Welcome to Redwaters - 9. Chapter 9

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In the darkness of Hadrian's garden, night had settled, shrouding each tree in mystery. Sienna, like a shadow among the leaves, silently observed the fortress that Hadrian had erected. Possessing such a place had always haunted her ex-lover's dreams, and the fact that he had fulfilled this wish only intensified her thirst for revenge.

From the depths of the trees, Sienna scrutinized the moving silhouettes on the upper floor. Since awakening from her eternal slumber, she had been drawn to the energies pulsating, both positive and negative, through the scattered city. These energies guided her like an invisible map through this new town, fascinating her at every street corner. Centuries had passed since her death, and the few days spent walking the earth again had revealed countless changes. However, the most disturbing and frustrating for her was the alleviation of Hadrian's curse. Another energy seemed to soothe him, even extinguishing it almost, thwarting her plans for him to suffer eternally.

Sienna had not immediately grasped the extent of the time that had passed since her death. After her resurrection in the clearing, she had wandered through the woods, disoriented, searching for something or someone to help her. The enchanted woods, radiating with an unprecedented magical energy, had welcomed her. The forest was teeming with supernatural creatures she had never heard of. Some sensed her presence, while for others she was nothing more than an invisible specter, as elusive as she felt.

In that benevolent magical enviremment, her vengeful intentions seemed out of place, and no one would lend her assistance. That's why she left the forest in search of energies more in line with her deep beliefs, and that's when she initiated the beginning of her plan.

Soon, she would be material again, and nothing and no one could stop her from executing her designs.

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Paris, France.

Fleur gracefully navigated the cobblestone streets of Paris, entranced by the enchanting murmur of saxophones and accordions, carried away by the enticing wafts of crêpes and other delights that tickled her senses. Paris, the nocturnal City of Light, displayed its undeniable magic, though the weight of thoughts and apprehension intensified as she approached her father's bar, revealed by a spell.

The narrow streets came alive with cafes where Parisians engaged in lively discussions over glasses of red wine, creating an animated symphony. Illuminated by artistic signs, the shops infused a modern elegance into every corner. The majestic silhouette of the Eiffel Tower, sparkling with a thousand lights, promised a night steeped in romance.

Between passionate embraces and the whispered complicity of couples, Fleur's mind wandered to Elliot, mysteriously elusive since her arrival in France. A slight unease crept in, but casting a final glance at her engagement ring magically linked to the bracelet she had given Elliot on his first day as a police officer, the witch reassured herself. If her fiancé were in danger, her diamond would have turned red. Her current mission had to be accomplished; the rest could be addressed later.

The cobblestones guided her to the Carolina, her father's burlesque bar. Ironically named after her late mother. A friendly doorman opened the door to an extraordinary world, by saying : "Bonsoir mademoiselle" as she found herself transported into a realm where a glamorous and enchanting atmosphere reigned supreme.

Inside, the Carolina unveiled its splendor. Walls draped in red velvet, sparkling chandeliers casting a soft glow, tables elegantly adorned with white tablecloths and flickering candles creating playful lights. Waiters and waitresses moved with a grace reminiscent of a bygone era, adding a theatrical touch to the ambiance.

On the central stage, burlesque artists presented sophisticated performances. Feathers, rhinestones, graceful movements captured the gaze, transporting the clientele into a world of mystery and seduction. Curious eyes turned towards Fleur as she crossed the room.

Fleur settled at a table, letting her sight get lost in the enchanting spectacle unfolding before her eyes. The Carolina, a true union of extravagance and art, revealed its magic in a captivating dance. Despite the splendor of the Parisian burlesque surrounding her, her mind remained haunted by the mysteries that had led her here.

The ongoing act concluded, making way for a man with a deep voice to take the microphone. His hazel eyes, salt-and-pepper hair, and a beard sprinkled with gray prompted an instinctive reaction from Fleur. Her heart raced, urging her to head quickly to the restroom as soon as she recognized her father.

The man, surprised to see his daughter after all these years, halted his speech, his incredulous gaze betraying his astonishment. He couldn't believe his eyes.

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Hadrian slowly opened his eyelids, a smile blooming on his lips. Stretching languidly in his sumptuous bed, he struggled to grasp the reality of the previous day. Zain had kissed him. He and Zain had shared a kiss. It was astonishing. And what a kiss! The memory of that exchange flooded him, causing his heart to race and a sudden warmth to flush his cheeks.

Centuries of suffering, torment, fleeting adventures—all lived under the tacit prohibition of getting attached to anyone, for fear of causing harm, to the point of losing the taste for existence itself. Such was Hadrian's reality. But despite this harsh truth, this simple exchange, this moment frozen in time, seemed to reignite a glimmer of hope in him. Like a dormant feeling, awakened without him fully grasping its meaning.

"Pull yourself together," he murmured, unaccustomed to this apparent tranquility that had enveloped him since his encounter with Zain. Despite his efforts to divert his thoughts, his mind was irresistibly drawn to this unique and indefinable moment. Hadrian found himself involuntarily smiling, all his thoughts converging toward Zain.

The sound of the door interrupted his reverie. Hadrian got up from his bed to answer it, his persistent smile on his lips. His last visitor had been Zain, and he secretly hoped it would be him at the door again. Hadrian opened the door slowly, but his smile was instantly wiped away upon seeing Ouray's serious face on the other side.

"What's going on?" Hadrian asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

"I have news about Zain's identity and a lead regarding Fleur's nightmare."

Ouray entered the room, and the atmosphere seemed charged as Hadrian impatiently awaited more information from the shaman.

"Zain would apparently be the decipherer prince, and his powers seem to have awakened a vengeful entity whose designs coincide with Fleur's nightmare," Ouray said, visibly agitated.

