Welcome to Redwaters - 7. Chapter 7

Inside the library, an atmosphere heavy with uncertainty prevailed. Fleur, consumed by heightened nervousness, seemed to be in a state of agitation, her footsteps echoing through the manor's floor, her thoughts swirling in a tumult of doubts and questions in the wake of recent events. Ouray, on the other hand, was plunged into a deep abyss of contemplation, his eyes captured by the flickering flames in the fireplace, while Zain, still in shock, slouched on the couch, his gaze vacant.

The oppressive silence in the room was finally broken by Fleur, who could no longer bear the tension. She murmured with an anxious tone, "What are we going to do?"

Ouray slowly turned his thoughtful sight towards her, responding with a calm yet weighty voice, "We will handle the situation."

Fleur let out a sigh, tinged with worry. "Handle what exactly? Hadrian, who seems to have completely lost his mind, or the twenty-something gruesomely mutilated bodies and their flaming cars in the driveway?"

Ouray replied gravely, never taking his eyes off the flames. "Both."

Fleur, now wound up like a string about to snap, felt her heart tighten even more. She continued, her voice heavy with emotion, "But Ray, these individuals, despicable as they may be, have families who will search for them, who will demand answers! The police will launch a search for their missing sheriff! My God, Elliott... Elliott will find out what happened."

She interrupted her frantic pacing, letting her body fall onto the other end of the couch, beside Zain, who was trying to follow their conversation, his face displaying a mixture of anguish and dismay.

"We can't cover up a massacre of this magnitude," she concluded, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.

Ouray turned to Fleur, his voice reflecting unwavering determination : "It seems we are fortunate that the garden of this property is so extensive..."

Fleur, visibly distraught, retorted : "Are you seriously suggesting that the three of us bury twenty corpses here?!"

Ouray, with resolute determination, explained : "I've informed Garth. He and his friends will come to our aid. These individuals have terrorized and slaughtered their community for far too long. I don't think they will be concerned with the details of what happened to these people."

Fleur, exasperated by Ouray's apparent detachment, expressed her frustration : "How can you remain so impassive?! These people, as you call them, are human lives that have been lost! Did you see what I just saw outside?!"

Ouray, his eyes finally turning away from the flames, faced her, no longer concealing his irritation :

"I know! Would you have me feign an emotion other than satisfaction for what has transpired? I would be lying to you, Fleur! Justice has been served for all supernatural beings murdered by these individuals, for all those innocent lives that the human system never protected. What would you have suggested as penance, Fleur? Do you think a judge or a police officer would have charged these monsters for the murders of people like us, for the murder of your mother? As horrifying as it may sound, don't expect me to sympathize with their fate."

Fleur let her head disappear between her hands, utterly confounded by her own emotions. She was facing a reality she didn't want to admit, Ouray was right. No human court could have put an end to the atrocities committed by these brutes, and she would be dishonest with herself if she pretended not to feel some relief in finally initiating retribution for her mother's murder. Without Hadrian's intervention, these fanatics would have slaughtered them all. That's why they had besieged the manor, brandishing torches and aiming their guns. However, despite this pragmatic reality, she couldn't help but feel a profound sadness about the situation, contrary to her fundamental principles. An increasing worry about the consequences ahead weighed on her, on all of them. Her mind was in constant turmoil, desperately seeking to make sense of this intricate and tortuous situation. She simply felt lost in a labyrinth of moral dilemmas, powerless.

Through the slightly open library window, the strange acrid and lingering smell of burning cars seeped in, saturating the room's atmosphere. Fleur, Ouray, and Zain, deeply engaged in desperate contemplation of their future in this deadlock, were overpowered by this unsettling scent. It was then that a cerulean-black bird crossed the window, gliding to the center of the room, where it transformed into a man, Garth.

The kinnara stood there, at the heart of the library, completely nude, his slender and muscular silhouette almost entirely covered in artistic tattoos. Zain, taken aback by this sudden appearance, averted his gaze like a shy teenager, captivated by this enigmatic transformation and the undeniably fascinating sight of this body.

An impish smile graced Garth's lips as he addressed Zain with confidence, breaking the silence that had settled in: "Hey there, the shy newcomer, I need a towel."

