Welcome to Redwaters - 10. Chapter 10

Ouray rushed with poignant frenzy towards Redwaters Hospital, his face reflecting profound distress. The electric doors swung open as two men exited, casting perplexed glances at his evident turmoil. Corridors buzzed with patients on stretchers, propelled by hurried nurses, doctors pacing with their notepads, while families and friends anxiously awaited news of their loved ones.

Ouray's heart resonated like a drum, the frantic rhythm of his worry echoing in the tumult of the hospital. Finally, he spotted Elliott, seated on a chair against the corridor wall, illuminated by harsh neon lights, his face hidden between his hands. Ouray hastened towards him, launching a pressing question:

"Where is she? What happened?"

Elliott finally lifted his eyes, tears staining the path of his suffering since the tragic event in the woods with Fleur.

"The doctors took her; they're trying to stabilize her, but they don't know what's wrong..."

Impatience tinged Ouray's voice. Fleur was like a daughter to him, his family, and the idea of her in the hospital was unbearable, especially with the unknown details of her condition.

"It's my fault," Elliott confessed, Ouray's stern gaze weighing heavily on him. "I found out she was a witch; I thought she was manipulating me... Marsha told me to take her to the magic-free zone to be sure. But once there, Marsha arrived with some kind of phantom woman who tried to possess Fleur's body."

"What?!" Ouray exclaimed, horrified.

"But she failed. The possession didn't work because it seems Fleur is pregnant..." Elliott's sobs erupted, tormented by causing harm to the woman he loved most, now carrying their first child. Despite the overwhelming emotion, Elliott continued, "That phantom woman eventually possessed Marsha's body instead and allowed me to take Fleur to the hospital... The magic-free zone seemed to be affecting the baby, causing her excruciating pain. I brought her here unconscious; the doctors are doing their best, but... I don't know what's happening to her." And he collapsed into tears once again.

Ouray felt anger boiling within him, but he understood it wasn't the opportune moment for reproaches or sermons. He pulled his phone from his pocket with a decisive gesture and dialed Hadrian's number, casting a dark glance at the burdened Elliott.

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The city lights twinkled in the distance as Hadrian drove, and Zain, sitting in the passenger seat of the jeep, broke the heavy silence.

"Did you turn it off?" he asked with insistence.

Hadrian, focused on the road, raised his phone as silent proof of its shutdown:

"There, it's done. But I still don't understand where I'm supposed to be driving."

A suspended moment of silence, then Zain, with a mischievous smile, threw out the idea:

"You want to tell me about the origin of your curse, have an open-hearted conversation, take a deep dive into your past? There's nothing stopping us from having a good time while doing it!"

Intrigued by this proposition, Hadrian replied : "What do you have in mind?"

"Take me anywhere where no one will give me a second glance when I order a glass of champagne! So, Creek’s is off the table for sure!"

Hadrian smiled at Zain's audacity while objecting : "You're only nineteen!"

Confidently, Zain retorted :

"Hadrian, the Zain attending Redwaters High is from Europe, and alcohol is allowed at eighteen there, so relax a bit! And considering the conversation we're about to have, a drink wouldn't hurt you either."

Encouraged by this perspective, Hadrian nodded.

"I think i know a place... But I'm not sure turning off our phones is the best idea."

Zain fixed Hadrian with confidence :

"Fleur must be exhausted from her trip, peacefully at home with Elliott, and Ouray probably engrossed in a book in the library. No one will even notice that we've left."

Hadrian guided the jeep through the streets, leaving the glittering city behind them. Each lost in their thoughts, the jeep's headlights pierced the darkness of the night, creating a path into the unknown. The road was winding, much like the twists and turns of the revelations that awaited them. The night stretched out before them, a blank canvas to be filled with adventures, confessions, and perhaps a bit of champagne.