"What? How do you know all this?"

"I entered the realm of the dead and sought advice from the elders of my tribe. They're the ones who revealed the decipherer prince's name," Ouray explained, clearing his throat, the weight of his experience still palpable.

"Then I went to the enchanted forest to follow this lead when several beings informed me about the arrival of a vengeful specter, a woman determined to find the necessary help to carry out her dark plans. I think Zain accidentally awakened her with his powers upon his arrival on Earth, much like he did with the white wolf."

Hadrian tried to digest these newly revealed pieces of information.

"The decipherer prince... never heard of him..."

"Me neither. I think we should try to access the Order's files; they have extensive documents on most existing beings..."

Hadrian interrupted him firmly.

"Certainly not! We must absolutely avoid them looking into Zain's case. I don't trust them; they might want to seize him to try and use his powers, or to study him like a lab rat."

"We could discuss it with Darcey..."

"No! Neither Darcey nor anyone connected to them, Ouray. Not until we know more about Zain."

Ouray insisted, facing the unusual stoicism of his friend.

"Hadrian, I don't want to put Zain in any danger either, but it's becoming crucial to find out more."

Hadrian walked confidently to his dressing room, declaring,

"I'll drop Zain off on his first day at Redwaters High. Then, you and I will return to the enchanted forest together to learn more about this spirit returned from the dead."

Ouray observed him in silence, aware that a particular nuance marked the attitude of his longtime friend, unable to pinpoint the change.

"I put Zain in an Uber five minutes ago. Let's head straight to the forest," Ouray told him.

Hadrian reappeared from his dressing room, buttoning up his fitted black shirt, as he said to his friend:

"Really? I had promised to drop him off."

"I told him we had an urgent matter to deal with; I don't think he'll mind," Ouray replied.

Hadrian couldn't hide his disappointment; he had hoped to see the boy before he left for school. In an impulsive moment, the immortal asked Ouray: "And what outfit did he decide to go with in the end?"

Ouray gave him an incredulous look, wondering what could be happening to his friend.

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Zain's heart was pounding in his chest, his hands were sweaty. A mix of excitement and apprehension engulfed him. What if he didn't make any friends? What if he spent the school year all alone, like in those movies glorifying senseless cruelty that he had watched? And why hadn't Hadrian accompanied him this morning? Did he regret their kiss? No! The boy abruptly halted his intrusive thoughts. There was no way he would let his feelings for the immortal spoil his first day at high school, nor would he allow his anxieties to prevent him from fully experiencing this new chapter. He had faced much scarier things than high school cliques, and he wouldn't let his mood be overshadowed by his emotions, no matter what, he firmly decided. This day was for him, his first chance to feel normal, to try to integrate into something other than spells, pursuits, or murders, and he intended to make the most of it. The screeching of the tires of his Uber on the asphalt marked the beginning of his immersion into this new reality. The high school stood before him, an imposing facade displaying "REDWATERS HIGH" in red letters.

Exiting the car, he greeted the driver with a strained smile and headed towards the entrance, his eyes capturing every detail of the school's facade. He couldn't believe his eyes. He was really there.

The walls, infused with years of student stories, seemed to breathe with an unique energy. Rows of windows, like curious eyes, seemed to observe newcomers with a certain benevolence. The muffled noise of lively conversations and laughter from the parking lot added a vibrant atmosphere to the surroundings. Groups of students, exchanging warm greetings or fresh news, formed here and there. It was as if the high school had its own life, a regular yet unfamiliar pulse.

As he passed through the glass doors, Zain was greeted by the hum of the main hall. Lockers lined up like soldiers guarding the students' secrets. Colorful posters adorned the walls, announcing upcoming events, clubs, and opportunities to get involved in.

Navigating the hallways, Zain felt the thrill of novelty. Curious glances were cast upon him as he navigated this uncharted labyrinth. The clicking of locker locks, the soft murmur of students discussing – everything contributed to creating a symphony of excitement and discovery. The classroom doors opened and closed, releasing fragments of conversations and teachings. It was amidst that excitement that Simone's voice, a girl with obvious charm, pierced the atmosphere.

"Are you the new student from Europe?" she asked with sparkling curiosity, turning Zain around to face her.

Simone, dressed in her cheerleader uniform, exuded contagious energy, her long brown hair tied in an elegant ponytail.

A shy smile appeared on Zain's face before he responded, a hint of apprehension in his voice : "What gave me away?"

Simone winked at him while scanning his outfit from head to toe : "The Ralph Lauren sweater and Prada loafers. Not many people have an eye for fashion around here, and it's rare for a student to arrive in the middle of the school year!"

Zain offered a smile, appreciating Nina's straightforwardness.

"I'm Zain," he introduced himself, extending his hand.

"Simone" she replied with a sincere smile, shaking Zain's hand.

"It's nice to have some fresh blood around here. And from Europe, it's a welcome change from the narrow mindswere used to! The only other European around town is my brother's fiancée, and she’s only half."

Zain looked surprised :

"You're Elliott's sister?"

"You know him?" Simone asked, surprised by the connection.

"I'm a friend of Fleur. I've only met Elliott once," explained Zain.

"The world is really small! Welcome to Redwaters, Zain! Follow me; I'll introduce you to some people. We have an assembly on the rugby field before the start of practice. There's a big game on Friday!" she declared, pulling him by the arm toward the exit.

Zain went along, excited about this new encounter, even if the prospect of watching sports training didn't particularly appeal to him.

Their footsteps echoed in the hallway as they headed towards the rugby field. Simone, while sharing some anecdotes about the students they passed, tried to dispel the last traces of apprehension on Zain's face.