Ouray, already accustomed to Garth's transformations and the resulting nudity, tossed him a pair of pants and a sweatshirt he had thoughtfully prepared in advance.

Garth quickly donned the clothes, then turned to the group, his eyes sparkling with a perplexed glint. "It's a real mess out there. When I flew over the manor's entrance, I thought I was hallucinating. Hadrian wasn't kidding when he said he'd take care of the situation!"

"It's a intricate predicament, indeed," Ouray responded in a somber tone, still lost in thought.

"We need a cover-up," declared Garth.

"How so?" Fleur asked, slowly emerging from her stupor.

"We need a believable story to explain the disappearance of these people, something that holds up," explained Garth.

"Unless there's an imminent natural disaster, I don't think we can justify the deaths of twenty-something people!" objected Fleur.

"Fleur, these barbarians were all part of the same organized gang. Every time they had to commit their atrocities, they must have thought of a cover story to explain their absence to their families or at work," countered Garth.

"Yes! Like a sports club or organized hunting trips..." Ouray muttered, realizing.

"Fishing..." Fleur corrected. "Elliott often told me that during his probationary period, Sheriff Tucker would go fishing at least once a week with his group of friends on the coast. They had a boat. He was upset not to be included."

"Perfect! We'll bury the bodies here but transport their wallets and personal belongings on the fishing boat. We'll throw them into the water to make they'll be found. We'll take the boat as far into the middle of the ocean as possible to stage a shipwreck."

"But how do we act without being seen or leaving any traces?" Zain wondered, impressed by Garth's takeover of the situation.

"I'll transport their personal effects through the air. I have friends who can take care of towing the boat to the middle of the ocean without being detected," Garth assured confidently, as if he had switched to autopilot.

"How?" Zain asked, growing increasingly intrigued by Garth's abilities.

"Mermaids. Nothing more discreet to move a boat," Garth concluded with an enigmatic smile.

A cover-up for a massacre, birds turning into naked men, and now mermaids. It was only Zain's second day in this world, and all these mysteries left him completely bewildered.

"Ouray, let's start gathering phones and wallets," Garth said with confidence. "Fleur, try to find the exact location of their fishing boat. New guy, find us some shovels. We'll join you to start digging the graves," Garth ordered with impressive assurance.

"I'll call Elliott. He must be worried sick about me, and it will allow me to gather more information about the location or the sheriff's boat's name before I try my luck on the internet, hoping not to arouse his suspicions," Fleur declared, her voice betraying her growing anxiety.

Memories suddenly rushed to Zain's mind: "He came by this morning. Elliott. He was looking for you. I told him that Hadrian and you had gone out," he suddenly recalled.

Upon hearing those words, Fleur's expression betrayed palpable anxiety. She turned to Zain and asked a question tinged with worry : "And he didn't notice anything suspicious? No signs of magic or anything strange?"

"No, it was a very brief encounter. I quickly realized I needed to come up with an excuse to explain your absence, and he left," the young Peri explained.

The witch, concerned about the possibility of Elliott discovering her double life and knowing her fiancé's propensity for curiosity, asked : "And didn't he inquire about who you were?"

"No, upon seeing me open the door, he quickly deduced that I must have been Hadrian's ex-boyfriend," Zain confided, his voice betraying a hint of embarrassment.

Ouray, surprised, asked, "What? How?"

Fleur replied, embarrassed by her lie, "It's my fault. I told Elliott that Hadrian was coming back to town to recover from his breakup with his boyfriend. I know I shouldn't have. I was just trying to prevent him from getting jealous of the time we'd spend together upon his return…"

The meaningful looks from Ouray and Garth fixed on her, creating a weight on her shoulders that she couldn't refute. It had become imperative for the witch to reveal the whole truth to her fiancé regarding the paranormal world and her powers, a realization that had grown heavy on her.

As for Zain, he couldn't hide his hint of disappointment when he realized that this ex-boyfriend story was just a fabrication by Fleur, and that Hadrian didn't actually share his preferences. A disappointment that didn't escape Garth's keen eyes.