Hadrian continued his journey to the only place that came to mind, just minutes away from the city. The tension in the car was palpable. Despite Zain deciding to adopt an open and positive attitude towards what Hadrian wanted to reveal, he was still petrified inside. The young man had witnessed the immortal's curse up close, and it was evident that its cause must be equally abominable. His growing affection for Hadrian, the attraction he felt, did not alter his apprehension about learning more.

Garth's words echoed in his mind, warning him on the night of the massacre at the manor about the immortal, urging him to exercise more restraint in their interactions. However, for Zain, it was already too late. Although his memory had been completely erased since arriving in Redwaters, his emotions were intact, and in Hadrian's presence, they seemed to reach unexplored heights. His heart and mind vibrated at a unique frequency, reminiscent of the imminent roar of a volcano about to erupt, ready to burn everything in its path.

The mere memory of their lips touching awakened in him ineffable sensations, swirling emotions he had never experienced before, he was sure of it; otherwise, no magic would have been able to erase them. Zain initially averted his gaze from Hadrian, attempting to conceal the effervescence engulfing him. Then, a furtive glance at the driver's seat left Zain captivated by the almost otherworldly perfection of Hadrian's features, as if sculpted by a divine hand. Zain's heart raced at this single thought, and he struggled to assimilate the complexity of the real Hadrian Archer.

The jeep came to a stop in front of an unmarked facade, releasing dim lights and barely audible musical chords. The discreet but vigilant doorman greeted them with a nod as they entered.

The interior of the bar, like a clandestine sanctuary, revealed an enchanting atmosphere, bathed in dark wood and thick curtains. Soft lights delicately slid over polished surfaces, creating golden reflections that harmoniously accompanied the music.

The two men crossed the threshold together, Hadrian letting Zain choose his seat at a table illuminated by a gentle hanging lantern. The warm atmosphere of the place seemed to momentarily alter Hadrian's usual confidence as he settled with feigned ease, revealing a touching nervousness in his gestures.

A duo of musicians in tuxedos took control of the air, playing famous jazz pieces and unfolding enchanting melodies that added a touch of muted elegance to the environment.

Hadrian gave a slight smile, attempting to conceal his vulnerability under this controlled facade. The complicit glances of the musician duo seemed to whisper a secret melody, intensifying the magic of the moment. The bartender finally approached them with a drinks menu.

Amidst the murmurs of confidential conversations, muffled laughter, and the gentle hum of the music, Zain, comfortably settled in his chair, couldn't help but smile. Despite the palpable tension at the dawn of Hadrian's revelations, the place seemed to be the perfect setting, transforming this moment into something almost unreal.

"What makes you smile like that?" queried the immortal, intrigued.

"I just realized that it's our first date," Zain replied.

Hadrian, visibly caught off guard, surveyed the room where couples were entwined or engaged in intimate discussions, swayed by the jazz. He admitted, almost embarrassed :

"I hadn't realized it either... And since we came here for me to tell you more about myself, you have to know that this is my first real date altogether, with a boy at least."

Zain stared at him, surprised and slightly flattered. In five hundred years of existence, Hadrian had never shared such a moment with another man.

Even if this were to be their last date, this moment would remain etched in their memory forever.

"I'm very flattered to be your first... date," Zain corrected himself, sensing the turn of his phrase. Hadrian, visibly uncomfortable, replied :

"Yes, date. I don’t want to be misleading, because as for the rest, I can't really say the same, I've had quite a few experiences, a lot..."

"A lot?!" asked Zain, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, it depends on what we consider a lot..." he continued, his face slightly flushed.

Zain signaled hurriedly to the waiter who returned to them, and he said with a mischievous smile :

"A bottle of champagne, please, and make it fast!

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Sienna, now clad in Marsha's form, gracefully roamed through the upper floor of her industrial loft, nestled at the rear of the Abundance bookstore. Her silent steps resonated within the space as she paused before the full-length mirror in the bedroom. The contours of her new body manifested in the reflection, awakening exhilarating and almost unique sensations within her. Tracing the face of the witch she now inhabited with her fingertips, an unrestrained tear rolled down her cheek. Her own body was missed – a loss of youth and features that were once hers – a privilege stripped away by Hadrian, leaving behind yet another invisible scar.