"You'll see, watching practice is fun, and the atmosphere during the Game is electrifying. Plus, the players are HOT!" she added with a conspiratorial smile.

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Paris, France

In the subdued intimacy of Carolina's restroom, Fleur splashed her face with cool water, attempting to soothe the waves of nausea tormenting her. Was it merely the sight of her father that plunged her into this unwell state? Or was it the fear of confronting the demons of the past, finally unearthing the buried secrets regarding her mother's death? These uncertainties haunted the witch's mind. The nausea and dizziness, present for several days, seemed to be aftermaths of that violent collision at the manor. Upon her return to Redwaters, she vowed to consult a doctor to assess the extent of the damage.

Observing her own reflection in the mirror, Fleur felt as though she were traveling back in time, delving into the intricacies of her childhood. The death of her mother, the abandonment by her father, the challenges she had to overcome as a young witch, her complex relationship with her grandmother – everything unfolded before her eyes in these restroom’s surroundings, evoking the cozy ambiance of a boudoir.

Taking a deep breath, Fleur exited the room to find herself face to face with her father. He had followed her, patiently waiting to address her from the shadow of the door.

Their eyes met, and Fleur, feeling stunned, gazed at the man reappearing in her life after so many years. Though the thrill of childhood excitement was now extinguished, all she desired from this man turned stranger were answers.

"Fleur..." he murmured, visibly taken aback to see her before him.

The young woman remained silent, unable to utter a single word.

"Shall we sit, dear? We have much to talk about," Richard suggested with an awkward smile. He walked ahead of her, and Fleur stood still for a moment before deciding to follow him toward the main room of the Carolina.

A few moments later, Richard and Fleur settled at a discreet table, away from the clamor of successive burlesque performances

Silent, Richard observed Fleur, a palpable emotion on his face, while Fleur nervously toyed with her rings.

"You resemble her so much, your mother. And that tic, playing with your jewelry..." he began with a warmly tinted smile.

Fleur cut him off abruptly, evidently frustrated :

"Stop. I'm not here to relive a Christmas movie scene. I've moved on. I want to know what truly happened with Mom, what happened to her. I don't have time to beat around the bush; I have a flight to catch in an hour."

Fleur's gaze held her father's intensely. The man who had been her hero in the early years of her life was now a stranger, a key to finding peace through answers. She expected nothing more from him; no words could erase the harm he had caused her.

"Fleur, I'm sorry..." he attempted.

"Sorry for what, exactly, for killing Mom?" she asked, a challenge in her eyes, seeking confirmation.

Her father's face tightened, caught off guard before responding in a hesitant voice :"Kill Carolina? No, I could never harm her; I loved her, I will always love her. You have to believe me, Fleur."

"Believe you? My mother taught me not to trust strangers, so it stings a bit."

"Fleur, I understand your reaction, and I deserve much worse. I've been a father... I don't even know if I can be considered a parent at all." Richard lowered his eyes, ashamed, before continuing : "A bad father, a bad husband, a man with... questionable morals, all that, i am. But I would never harm Carolina."

"But you do know what happened to her, don't you ? "

The tension hung in the air as Fleur fixed her father with an inquisitive gaze. Richard's eyes met hers, as if he were about to unburden his conscience. It was the moment, his chance to reveal the truth and face the consequences.

"Yes, I know what happened to her," he admitted, and Fleur's heart tightened in her chest. The moment had finally come. Richard continued, and a growing apprehension filled Fleur.

"Do you know that I reacted poorly when I learned that your mother was a witch?" he asked in an almost timid tone, tinged with shame.

"Yes," the witch replied, her own lies to Eliott about her identity haunting her more than ever.

"What you need to know, are the reasons for my reaction. I didn't learn the news from your mother, but from one of her friends. One of her friends with whom I had an affair," he confessed, lowering his gaze, visibly burdened by his actions.

"The details of your mistakes with Mom are none of my business. I wasn't fooled even as a child; I knew you were trying to reinforce French stereotypes by wandering around!" she retorted, frustrated, adding a disdainful gesture.

"Yet, it's those details that caused what happened to Carolina. I never liked that woman who was her friend; it was only a one-time thing, at least to me. She did everything to make me leave your mother, but for me, it was impossible. I loved Carolina with all my heart..."

"And you had such a common way of showing it!" she added despite herself, raising an eyebrow with irony.

Richard lowered his eyes yet again before resuming, determined to reveal everything, no matter what she would think of him.

"That woman confessed to me that she was a witch, that your mother and grandmother were too, to make me believe that Carolina was manipulating my feelings for her. But for me, it was just an opportunity to deflect from my guilt. I could finally blame magic, instead of admitting that I had ruined everything with your mother through my actions..."

"That woman was also a witch?" Fleur asked, surprised, with a hint of intrigue.

"Yes... When I confronted your mother, she created a magic-free zone… and once there, in a place where no supernatural charm survives, I realized that my actions towards your mother, my feelings, and my mistakes with that other woman were mine alone. No one had enchanted me..."

"But what does Mom's death have to do with all this?"

"The other woman didn't want to give up. She claimed to love me, wanted me to leave your mother at all costs. Everything changed when she told me that she became pregnant, almost at the same time your mother was pregnant with you..."

"Wow, what a gentleman!" Fleur ironized, shaking her head in disbelief.

"At first, she made me believe that she took care of it, that she had terminated the pregnancy, but I later learned that she lied. She had the child, a daughter."

"What?!" Fleur exclaimed, wide-eyed. "You mean… I have a sister?!"