"We mustn't forget an important element: the burned vans. How do we explain the disappearance of their vehicles if these men got lost at sea?" Ouray suddenly expressed, his furrowed brows reflecting his concern.

"I've spent weeks monitoring their trucks. These are not their usual cars, but unregistered vehicles they use for their criminal activities. No one will notice their disappearance," Garth reassured them in a calm tone, although Zain could sense some underlying anxiety.

"Are we really going to do this?" Fleur asked as a last resort, her gaze reflecting her growing doubts about this astonishing chain of actions. "Covering up the murder of all these people so easily?" She added, her voice trembling with uncertainties.

"We have no choice, Fleur. These individuals sealed their fate by massacring innocents for decades with impunity," Ouray emphasized with determination.

"Now is not the time for doubts, Fleur. We need to get to work immediately," Garth insisted, displaying unwavering resolve despite the troubling circumstances. "Everyone assume their positions!"

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Holding the shovel firmly, Zain was digging a hole at the back of the property. His body bore the marks of the recent shock, bruised by the bewildering events. He was now almost unrecognizable, buried under a layer of freshly turned soil. He continued his work rhythmically, seeking refuge in this activity to calm the emotional turmoil that had shaken his life. He feared to stop, afraid of being overwhelmed by a wave of erratic emotions that he was desperately trying to push back.

Garth approached Zain, silently observing him for a few moments. He saw himself in the young man, going back a few years to when he had first arrived in Redwaters, lost and disoriented. He could imagine the countless questions that must be swirling in the mind of this lost young man, the distress caused by the troubles he had undoubtedly encountered since his arrival, as well as the loneliness that accompanied it. Zain's face expressed touching innocence, arousing in him a desire to lend a helping hand.

"Hey, the shy newcomer, how are you doing?"

"I'm getting by," Zain replied, still focused on digging.

"It must not be easy for you... from your explosive arrival through that portal to finding yourself in this strange new world, with everything that comes with it..."

"Did Ouray and Fleur inform you about me?" Zain asked, all while remaining focused on his task.

"No, I saw it all with my own eyes. I was flying over the clearing when you arrived, and I even passed by your window at the manor later that evening," Garth admitted, a benevolent smile on his face.

Zain paused in his work to look at Garth in turn and asked, suddenly realizing : "You were the bird that startled me on the window seat !?"

"Guilty. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Supernatural beings were becoming rare around here with those brutes on our tail."

"Well, at least that's one less concern to consider after this evening, if we choose the optimistic approach," Zain replied sarcastically, referring to their situation.

"Don't get me wrong. This town has a troubled history, and I doubt that our problems will be resolved so easily..."

"Not a big fan of the optimistic approach, I see? " Zain retorted, expressing his disillusionment in the face of the numerous trials ahead.

Garth reluctantly admitted, his eyes lowered : "Became rather pragmatic, indeed..." The past years marked by the loss of his loved ones and the feelings of alienation and persecution he endured at the hands of Tucker and his gang of criminals seemed to have taken a toll on his zest for life.

Zain noticed his discomfort and sought to change the subject by asking the question that had been burning in him since he had witnessed Garth's transformation before his eyes.

"What does it feel like...?"

"To be such a handsome guy?" Garth quipped, a charming smile on his face.

Zain smiled at his comment, acknowledging that he was quite right on that front, but it wasn't the question he wanted to ask:

"To fly."

Zain was fascinated by Garth's power, by the sensations he must experience as he soared through the skies, like a memory simultaneously out of reach and deeply rooted in him.

"It's both terrifying and exhilarating, flying; it's like falling in love. It's that powerful feeling of invincibility, but at the same time something greater than oneself, almost unreal."

Zain looked down, confused, before confessing to Garth : "I can only imagine it; I've never experienced either, at least not that i can remember..."

"Flying is certainly liberating, but like in love, it requires control, and in both cases, accidents can happen, but can also be avoided," Garth confided with a voice full of wisdom, filled with implications.

"What do you mean by that?" Zain asked, realizing that Garth was trying to convey a message.

"Hadrian.

I saw your reaction when you realized that Fleur had lied to Elliott by saying he had an ex-boyfriend..."