Marsha's possession wasn't merely a physical hold. With the body, Sienna gained chaotic access to fragments of the witch's memories. Waves of the past inundated her – a surge of emotions and experiences paradoxically aiding her adaptation to this unfamiliar era. Technology, scientific advancements, social mutations, and historical convulsions intertwined in her mind like the threads of destiny.

Lifting her top, Sienna lightly touched the scar near her lower abdomen, a relic of a cesarean section. Marsha had a daughter, just as Sienna once did. The poignant pain in her chest echoed the days preceding her death, days when happiness enveloped her existence. A family, an ephemeral utopia, swept away by Hadrian.

Motherhood had proven to be the most gratifying experience of her life. For someone who had perpetually fled – be it from the church, tumultuous relationships with lovers, or ruthless pimps seeking to exploit her vulnerability, or the violent clients encountered in the debauched life she led for survival – all her traumas seemed absolved, erased by the sole birth of her daughter. A hope now extinguished for centuries.

A sudden noise shattered the tranquility. Sienna averted her gaze from the mirror to find herself face to face with Rose, Marsha's daughter. The young brunette, delicately donning glasses, entered the room with palpable urgency.

"Mom, where were you? And when will you finally tell me what's going on? I'm not fooled! I know the Willards are connected to Dad, and that's why you're going after them! Tell me the truth!"

Sienna observed the young girl, her innocence betraying anxious curiosity. In an instant, Rose resembled Sienna's own lost daughter, evoking a deep affection in her.

"I'm not your mother, my dear."

"That's your big revelation? You've never really acted like one!"

"No... I am Sienna, one of the first witches to tread these lands. I am temporarily borrowing Marsha's physical form. We have an agreement."

Rose stared at Sienna, incredulous, before retorting:

"I know how possessions work. If you're in my mother's body, you've inherited her memories."

"Yes, I now know her life, the person she is."

"So, you know a lot about my life too. How distant, absent, sometimes cruel she was, and most importantly, how much she lied..."

Sienna's remorseful gaze confirmed the truth. Faced with silence, Rose persisted:

"Then tell me! Reveal to me what I don't know, and I promise I'll help you with whatever you're undertaking! Tell me who Carolina and Fleur Willard really are, and why my mother hates them so much?"

Confronted with Rose's distress, Sienna had no choice but to confess the truth. The prospect of having an ally in her plans stirred a hope she had yet to fully embrace.

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Zain hung on every word escaping Hadrian's lips, captivated by the narration of his past.

"So, you had only a week to find a way to extract Sienna's witch sisters, free them from the witch hunt, and lead them to what would later become Redwaters?" he inquired, immersed in the immortal's tale.

Hadrian replied with a laden voice:

"Yes, I wanted to find a way to get them out without shedding blood... I was naive."

Zain, engrossed in the story, impatiently asked:

"And then what happened?"

"Sienna led me to believe she was allowing me to find a peaceful solution, but she used an illusion charm to pose as one of the prominent figures of the time, incriminating her and a list of other passengers. Her false confessions exonerated her witch sisters but led to the arrest and execution of ten innocent nobles, clearing the way for her newly liberated coven"

Zain widened his eyes, astonished :

"And you let her do it?" he asked, incredulous.

Hadrian responded with regret: "I understood too late; the damage was already done. So, we proceeded with the plan... and a few days later, we set sail for the new world. But my heart never recovered from the loss of those innocent lives. Despite holding resentment towards Sienna, I also understood the challenges of her life, her distress, her defensive reflexes. She lived by different, more instinctive rules..."

"You were simply in love with her, trying to rationalize her actions," Zain murmured, still stunned, yet gradually realizing that he identified with Hadrian's confessions, being that he was desperately trying to prove to himself that the immortal was a good guy.