"When you came into the world, nothing else mattered to me. The first years of your life were the happiest for your mother and i," Richard looked at her with tenderness, moved to delve into his memories. "But the other woman wanted to put an end to it. That's why I started distancing myself, leaving Redwaters intermittently, and being tense with your mother. That woman wanted me to meet her child, which I had always refused, and when she became insistent, threatening, I left the town."

"Meaning you not only abandoned your wife and daughter but also your mistress and the child you always refused to see?" Fleur asked, shocked by his behavior, crossing her arms with a disapproving pout.

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly. "I went back to France, took a step back. And a few years later, I decided to set things right, to meet my other child, and to find a compromise with that woman, to return to my life with you and your mother..."

"And what happened?"

"The night of my return, I went to see her, met my daughter, everything was going well... I planned to join your mother in our woods later, reveal the whole truth to her, as she had done with her powers, and confess that I had never loved anyone like her, that I was back for good, if she would have me."

"I heard about the message you sent her; that's what led her to her grave."

"I know," he said, tears welling up in his eyes. "The last thing I remember is having dinner with that woman and my daughter. Before I could join Carolina, I lost consciousness, and when I woke up, the news of her death was already everywhere."

"Do you think your mistress could have seen the message to Mom, communicated the information of her presence that night in the magic-free zone, and prevented you from going?"

"She admitted it. She wanted me all to herself. And her ex-boyfriend was new in the police force, Lieutenant Tucker. He had an aversion to..."

"To supernatural creatures."

"Yes, she made a deal with him; he left her and her witch sisters alone if she delivered Carolina on a platter." Richard finished his story, letting the magnitude of the tragedy settle in the ensuing silence.

"Witch sisters?!" Fleur asked, somewhat coming out of her stupor.

"What's this woman's name?"

"Marsha." her father revealed.

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Marsha sat in the darkness of her industrial loft, nestled at the rear of The Abundance Bookstore. Only a few days had passed since she had kept Fleur captive in the lower section of the loft. Her gaze wandered into the void, a cold gleam shining in her eyes. The unsuccessful attempt to seize Fleur's blood haunted her, the cunning redhead had skillfully escaped her designs. Nevertheless, Marsha remained convinced that her sinister plans would materialize despite this setback.

Jealousy had gnawed at Marsha for a long time, directed not only towards Carolina but also towards Fleur. Richard, the object of her affection, seemed to harbor an excessive love for these women, far more than he would ever feel for her or their daughter, Rose. But it was power that aroused the most envy in her, an inherited force flowing through the veins of the descendants of the first witch to tread these lands.

A power she could never match.

Fleur, Carolina, Darcey, and all those who came before them were descendant witches, directly from the lineage of the first witch who had saturated the Redwaters lands with magic—a magic born of murder and the massacre that followed in her wake. Marsha perceived their heritage as an undeserved grace.

The ultimate source of their power was Sienna, a mythical witch whose reputation tormented Marsha's thoughts. For her, Sienna was elevated to the status of a deity. When the opportunity to meet her and avenge her tragic fate presented itself, Marsha had no choice but to submit. This quest had given new purpose to her existence, even if it meant plunging into ever-deeper darkness.

Sienna, once imprisoned in limbo, had miraculously been brought back to life by an elusive and unknown magic, a force that defied the known laws of their world. The witch, once a lost soul, had been found by Marsha during a spell, a discovery that bound them in a mystical alliance.

The Willards, guardians of the ancestral power, were vulnerable for the first time.

Unexpectedly, the first witch had turned to her for help, leaving aside her own descendants. Overwhelmed by a mix of fascination and exaltation, Marsha suddenly felt invested with unique importance, as if her role in this convergence of occult powers finally set her apart.

Complex feelings reflected in Marsha's eyes—a fusion of satisfaction, desire for revenge, and an anticipatory thrill in the face of the unknown. Her expressions betrayed intertwined emotions, oscillating between confidence in the imminent success of their plan and apprehension about the magnitude of the forces they were maneuvering.

Once her plan was set in motion, Marsha knew that an irreversible change would occur. Nothing and no one could stand against their ascension. Their paths were now intertwined in a destiny forged by centuries of magic and conspiracy.

From the corner of the room, the spectral apparition of Sienna materialized. Her ghost, clad in a long blood-stained burlap robe, advanced resolutely towards Marsha. Her emerald eyes, glowing with an ethereal light, fixed on her, while a purple halo enveloped her silhouette.

Marsha welcomed the specter with a smile, a spark of anticipation gleaming in her eyes.

Sienna's expressions, though devoid of life, seemed to convey a muted joy at the unfolding events.

"Everything is progressing splendidly; by tonight, you will be material once again" Marsha whispered, her voice vibrant with confidence. She exuded an aura of satisfaction, the feeling of having reached a climax in their sinister enterprise.

A smile appeared for the first time on Sienna's spectral face since her return from the realm of the dead. A smile filled with palpable impatience, an eagerness to reclaim the lands she had once tread and commence her work of vengeance.

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The sunny afternoon flooded Redwaters High with warm light, and the red-and-white rugby team flags waved gently in the breeze. Excitement was palpable, carried by the passionate roars of players echoing in the air.

Simone, always full of energy and impulsiveness, pulled Zain towards the training ground bleachers. Zain, observing the team practice with mixed conviction, subtly revealed his aversion to sports through nuanced expressions.

Beside him, three identical-looking blond young girls were seated. Simone introduced them to Zain with contagious enthusiasm.

"Meet Saffire, Emerald, and Diamond, the triplets. They're on the cheerleading squad with me! Girls, meet Zain. He's from Europe."

The three blondes turned towards him, their gazes seemingly captivated, and smiled then said in unison : "Oh!"

