DEEP IN THE WOODS
Devon is exhausted. He's been travelling for days- although it feels more like weeks.
This is all because of those damn alphas. He knows they are most likely searching for him, so he's had to go off the grid for a while.
Lay low, disappear.
He doesn't like that very much. He's not a person that likes to stay hidden for too long. Left for him, he would show those alphas exactly where they belong.
Show them that his kind are not to be trifled with. But, the high matriach had commanded him to keep a low profile.
Which he had done, he's just happy to be home now.
He trudges through the dark wood and curses as he steps on something sharp.
"Merdè!" He yells, hopping on one foot.
"Why do I always have to be the one to do all the dirty work?" He grumbles. He pulls his coat tighter around his frame and shivers.
"It's so damn cold, too." He murmurs unhappily.
The coven- Lune noire, had purposely made the general atmosphere of the black wood uninhabitable and generally hostile in a bid to scare away curious and sometimes persistent tourists.
The woods are spelled by the combined magic of all the coven members to protect the sanctity of the coven. Afterall, it is the most powerful coven in the world.
The members are bound to secrecy by a blood oath- they must never, unless expressly granted permission by the high matriach herself, reveal this location to any outsiders.
This is why it was so important that the alphas lost his trail. He hadn't gone through all that trouble and escaped them just to be killed by a damn blood oath.
Never. He is much bigger than that.
Devon walks a little further and comes to a spot between two large oak trees. To the untrained eyes, they are just that- trees.
Any who possess even a shred of magical abilities however, can sense the distortion in the space between the trees.
The space seems to ripple. Like the heat of a flame.
Hmm, time for a little touch up I suppose. He thinks. Whoever redid the barrier did a half baked job at best.
"Finally, home sweet home." He sighs.
Devon pulls off his gloves, breath fogging in the cold air. He flexes his fingers, letting them warm in the current of his own magic.
How I've missed this, He thinks fondly.
He steps closer to the veil between the oaks—the shimmer in the air now pulsing faintly, as if it senses his presence.
"Par les ombres de la lune noire," he murmurs, voice low and firm.
(By the shadows of the black moon)
"Par le sang de notre lignée,"
(By the blood of our lineage)
"Ouvre-toi à ceux qui savent."
(Open to those who know)
The barrier responds with a low hum, like distant thunder muffled by layers of earth. The ripple between the trees expands, glowing faint silver at the edges, then parting like curtains drawn by invisible hands.
A narrow path reveals itself, cloaked in fog and moonlight. The air inside is warmer, somehow — charged with magic, scented with night herbs, moss, and smoke.
Devon exhales, the tension easing from his shoulders.
"That's better."
He steps through the veil.
Behind him, the forest seals itself shut once more — silent, undisturbed, and deadly to any who don't belong.
****
It's late evening as he steps into the town. The children are playing silly games and running around whilst their parents sip beers and engage in what is most likely meaningless chatter.
How idyllic. Devon smirks.
Good of them to enjoy their evening. He dosen't envy them, not one bit.
He halts as a young boy, chasing a runaway ball barrels into him.
"You should be more careful, Jay." He tsks.
"Good to see you Dev!" Jay chirps, grinning as he runs off.
Oh, to be young again.
Devon closes his eyes and inhales the earthy, spicy scent of the coven- heavy with magic. He's missed this.
More than anything he's missed his home, his lover...
Not now. He will go to the town center and gjve his report first, then he can go home to James. Sweet James.
Devon strolls leisurely down the cobble stoned path, whistling a jaunty tune until he reaches the heart of the town.
The sanctum- as they call it.
He comes to a stop in front of an imposing stone building. The nexus.
He pushes the door open and heads straight to the board room.
She's here.
The high matriach.
Devon straightens his coat and steps inside.
The room is quiet — reverent. A long oval table rests at the center, surrounded by a handful of high-ranking witches. At the head sits a tall, silver-haired woman in deep black robes. Her eyes, pale as starlight, fix on Devon the moment he enters.
"You return," she says. Her voice is cool, but not unkind.
"We were beginning to wonder if the Blood Moon Pack had gotten to you."
Devon inclines his head, just enough to show respect.
"As if they could." His voice is calm, but his eyes flash. "I have what we need."
Murmurs ripple through the room.
"Speak, then," the Matriarch commands.
He takes a breath.
"Aurore lives."
A sharp intake of breath.
One of the witches knocks over a goblet. The Matriarch, however, remains still — only her eyes narrow slightly.
"Explain."
Devon nods, stepping closer.
"She's been reborn. Her name is Anita now. She's with the Blood Moon Pack — and they don't know who she really is."
He lets that sink in.
"I've seen her up close. The energy is the same. Her aura, her flame — it's her."
A pause.
"The Moon has brought her back."
The Matriarch's hands clasp together slowly. Her gaze shifts to the window, where the rising moon peeks just over the hills.
"Then the prophecy is unfolding," she murmurs.
What do you command?" Devon asks quietly.
Silence.
Then the Matriarch turns back to him.
"Watch her," she says. "Do not interfere. Not yet."
"If our enemies discover her power too soon, it could destroy her."
She leans forward, eyes cold and bright.