Hadrian revealed with painful sincerity:

"Beyond my love and passion for her, she represented an impossible ideal in my eyes... I knew my own demons, my feelings towards men, the shame that consumed me. With Sienna, everything vanished. I was entrusting her, and her alone with the impossible responsibility of steering me away from my vices. A toxic attachment had formed in me, an unhealthy dependence that I only identified too late..."

Zain, captivated by the story, questioned with a curiosity mixed with concern: "What happened when the colony arrived?"

Hadrian took a deep breath before continuing: "The first days were marvelous. Upon our arrival, there were very few traces of indigenous lives. We initiated the first city constructions, a new beginning. Sienna and her sisters were free to start anew, but I had to return to London quickly, which I dreaded the most..."

He paused, his gaze reflecting the sadness of that separation :"I left, parted from her, hoping to return quickly. However, five long years passed before i could... Five years of torment, repression, indoctrination, five years of agony... All the despair that ensued caused the tragedy that followed when I finally managed to return to Sienna..." he confessed, his crystal-clear eyes lowered in shame, revealing the complexity of his journey.

New World, 1566

The majestic English ship cut through the tumultuous waters of the Atlantic, carrying Hadrian towards the New World. In the five years since his last contact with this promised land, Hadrian had risen through the ranks of his military career, now holding the coveted position of Colonel. However, his life in London with his wife, his daily existence, had been a series of misfortunes and disappointments that shattered all his hopes. His gaze, tinted with a complex emotion of anticipation and apprehension, was lost in the distant horizons as the ship approached the shores of the colony established five years prior.

The creaking of the moorings and the gentle murmur of the waves blended into the atmosphere filled with Hadrian's doubts. Finally setting foot on solid ground, his eyes, honed by years of military service, surveyed the landscape before him. Instead of the inhospitable harshness he anticipated, Hadrian was struck by the sight of a reality that defied all his preconceptions.

Children playing freely embodied an innocence Hadrian had almost forgotten amidst years of turmoil and internal struggle against his deep-rooted nature. The inhabitants, whether indigenous or English, collaborated in a harmony that seemed to spring from his wildest dreams.

The transformation of the colony since his departure amazed him. Neat constructions, lush gardens, and a peaceful atmosphere testified to a life that had flourished in his absence. Long-repressed emotions resurfaced, disrupting the rigidity forged by years that passed.

Hadrian allowed himself to be guided through the new streets, observing every detail with poignant attention. The sound of mixed laughter, the diversity of shared customs, all evoked a new reality, a harmonious balance transcending the scars of the past. The barriers he had erected around his heart seemed to crumble in the face of this living demonstration of unity.

The New World, unfolding all its splendor and diversity before him, shook the foundations of the shell forged by trials. Hadrian understood that his return meant much more than a simple reunion; it was a rebirth.

When he locked eyes with Sienna, hand in hand with a little girl who seemed to be a miniature reflection of her mother, a tumultuous wave crossed Hadrian. The warmth of a sincere welcome and the sparkle of life in Sienna's eyes revived a part of him he thought was lost forever. The touching sight of Sienna guiding the little girl through the streets, sharing laughter and intimate moments, seemed to be a living illustration of a life that had continued without him, a bitter sweet realisation.

Sienna, entrusting her daughter to a friend in front of a stall with a reassuring smile, now walked towards Hadrian with a tension in her gaze, a mixture of surprise and confusion.

Hadrian and Sienna slipped away into an isolated alley. Sienna finally surrendered herself in Hadrian's arms, her happiness and disorientation clearly visible on her face. Amidst the swirling emotions, Hadrian, caught in the heat of passion, kissed her. However, the enchantment was abruptly halted as Sienna, embarrassed and taken off guard, stopped him sharply, saying,

"What are you doing?! stop!"

Perplexed, Hadrian stepped back, searching her eyes for the reason behind this sudden turn of events. Sienna's words echoed in the silence of the alley.

"You didn't see the little one with me? I am married, Hadrian..."

"Married?" he repeated, astounded.