The three sisters, seemingly identical at first glance, differentiated themselves through their hairstyles. Saffire had loose hair, Emerald sported pigtails, and Diamond had a ponytail similar to Simonne's.

"Too cute," Diamond exclaimed, looking at Zain with a smirk.

"And stylish too," added Emerald, scanning the boy's outfit.

"Too cute and stylish to be straight," Saffire remarked, a disappointed look in her eyes.

Zain looked at them without saying a word, fascinated by the synergy between the sisters, resembling blonde clones. Their interactions were interrupted by the harsh sounds of players' shouts, tackling impacts, and the coach's rhythmic applause. Zain couldn't help but grimace; there was enough violence in his daily life to appreciate this sport, despite the players' provocative outfits.

Suddenly, Simone and the triplets were called by the coach, a visibly authoritative and grumpy man, to join the cheerleading squad.

"I'll be back in a bit," Simone promised Zain before moving away with the triplets towards the cheerleading group, ready to entertain the crowd.

As the rugby team continued their training, Zain found himself involuntarily absorbed by the electric atmosphere. The cheers from other students and the camaraderie among players seemed to transcend the boundaries of his prejudices.

In the distance, music resonated, and Zain saw Simone and the cheerleaders unfold in a dazzling choreography. He couldn't help but smile as he watched them, gradually feeling integrated into the dynamic world of Redwaters High. Simone stood out in the center of the choreography, capturing all eyes. The girls, in their uniforms, joyfully moving to the rhythm of the upbeat music—this was what he would have liked to do.

As the training kept going, Zain shifted his attention to the rugby team.

The players, although attractive, seemed pale in comparison to Hadrian, whose memory haunted Zain's mind. Their kiss lingered in his mind, but he had resolved to focus on this day and this day only. Collecting himself, he plunged back into the game. Observing the players closely, a strange familiarity invaded him. This foreign sport evoked memories of a previous world. Passes, attacks, marking attempts seemed to unveil a kind of magical map on the field. Despite his professed disinterest in sports, Zain discerned missed opportunities, tactics to avoid, and poorly positioned players, as if he intrinsically understood how to lead them to victory. It was surreal, and he wondered where this useless knowledge came from.

A few minutes passed before Simone returned to him, breathless from her performance.

"So, did you like it?" she asked him.

"Yes, you were amazing!" he replied sincerely.

A smile lit up the girl's face :

"And what about the rugby team?" Nina inquired.

"Are they new?" Zain asked, unimpressed by the players' level.

"Can you tell? Yes, we lost many of our elite players last year due to an accident… The coach did his best to replace them, but it doesn't look like much," she reluctantly admitted.

"We have a similar sport where I come from, it’s new, very few people know about it... I think I could give the team some tips to improve." Zain declared, sparked by curiosity.

Nina, brimming with enthusiasm, suggested :"Would you like to join the team?" Zain declined, saying : "No ! not for anything in the world! But I'd love to join you guys." He admitted it shyly.

Nina, looking surprised, asked : "You mean the cheerleading squad?"

Zain nodded, unsure of her reaction. Nina smiled while thinking and then told him : "We've never had boys on the squad—the players and the cheerleaders would’nt mind, i'm sure, but the coach might be difficult to convince. He's quite old-school."

Disappointment showed on Zain's face, while Simone's suddenly lit up with an idea.

"Unless... are you sure your advice could help the team improve?" she asked mischievously.

Zain raised his head and replied confidently : "Certain."

Simone, with a determined smile, pulled Zain by the arm towards the coach, with a purposeful stride. The electric atmosphere of the field seemed to intensify as they approached Coach Anderson's frowning face, his cap firmly on his bald head.

"Coach, I have someone here who thinks he can lend a hand to the team. Zain, meet Coach Anderson. Coach, this is Zain; he's from Europe and has a different perspective on rugby." explained Simone enthusiastically, introducing Zain to the coach.

The coach's scrutinizing eyes settled on Zain, examining him with intrigue.

"Did you come to teach me how to do my job?" he asked in an hostile tone. Zain felt caught off guard, searching for words to counter this undesirable first impression.

"If you want to join my team, go through the tryouts like everyone else, but don't come here and tell me how to coach my players," he added, looking annoyed.

A disappointed look was exchanged between Zain and Simone as the coach, ignoring their presence, whistled towards the players, already turning towards the field.

Refusing to be intimidated, Zain positioned himself beside the coach and spoke up.

"Players 3, 8, and 12 are poorly positioned on the field. The strategy is predictable and unsuitable for the strengths and weaknesses of your players. These repeated infractions I've seen in just a few minutes of training, if replicated in a game, would allow the opponents to score an incalculable number of points."

The coach, astonished by this rapid assessment, turned to Zain, while Simone, a fascinated spectator, smirked.

"And you saw all that in just few minutes of training?" he asked, surprised.

"I've seen much more than that, and I think I have effective solutions to help you win your next game" Zain replied confidently.

The coach, visibly impressed and delighted at the prospect of a potential victory, looked at him attentively.

"What do you want, kid? My job?" he asked, trying to understand Zain's motives.

"Far from it, I'd like to join the team... the cheerleading team," Zain declared, seeking to divert attention to a lighter goal. The coach stared at him, clearly taken aback.

"If the girls and the players are okay with it, I don't see any problem. No skirts, no crop tops !" he decreed, stating his conditions with a hint of skepticism.

"Crop tops, but high-waisted pants," Zain negotiated, determined to impose his style.

"Okay. And you help me after the training; so we can get this team back on track." the coach concluded, suddenly adopting a pragmatic approach.

Zain and Simone exchanged an astonished look, their smiles growing, while the coach, without looking at them, uttered without revealing his inner enthusiasm:

"Welcome to the team, kid."

