. I notice the other coven leaders as we settle in: Lysandra Starfire of the Silver Moon, her silvery hair gleaming; Aurora Greenleaf, emerald robes rustling as she whispers to Marina Tidecaller; and Morgan Shadowmaster of the Shadow Veil, his burning gaze cutting through me. Even now, before the meeting begins, a cold glance passes between Lysandra and Morgan, a whisper of past disputes rippling through their silence.

*Keep it together, Seraphine. You’re just here to tell your story.* I mutter under my breath, “You can do this,” clinging to the fragile thread of my resolve, haunted by the fear that this psychic link with a vampire could unravel everything—our secrets, our safety.

A profound hush falls as the High Priestess glides to the center, her imposing presence—a regal bearing and piercing eyes—commanding instant reverence. Her voice rings with crystal clarity, silencing even the faintest murmurs. “Esteemed members of the Conclave, we gather to address a matter of grave importance.”

I swallow hard, the weight of every stare pinning me in place. This is it—the moment everything shifts. Gran’s steady gaze offers a lifeline as she rises, tall and regal, to face the assembly. A surge of gratitude warms me for her unwavering strength.

“Honorable members…friends,” she begins, her tone calm yet firm. “We come before you with a matter of utmost urgency. My granddaughter, Seraphine, has experienced an extraordinary and troubling series of events involving the vampire Lord Kael Drake.”

The tension in the room spikes at the word *vampires*, a tremor of unease rippling through the witches. Gran continues, measured and unshaken. “Seraphine developed an unexpected psychic connection with this vampire. While its nature remains unclear, it led to several encounters between them.”

My cheeks burn as murmurs rustle through the chamber. Gran raises a hand, quelling the noise. “However, the true gravity emerged during their last meeting. Seraphine discovered photographs on Kael’s phone—images of her sister, Althea, missing for over a year.”

Gasps erupt. I see shock and outrage flare across faces. “The photos showed Althea in captivity,” Gran says, her voice tight with controlled emotion. Mom stifles a sob, her grip on Dad’s arm whitening her knuckles, while Vera’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. “This revelation triggered an intense magical reaction from Seraphine. In her distress and anger, she inadvertently…caused the vampire’s death.”

A taut silence grips the room before the chamber erupts in discord. Voices clash in shock, disbelief, and unsettling approval. A Silver Moon witch stands in outrage, her silvery cloak billowing, while a Tidecaller whispers a protective chant under her breath. I shrink in my seat, overwhelmed by the cacophony.

Gran waits for the noise to ebb before continuing. “We bring this before the Conclave not only due to vampire involvement in Althea’s disappearance but also because of the unprecedented nature of Seraphine’s connection to Kael Drake and the magical outburst that followed.” Her gaze sweeps the assembly, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face as if weighing ancient secrets. “We seek your wisdom in how to proceed, both in searching for Althea and understanding these events.”

She sits beside me, her hand giving mine a reassuring squeeze. A heavy silence, thick with unspoken dread, settles over us. Then Morgan barks out, “You’ve slain a vampire lord? Do you grasp the peril you’ve unleashed?”

“Silence!” The High Priestess’s command cuts through the air, her stony gaze falling on me. My stomach lurches. “Seraphine Blackwood, please step forward and share your account.”

On shaky legs, I rise and move to the center. I take a deep breath, pushing my glasses up my nose just once, and begin. “I’m not sure where to start,” I admit, my voice trembling. Clearing my throat, I try again. “It started with voices in my head. I thought I was losing my mind.”

A few titters ripple through the crowd, and heat floods my face. But as I speak, my voice steadies. “The voice belonged to Kael Drake, though I didn’t know it at first. We formed a…mental connection. I could hear his thoughts, feel his emotions. It was intense, confusing.”

I recount our first meeting in Moonshade Grove, omitting intimate details. The room hangs on my words. “The connection seemed to amplify my magic,” I explain, gaining ground. “Spells I’d struggled with—ones beyond my training—suddenly flowed easily, like tapping into a rare, forbidden current. It was exhilarating and terrifying.”

I pause, steeling myself for the hardest part. “During our last…encounter, I saw something on Kael’s phone. Photos of Althea. She looked…bound, bloody, broken.” The room blurs as I speak, my voice a distant echo in my ears, the memory of her tear-streaked face at our last Solstice ritual—laughing over a botched charm—clawing at my chest. Gasps hiss around me, but I press on. “Anger and fear consumed me, and I couldn’t hold it back. My magic burst out. I didn’t mean to, but suddenly, Kael was engulfed in flames. Then…he was ash.”

A silence laden with judgment holds the room. Then chaos surges again, voices bouncing off ancient stone. “This is an act of war!” Aurora rises, her voice piercing. “The vampires have crossed a line. We must strike back now!”