The shadows in the alley seemed to thicken around them.

"Yes, I've started a new life, taken a fresh start here. I am finally happy, Hadrian..."

Her words resonated in the darkness, hitting Hadrian head-on.

"But... I came back for you, for us to finally be together..."

Sienna, with a stern gaze, explained to him, as if losing patience:

"I'm happy for you, that you've finally managed to break free from London. I'm glad to see you here, but there's no reason for us to play this charade. I'm done..."

"A charade?!" he repeated, bewildered.

Hadrian felt plunged into a nightmare. Sienna's revelations unfolded like an implacable whirlwind.

"Hadrian, we had a relationship of convenience. I needed an escape route, and you needed to convince yourself that you could be with a woman. That the problem wasn't you and your desires, but the world around you."

Hadrian, drowned in shame and sorrow, confronted a bitter truth.

"I moved heaven and earth for you, closed my eyes to your manipulations, to the murder of innocents. I lied, betrayed, disappointed, all only out of love for you! And you call that a relationship of convenience?"

"You don't love me, Hadrian. You love what I represent. An ideal, a different fantasy, a fantasy that held your interest just enough not to succumb to what you truly want." Sienna's words pierced Hadrian like sharp blades, revealing a truth he refused to accept.

"But here, it's different. The natives are different. The judgment of the church doesn't weigh on us like in London. Here, you can live as you please. You no longer need me for that," she concluded, her gentle hand caressing Hadrian's cheek.

Tears blurred Hadrian's red eyes, his body trembling under the weight of shame, fear, and pain. The feeling of betrayal threatening to make him losse his balance.

He lifted his face towards her, abruptly moving away from her embrace.

"I've truly wasted my life for you, for a whore. That's the only thing that shames me."

Sienna stared at him with eyes filled with sadness, as Hadrian swiftly left the alley without looking back. The echoes of a shattered love resonated in the air, carrying with them the shadow of past illusions.

Several hours had passed since that heart-wrenching exchange, and Hadrian, on the upper floor of the inn where he had taken residence in the colony, gazed out of the window at life unfolding below. He was drowned in the warmth of the alcohol he consumed, desperately trying to stifle the turmoil within his soul, but to no avail. A part of him acknowledged the truth in Sienna's words, yet the harshness of his past, lived in the shadow of his true nature, prevented him from fully accepting it. Without Sienna, he was nothing more than a shadow of himself, a deviant without hope of redemption. Memories of the innocent victims, lost to Sienna's illusion spell, haunted him. Lives sacrificed to protect a lie—an atrocious idea that cruelly contrasted with the sacrifice for love he could more easily justify to himself.

The door opened, and Conrad, a young lieutenant with bright green eyes and golden curls, entered. He approached Hadrian, who was still lost in contemplation, his face flushed with excitement.

"Colonel Archer! Why are you here? Come downstairs celebrate with us!"

Conrad positioned himself beside Hadrian, caught in contemplation and thoughts, before continuing, also absorbing the scenes of life flourishing below them. "It's fabulous, isn't it, this new world? The chief admiral can't believe it. The colony thrives, the camaraderie between our people and the natives is so unexpected that they're considering establishing more colonies all around, peaceful colonies. A new way of life, a utopia turned reality, praise the to Lord."

Hadrian remained silent, unable to utter a single word. The alcohol clouded his thoughts, his heart shattered by disillusionments, and his guilt for what he was and what he had done paralyzed him. Conrad, not understanding his state, placed gentle hand on his shoulder and looked at him with his sincere green eyes before asking:

"Colonel, what's happening to you? Aren't you happy to be here, to witness this revolution?"

Hadrian turned his gaze, that of a shattered man, toward Conrad and spoke in a bitter tone, his words laden with brutal truth :

"What utopia?! what revolution?! and at what cost? You praise the Lord for all this, yet it's the devil's work!" His words resonated in the room, almost incoherent, carrying his profound pain.