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Hadrian parked his jeep near the fences and signs marking the entrance to the enchanted forest. Ouray and the immortal disembarked, advancing with restrained eagerness towards the spot where the barbed wire was torn, leaning and contorting to access the magical place. The lush forest seemed to have resurrected itself after Tucker and his group of assassin’s passing. Despite the horror of the massacre he had committed, Hadrian couldn't help but feel relieved at the return to normalcy for the hundreds of supernatural beings no longer under threat.

As the two men ventured into the dense vegetation, Ouray broke the silence with a question laden with concern: "How are you?"

"Fine. Better," the immorta replied l, his gaze lost in the persistent greenery.

"You seem even more silent than usual."

"I admit, I've been lost in my thoughts a quite a lot lately."

"Because of Zain?" Ouray pressed, his curiosity palpable.

Hadrian gave him a tense look before responding in a grave voice : "Yes... With everything that's going on, we really need to learn more about him..."

Ouray didn't let up, continuing with subtlety : "That's not exactly what I meant."

Hadrian stopped, his eyes meeting Ouray's, before stating : "What exactly are you implying?"

"Hadrian, when you left earlier, you asked me quite seriously what Zain had decided to wear for high school. I believe what I'm insinuating is not very difficult to grasp..."

A brief, heavy silence settled before Hadrian responded with surprising honesty :"What do you want me to say? Yes, he unsettles me. Yes, I like him a lot, something that hasn't happened to me in a very long time, whether for a woman or a man... And yes, feeling all these things is...have i said unsettling already?"

Ouray flashed a smile, releasing the tension between them : "Finally, a normal conversation between us! Hadrian, in nearly five hundred years by your side, we've experienced countless adventures, disasters, losses. And for once that something positive seems to be happening to you, I'd like us to discuss it too. Not only the horrors that haunt our eternal lives. These things are also what friendship is about."

The shaman concluded his words as they ventured deeper through the forest. Hadrian took a moment to absorb his friend's words, then smiled, surprising himself : "Alright. I'll try to be more expressive about my... positive feelings." That thought instantly brought him back to one of his early conversations with Zain about trust. The boy would surely be proud of this progress, Hadrian thought, excited about the prospect of more open and sincere bond with his longtime friend.

"He's special, that boy," Hadrian remarked, plunging back into his thoughts about Zain.

"Definitely," Ouray replied, visibly pleased to see Hadrian more at ease.

On their way, various magical beings greeted them. Blue fairies floated gracefully a few inches above the ground, young spirits ran joyfully, and even three ram-headed demons were vigorously training against tree trunks. Hadrian, now more attentive, asked Ouray suspiciously, having not had the chance to do so earlier : "Ouray, are we going where I think we're going?"

"Yes. The trees are the only witnesses to the appearance of that vengeful spirit; they will know more."

Hadrian adjusted his shirt with a skeptical look, suddenly regretting not opting for something more comfortable. The two men passed through a curtain of suspended autumn leaves, revealing a hidden part of the forest. The duo found themselves enveloped in a peculiar atmosphere, illuminated by a bluish glow, surrounded by four towering trees, each adorned with a carved face at its center.

An enchanting ambiance emanated from the gazes etched into the wood. Hadrian addressed them : "We come seeking your help. We are looking for information about a spirit with vengeful intentions that appeared a few days ago."

The murmurs of the trees intensified, as if they were plotting among themselves. Then, the trunk in front of them spoke with a voice defying reality : "You know how it works, immortal. We do not give information for free; it must be earned."

Ouray cast a sorry look at Hadrian, who, reluctantly, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

The trunk, wearing an impassive expression, suddenly seemed to smirk. Ouray withdrew a few meters away, leaving Hadrian surrounded by the trees. A heavy silence settled, then suddenly, each tree released a wooden silhouette.

Their arms, made up of multiple branches, all converged toward Hadrian in a coordinated attack.

The immortal, agile and determined, was assailed by blows, struck in multiple places by the wooden creatures. He fell to the ground, trying to dodge the attacks, seeking an opportunity to counter them. A breach in the trees' defense appeared, and Hadrian managed to slip through it. With a fluid motion, he delivered rapid blows to the wooden creatures.

Performing a backward roll, Hadrian gracefully rose to his feet. His tousled hair and torn shirt adding to his wild appearance. With a lateral kick, he sent the first creature flying. Skillfully evading the branches of the second, he knocked it down with another lateral kick, then delivered a punch to the third, making it fall in turn. As each creature touched the ground, it transformed into smoke, absorbed by the surrounding trunks.

Now facing the last creature, Hadrian challenged it with determination. The battle reached its climax as the creature lunged at him, striking his face with all its branches, scraping his resilient skin.

Although battered, Hadrian abruptly broke the branches of the wooden creature with both his arms, tearing his shirt once and for all, revealing his prominent muscles beneath the shredded fabric.

The last creature turned into smoke, dissipated by Hadrian's victory. Out of breath, he regained his composure, and the forest suddenly returned to its tranquility.

Ouray stepped forward, satisfied, and addressed the trees:

"Give us the answers we seek!" The main trunk, seemingly pleased with Hadrian's success in the test, revealed the answer to their quest.

"A new magic has entered this universe, infusing our soil, reviving the dead. This returning spirit seeks vengeance, vengeance upon you, immortal!"

Stunned, Hadrian asked :

"Why me?"

The tree finally revealed : "She wants to regain her life, regain human form, bring back her sisters from the dead, and see you suffer for their losses!"

With a heavy heart, Hadrian whispered Sienna's name, realizing the complexity of the impending situation, under the sorrowful gaze of Ouray.