The air crackles with ozone, raw magical energy seething from agitated witches. I grip the edge of the altar, the heat of their fury pressing against my skin. “Wait!” Marina counters sharply. “We can’t rush into conflict. What if other witches are held captive?”

*Damn.* The thought hadn’t struck me, but it should have. My pulse quickens with dread.

Lysandra stands, hand raised. “We must consult the stars before rash decisions. Celestial alignments may guide us in these troubled times.” My breath catches as the room’s energy shifts with her words.

A snort of derision cuts through. Morgan’s dark eyes glitter. “Stargazing won’t save the missing or shield us from vampire aggression. We need action, not contemplation.” The coarse press of anger in the room tastes metallic on my tongue.

“And what of Seraphine?” a voice calls. “Her power has surged. Could this be a sign? An omen?” The focus swings back to me, and I long to vanish into the stone floor.

Astra Moonshadow rises, her tone measured yet sharp. “We must tread carefully. Illusions and hidden truths are my domain, and I sense more to this story. Before drastic actions, we must uncover what lies beneath.”

My palms sweat under her doubt. “I’ve shared what I know, Lady Moonshadow,” I say firmly. “If there’s more, I’m unaware of it.”

Her eyes narrow. “And yet, this connection with a vampire amplified your magic? That’s…unusual, to say the least.”

Panic claws at me. She’s probing too close. “My only concern was finding Althea,” I insist, voice tight. “Yes, my magic grew, but I used that strength to search for my sister. That’s all that matters.”

Astra tilts her head, unconvinced. “Can you truly claim no thirst for retribution shaped your actions?”

My chest tightens, Althea’s desperate image flashing again, her laughter now a ghost. “Are you saying I *planned* this?” I blurt, incredulous. “I would never—”

The High Priestess speaks, her voice steady. “We cannot ignore Seraphine’s experience, nor dismiss her information. We will investigate Althea’s disappearance and Kael Drake’s involvement thoroughly. No stone will be left unturned.”

Morgan interjects, “It’s all well to focus on Althea Blackwood, but what of broader risks? What if this vampire gleaned our defenses through this…psychic link? Our wards, our secrets… He’s dead, but who’s to say he didn’t share them?”

My stomach twists. I’ve dreaded this—those invasive moments when Kael’s presence lingered in my mind. Have I endangered us all? “I did worry about that,” I admit, the room hanging on my words. “There were times I feared he heard more than my thoughts. But he claimed otherwise, and as my magic grew, I learned to block him out.”

A heavy quiet follows. Gran stands again. “We may be missing something larger. Seraphine’s connection to Kael Drake might not be mere chance. Ancient prophecies speak of a bridge between our worlds—a connection that could alter everything.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd. My eyes widen; this is news to me. Astra leans forward, curiosity replacing skepticism. “Evelyn, are you suggesting Seraphine might be…”

She trails off, the implication dangling. I’m lost, grasping for a missing piece everyone else seems to hold. The High Priestess raises a hand, silencing all. “This adds another layer to a complex situation. I propose a meeting with the Blood Assembly to address Kael’s death, Althea’s disappearance, and these broader concerns.”

Mixed reactions buzz through the room. Some nod; others scowl at the notion of parley with vampires. “We shall vote,” the High Priestess declares, her voice a gavel. “All in favor of meeting the vampire council, raise your hands.”

I watch, breath caught, as hands rise slowly. Lysandra’s hesitates, trembling before lifting, the weight of her choice etched in her frown. It’s not unanimous, but the majority agrees. A divide forms—some nod in resolve, others mutter dissent. With a subtle gesture, the High Priestess restores order, her incantation soft but firm. “A delegation will be assigned within the week to arrange this summit.”

As the meeting concludes, exhaustion drags at me like a tide. I turn toward my family when a voice halts me. “Your story intrigues me, young Blackwood.”

I spin to face Astra Moonshadow, the room’s sudden hush amplifying her enigmatic tone. “I hope, for all our sakes, you’re prepared for what might come next.”

I swallow hard, words failing me. What does she mean? Before I can ask, she’s gone, leaving me adrift in confusion. I rejoin my family near the exit. Mom pulls me into a tight hug, her trembling fierce. Vera squeezes my shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, Ro. We’ve got this—all of us.”

Dad adds, “There’s much to discuss, Seraphine, but you’re my daughter, and I love you…no matter what.” I nod, clinging to their support, yet the weight of expectation crushes down. As we leave, snippets of talk drift to me.

“…could change everything…”

“…dangerous to trust vampires…”

“…the Blackwood girl might be the key…”

I try to block out the mix of support and doubt, the heat of their stares still burning into me, wondering what Astra’s cryptic warning could mean.