Zain felt deeply embarrassed by these words, immediately attempting to explain himself: "It's not what you think..."

However, Garth interrupted him, sensing his discomfort:

"Far be it from me to pass any judgment on you; quite the opposite. I'm simply inviting you to be cautious."

Zain let out a long sigh before responding, disappointment in his voice: "Cautious or not, I think our conversation earlier put an end to the subject..."

"Hadrian is a complex man. I don't believe his inclinations would be a barrier to your interest. But his complexity comes with its share of turmoil, and that's what may be the issue..."

"You're talking about his curse?" Zain understood, still shaken by the horrific images he had witnessed.

"The nature of his affliction, its driving force, is guilt and violence. As good as he may appear, living with that burden for so long has left significant scars on him, and anyone who rushes too quickly to get close to him might end up getting burned."

Zain looked at Garth, understanding that his intentions were genuinely caring. The guy had an exceptional knack for putting him at ease, almost disarming.

Garth smiled at him and said : "You seem like a decent guy, Zain. I was exactly where you are today just a few years ago. New in town, lost, disoriented. If you ever need help or just someone who understands what you're going through, know that I'm just a bird's flight away." He fixed Zain with his sparkling blue eyes.

Zain responded with a grateful smile. Despite the intensity of the adventures he had experienced since arriving in this world and the dangers he had faced, he felt lucky to have made such connections.

Zain looked at the second shovel lying at his feet, indicating to Garth to take it as he said:

"Start by helping me dig. As determined as I might be, at this rate, it'll take me all night!"

Garth promptly grabbed the shovel, rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, and began digging with determination, while Zain resumed as well. They both dug in rhythm as the rain started to fall on them.

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Outside, the rain gradually intensified, forming a curtain of droplets that gently extinguished the flames of the burning wrecks. This rain, mixed with spilled blood, seemed orchestrated by a higher power, as if nature itself sought to erase the traces of this terrible tragedy. The drops fell with an almost poetic melancholy, washing the soiled ground, while the sky rumbled in a sinister echo of the events that had just unfolded.

In the basement, Hadrian still layed in a deep state of unconsciousness, chained in the manor's panic room, designed as an emergency prison. Ouray had administered a dose of tranquilizers that would have incapacitated any human or animal in moments, a quantity that the immortal's body had almost entirely metabolized in a matter of precious minutes. It was as if even the chemistry of his body refused to yield to the force of the drugs.

Within his body's silent struggle, his mind was soothed by the gentle murmur of the rain penetrating through the broken windows upstairs. He drifted back to a distant memory, of that time when it all began...

London, 1561

The night had silently descended upon the city, its darkness shrouding every corner. In a mysterious dance, the mist rose from the alleys, embracing the wet cobblestones, soaked by a cold rain, while the sweet scent of petrichor briefly masked the fetid odor that enveloped the city of London.

Hadrian quickened his pace; he didn't want to be recognized in this disreputable neighbourhood. The young soldier already had enough worries, burdened by the weight of his family, who had never understood or supported him, by his new in-laws who seemed to scrutinize his every move, and by his young, intrusive wife for whom he had never felt any emotion or interest beyond the advantageous social status she provided, the sole reason he had agreed to marry her.

All the decisions in his life seemed dictated by others, and it was beginning to erode his soul. He had grown up in blind fear of God, without ever understanding why. His enlistment in the army had fulfilled his father's ambition, and his marriage to a woman he deemed foolish had been a concession to his mother, hoping that this union could strengthen their family's position at the royal court. He relied on the support of his in-laws and their high-placed connections to advance quickly in his military career, thereby securing a bright future for all.

Soon, he would also have to ensure his succession, thus sealing this union. Hadrian continued to construct this bland life with his own hands, a life that felt duller to him than death itself. He had always been imprisoned in the chains of repression, a distant star from his true essence. His soul burned with an insatiable thirst for knowledge, adventure, and experimentations, a flame that the world around him sought to extinguish at all costs. It was hardly surprising that this disharmony between his true nature and the false mask he had to wear led him to places considered infamous by high society, although its members secretly frequented them.

