A Shade of Kiev 2(29)

That was the evening I was first invited to join their cause. Revivalists, they called themselves. At first their ideas sounded exciting—even if scary—because I was doing all this independently, without my parents watching over me. And Rhys’ enthusiasm was infectious. I wanted to be strong and bold, like him. I wanted to take risks. I wanted to be powerful.

So I followed blindly.

Ignorant as I was, I agreed to take the oath of allegiance to their cause and be bound by it. Rhys performed it himself. Within a few weeks I was actively taking part in what they justified as restoring the boundaries of magic. Reviving our Ancients’ legacy. The Scrolls—the only recorded instructions left by the Ancients for future generations—became the rules we’d live and die by. Rhys believed that following those laws patiently and faithfully would eventually restore their powers within us. And once we had cured ourselves of the impotence we were born with, thanks to the newer generations of witches, we would take over The Sanctuary, and run it the way our Ancients had always intended it to be run.

Then one evening, we all got caught. A member of the council had been taking a walk along the river bank when she saw us.

My parents and family were shocked and devastated. But they were barely given a chance to even bid me farewell before I was expelled.

We were all exiled. I followed Rhys to the only place we knew to go—a little island north of The Sanctuary where his aunt Isolde had taken up residence.

And it was there, once Rhys was reunited with his aunt Isolde, that we all spiraled down into levels of darkness that were much further than I was willing to go.

When I admitted one day that I regretted my decision to ever join the cause, and that I wished I could return home, he became angry that I did not appreciate being a part of this. And in that moment of rage, with the help of his aunt, he performed a spell that was to alter my life forever. He bound me to him.

Still, not understanding the implications of betraying both the oath and binding spell at once, I escaped back to my family.

My parents pleaded with the council that I was innocent and should not be expelled. But they along with the rest of my family died before the case even had time to go to trial. And my powers as a witch vanished.

After that, I was beaten, labeled a heretic, and thrown out of The Sanctuary once again. I had no choice but to return to Rhys. I didn’t think I could survive on my own in the wilderness at such a young age, especially not without magic. I’d never left The Sanctuary all my life until the day I first left with Rhys.

But over the years I spent with Rhys, his aunt, and the others who left with us, I realized that going out on my own, even without magic, was a far more attractive option. I was a slave to a cause I didn’t believe in. A foolish decision I’d made as a child, I was now suffering the consequences for as an adult.

I understood my curse by then. Everybody I loved was already dead. I had nothing left to lose. So I made the decision to leave and never get close to anyone. That way, I could have my freedom without anybody getting hurt.

What could go wrong?



* * *



Rhys, Isolde and Efren gathered around my bed the following morning.

“It’s time,” Rhys said.

I wrapped myself in the black cloak he handed me and followed them out of the room.

We entered the large chamber with the red door and I took a seat around the circular table next to Rhys.

“We should begin with Mona stating her oath,” Isolde said sternly. She walked over to the cupboard and withdrew a heavy leather book—the Ancients’ Scrolls—and brought it back to the table. “And before we begin this, remember, each time you run away, the oath you take next time will be stronger, and come with more consequences should it ever be broken. This is your third time now taking this oath. Should Rhys see that you have broken it again, he will have no choice but to abide by the rules and kill you himself.”

Rhys glanced my way, looking uncomfortable.

I knew that he wouldn’t want to kill me. But Rhys didn’t ever act according to personal desire. He only acted according to the rules set down by the Ancients. As was the way of every other witch in this coven.

“I understand,” I croaked.

“Then begin your oath,” Efren muttered. “You should know it well enough by now.”

I placed both of my palms flat over the scrolls Isolde had placed in front of me and chanted the ancient syllables that would bind me to live and die by the rules of the Ancients.

My throat became so dry, I was rasping by the time I got to saying the final words. My lips trembled as I withdrew my hands from the scrolls. Rhys took one of my hands in his while Isolde took the other and we all formed a circle—chanting the spell that would seal the oath.