Conrad looked at him, his eyes expressing complete incomprehension : "What do you mean?" he asked, attempting to unravel the mystery clouding Hadrian's mind.

Hadrian faced him, intensifying his scrutiny. The lieutenant's innocent beauty only heightened Hadrian's emotional turmoil. The sight of his rosy lips, his muscular body, his golden curls, the irresistible need to feel him against his own flesh, swirled in his mind, igniting an internal fight that could only mean one thing: he was lost without Sienna, vulnerable to his unnatural impulses.

"Before our departure five years ago, that woman who confessed her sins, incriminating her friends as well as herself for witchcraft, it was all an illusion. Those women were innocent, dead for nothing; the ones who took their place for the journey were the real witches. Everything here is governed by dark magic, by the devil himself!" declared Hadrian.

Conrad looked at him with bewildered eyes, unable to grasp the extent of those words. He hastily exited the room, leaving Hadrian alone with his bitterness, his indifferent gaze concealing the inner turmoil threatening to engulf him.

The hours of darkness had given way to a ominous dawn when Hadrian regained his senses. The room, where the gray light of dawn seeped through tattered curtains, bore witness to the turmoil enveloping the colonel. The distant sound of cannons could be heard, piercing the silence of the inn like ominous echoes of a self-fulfilling prophecy.

However, Hadrian's consciousness was not yet clear from the haze of lingering alcoholic fumes. Reality emerged gradually, akin to fragments of a troubling dream. Recollections of his heart-wrenching confessions to Conrad clashed with the brutal symphony of war raging outside.

Laboriously, Hadrian rose, staggering, his legs still numb from the excesses of the previous night. The room, once a calm refuge, was now tainted by the remorse assaulting his mind. The heavy air of his apprehension lingered around him, blending with the chill of dawn. He approached the window, revealing a tableau of destruction in the once tranquil colony. Cannons thundered, punctuating each beat of his heart. The tumult of war echoed the internal storm tearing at Hadrian.

As he descended the inn's stairs hastily, a scene of desolation unfolded before him. Buildings ablaze cast dancing shadows on torn cobblestones. The cries of the wounded and the clamor of battle formed a discordant symphony.

Haunted by guilt, Hadrian navigated through the tragedy he had unwittingly unleashed. The colony, once a haven of peace, was now the stage for fratricidal war sparked by his misplaced jealousy. Images swirled in his mind—images of innocent men and women sacrificed, lives annihilated by the madness of the army.

In his wandering amid the chaos, Hadrian encountered frightened gazes, familiar faces seeking answers. Each step was burdened by the unbearable weight of his conscience. He was the inadvertent architect of this destruction, and the smoldering remnants of the colony were the stigmata of his inner demons.

The banks of the river appeared on the horizon, where terrified inhabitants sought refuge. Hadrian, a powerless witness the catastrophe, observed the flow of people trying to escape the horror. The pale light of dawn nuanced their silhouettes, creating an apocalyptic scene accentuated by the guilt of a man who had destroyed utopia in the name of his own inner hatred.

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"So, that's how it all unfolded. Fleur is, in fact, my sister, and Mom harbored jealousy towards her and Carolina for the love my father had for them. "

Sienna, donning the physical form of Marsha, nodded in agreement as she and Rose engaged in a discussion, seated on the well-worn leather couch in the Loft of the sorceress. Rose's fingers nervously danced on her eyeglasses as she finally absorbed the long-anticipated revelation. The intricacies of the story unfurled, exposing a complex past, laden with obsessions and meticulously concealed secrets.

Rose had always perceived her mother's passionate blindness when it came to her father. Yet, the revelation of her half-sister's hidden existence, also a witch living nearby, exceeded all conceivable limits. Fleur and Rose had shared the corridors of Rewaters High School for two significant years, belonging to the same generation but navigating different academic realms. Every missed opportunity to connect with Fleur, every potential spark of camaraderie, dissipated within the labyrinth of deceit woven by her mother.