It was this same incompatibility between his inner self and the world around him that had driven him on that fateful night to hastily leave yet another family dinner. He had been forced to endure endless and sterile conversations, where the political situation, impending war, the so-called moral justification behind the church's witch hunt across Europe, and even the condescending looks of that the frigid women of English high society casted towards the more enticing fashions of the French court, were discussed endlessly.

To make his escape without a hitch, Hadrian feigned a late-night training session with his new soldier comrades. He claimed that this was to prepare himself for battle in case of sudden deployment, an initiative that seemed perfectly justified given the uncertain and tumultuous times weighing on England at that time.

Hadrian knocked twice on the small wooden door, hidden at the dark corner of an alley. With surprising swiftness, an old woman, missing more than half her teeth, opened the door. The soldier, whose imposing stature almost threatened to knock his head against the door frame, rapidly entered the brothel. Behind him, the sinister old woman hastily closed the door, her wild, wide-eyed gaze brimming with malice.

The Englishman was familiar with the place. All eyes turned to him upon his arrival. Some soldiers, still in uniform and clearly inebriated, were surrounded by several half-naked prostitutes, vulgarly gyrating to the rhythm of the flute, their ample bosoms exposed, laughing heartily.

Other men of various ages were seated near the fire, having one last glass of wine before returning to their respective homes, or not having yet chosen their companion for the few hours of freedom that this place granted them, allowing them to temporarily escape a dull daily life.

For Hadrian, this place was a striking reflection of the gaping chasm between the repressive expectations dictated by the religion of his time and the reality of the secret refusal to submit to it, even by those who pretended to bow to the fanatical doctrine that prevailed. In the depths of his heart, Hadrian dreamed of a future where he wouldn't have to conceal his thoughts, opinions, and desires. This dream took the form of his imminent journey to the New World, an opportunity to contribute to the establishment of the first English colony on the other side of the globe, and perhaps one day, to build his own life there.

He wondered if distance had the power to open minds, a deeply rooted belief in him, forged by his many readings. For the soldier thirsty for answers, literature was a refuge, an endless source of inspiration. But Hadrian also knew that if this departure project was a utopian dream for him, it had become a matter of survival for Sienna, whom he had to get out of London as quickly as possible before she was discovered.

Hadrian slowly ascended the worn wooden staircase that led to the upper floor. Each step he climbed immersed him deeper into the tumultuous atmosphere of this mysterious place. The soldier's path was strewn with cries of pleasure, blending into a sensual melody. The beds, worn by countless trysts, creaked with each movement of passionate lovers, evoking the memories of their previous encounters. Amidst these carnal symphonies, lively discussions of dissatisfied clients filled the air, as they vented their frustrations loudly and impolitely, while others, mere boors, displayed their arrogance with pride.

The soldier finally reached the end of the corridor, facing a dilapidated and cracked wall. He suddenly stopped, as if waiting for something. Then, out of nowhere, a door appeared as if by magic in the wall. Hadrian, though accustomed to such manifestations, felt his heart race with each encounter with magic. Or perhaps it was the prospect of seeing her that put him in this state of excitement?

"The way is clear, Hadrian," Sienna announced from inside the room, her voice sultry.

A smile appeared on Hadrian's lips, and he joined her in the room.

Sienna stood by the window, a glass of absinthe in hand, watching the rain flood the city streets, absorbed in the scene. Hadrian admired the sight of her wavy hair bathed in moonlight. She was exotic, so different from the women he had met in London. That's what made her so fascinating, her complete dissimilarity to the young courtesans of English high society, so sheltered from everything and removed from the reality of the world, so bland and uninteresting to his eyes.

Wearing an emerald nightgown that slid off her shoulders, Sienna moved toward Hadrian, her gaze filled with desire. She kissed him passionately, ardently biting his lower lip, pressing her body against his. It was a passion that ignited his blood like very few women were capable of...

Hadrian held her tightly against him, savoring the unique scent of her hair to which he was so vulnerable. Between them, there was a connection that went far beyond mutual carnal desire, something unexplained and exhilarating.