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Sitting on the plane, Fleur reflected on her meeting with her father a few hours earlier, as the outlines of the city of Redwaters began to emerge through the window. Despite the whirlwind of emotions this experience had stirred within her, a prevailing sense of relief took hold. She had finally obtained the answers she had been seeking for so long.

When she questioned her father about the reason he never implicated Marsha in Carolina's death, he revealed that he didn't want another one of his daughters to grow up without her mother, referring to Rose, the sister she had met a few days earlier at the Abudance bookstore, without realizing they were related. The more her heart tightened at the thought of her father, the more her love for Elliott grew.

Fleur felt grateful that fate had placed such a loving, unwaveringly present man on her path. She was now convinced: once she was in Redwaters, she would confess everything about her identity to him, certain that he would not judge her. Unprecedented courage fueled her. She had defied all stereotypes to find this stable, supportive, loving man, and it was about time she trusted him as much as he deserved.

She had finally managed to reach Elliott, who explained that the sheriff's death ongoing investigation was consuming all his time and had made him less available than usual, which she completely understood. However, he assured her that he would pick her up from the airport as planned. The mere thought of seeing him, holding him close, comforted her heart, which was wounded by her father's revelations, a man she now had no desire to ever see again.

Issues relating to Marsha, the news of her newfound sister, and all other concerns, Fleur would deal with them later. For now, only Elliott's arms mattered, and she had never been more certain that she wanted to spend her life by his side.

The minutes following Fleur's plane landing were filled with various scenarios playing out in her mind. She imagined different ways she could reveal to Elliott that she was a witch, all while unveiling the true story about her mother and anticipating the support he would provide. For once, apprehension had left her, and she felt like she was finally holding the keys to her salvation, bringing her inner peace and even somewhat dispelling the dizziness and nausea that had persisted for several days.

Her sense of tranquility increased when she saw the love of her life waiting for her in the parking lot with a broad smile. Fleur rushed towards Elliott, who enveloped her in his arms, filling her with happiness.

Seated in Elliott's car, the witch, sensing something strange in her fiancé's demeanor, asked him with concern : "Sweetheart, what's happening? You seem off."

Elliott, hands firmly on the wheel, gaze lost on the road, replied with an unconvincing voice : "Nothing, just tired from work."

Perplexed, Fleur scrutinized him before grabbing a strawberry-scented water bottle from the dashboard, taking a long sip.

"I'm so glad to be back. We have a lot to talk about, you and I..." she confided, placing the bottle back.

A tension seized Elliott's face, which Fleur immediately noticed.

"Elliott, I can see that something is wrong. Tell me what's going on," she asked.

"I think it's rather you who should tell me what's going on, Fleur. It seems you've been unable to do so until now!" he exclaimed, expressing his anger, while the witch began to feel a shiver run through her body, followed by a powerful dizziness.

Her mind was foggy, as was her vision. Something was happening to her without her being able to understand what. Fleur stared at the bottle she had just drank from, casting a worried glance at Elliott as she asked, her eyes slowly closing in a desperate struggle to keep them open:

"What have you done?"

"I'm just trying to find out the truth," he replied as she drifted into unconsciousness.

Fleur opened her eyes, the stabbing pain in her stomach pulling her out of unconsciousness. Still disoriented, she was still in Elliott's car. Bent over in pain, one hand on her stomach, she struggled out of the vehicle. Outside, Elliott was waiting.

"Elliott, what's happening?" inquired Fleur, glancing around quickly. They were in the woods adjacent to her childhood home, where her mother had lost her life, in the area devoid of magic.

"I needed to talk to you somewhere where magic wouldn't have an effect, to hear the truth," Elliott explained, visibly unsettled by the events.

A new wave of pain assaulted Fleur, threatening to make her stagger. She questioned Elliott, shaken by the situation :"But what have you done to me?"

"I just put a strong dose of sleeping pill in the bottle, to make sure we arrived here without you using magic. I know everything, Fleur. I found your file in Tucker's office, and I also know about this," he said, taking out from his pocket the bracelet she had gifted him. "I know you were manipulating me with this bracelet."

"Manipulating you? This bracelet is linked to my engagement ring. I gave it to you so I could come to your aid if you were ever in danger on the field."

"Stop lying to me, Fleur! Marsha told me everything, I know about Tucker's disappearance, about Hadrian, I know it all!"

"Marsha?!" Fleur exclaimed, astonished. "Marsha and Tucker are the ones who murdered my mother. Tucker spent the last years of his life eliminating all supernatural beings in Redwaters, peaceful and defenseless creatures! That's why he had files on us, to massacre us! And you, you chose to believe her over me?" she raged. Fleur couldn't bring herself to think that Elliott would act that way; her whole world was crumbling before her eyes.

Staring into Elliott's eyes, she added with determination: "I didn't tell you I was a witch, that's true, but I never manipulated you. That's why we're here, right? So you can be sure. Look inside yourself; if I had cast even a single spell on you, this magic-free zone would have lifted it already."

Elliott was stunned. All these revelations had upheaved his life, his beliefs, but Fleur was telling the truth. Nothing in his feelings for the young woman had been altered by entering the zone. She had never used magic on him.

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Fleur. I..." Elliott admitted, tears in his eyes, as the witch was once again subjected to a violent cramp that twisted her in pain.

Elliott rushed to her, seeing her growing distress, and said: "Let's leave this place; it seems to be affecting you...".

Elliott tightened his embrace around Fleur, carefully guiding her towards the car. The passenger door creaked open, as he gestured for her to get in. A hint of anticipation lingered in the air, but their departure was abruptly interrupted by a sinister voice behind them : "Not so fast!"