Rose's decision to distance herself and live with her aunt, returning to Rewaters only in adulthood, mirrored the chasm created by the secrets that had sculpted her life. Marsha, emotionally distant and disinterested in motherhood, had sidestepped parental responsibilities, while Rose, studious and resolute, had discovered a haven of balance with her aunt.

Still reeling from the revelations, Rose inquired with barely restrained emotion :"And Carolina and Fleur would be your descendants?"

Sienna, with a calmness that failed to mask the satisfaction of a mother, responded: "Yes, they come from my lineage. It appears that my daughter survived the horrific Redwaters massacre."

Intrigued, Rose pressed: "And what do you plan to do now?"

Sienna's unyielding determination surged forth in her words: "I want to retrieve my own body, resurrect my witch sisters from the clutches of death. I yearn for us to reclaim the life that was unjustly stolen from us. I want to witness Hadrian suffer for all of eternity."

Rose, contemplating the challenges of such a formidable task, solemnly declared:"Resurrecting souls lost for centuries is neither a simple undertaking nor one without consequences."

Sienna's gaze, lowered but intense, revealed her full awareness of the trials awaiting her. When Rose posed the pivotal question: "How did you return from the beyond?"

The enigma lingered in Sienna's response: "I don't know. Strange magic brought me back—magic from another world. It allowed me to be on the lands devoid of magic without compromising my own powers."

Rose then offered, imbued with conviction: "Then begin there. If you unearth the source of your return, this foreign magic, you might be able to harness it to bring back your sisters."

Sienna looked at her, her eyes now gleaming with a renewed spark of hope. Finally, a tangible starting point had emerged for her intricate plan.

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New World, 1566

Sienna stood at the edge of the river, the surrounding hills offering a grim panorama. English soldiers, akin to harbingers of doom, unleashed a deluge of destruction upon the colony. The tumult of artillery was accompanied by the roar of the river, once crystalline but now tainted with a reddish hue, absorbing the agony that hung in the air.

Under the tattered sky, Sienna watched, powerless, as the macabre spectacle unfolded. Her Indigenous friends, her native husband, her sorceress sisters—all succumbed one after the other, their bodies drifting slowly in the waters now tinged with red. It was a slaughter, a senseless massacre that scarred the usually serene hills and waters.

Despair gripped Sienna, a piercing pain coursing through her being as her dreams shattered, her friends killed. The cries of horror echoed in her mind, each loss leaving an indelible mark on her battered soul.

Among the screams of violence, Sienna spotted Hadrian, frozen amidst the carnage. She instinctively felt he was responsible for this tragedy. A final glance towards the clearing overlooking the river revealed her little daughter, paralyzed, hiding behind a tree, eyes wide open in terror.

In an outpouring of despair and determination, Sienna looked to the sky and invoked an ancestral spell, intertwining her pain with magic. She cast a last gaze upon her former lover and cursed him irreversibly, condemning his soul for eternity. Dark energy surged around her, swirling with all its might. Sienna gestured to her daughter from afar, signaling her to close her eyes and not witness her final act.

Consumed by grief, Sienna slit her throat before Hadrian's eyes in an explosion of blood. The blade of her own dagger sealed the spell along with her life. The red of the river reflected the price paid for this ultimate incantation, and Sienna faded into the depths of the tainted waters, leaving behind a tableau of destruction and sacrifice.

Fleur woke up screaming in her hospital room, the white walls echoing with her heart-wrenching cries. Sienna's attempt to take over her body had triggered a cascade of memories that flooded her consciousness. Sienna's entire life flashed before her eyes, and it was her tragic end that violently brought her back to the painful reality. Elliott and Ouray rushed into the room in response to her scream. The red-haired witch was completely disoriented, caught between her own memories and those of Sienna, struggling to discern reality.

"Fleur!" exclaimed Elliott as he approached her, but the young girl shot him a fierce look, signaling him to stay away. She placed a hand on her belly. She was pregnant, but Fleur knew, with a mother's intuition, that her baby was no more. Lost forever in the woods, just like her mother. Ouray stood still, overwhelmed by the emotion in the room. Fleur seemed shattered.