Sienna was a witch, yet he had felt no fear upon the revelation of her powers, just as he had not judged her for her unconventional way of earning a living. He was mesmerized by her difference. Her boldness. He saw in her his escape, the demonstration that in her presence, he could blend in with the crowd of ordinary men. When he was with her, and only her, he naturally managed to suppress his most secret desires without effort. Hadrian had never shared this intimate part of himself with her, not out of fear of her judgment, but out of respect for their history. When he was with her, the rest of the world simply disappeared or no longer mattered.

"So, any new?" she asked, concern marking her face.

"The departure is scheduled for next week, and I managed to secure you a spot." he replied.

Sienna embraced him, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. Then, she asked the question that had been haunting her: "My hero, I knew it! And what about the others?"

Hadrian lowered his eyes, his expression tinged with sadness.

"I'm afraid there's not much I can do for them, unfortunately."

Sienna released her embrace, her eyes suddenly filled with worry.

"Hadrian, as i told you before, I won't leave without them!"

The soldier sighed, knowing that persuading Sienna was an impossible task. "Sienna, please, be reasonable. Securing your spot on board was a a complicated enough endeavor. Ensuring twelve more for your witch friends is purely impossible."

"Hadrian, these women are my fellow witch sisters, and I won't abandon them to a certain death at the hands of those barbarians puritans. If they stay, I'd rather share their fate, with dignity."

Hadrian ran his hand over his forehead, growing anxiety gripping him. Sienna was unwavering, and no one could change her mind. The imminent departure to the colony left little room for maneuver, and the spots were already allocated. If Hadrian wanted to save Sienna from the clutches of the Church and their persecution, knowing she wouldn't leave without her witch sisters, he had to find a solution quickly.

"You know there's a way..." Sienna began, but Hadrian cut her off hastily, panicked : "No! We can make it without harming anyone!" he exclaimed vehemently.

A look of tenderness emanated from Sienna, and she replied gently : "My dear Hadrian, so kind, so righteous... Nothing in the world is achieved without sacrifices. That's how the world works, it's up to you to decide which loss you can bear the least."

Hadrian looked at her, lost in thought. He knew he had to find an alternative, a solution that wouldn't involve sacrificing innocent lives along the way.

"I will find another way," he declared, his resolve firm.

Sienna allowed her hand to gently caress Hadrian's cheek, looking deep into his eyes to calm the turmoil that had engulfed him. A soft smile appeared on her lips, filled with genuine affection, and she spoke tenderly:

"Whatever decision you make, know that my love for you will remain unwavering."

Her words were a balm for Hadrian's troubled soul, infusing him with a new determination to move forward. He remembered all those years when he had been buffeted by circumstances, never having a choice. No one had ever granted him the freedom to decide his own destiny. But with Sienna, everything was different. She had given him that precious privilege, and he was resolved to never to let that unique feeling extinguish, whatever may come.

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Ouray entered the library, his blood-soaked gloved hands firmly gripping a large plastic bag. At the same time, Fleur finally hung up her phone.

"I've gathered all their personal belongings. And on your end?" the shaman asked, clearly concerned about the time they were running out of.

"Elliott was beside himself. I told him that Hadrian and I had an accident. I need to get to him quickly before he shows up here." the witch replied while touching her head wound with her fingertips, still dazed from the earlier impact.

Ouray casted her a compassionate look, as if she were his own flesh, the idea of her being injured was unbearable to him.

"You need to go to the hospital, Fleur."

"I'll be fine, don't worry. I'm just a little shaken up, that's all," reassured the witch before adding, "Good news, I got the name of the boat. Elliott began the conversation by telling me that they were understaffed at the police station due to the sheriff's absence, who had gone fishing earlier in the day. Our cover seems solid. Garth can finally set off before they notice their disappearance."

"We have one last thing to solve before your departure." Ouray reluctantly announced.

Fleur scrutinized him, her expression perplexed as he left the room, the witch following him outside.

At the entrance of the mansion, Ouray and Fleur stood facing the crime scene. The pouring rain had extinguished the burnt-out trucks and car wrecks scattered on the ground among the dismembered bodies, creating a grim landscape now shrouded in darkness in the absence of flames.

"The police will soon be patrolling the area with cars and helicopters. If they come through here, the sight of this car graveyard at the mansion's entrance will raise their suspicions..."