The two lovers turned, facing Marsha, who had joined the scene. The steel of Elliott's gun gleamed between them, a statement of assurance:

"Magic doesn't work here! I know you lied to me; I know you killed Fleur's mother."

A demonic laughter erupted from Marsha's lips, her arrogance permeating each word : "It wasn't that difficult to convince you that she was manipulating you, Elliott, and to persuade you to bring her here. Your bond must not have been as strong as you thought, Fleur."

Fleur, doubled over in pain, let out tears. Despite her inhumanity, Marsha had struck a sensitive chord.

"You will pay for my mother, for everything you've made me endure!" she declared with poignant firmness, lifting her face to confront Marsha.

The latter's tone remained icy: "Unfortunately, that's not why we're here today."

Suddenly, the specter of Sienna materialized, bathed in the purple aura that had emanated from Zain and brought her back to life, infused with his foreign power to their world, capable of transcending the magic nullification on these lands.

Elliott startled, pointed his gun at her. A gesture from the specter sent the weapon flying meters away. Elliott clasped Fleur against him, transfixed by the spectacle.

"Who are you?" Fleur asked Sienna, lost in total incomprehension.

Sienna gave her a look filled with sadness before approaching, grabbing her arm, and incanting while locking eyes with her : "Possidere!"

Sienna disappeared, her spirit infiltrating Fleur's body.

Fleur abruptly moved away from Elliott before collapsing to the ground.

"Fleur!" he exclaimed, panicked, as Fleur convulsed, her eyes shimmering with a purple glow, similar to the halo enveloping Sienna. She struggled, experiencing electric-like shocks, excruciating pain tormenting her.

Suddenly, Sienna's specter was expelled from Fleur's body, reappearing before them as the red-haired witch let out such a piercing scream that the trees shuddered.

Elliott rushed to Fleur, while Marsha, incredulous, asked Sienna :"What went wrong ?What just happened?"

"I can't possess her body, you fool. She's pregnant!" Sienna retorted.

"Her baby is a magical being, and this barrier must be killing it. That's probably why she's writhing in pain. We'll try again in a few minutes," reassured the brunette witch.

Sienna casted a regretful glance towards Fleur and Elliott, then turned to Marsha and declared, visibly disgusted by the malevolent witch's words: "You're truly an abominable and sick woman. You killed her mother, and now you want to kill her child?"

Caught off guard by this reaction, Marsha was powerless against Sienna's sudden attack. Before she could make a single gesture, Sienna seized her arm and intoned the incantation : "Possidere!"

In an instant, Sienna disappeared, her essence merging with Marsha's body. The brunette witch writhed in pain, her eyes, just like Fleur's before, changing color intermittently until permanently adopting a purple glow.

After a few seconds of agony, the possession came to an end. Sienna was finally incarnated.

The witch, amazed, turned to Elliott, who was embracing Fleur on the ground, and told him:

"Take her away from here quickly ! Get her help!"

Elliott obeyed, carrying Fleur, almost unconscious, to the back seat of the car. He settled behind the wheel, and sped away, leaving Sienna, now inhabiting Marsha's body, alone in the woods.

Sienna contemplated her new body, caressing her new skin. She could feel again, breathe again, and was ready to exact her revenge.

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Zain, accompanied by Simonne and the triplets, walked through the glass doors of Redwaters High towards the parking lot. The atmosphere was filled with joyful laughter, a reminder of this exceptional day engraved in the boy's heart. His gamble was a success; no supernatural phenomenon had disrupted this moment, and Zain felt a deep sense of gratitude for it.

A glint of excitement lit up Zain's eyes as he spotted Hadrian's jeep waiting for him in the parking lot, with the immortal behind the wheel. His heart raced as he approached, evident joy coloring his cheeks.

The triplets bid him farewell in unison, while Simone, noticing Hadrian and the radiant smile on Zain's face, gave him a conspiratorial wink before heading towards her own car.

Zain quickly opened the door and climbed into the jeep.

"You came to pick me up!" he exclaimed, visibly thrilled by this perfect conclusion to an already pleasant day.

"I couldn't accompany you this morning, so it was the least I could do," Hadrian replied, happy to be reunited with the young man. However, despite this apparent joviality, a shadow seemed to cast over his mind and heart.

Hadrian locked eyes with Zain, an intense glint of desire animating his gaze. An irresistible impulse drove him to close the gap immediately, sealing their budding connection with a passionate kiss. Initially surprised by his boldness, Zain quickly surrendered to the emotional surge that followed. Each contact of their lips conveyed exquisite tenderness; the fervor of the kiss ignited their senses, a devouring fire that consumed all restraint.

Each press of Hadrian's lips against his resonated like an intoxicating rythme, and every inch of their bodies responded with ecstasy to this intimate touch. Waves of pleasure coursed through Zain's body, each sensation awakening a deep resonance within him. Bursts of fireworks seemed to come alive inside him, turning into a symphony of indescribable pleasures. In this torrid exchange, he momentarily forgot his identity and surroundings, letting himself be overwhelmed by the sensual fusion of their lips, hoping that this moment would never end.

Hadrian slowly ended their embrace, looked at Zain while pulling away, a mix of emotions swirling in his crystal-clear eyes.

"I needed this... before telling you... what comes next."

Hadrian let a moment of suspense linger, observing Zain's reaction.

Zain's heart tightened in his chest, a growing apprehension taking hold of his thoughts: "Tell me what? What's going on?!" he asked with palpable anxiety.

Hadrian, his eyes filled with profound sincerity, responded solemnly:

"You have the right to learn what happened before deciding if you want us to continue… this... together... I owe you the truth about my curse, about who I really am."

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