"I'm sorry, Fleur," stammered Elliott, trying to explain, but Fleur cut him off, ordering him:

"Get out of here right now! Go!"

The young man, in tears, cast one last glance before complying, hastily leaving the room. Fleur trembled all over. Ouray, in a reassuring paternal gesture, approached her and embraced her. The young girl broke down, bursting into tears in the arms of her mentor, the weight of her trauma becoming too heavy to contain.

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As Hadrian was concluding his narration, seated at the softly illuminated table, his eyes were reddened by tears reflecting a whirlwind of emotions. With his head lowered, he bore the burden of shame, allowing the room's silence to soak in the weighty consequences of his story. A veil of regrets and remorse hung in the air, thickening the atmosphere.

"Ouray was close by," he finally murmured, breaking the oppressive silence. The words resonated in the room like discordant notes. "Alerted by the cannon shots, he tried to save those he could, including Sienna's daughter. He found me in the woods, several days later, a broken man lost in the labyrinth of madness. My incoherent words haunted his mind, as did the curse that weighed on me. That's when he started reaching out, helping me find some semblance of inner peace."

Hadrian lifted his gaze, his eyes seeking Zain's. Vulnerability shimmered in his gaze, and the shadow of deep-seated pain was etched within. "I'll understand if you want nothing more to do with me," he whispered, his voice trembling. "What I've done is...horrible."

Hadrian's words hung in the air, letting a palpable tension settle. Zain, confronted with the magnitude of the revelations, felt the weight of each word. Compassion mingled with astonishment in his gaze, creating a complex tapestry of emotions that danced between the two men.

"Horrible," Zain repeated, fully grasping the unveiled tragedy. "Your hatred for your former self led you into a spiral of anger and jealousy, exacerbated by alcohol, culminating in a fatal confession to the wrong person. The repercussions were devastating. Yet, for the past five centuries, you've been atoning, doing good, rectifying your wrongs..."

The gazes of the two men met, forging an unbreakable link between past and present. "You don't seem to understand," Hadrian retorted with escalating intensity. "What I took from Sienna, from all these people who lived happily, their families, their lives, nothing can repair that."

Emotion swirled in the room, and Zain sensed Hadrian's inner turmoil. The cutting words were shards of deep pain. "True, you committed a fatal error with atrocious consequences," Zain admitted, his gaze reflecting nuanced understanding. "But you would never have allowed it to happen if you had the power to stop it. You would never have said anything to that lieutenant if you knew it would happen. Ouray and you preserved Sienna's lineage until Fleur today."

A charged silence settled, the gazes remaining entwined in a silent dance of complex emotions. Zain took Hadrian's hand, symbolizing an understanding that transcended the weight of the past. "I don't know what you expect from me," Zain declared calmly, "but if it's my anger or rejection, know that you'll only receive compassion from me. I believe you've already paid a sufficient price."

Hadrian, moved by this unexpected response, gazed at Zain in disbelief.

The first enchanting notes of "Can't Help Falling in Love" emanated from the jazz duo on stage, creating a spellbinding melody that hung in the air, capturing the very essence of the moment. The gazes between Zain and Hadrian locked intensely, a palpable connection establishing itself between them, laden with an intensity never before explored.

In a musical embrace, Zain gracefully stood, extending his hand in a silent invitation. Hadrian, still reeling from their emotional exchange, hesitated for a moment before seizing the offered hand. He rose slowly, approaching Zain, the two men finding themselves at the heart of the enchanting music.

To the languorous rhythm of the song, they embarked on a dance infused with profound intimacy. It was a singular moment for Hadrian, an experience he had never lived and would never have dared to imagine. As they twirled on the dance floor, Hadrian tightened his embrace around Zain, feeling both vulnerable and protected. He had never felt more present, immersed in the magic of a shared moment.