"We need to move them."

"A teleportation ritual? I was rather thinking of transmutation, merging them to give them a different shape."

"In both cases, it's about having tons of metal moved quickly, and I'm afraid I don't have the necessary power for that, Ouray," admitted the witch, aware of the colossal strength required for such a task.

"Transmutation is a matter of control, balance, far beyond mere power. Together, we can try it," reassured Ouray, even though his own doubts tinged his words. "We've already attempted it at the beginning of our training, remember?"

"We accelerated the transformation of a chrysalis into a butterfly, Ouray. It's a bit different from this," she replied, giving a discouraged look to the vehicle wrecks in front of them.

"It all depends on perspective, Fleur," said Ouray, gently taking her hand.

"Do you remember the process?

"And the night keeps getting crazier and crazier… "

Fleur and Ouray's hands intertwined as they reached out with their free arms toward the carcasses, attempting to clear their minds. Their hearts were beating fast, but they synchronized their breaths, focusing on the objects they sought to change.

Zain and Garth, soaked by the rain, sweat, and mud after digging several graves at the back of the property, watched in silence, fascinated. Their eyes reflected a mix of curiosity and concern, witnesses to the extraordinary endeavor of Fleur and Ouray.

Fleur and Ouray's bodies began to tremble, their arms outstretched, their breath becoming increasingly irregular. A bright white beam of light erupted from Ouray's hand, spreading across the wrecked trucks and cars. Suddenly, a similar green light emanated from Fleur's hands, intertwining with Ouray's.

The shaman, his eyes taking on the color of the halo emanating from his hand, went into a trance and shouted : "Paskwaciskôtam!"

Fleur, her eyes filled with a green glow, added her incantation :"Transmutare!"

The two beams of light from their outstretched hands intensified, violently shaking the metal wrecks that seemed to shiver under the unleashed mystical power. The magic enveloping them was palpable, vibrating in the air like a symphony of power. The sorcerers' bodies seemed to convulse under the weight of the spell, their souls plunging into an ocean of uncertainty, while the world around them trembled as if in harmony with their bold attempt.

Zain, absorbed by the scene, appeared to be immersed in the magical whirlwind surrounding them. His eyes shone with a contemplative light, as if he were perceiving the mysteries of the universe.

Then, suddenly, like a shooting star that fades, the luminous halos vanished, leaving behind a disappointing darkness. Their eyes returned to their normal appearance, coming back from the mystical abyss, while the tremors subsided. Ouray and Fleur, exhausted, lost their balance, falling to the ground.

Garth and Zain, alerted by this turn of events, rushed towards the duo. Their outstretched hands providing support. Ouray and Fleur grabbed onto them, slowly getting up, looking drained, both physically and emotionally, faced with this bitter failure.

"Does this...?" Garth asked, his gaze filled with concern and curiosity.

"I knew it wouldn't be so easy..." Fleur sighed, a mix of frustration and exhaustion in her voice, recent events weighing on her like a burden.

"We need to find an alternative quickly; time is painfully scarce," Ouray reminded, his worry evident in his tone. The failure of their attempt had put them under pressure.

Zain, who had been silent until then, seemed immersed in deep introspection. The moments he had watched Ouray and Fleur perform the ritual had unlocked something within him. He drew from his still-foggy but undeniably certain memories. The sight of Fleur tapping into the essence of her power, merging with the vastly different power of Ouray, had inspired him, instilling a glimmer of hope in the midst of their defeat.

"I have an idea," Zain announced, breaking the tense silence. The three looked at the young prince, questioning in their eyes, as he continued, lost in thought : "I believe we should try again, with me as the conduit."

Zain's words hung in the air, filled with a hint of hope but tinged with uncertainty. Ouray exchanged a glance with Fleur, as she admitted with dismay : "I don't even know if I'll have the strength to attempt it again."

Ouray turned to Garth and gave him urgent instructions : "Go ahead, take the bag with personal belongings and quickly proceed to the second phase of the plan at the docks."

Garth hesitated, his concerns showing on his face : "Are you sure you don't want me to stay in case anything goes wrong?" he asked, worried about his companions' safety.

"No, you must now! All the information on the boat's location is in the library with the bag of belongings to move." Ouray replied firmly.

Garth hurried inside the mansion, leaving Zain, Ouray, and Fleur to face their doubts, alone in the pouring rain.

"Trust me, I have a strong feeling it can work." Zain said, injecting a sense of determination into the group, even though he himself didn't understand the source of his newfound confidence.

Fleur sighed, slowly accepting the idea, as the boy positioned himself in the center, between the witch and the shaman. He extended each hand to grasp theirs on either side, forming a connection between them.

"Begin." Zain announced, closing his eyes.

The three acolytes cleared their minds, focusing intensely on the cars standing before them. The anticipation was palpable, a held breath in the darkness. After a brief moment, the bright white and green halos emerged again from the hands of Ouray and Fleur, flooding the scene with an ethereal glow. Their two incantations then blended in the air with impressive synchrony: "Paskwaciskôtam! Transmutare!"

Zain's voice finally rose, adding his own incantation: "Tahawa!"

The halos of their power converged towards Zain, permeating his being with all their strength. His eyes suddenly opened, illuminated by a violet halo, while his body trembled under the impact of this consuming magic, like electric shocks coursing through him.

Suddenly, a violet, green, and white bolt of lightning shot out of his chest, targeting all the cars in front of them, accompanied by a thunderous magical roar. The light emanating from Zain was so powerful that it flooded the courtyard with a blinding radiance, as if day had broken instantaneously.

Overwhelmed by the power of this shared magic, Ouray and Fleur dropped to their knees. However, they held firm, not releasing Zain's hands. The boy, plunged into a mystical trance, continued to act as a conduit for their powers as well as his own.

Magic fused with the metal of the wrecked vehicles, slowly merging them together to create an unknown shape that slowly turned into a metal fountain in the front yard of the mansion. The massive object took form under Zain's masterful control, a work of art born from magic itself. When the imposing creation was finally fully assembled, Zain instinctively released the hands of Fleur and Ouray, exhausted by the monumental effort they had just exerted.

Both of them watched Zain in amazement at his performance. The boy continued to glow with a violet halo, surrounded by an unreal aura that held their gaze, a fascinating testament to the extent of his hidden powers.

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Redwaters - 24 hours earlier – The moment of Zain’s arrival to Redwaters

Zain finally crashed to the ground, his face coming into contact with the damp grass of Redwaters. His fall had been precipitated from several meters high. At the very moment of his brutal landing, a violet shockwave emanated from his body, spreading in all directions for hundreds of meters, like the blast of a supernatural bomb.

The mystical wave, imbued with supernatural power, penetrated deep into the ground, infusing the earth with its foreign magic. As it moved through the soil, its energy roused the four white wolves, who layed buried beneath the earth, where Ouray had interred them the previous night. A shimmering aura of life swept over them, awakening them from their eternal slumber. These majestic creatures emerged from the ground, bathed in the radiance of the supernatural wave. Initially disoriented by their return to life, the wolves united their voices in a chorus of howls, a harmonious offering to the moonlight.

The magical wave continued its course, flowing into the Redwaters River, the turbulent watercourse from which the town derived its name, commemorating the bloody battle that once stained its waters. The murky river water reacted to the influx of this new energy, slowly changing its hue to a shade of violet, as if reflecting the delicate balance between life and death.

Suddenly, a feminine form began to emerge from the river's depths. The specter of Sienna opened her eyes, a fiery gleam of anger in her gaze. Her incredulous eyes surveyed the surroundings, while bitter memories of her betrayal and fall resurfaced. Sienna had always been aware that this day would come, even though she hadn't known the specifics of her return. She advanced, intrigued and determined, examining her now ethereal body with curiosity, aware that her enemy was close by. She could feel the curse she had inflicted on Hadrian resonating within her, serving as a reminder of the eternal debt he owed her. Sienna had successfully returned to the realm of the living, and she had one goal in mind: to find a way to bring back the others and exact her terrible vengeance on Hadrian for the suffering they had endured. The burning anger within her was fiercer than ever, and she was prepared to go to any lengths to achieve her agenda.